The Bad Fire Read Online Free PDF Page A

furtive and he’d vanish for days at a time. He had a look on his face that said, Don’t ask me where I’ve been, woman. Just don’t ask . So I never did. He came and he went … And then out of the blue we moved up in the world, from Granny Mallon’s flat in Bathgate Street to a house in Onslow Drive, and I didn’t know how Jackie could afford a place like that on the money he made selling junk out of that bloody warehouse.’
    She sat down at the table. She was reflected in the polished wood like somebody drowning in brown water. Eddie Mallon remembered moving house. Less than a mile separated Bathgate Street from Onslow Drive, but the houses in Onslow Drive weren’t decrepit tenements, they were smart terraced properties, your own garden front and back. People living there belonged to a class that enjoyed a certain genteel prosperity.
    â€˜Obviously he made some good business deals,’ Eddie said.
    â€˜Is that what you really believe?’
    â€˜Why not? What are you trying to say – he sometimes walked on the wrong side of the street? He ran some scams, broke some laws? How can you be absolutely sure of that?’ He thought of Jackie Mallon saying: I was never a criminal, son. Remember that. If anybody says anything against me at your school, learn to ignore it. I was the victim of spiteful men. That’s the truth .
    The victim of spiteful men.
    You don’t know anything about him, Eddie, do you? You don’t know how the man lived his life. You remember him the way a small kid might remember the scent and texture of a long-lost security blanket or a favourite teddy bear. You wanted more than that. All through the years of separation you longed for reconciliation.
    Flora patted the side of her son’s face. ‘Oh, Eddie. He’s stone-cold dead, but he’s still got you thinking good things about him. What a bloody great talent it is to get the benefit of the doubt – even after you’re gone.’
    Eddie Mallon said, ‘I missed him when I was growing up, so okay – maybe I idealized him a little. A kid misses his dad.’
    Flora said, ‘If you go to Glasgow you’ll get to meet the mysterious Senga.’
    â€˜Is she so mysterious?’ Eddie asked.
    â€˜I don’t know the first thing about her. Admittedly, I haven’t inquired too closely. She’s been with Jackie for what – twenty years? Just think. If he’d married her she’d be your stepmother. There’s a thought for you, Eddie.’
    Flora sagged suddenly; she hunched over the table.
    â€˜You okay, Ma?’
    â€˜Just a little breathless. It’ll pass. My days are usually more humdrum. This is …’
    â€˜Are you sure that’s all?’
    â€˜I’m sure.’
    He stood over her. He noticed her hair was thinning, her pink scalp faintly visible on the crown of her head through a white lattice-work of strands. He imagined her growing infirm and still somehow managing to hobble out to the greenhouse, watering can trembling in her hand. He wondered if Senga looked the same age as Flora, and if she had that same grandmotherly vibe about her – then he remembered Joyce had described her as red-haired and tall and flamboyant, a vibrant character. My stepmother, he thought. But Jackie hadn’t taken the conjugal route with Senga, who had the status of a common-law wife.
    He said, ‘I have to make some travel arrangements. You sure you’re okay?’
    â€˜I’m fine, fine.’ She walked with him to the door. She held his elbow tightly. Stepping on to the porch, Eddie saw distress on his mother’s face. ‘I missed him too,’ she said.

5
    Flora watched Eddie walk to his vehicle and thought: he looks the way his father used to. He moves the same way, that measured step, like a man afraid of standing on something unpleasant. He’s taller than his father, and better built, but not as handsome as