the adventure. Plus the house; detached bungalow-style with a basement, comfy and with wee ornaments and fancy-looking things. All of it, Mum would have loved it.
Murdo was put in the basement. When Uncle John told Murdo he said, Great. Uncle John laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. Aunt Maureen had guessed he would choose that because it was what boys liked.
But for Murdo it was only because it was out the way of things and he could relax and not have to bother about stuff. There was one big room and two wee ones and the stairs down opened into the big one. A mattress was on the floor but Aunt Maureen had prepared it like a bed with sheets and a duvet, and left two towels neat and folded on top of it. That was the towels. Ha ha to Dad. People gave ye towels if ye were a guest.
With his two sons long gone Uncle John wanted to develop the basement properly. He hadnt got round to it yet but would in the future. A question of time, he said. Most of the space was taken up with furniture and stuff; cupboards, wardrobes and different types of tables; big polythene bags bundled together. He had shifted stuff to create space for Murdo roundabout the bed area but it was difficult to walk without banging into something, and the same in the two small rooms adjacent. But it was still good, and private too: Murdo liked that.
Dad had brought Uncle John a bottle of whisky as a present. He examined the label: Very nice indeed. I’ll enjoy this. He stuck it away into a cupboard and brought another one out already opened. He poured wee ones for him and Dad and added a drop of water. Yeah, he said, you got relations everywhere Tommy. Now Molly Mulhearn, my own mother’s first cousin, we called her Auntie Molly, ever hear of her? she was a great old character.
Uncle John carried on talking. It was good interesting stuff but Murdo was too tired. The thought of getting into bed! Dad too must have been tired. And what about Uncle John himself? He had been working all day then come to collect them, and tomorrow morning it was back to work – in six hours’ time! How do ye cope? asked Dad.
I’m used to it, he said.
Murdo smiled, smothering a yawn. Although past retiral age Uncle John had worked in the same full-time job for years, and traveled long distances. It had to do with maintenance, warehouses and stores, and clean bright offices too; factories and stores and a long long way away but nice because fields and valleys and clean bright offices, warehouses and the stores, he hadnt been able to get time off with the high maintenance, working weekends and all sorts was a sore point. Here they were, Dad and Murdo, and Uncle John was having to work. He had tried and tried but they didnt let him. Ye would think after all these years but no, they couldnt manage without him because like high technology was high maintenance, if ye couldnt go right it was disasters all round to do with everything, just everything and it was only him knew the ins and outs. Uncle John had stopped talking. Murdo opened his eyes and smiled. Uncle John was grinning. Away to yer bed son, ye’re out on yer feet.
I was just . . .
Ye were snoring!
I wasnt, I’m fine.
Away ye go.
Okay.
Dad smiled, he was sipping at his glass of whisky. Uncle John rose from his armchair and gave Murdo another cuddle thump thump thump. Take a sandwich and a glass of milk down with ye, he said.
Are ye sure?
Oh never say that in this house son! Aunt Maureen left them there to be eaten so ye better eat them. Ye’re in yer own house and ye’ve got to remember that. She’ll give ye what-for if ye dont! Ever heard of Geronimo?
The Indian Chief, said Dad.
Now ye’re talking Tommy that’s yer Aunt Maureen! Uncle John sat back down and lifted his whisky.
Murdo was glad to get downstairs and close the door. He ate the sandwich then undressed, put the glass of milk at the side of the mattress, switched off the lights and was in between the sheets immediately.
Where was the glass of milk? The dark was so intense. His eyes adjusted eventually. Only the one wee window, high up where the wall met the ceiling.
There was an old smell too. Maybe dampness. And a constant sound like wind swirling faraway, then a rushing sort of hollow noise, making ye think of outer space; these stories where the astronaut is sucked out the door and into orbit; currents of wind sucking ye out, except maybe ye dont get that in space, if everything is just the same then how can there be wind, there isnt any and there cannot be any. Or else things would move. Everything would move. But everything does move, everything does move, roundabout you. So it is the opposite of the wind, the wind inside out and you just filling a gap, sucked in filling a gap.
*
He was staring at the ceiling, staring at it for ages not knowing anything. But then was looking about. Wherever he was, he remembered; and pulled the duvet to his chin. Sunlight through the wee high-up window at the ceiling, a narrow strip of window. Up at ground level. This was the basement. Here they were. They were here! Murdo was out of bed at once, pulling a wooden chair to beneath the window. Not much space to walk. He stepped up on the chair to peer out but would have needed a step ladder to manage.
The one drawback: the basement had no toilet. He had to use the bathroom at the top of the stairs; the one for the main house.
The packet given him by Sarah lay next to the rucksack. Inside was the note and the two CDs. The one by Queen Monzee-ay and her band was a “greatest hits” compilation. The other was a selection of stuff. Murdo switched on the light to read the note. The gig was a week next Saturday at a place called Lafayette, 9 p.m. and the venue was the Jay Cee Lounge, which sounded like a bar, but that was okay. Murdo unpacked the rucksack to see what clothes he had brought. Probably not enough. Jeans and two shirts, joggers and T-shirts; a pair of shorts that did for swimming; underwear and socks. His idea was to wash stuff for the second week. He folded and stacked his clothes on top of a cupboard.
He had no idea of the time except he was starving and needed the toilet. When he opened the basement door he heard voices drone. He went upstairs but the bathroom door was shut and somebody in showering, probably Dad.
The voices came from the open-plan kitchen/dining area which was enormous compared to back home. But only Aunt Maureen was there, behind the kitchen counter watching television while preparing food. A weather report was showing. She became aware of Murdo suddenly and she laughed and came to meet him. Oh Murdo!
He laughed too like as if they knew each other already. But they did, they did know each other. You are Murdo, she said. Of course you are!
He made to shake her hand but she gave him a great cuddle instead, then stepped back to look him up and down. My Lord, she said, you are the spitting image! You are. She cuddled him again. You are the spitting image!
Who of? asked Murdo.
Everybody! My! How long since I seen you now son huh? What are we talking here is it ten years?
I think it’s eleven.
Eleven. My Lord and you are the spitting image!
There was a choice for breakfast. He took a banana and a plate of cornflakes. There was a big table in the dining area but also stools at the counter. Murdo said, Will I just eat here?
Sure.
Murdo sat on a stool. Aunt Maureen chatted between doing her work and watching the weather report. This television channel was devoted
