Buddha Da. Anne Donovan
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Название: Buddha Da

Автор: Anne Donovan

Издательство: Ingram

Жанр: Контркультура

Серия: Canons

isbn: 9781847675521

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ and opened a bottle of body lotion, smoothed it over ma legs.

      ‘One fish pie, one lemon sole, one fish tea and one scampi and chips. That it?’

      ‘Aye, thanks.’

      The waitress was a young lassie aboot seventeen, fair hair tied back in a pony tail. She looked at us, nodded, then heided aff intae the kitchen.

      ‘It’s warm in here, isn’t it?’

      ‘Aye, you could mibbe take your cardi aff, Gran.’

      ‘Ah’m fine.’

      It was mobbed as usual. The restaurant was at the back of the pub and there were always folk waitin in the bar for a table.

      The lassie came back wi our drinks.

      ‘Do you want the tea now or will you wait till after your meal?’ she asked Mammy.

      ‘Ah’ll have it the noo, hen.’

      Anne Marie footered aboot wi her straw. ‘Ah’m starvin.’

      ‘The food’ll be here soon. They’re always dead quick in here.’

      At the next table there was a faimly wi a couple of weans. Wan looked aboot six and was colourin in a picture, his face intent on whit he was daein. The other was in a high-chair, eatin chips, coverin hissel and everythin round him in tomato sauce. He seen me lookin at him and gied a big grin.

      ‘You forget what it’s like at that stage, don’t you?’ ah said.

      ‘Whit stage?’ Jimmy looked round. ‘Oh, aye.’ He dug Anne Marie in the ribs. ‘Ah mind when mair of your dinner ended up on ye than in ye, hen.’

      Anne Marie made a face. ‘Aye well at least ah don’t dae it noo – you should see yersel eatin tomato soup.’

      We got back fae the meal in time for Mammy tae watch EastEnders – ah think the world would end if she missed it. While she sat clocked in fronty the box, me and Anne Marie went on wi the jigsaw puzzle. Wanny they holiday traditions – ah’d nae mair think of daein a jigsaw at hame than fly in the air, but every year afore we came here, ah went tae Woolies and bought wan. It was set oot on the table in the livin room and everybody done it; got quite obsessive sometimes – you’d find yersel sittin up skelly-eyed, tryin tae finish it afore you went hame. This year’s was a cottage wi a thatched roof and roses round the door. It had a duck pond in front of it and that was hellish – wanst you’d got the ducks the rest of it all looked the same, water like glass.

      When the programme finished Mammy switched aff the TV and came and sat at the table. She started pickin oot dark green bits. ‘Must be the hedge.’

      ‘Or the grass at the bottom.’

      ‘Too dark. By the way, where’s Jimmy?’

      ‘In the bedroom,’ ah said.

      ‘Meditatin,’ said Anne Marie.

      ‘He done it last night.’ Mammy fitted a piece of hedge in, then took it oot again. ‘That’s no it.’

      ‘He does it every night, Gran.’

      ‘Every night? How?’

      ‘He likes it,’ said Anne Marie.

      ‘He’s sumpn else.’

      ‘Each to his ain,’ ah said.

      ‘Aye, said Anne Marie. ‘Some folk like meditatin, some prefer EastEnders.’

      The rest of them were in bed but ah was still up, daein that flamin jigsaw puzzle. There was fifteen bits of pond in front of me, all lookin exactly the same. Ah’d stick two of them thegether, then try them the other way round. Worked either way but then ah couldnae get any of the other pieces tae fit. Ah looked up at the clock. Midnight. Must be gaun daft – what difference did it make if it got finished or no?

      Ah sat back in the chair, stretched ma airms above ma heid. Jimmy’d went up an hour ago but ah wasnae sure if he’d be asleep. Ah knew we should talk but ah kept puttin it aff. This meditation stuff. It was all very well me sayin tae Mammy it was just sumpn he done, as if it was like gaun tae the footie, but it wasnae. Ah didnae know why he done it or what it meant tae him. It just wasnae like him tae want tae be on his ain. Usually it was the other way round – me tryin tae get a bit of peace and him the wan that never shut up.

      Ah went intae the bathroom, took cleanser oot the cabinet, squeezed it ontae a bit of cotton wool and rubbed it over ma face. Ah lifted the pack of pills and stood lookin at them. And a picture came intae ma mind; the wee boy in the high-chair, smeared wi red, smilin at me and the other wan, quiet, colourin in.

      Nearly every month ah done this, looked at the pack, thought aboot talkin tae Jimmy. Mibbe ah shouldnae bother, mibbe ah should just chuck them in the bin and let nature take its chance.

      Ah stood there for a minute, lookin at the days printed under each wee bubble on the pack. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday. Wednesday. Ah pushed the plastic casin till the pill popped oot, then put it in ma mooth.

       Jimmy

      IT WIS DAURK when ah got there and ma heid wis wasted drivin on they wee twisty roads. Ah parked the van and went intae the hoose. It wis a huge buildin, used tae be a hotel or sumpn afore the lamas took it ower. In the hall wis this big skinny guy, blue robes an a shaved heid. Wisnae Tibetan though, sounded dead posh.

      ‘Excuse me,’ he says. ‘Could you leave your shoes in the porch please?’

      ‘Sure thing, pal,’ ah says, feelin a bit stupit when ah turnt round and seen rows a boots and shoes and a big sign: ‘Please leave all outer footwear in the porch. Slippers only to be worn inside the house.’

      Course ah’d nae slippers so ah hud tae go aboot in ma stockin soles, and did ah no huv a big hole comin in the toe ae the right yin? Just as well Liz wisnae here – she’d huv been mortified. The big guy stauns waitin while ah take aff ma boots.

      ‘Hope yous’ve got air freshener in here,’ ah says, but he just looks at me.

      ‘My name is Vishanadanashonta.’ (Well, it wis sumpn like that. Ah didnae like tae ask him tae repeat it.)

      ‘Jimmy McKenna,’ ah says, puttin oot ma haund, but he just bows.

      ‘I think everyone else has arrived. We’re about to eat.’

      ‘Thank God. Ah could murder a plate a mince and tatties.’

      Ah wis jokin, ah knew the food wis aw vegetarian, but he just looks at me as if ah’m daft.

      ‘Only jokin, Rinpoche.’

      ‘I’m not actually called Rinpoche,’ he says. ‘I’m a trainee. I haven’t taken my final vows.’

      ‘Sorty apprentice, ur ye?’

      ‘You СКАЧАТЬ