‘Nice to see yi, Alan. How’s tricks?’

‘No bad.’

‘You working?’

‘Just arrived back up the road. Wis livin wae Patricia in Newcastle. Thinkin aboot uni next year.’

‘Oh yeah? Doing what?’ Thick wae implication. Uni is pretty tough, Azzy. Maybe you’d be better out digging the roads or something? Maybe get a trade, bro?

‘No sure, mate. English or suhin.’

‘Ah nice, man.’

‘Wit aboot yirsel?’

‘Just about to do my final honours year, man. Finish next year n hopefully get a job with my dad’s company.’

‘Awk you’re sorted, bro. Who’s yir friend?’

‘That’s Felicity.’ She nods in ma direction n obliges me a smile while she flicks hur smoke.

‘Hiya,’ A say tae her, but she doesnae reply. ‘Wit yees up tae?’

‘Ah just heading into town for dinner.’

‘Cool, mate … well, A’ll let yees go! Nice tae see yi anyway.’

‘Same, mate … Take it easy.’

A watch the BMW fly oot the street n disappear roon the corner. Paul hus obviously grown up, cleaned himself up n got himself a nice burd. There wis nae need fur him tae stay associated wae aw us noo. It wis aw half-tone pleasantries n awkward silences. A doubted somehow that he wid be runnin aboot the dancins in our wee town or hangin aboot the eld gaffs full ae troops. Being a ned fur him wis a fashion statement, nuhin more. Fur the rest ae us it wis a lifestyle n a culture n who we aw wur. Paul never aligned himself wae cunts who wur gonnae fuck their lives up. There’s nae betrayal tae his success. Maybe him n Felicity huv a nice flat in the West End, handy fur Ashton Lane and Byres Road. In a way A’m happy fur him. He’s got his beyond n he’s gone.

Ma phone starts buzzin away. It’s Stacey. ‘Wit’s happnin, cuz?’

‘Have you been on the computer?’

This is it. A knew deep doon it wis gonnae come, it wis just a matter ae when. ‘Naw, A’ve deleted aw ma profiles when A left. How, wit is it?’

‘Si O’Connor’s posted about you.’

‘Sayin wit?’

‘Guess who’s back troops? The wan n only, Azzy fuckin Williams.’

‘N fuckin wit. It wis obvious they wur gonnae find oot sooner or later.’

‘Who do yi think told them?’

A huv a few ideas. ‘Who cares, honestly?’

‘You should.’

‘They’re no gonnae come lookin fur me. Cos if they dae then we’ll huv it oot n that’ll be it. In some ways A want it over n done wae. A’m no goin lookin fur trouble, chill oot!’

‘Awww, Alan! This is fucked up, son.’

‘Wanty calm doon, Stacey?’

‘A can’t. A’m worried somethin is gonnae happen to yi.’

‘There’s nae point fuckin worryin. If suhin happens then it happens.’

‘Back to aw that, Alan? What about uni? What would Monica say if she heard you talkin like that? Bet you wouldn’t fucking say that to hur!’

She’s right, obviously. A don’t want Monica tae see that side ae us anymore. A defo don’t want hur tae think A’m still a dafty. ‘Naw, maybe no. Yi forget it’s no me lookin fur trouble. It’s they cunts!’