Remedy is None Read Online Free PDF Page A

examinations? That he had to die out of term time, organize his death to suit the syllabus?
    ‘Naw, Charlie, Ah didny want tae do that. But Ah don’t ken how much time Ah have now. An’ Ah wanted to see ye.’
    ‘Ah, mebbe ye’ve some time yet, Feyther,’ Charlie said, the sight of his father denying the words as he said them.
    ‘Naw, son, naw. Ah ken. An’ Ah’ve had a long time to think. Lyin’ here. A long time.’ Pain suddenly prompted him to hurry. ‘You keep an eye to Elizabeth, son, will ye? She’s a good lassie an’ Harry’s a nice boy. She’ll be all right. She’s mature now. A sensible lassie for her age. She’s had to be, God bless her. Takin’ a mither’s place before she was a woman. Doin’ two jobs. She’s made a good job of herself. She’ll be all right. As long as you’re there just to look after her a wee bit. John’s got his ain family now, ye see.’ Pride flickered for a moment in his eyes, the ghost of an emotion. ‘He’s got his wife an’ son to look after now. God bless them.’
    He paused, fighting the pain. It was harrowing to watch him, a man numbering his children in his will. All he had to give them were blessings.
    ‘An’ yersel’, Charlie. Now. Ah want ye to keep in. At the university. It’ll no’ be easy. Ah know. It’s no thanks to me if ye do make it. Fur it’s little. Ah can leave ye. But listen, Charlie. In the jacket of ma blue suit. In the wardrobe. Fifty pounds. Inside the lining o’ the sleeve. It’ll be a help. An’, Charlie. The funeral’s all covered. By the insurance. There’ll be no expense whatsoever from that. There’ll maybe be somethin’ left over.’
    It was all arranged. His death was to cause them as little inconvenience as possible.
    ‘Feyther,’ Charlie said. ‘We’ll be all right. Don’t worry about that.’
    ‘An’, Charlie. In the inside pocket of the jacket. A key. To ma lock-up down at Fore Street. There’s a lotta metal there. Mick an’ me stripped it off old gas-masks. Ye’ll get a fewpounds for that. But Mick. He’s got to get his share of it. He helped me. The key’s in the inside pocket.’
    Charlie looked down at his hands. Why was he so concerned with money at this time? The key to the lock-up. It was like a macabre mockery of a fairy-tale – the legendary treasure told of by a dying man. A few bits of metal. He was apportioning his worldly goods. Everyone was to get his share, even Mick, the model-lodging ne’er-do-weel who had played Sancho Panza to his father’s Quixotic dreams of financial success.
    ‘It’s no’ much, Charlie. But it’ll help to tide ye over just now. Ye must stick it. At the university. Ye’ve got to, Charlie. Ye’re no’ goin’ to be like me. A nobody. You’ll make a success of your life. You’ll be different from me, son. You’ll be different.’
    ‘Ah don’t want to be different from you, Feyther,’ Charlie said. He couldn’t believe that his father was saying that. Why was he speaking like this? ‘What is there to be different about?’
    ‘Naw, son. You’ll be different. You’ll no’ make. The mistakes Ah made. Ah can see ma mistakes now. Ah see them. When it’s too late.’
    ‘Ye never made mistakes, Feyther. Don’t say that.’
    ‘Aw naw, son. Ah was wrong. All ma days. All the time Ah was wrong. Full o’ mistakes. Ah see them now. Ah see them.’
    Charlie said nothing, struck to stone by the terrible sincerity of his father’s voice. He saw with sudden horror how real these ‘mistakes’ were to his father’s mind, like spectres gathered about his bedside. He sensed how they must have haunted him these past weeks, the agony they were giving him at this moment. This was really what he wanted to tell Charlie. And Charlie listened in disbelief while his father talked on through his pain as if he had something terrible to confess before he died.
    ‘Don’t be like me, son. Ah never did anything wi’ ma life. Ah had nae education an’ Ah never made