Wimpy."
John ignored him. He stole a glance at Karen. She looked nice in her school uniform. He had taken his off to avoid getting a beating now he was home. Everyone knew he went to George Heriot's School but it was easier if he didn't rub it in their faces.
"Anyway," she said, "who cares about the kings and queens of England. I'm a Scot. I suppose they don't teach you about Scottish history at your fancy school. All they want you to do is be "North British" and kowtow to our English masters."
John laughed. "If you say so."
This irritated her. "Go on then. Recite the Kings of Scotland."
"Erm, MacBeth, Malcolm Big Head, William the Lion, several Alexanders, Robert the Bruce, and of course Mary Queen of Scots." He let the ball drop. "I'm tired."
"That's no them all," said Karen. "What about the Jameses?"
He said, "They don't count as they preferred to be English anyway in the end, and I'm not keen on kowtowing to my English masters."
Graeme and Margaret were both looking uninterested and had begun talking about what was for tea - mince and tatties, it seemed. It started to rain.
Without a word, Karen turned to go, but she did so slowly as if to give him a chance to say something. He hesitated and she got further away. Then he coughed. "Err, Karen."
She turned back, a big grin on her face. Her sea-blue eyes sparkling. "I didn't know you knew my name," she said.
He blushed and felt himself become tongue-tied.
"You wanted to say something?" she teased.
"Erm, I was just wondering, whether you would come out with me, one time. Maybe to get a burger or something at Wimpy? I'd pay." He spo ke but felt it hadn't gone well.
"What me?" she looked hard at him. She paused for emphasis. "With you?"
His blush was incarnadine. "Aw forget it." He was angry at being humiliated. Margaret tittered.
Karen smiled again. "Maybe," she said.
He was foolishly pleased. "Ah, ok. Thanks."
"But only if you can recite the Scottish kings and queens. See how you do next time we meet."
And then she turned and walked off with Margaret who was still sniggering at him.
Graeme turned to him. "I do not beli eve what I just heard."
"Why? She's lucky to get an offer from me."
"Did ye ken she's goan oot wi big Dougie McLean. He'll bite yer heid af."
John said, "I'm no scared o' Dougie McLean."
"Do you ken him?"
"No."
"Well that's why you're no scared. He's a monster."
"I'll fight him for her," said John.
"You're an eejit. He'll gie ye laldie."
"The bigger they come, Graeme ma lad, the harder they fa'."
Graeme shook his head sadly. "I'll visit you in hospital. She didn't say yes anyway."
"I'll work on it. Do you think she's bonny by the way?" asked John.
"Nice tits," said Graeme, wiping his nose on his sleeve.
1963 - Edinburgh : George Heriot's School at Lauriston Place, Edinburgh was founded in 1628 by Heriot as a hospital - which in those days meant school - for the local puir faitherless bairns of Edinburgh and Lothian. John 's primary school teacher knew he was bright and suggested that his mother apply for a scholarship. This was in 1963. He did this tentatively as though he knew John was "faitherless", he knew his family pretended he was the son of William Gilroy. His mother was offended by the teacher's suggestion because it reminded her of her disgrace. So much so, that she spent the following few days weeping alone in her bedroom and then wiping her eyes and denying to her father and mother, and indeed her husband, that anything was the matter. John was oblivious. He was 11. By this time he knew the man everyone said was his father, was not. Who his father was, apart from him being a Catholic, he didn't know. One day he found the photograph of a handsome dark haired man tucked in a chest of drawer's in his grandmother's house. He suspected who he was, but couldn't work up the courage to ask.
His mother thought hard about the scholarship at George Heriot 's School. The school had been founded for less
John ignored him. He stole a glance at Karen. She looked nice in her school uniform. He had taken his off to avoid getting a beating now he was home. Everyone knew he went to George Heriot's School but it was easier if he didn't rub it in their faces.
"Anyway," she said, "who cares about the kings and queens of England. I'm a Scot. I suppose they don't teach you about Scottish history at your fancy school. All they want you to do is be "North British" and kowtow to our English masters."
John laughed. "If you say so."
This irritated her. "Go on then. Recite the Kings of Scotland."
"Erm, MacBeth, Malcolm Big Head, William the Lion, several Alexanders, Robert the Bruce, and of course Mary Queen of Scots." He let the ball drop. "I'm tired."
"That's no them all," said Karen. "What about the Jameses?"
He said, "They don't count as they preferred to be English anyway in the end, and I'm not keen on kowtowing to my English masters."
Graeme and Margaret were both looking uninterested and had begun talking about what was for tea - mince and tatties, it seemed. It started to rain.
Without a word, Karen turned to go, but she did so slowly as if to give him a chance to say something. He hesitated and she got further away. Then he coughed. "Err, Karen."
She turned back, a big grin on her face. Her sea-blue eyes sparkling. "I didn't know you knew my name," she said.
He blushed and felt himself become tongue-tied.
"You wanted to say something?" she teased.
"Erm, I was just wondering, whether you would come out with me, one time. Maybe to get a burger or something at Wimpy? I'd pay." He spo ke but felt it hadn't gone well.
"What me?" she looked hard at him. She paused for emphasis. "With you?"
His blush was incarnadine. "Aw forget it." He was angry at being humiliated. Margaret tittered.
Karen smiled again. "Maybe," she said.
He was foolishly pleased. "Ah, ok. Thanks."
"But only if you can recite the Scottish kings and queens. See how you do next time we meet."
And then she turned and walked off with Margaret who was still sniggering at him.
Graeme turned to him. "I do not beli eve what I just heard."
"Why? She's lucky to get an offer from me."
"Did ye ken she's goan oot wi big Dougie McLean. He'll bite yer heid af."
John said, "I'm no scared o' Dougie McLean."
"Do you ken him?"
"No."
"Well that's why you're no scared. He's a monster."
"I'll fight him for her," said John.
"You're an eejit. He'll gie ye laldie."
"The bigger they come, Graeme ma lad, the harder they fa'."
Graeme shook his head sadly. "I'll visit you in hospital. She didn't say yes anyway."
"I'll work on it. Do you think she's bonny by the way?" asked John.
"Nice tits," said Graeme, wiping his nose on his sleeve.
1963 - Edinburgh : George Heriot's School at Lauriston Place, Edinburgh was founded in 1628 by Heriot as a hospital - which in those days meant school - for the local puir faitherless bairns of Edinburgh and Lothian. John 's primary school teacher knew he was bright and suggested that his mother apply for a scholarship. This was in 1963. He did this tentatively as though he knew John was "faitherless", he knew his family pretended he was the son of William Gilroy. His mother was offended by the teacher's suggestion because it reminded her of her disgrace. So much so, that she spent the following few days weeping alone in her bedroom and then wiping her eyes and denying to her father and mother, and indeed her husband, that anything was the matter. John was oblivious. He was 11. By this time he knew the man everyone said was his father, was not. Who his father was, apart from him being a Catholic, he didn't know. One day he found the photograph of a handsome dark haired man tucked in a chest of drawer's in his grandmother's house. He suspected who he was, but couldn't work up the courage to ask.
His mother thought hard about the scholarship at George Heriot 's School. The school had been founded for less
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