Read Online The Big Man by William McIlvanney - Free Book Online Page A

frightened him. As he glanced up, a creature was running towards him, completely covered in hair. ‘But it was a woman,’ Raymond said. ‘It was an animal. But I knew it was a woman.’ He had tried to run away but she had trapped him against the wall. He had wakened with her about to sink her fanged teeth in his throat.
    Dan had explained to Raymond that he thought the dreamwas just about growing up, about seeing women not as neutral adults but as something sexual. But what had reassured Raymond had troubled Dan. It had told him how much Raymond was growing up, the difficult places he was moving into, and it showed Dan his own time contracting. Whatever significant influence he was still to have on them, whatever coherent message his life was meant to convey, he had better find it quick. He thought of seeing Betty through the window today and knowing how much she meant to him. Whatever love was supposed to be, that was what he felt. But his love was somehow isolated in him, like a genie in a bottle. He had to find the means to release it, to show himself to them as he wanted to be.
    He took a sip of his beer and decided that it wasn’t helping. One of the strangers over at the window rose and went through to the lavatory. When Dan turned a little later to see what Frankie White was having, he discovered that Frankie had gone as well. Dan set him up a drink in his absence.
    Matt Mason was still urinating by the time Frankie White came through. Frankie took the stall beside him. Matt Mason didn’t look up. He seemed transfixed by the sight of his water.
    That’s your man?’
    That’s Dan Scoular.’
    ‘Seems a bit lost in himself.’
    ‘Ah told ye. He’s got a lot of problems. Who hasn’t around here these days?’
    ‘Who’s the gonk with the mouth like a megaphone?’
    ‘Vince Mabon. He’s a student.’
    ‘Big man likes him, does he?’
    ‘Dan likes most people. But, aye, he seems to like Vince.’
    ‘Uh-huh. We can maybe arrange to see how much. The gonk’ll do.’
    ‘How d’ye mean?’
    Matt Mason was finished, waved his penis as if it were a large and cumbersome object. He went across to wash his hands and found no soap. He was fastidiously annoyed. Frankie finished and didn’t bother to wash his hands. He was too preoccupied.
    ‘How do you mean?’
    Matt Mason was rubbing his hands together under the water,which, after testing, he had realised wasn’t hot. He tutted like an old maid. Finished, he made sure the tap was fully turned off and looked round for a towel. He noticed that it was a hot-air hand-dryer.
    ‘Daft old bastard,’ he muttered. ‘One modern convenience in his place and it’s a bummer.’
    He hit the button angrily and felt the hot air play ineffectually on his hands.
    ‘Whoever invented these,’ he shouted above the noise of the machine, ‘should definitely not get a Nobel Prize.’
    Standing amid the smell of his own urine, Frankie White suddenly realised where they were. Like a bank robber who has had his pocket picked, he felt outraged. The feeling gave him the courage to shout at Matt Mason above the sound.
    ‘No, no. Wait a minute. We don’t need any wee tests. Ah’ve told you what the man can do. That’s not what Ah thought the night was about.’
    Matt Mason was turning his hands back and forward in the heat.
    ‘Come on, Matt! We don’t need this.’
    Suddenly, the machine shut itself off. Frankie White cringed from the sound of his own voice. Matt Mason was rubbing the fingers of each hand on the palms, dissatisfied. Without warning, he leaned across and dried them on Frankie’s jacket.
    ‘I’m not a punter,’ he said. ‘I’m a bookie. Always check the odds.’ He turned at the door. ‘But it’s okay. I’ve warned Billy it’s a fair fight.’
    He went back through to the bar. Frankie hung about for a moment until he admitted to himself that there was nothing he could do but follow. Going back to his whisky, he saw the scene begin to move under its own