This excerpt is taken from: pp118-21 Canongate hardback edition (2017)

An extract from the story entitled ‘One has One’s Weans’

Downstairs and across the street I stood on the pavement to see up to our building and our front room, where my son and daughter were asleep. There was a dim light in the window in the front room through the wall from them. This was where the noise was coming from. That was the room. I climbed the stairs to the third storey. Donnelly was on the nameplate. I chapped the door. Inside there was some sort of movement. I chapped again, though not so loudly. A man called: Who is it?

I’m yer neighbour through the wall.

Now the locks and chains were unbarred, and a key turned. An elderly man wearing jeans, vest and baseball cap. The stub of a cigarette stuck out from one corner of his mouth. His vest and jeans were spattered with lumps of plaster. By his side an elderly woman dressed in a sort of housecoat or else a dressing gown. I live through the wall from you, I said. Look it’s just that my kids sleep next to your front room and they keep getting wakened at night with the noise. Nightmares too they’re getting and it’s because of this. My girlfriend thinks it’s rats or something though to be honest…

The old guy interrupted me. Come on in, he said.

He held the door for me and I went in. The woman locked the door behind me. The man led me into the kitchen and she followed on. He saw me looking at the cigarette stub and took it out the corner of his mouth, leaned to tap ash into the sink, then looked to make sure it was not burning and dumped it in the rubbish bin. The smell of old tobacco was strong.

The tea’s infusing, said his wife.

He nodded and took another cigarette from a pack on the mantelpiece. He didnt light it but stood near the window. What’s the matter? he said.

It’s just the noise through the wall, I said, I mean like it’s just eh…

Ye talking about the front room?

Aye well that’s where the weans sleep. It’s their bedroom.

He glanced at his wife. I’ll take him ben the room hen.

I’ll bring yer tea. Dye take sugar son?

Eh, I dont really want a cup.

Ye sure?

Aye, I’m fine, thanks.

In the front room a wardrobe, a dressing table and a tallboy were stacked along one side of the room. No other furniture, and nay wonder because the floor, the slope, what a slope! Christ! The floor was bare. Maybe ye couldnt have laid down a carpet, it would have slithered into the wall.

Near the window lay a bucket containing a kind of cement mix, and there were trowels and a wine bottle with water in it. My daughter’s bed would have been through the wall from there. Mr Donnelly saw me looking and walked across I followed him and it was like walking up a hill. He pointed at the corner of the wall. There was a crack from the ceiling to the floor and it was open in places. Christ almighty, I said.

He crouched a little and stuck his hand in, and through beyond his wrist. He said, If ye were standing in the street ye’d see me waving He withdrew his hand and wiped it.

That’s a nightmare! I said.

He gazed at me. After a moment he took off his baseball cap and scratched his head.

Have ye been filling it in?

Aye, he said, that’s the noise ye’re hearing.

Huh, yeah.

He lit the cigarette, sucked in a lungful of smoke. He gestured at the crack down the wall. It isnay structural I dont think. Mr Donnelly watched me, waiting for a response. When I didnt say anything he added, Otherwise it might have fell down, the building.

Jeesoh!

I’ve been keeping it blocked. Trouble is son it’s never-ending; a Forth Road Bridge situation, ye spend yer life doing it; by the time ye get to the end it’s time to start back at the top. He frowned, noticing something about the crack; crumbly-looking concrete or plaster. He lifted a trowel and knocked the stuff out. It’s mine, he said, probably there since last year. Needs replacing. Same with this here, he said, tapping another spot with his trowel, and he glanced at me. Maybe if I changed the mix a bit, got a drop more sand or something. I might be using too much cement. I’m no great at the concreting, being honest about it.

What about lime? I said.

Lime? He puffed on his cigarette. Lime… he nodded, looked at me again. D’you know the building game son?

Eh naw, no really. I mean I did my brickie’s labourer for a few months.

Did ye?

Aye.

Right. Ye think lime…? He scratched his chin, gazing at the crack then frowning at it.

Well I dont know, I said, I was just eh I was just saying. What about the housing association like I mean have ye been on to them about it?

Hoh!

Naw?

Naw son ye dont tell them nothing. A big big mistake that. The very excuse they’re looking for. They’ll fucking demolish the place.

Jeesoh!

That’s the very excuse. He sniffed, shook his head. Naw son I think it’s the mix, if I got the mix right. There’s a resin I’ve heard, it’ll stick to anything. He knocked at the top of the crack with his trowel. See by the time I get to there I’ve got to start back down the bottom. I know it’s the wrong way round. But I used to start first at the top but it just didnay finish as well. How I dont know.

I thought ye started at the top and went fast down the way like if ye were concreting.

Aye only it starts crumbling out the way, like I say, it doesnay take the grip or something.

The water dries in…

That’s how I was thinking about the resin.

Right, yeah. At least it’s no rats.

Rats?

My girlfriend worries about them.

Fucking rats, he said, rats are easy. Just batter them ower the skull. It’s the front door with them anyway son, know what I mean, they ring the fucking doorbell, rats, open the door and in they stroll. Usually they’re wearing polis uniforms. He glanced at the door. I thought she was bringing tea…

A local tries to sell his sister to a trucker as he passes through town; a couple put their children to bed and hear a loud scratching at the wall; a man looks into a mirror and reflects on becoming more like his father. Sparky, touching and brilliantly daring, these stories uncover human feeling in the ordinary and the everyday, and are a powerful evocation of Kelman’s exceptional talent.