Chapters (43)
- Cover
- SCABBY QUEEN
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- SOME PEOPLE
- Q Magazine, June 1990
- RUTH
- Clio Campbell
- NEIL
- DONALD
- Guardian Weekend magazine, August 2010
- SAMMI
- SIMON
- NEIL
- Daily Mail, October 2016
- HAMZA
- XANTHE
- DONALD
- Q Magazine, September 2007
- RUTH
- DANNY
- SAMMI
- NEIL
- BBC Radio Scotland, 24 January 2018
- DONALD
- MALCOLM
- SAMMI
- Loaded, February 1996
- SHIV
- IDA
- Scotland on Sunday, September 2013
- DONALD
- HAMZA
- SAMMI
- ADELE
- NEIL
- The Pool, February 2018
- RUTH
- DONALD
- EILEEN
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- About the Author
- About the Publisher
Whit was I talking aboot there? Was it oor Senga? Oor Senga never came to that café, so why would I be talking about oor Senga? It was wan of they fancy Italian cafés with a coffee machine, and she’d aye buy me a wee frothy coffee, that was my birthday treat. Oh, she was bonny, my girl. She was a bonny lassie. I mean, when I think aboot it noo, she maybe couldnae help it. I mean, the men were always staring, right from when she got tits, that young, and I’d shout at them in the street tae get tae, I’d take her hand, my girl. But naw. She knew. She knew, that lassie. She knew there were lines you didnae cross, eh, and she went with him anyway. Out of whit? Just out of badness was it maybe? Oh she’s a bad bitch, right enough.
And she left me all alone. She left me here and me no husband, no grandweans, no family eftir my poor, poor brother, eftir oor Senga. Just her and she left me here. Ah’ve never seen her. Just at Christmas, and I told her, I said you’re a bad bitch and you never visit me. Was that this Christmas, hen? I know there was a tree. I know that. Dae we have a tree in here? This lassie today, she was tall and I don’t remember seeing her before but she must be family, I was thinking. She said something aboot a funeral and I was trying to tell her it’s OK, we buried your mammy years ago. It was a nice service we had for oor Senga. Much nicer than the wan for Peter. Oh, poor poor Peter. Did you ever hear whit happened to oor Peter, did I tell you? He just threw himself into the pit. Afore they had time to put the concrete in. Well, he’d no work for years, neither he had, and the weans needed the money. But the church didnae want to give him a burial, so me and his Annie we ended up in this crematorium in Ayr where they wouldn’t let us bury him because you had to pay extra and the scandal was just clinging to us then, so Annie didnae know whit to do. She couldnae bury his ashes in the garden because the cooncil might move her on. Poor Annie. I’ve not seen Annie in a while. I wonder how she’s keepin. Oh now, wait. Did Annie not top herself too? No, who was it, then?