Trainspotting - Irvine Welsh [50]
Na Na’s pins are fucked up likes, and the quack sais that it was too radge, her strugglin up tae the toap flight ay stairs in her auld gaff at Lome Strasse. Too right, heap big medicine man. If ye took the varicose veins oot ay Na Na’s legs, likesay, thir wid be nae legs, nothin tae haud her up, ken? Ah’ve goat better veins in ma airms than she’s goat in her scrambled eggs. She still gave the Doc some stick, likes; auld cats have been markin oot their territory, so tae speak, for likesay, donks, and git attached tae it. Sure as fuck, they arenae gaunnae gie it up withoot a scrap. Claws come oot, and fur flies, man. That’s Na Na . . . Ms Mouskouri, as ah call her, ken?
There’s a common-room for her block, likesay, which Na Na never uses, unless she’s tryin tae cruise that Mr Bryce. The auld punter’s family complained tae the Warden aboot her sexually harassing him. This Warden wifie tries tae mediate, likes, between ma Ma n Mr Bryce’s daughter, but Na Na reduces the daughter tae tears by making snide remarks aboot the bad birthmark oan her face. Sortay one ay they wine stains, ken? It’s likesay, thit Na Na picks oan people’s weaknesses, particularly other women, and uses that against them, ken?
A series ay different locks click open, n Na Na smiles at us, n gestures us tae come in. Ah get a barry reception here, but ma Ma n sister git treated like, well, likesay, nothing. They dae everything fir Na Na n aw. But Na Na loves guys and hates lassies. She’s hud, likesay, eight bairns by five different men, ken. An that’s jist the ones we ken aboot.
— Hullo . . . Calum . . . Willie . . . Patrick . . . Kevin . . . Desmond . . . she lists the names ay some ay her grandchildren, still likes, missin oot mine. Doesnae bother me though, likesay, ah git called ‘Spud’ that often, even ma Ma calls us it, ah sometimes forget ma name tae.
— Danny.
— Danny. Danny, Danny, Danny. An ah caw Kevin Danny n aw. How could ah forget that yin, Danny Boy!
Well, likesay, how could she . . . Danny Boy and Roses Ay Picardy ur likesay the only songs she kens. Ken? She sortay sings at the toap ay her voice; a breathless, tuneless sound, wi her airms sortay raised intae the air fir effect, ken.
— George’s here.
Ah look aroond the bend ay the L-shaped room n clock ma Uncle Dode, slumped in a chair, sippin a can ay Tennent’s Lager.
— Dode, ah sais.
— Spud! Awright boss? How ye livin?
— Peachy catboy, peachy. Eh, yirsel likesay?
— Cannae complain. How’s yir Ma?
— Er, still likesay gittin oan ma case as usual, ken?
— Hi! That’s yir mother yir talkin aboot! The best friend ye’ll ever huv. S’at no right Ma? he asks Na Na.
— Buckin right it is son!
‘Buckin’ is one ay Na Na’s favourite words likesay, along wi ‘pish’. Naebody says ‘pish’ like Na Na. She sortay drags oot the sssshhh, it’s likesay, ye kin see the steam rising oaf the yellay jet as it hits the white porcelain, ken?
Uncle Dode gies her a big, indulgent sortay grin. Dode’s likesay half-caste, the son ay a West Indian sailor, ken, the product ay, likes, West Indian semen! Ken? Dode’s auld boy pulled intae Leith long enough tae git Na Na up the kite. Then it was back tae the seven seas. Sounds a good life likes, a sailor’s, likesay a burd in every port n that.
Dode’s Na Na’s youngest bairn.
She married ma Grandad first likes, a chancin auld cowboy fae County Wexford. The auld dude used tae sit ma Ma oan his lap n sing tae hur: Irish rebel songs, likesay. He hud hair growin oot ay his nostrils n she thought thit he wis ancient, the wey ankle-biters do, likes. The gadge could only huv been in his thirties, like. Anywey, this gadge sortay blew it likes, kinday fell fae the top-flair windae ay a tenement. He wis shaggin this other woman at the time, no Na Na likesay. Naebody could really tell whether it wis drunkenness, suicide, or likesay . . . well baith. Anywey, that yin left her wi three bairns, includin ma Ma.
Na Na’s next (married) man wis a gravel-voiced dude whae hud once worked as a scaffolder, ken. The auld boy’s still oan the scene in