Lanark_ a life in 4 books - Alasdair Gray [211]
“Why not clear up the mess yourselves?” said Lanark impatiently.
“We lack protective clothing. Vithout it nothing is able to lif vithin sixty metres of these objects.”
“Are they heavy?” asked Lanark. “Could you flood the road and float them off it?”
“Powerhoses,” said Grant to Sludden. “Open a storm drain and order the fire brigade to flush the mess down it with power-hoses.”
“Impossible!” bellowed Gow. “Even if Unthank is menaced in the way you suggest, which I do not for one moment admit, the forcing of unqualified firemen to do the dangerous work of trained nerve-circuit experts is in flagrant defiance of all normal and democratic procedure. I am sure our provost is not going to be led astray by the jeremiads of the guest speaker and the rantings of brother Grant. Once again we see extremists of the right and left combining in an unholy alliance against all that is most stable in—”
“Blood will have to flow,” said a loud dull voice behind the pillar. “I’m sorry, I see no other way.”
“Whose blood will have to flow, Scougal?” asked Ritchie-Smollet gently, “and when, and where, and why will it flow, Scougal?”
“I’m sorry if my remarks upset people” said the dull voice, “I apologize. But blood will have to flow, I see no other way.” Lanark walked over to the little door, opened it, ducked under the lintel and closed it behind him.
CHAPTER 37.
Alexander Comes
Finding no light-switch he climbed the narrow steep spiral in blackness, patting the wall as he neared the level of the attic. At last his hand touched a clumsy wooden bolt. He slid it back, shoved hard and stepped out into fresh air with a few stars overhead. Either he had left the chapterhouse by the wrong stairs or the stairs by the wrong door for he now stood in a gutter between two dim slopes of roof. He could hear muffled kitchen noises of water and clinking dishes, so the attic was nearby. The gutter was clearly a walkway too, so he moved along it toward the noise and came to a stone parapet overlooking a city square. It was a quiet square with a couple of tiny figures walking across. The houses on the far side were the old tenement kind with shops on the ground floor and some upper windows curtained and lit from inside. These seemed so pleasantly familiar that he stared, perplexed. Unthank was the only city he remembered, but he had always wanted a brighter place: why should he like the look of it now? The yattering noise from the intersection was very audible. So were yattering noise from the intersection was very audible. So were him. He knocked on this, and a moment later Frankie opened it. He was so delighted that he seized her waist and kissed her surprised mouth. She pushed him away after a while, laughing and saying, “Passionate, eh?”
“How is she?”
“She was sleeping when I left, but I sent for the nurse to be on the safe side.”
“Thanks Frankie, you’re a good girl.”
He walked beside the arches along the attic and softly entered the bright little cubicle. Rima smiled at him softly from her pillow. He said “Hullo” and squatted on a cushion by the bed. She whispered, “The contractions have begun.”
“Good. A nurse is coming.”
He held her hand under the bedclothes. A stout lady came busily in and frowned at him, then bent over Rima with a very wide smile.
“So you’re going to have a wee baby!” she said in the loud slow voice some people use when speaking to idiots. “A wee baby just like your mummy had when you were born! Isn’t that nice?”
“I’m not going to speak to her,” said Rima to Lanark, then drew a sharp breath and seemed to concentrate on something. “That’s right!” said the nurse consolingly. “It doesn’t really hurt now, does it?”
“Tell her my back’s sore!” said Rima sharply.
“Her back’s sore,” said Lanark.
“And do you really want your husband to stay here? Some men find it very, very difficult to take.”
“Tell her to shut up!” said Rima and a moment later added bitterly, “Tell her I’ve wet the bed.”
“It isn’t what you think,” said the nurse. “It’s perfectly