‘Well then. Yi could get away from it fur a few months n see how yi feel.’

‘A’ll think aboot it.’

PART V

Slab

SHOCKING 36 MURDERS TAKEN PLACE IN LANARKSHIRE OVER THE PAST TWO YEARS

New figures reveal South Lanarkshire is ‘murder capital’ of Scotland.

Gary Fanning, Hamilton Advertiser

The Blue Light in the Toilet

It’s grey n could be any other month in Scotland. Just that daytime grey, overcast n heavy. Me n Big Kenzie ir sittin quietly, smokin n starin oot the windae at spring tickin over n failin tae ignite. Tam is twenty-two noo. Yi kin see he’s gittin elder, less interested n committed tae being a dafty. He works hard n enjoys a few pints. It’s obvious he’s changin n isnae so burstin wae that madness n reckless desire tae git in bother or git oot his heed. He’s talkin aboot holidays n other things he wants tae dae n hus met a wee burd. A’m keen tae meet the lassie. Tam seems different when he talks aboot hur – there’s a different glint in his eye. Maybe she wid help the big man screw the nut. Yi couldnae be the tap man forever. Eventually, even YT legends huv tae call time n move on, or perish.

‘Aye, Michelle is hur name, sir.’

‘Wit’s she like?’

‘Some laugh. Tall, pure healthy n kinda gingery – bit like Gemma! You still shaggin her?’

‘Nah, mate, patched.’

‘Aye, she fuckin burnt you, Sonny Jim! Always happens, she’s fuckin high-end. Better men than you huv hud their heart broke by hur. Wis she the fantasy ride everycunt dreams ae?’

A just wink. ‘Think yees wull end up gawn then?’

‘Just seein fur noo but see wit happens. A wis needin a fuckin wee burd n that. Company tae settle doon away fae aw the shite. A’m meetin her when she finishes, if yi want tae come doon a stoat.’

We pull intae the supermarket car park n jump oot Tam’s silver Golf GTI MK IV, the 1.8T fleein machine. Michelle is meetin us in the cafe across the road fur lunch. Before we cross the road, the big man pulls me intae the bus stop. Suhin’s caught his eye n he’s starin doon the street. A follow his line ae sight. Big Eck is standin talkin tae a wee shifty-lookin cunt. A barely seen the cunt noo n him n that past contingent ae the elder troops ir mostly gone – Taz, Whytey, Big Ryans, Bailey n McColl. Yi never see any them. Tam is standin starin through the opaque shelter, aw scratched wae graffiti n tippexed. The cunt Eck is wae looks like a wee rogue, a fuckin jag-a-bag. He’s wearin eld jeans wae holes in them n a faded Adidas jumper wae a leather jakit on top. If yi irnae lookin closely, yi wullnae see the pass. Hand up tae the mouth, then no quite a handshake but a brush past. The two cunt’s hands barely touch n they’re aff walkin in opposite directions. Eck’s lookin over his shoulder n side tae side before he sticks suhin in his gub. He jogs down towards the supermarket where we just came fae. A turn slowly towards Tam, cos now, tae us both, it’s obvious. His face is sullen in realisation ae suhin long rumoured. ‘Fuckin mon,’ Big Kenzie spits towards the bus shelter n walks back down towards the car park.