A linger a moment before A go doon the stairs. Ma room seems different, maybe cos A’m aboot tae leave home properly fur the first time. A pack as much as A kin carry intae two holdalls but leave ma Trainspotting n Tupac posters where they ir. There’s still a Union flag hangin on the other wall n eld pictures ae the troops fae years back. A sit a while starin oot ma windae, broodin on the way things ir aboot here n ae everyhin up tae this point. A light a fag n dream lost without conclusion before the door goes. Patricia is waitin ootside, legs crossed n smokin as she leans against the motor, dangerous n beautiful as ever.

We hit the road towards the M80 n drive along the whole length ae the Campsies on the Stirling road, headin towards Glasgow before veerin aff. Their outline is black noo against lighter blues ae those stretchin nights. The eld summers wur endless n full ae possibility n adventure, dain aw nighters wae the troops n chasin the buzz. We lit fires in the woods as the darkness came in around us, n sat drinkin wine n smokin joints until aw the light wis gone. Patricia smokes oot the windae n plays wae her phone n doesnae notice ma eyes never leavin them, till they fade oot ae view, as we turn aff towards the M74 south n Newcastle.

PART VI

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NEW RESEARCH EXPOSES THE ‘GLASS FLOOR’ IN BRITISH SOCIETY

Less able, better-off kids are 35% more likely to become high earners than bright poor kids.

Social Mobility and Child Poverty Commission

Language

2012

The Quayside is lit blue n orange n shimmers on the black Tyne. A walk tae the motor wae ma bag n throw it in the back seat. A’m headin back towards the M6. Porter Robinson, ‘Language’, blarin oot the speakers. It’s Friday mornin, quarter past two, n A settle in fur the couple ae hours home – tunes on n fly back up the road. A git the feelin only a Scot kin when yi cross the border, like even the air changes or suhin n, even though things looked just the same, that these fields ir yours n those wans ir theirs. A feel a strange sensation ae home as see the ferris wheel at M&Ds lit up, n A turn aff fur Bellshill n Coatbridge. A’m lookin at familiar places but A feel like a stranger, like when A hud been on holiday when A wis young, n when A came back, just fur a couple ae hours, home felt different. Ma mind starts tae race wae the troops n the past floodin back. A feel eld feelings wash over me as A stare towards the early sunrise spreadin across the Campsies. A’m almost glad tae be home.

A drive home the long way, through our town centre, tae see if it’s changed ataw. Three year feels like a lifetime when yi hud never left before. A only visited once, tae attend court, n that wis it. The PF drapped it tae a common assault fur us both. Big Kenzie got shafted wae 300 hours CS n A wis admonished. It still left yi wae the record but nae further action fae the court. That wis the cost ae being along fur the ride. Ma maw came down a couple ae times tae see us but apart fae hur, A never seen anycunt else. A wisnae just physically gone, but separate fae the past n ma eld life in an attempt tae build suhin meaninful. The foundations wur never secure wae Patricia. Ma departure wis too impulsive n back then, it wis just an attempt tae defuse a tickin timebomb. Before leavin Gateshead, A packed ma shite n wrote a note tae say A’d call soon. Maybe it wis revertin tae type, comin back. A’m nervous aboot it. There’s an unspoken resentment aboot cunts who leave. Folk rarely left, n if yi did, yi wur obviously too good fur a place like this n the people in it, eld pals or fuckin no.