Old man's day

Roy Campbell leant against the bar of the pub, slightly wet from the stinging Glasgow rain and out of breath, his face pale with beads of sweat from his flat footed 50 yard dash from the cold and the wet and into the warmth of his local. His hands were shaking as he gripped the bar and he looked down with guilt at his middle aged spread, wishing he was 30 years younger again.

"I said, you look like death warmed up Roy" boomed Rab McEwin from behind the bar. "Too many fry ups and scoops aye" he chuckled." An ironic grin spread across Roy's face as he looked up at Rab who himself was not a picture of perfect health, with his ruddy complexion and bulging beer gut.

"Ah suppose ye will be wanting a wee swally eh pal?"

"Aye" said Roy glumly.

Rab picked up a pint glass from the shelf behind the bar and was just starting to pour a beer when Roy put his hand across.

"Aw no man, give me a proper drink, a peeve or a wee voddy like."

"Ye sure mate?"

"Aye, a voddy" rasped Roy.

The barman put a glass under the optics and swiftly dispensed a double vodka.

"Ye can have that one on me pal, ya look like ya need one." said Rab cheerily. "On the house like."

Roy picked up the glass and downed it quickly, wincing as the alcohol's fiery trails disappeared down his throat and into his stomach. His hands were clammy and wet, still shaking slightly, so he ordered a whisky.

"A wee peeve coming right up!" piped Rab and poured his sweaty punter a whisky.

Roy clenched the glass, held it to the light like he was raising a toast to someone dear and suddenly the world around him whirled in a kaleidoscope of colour, light and sparks.

Roy??? Royyyyy!!!!

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A cool breeze caressed Roy's face. Sand around his feet and salty air touched his nostrils. He looked up at the gulls noisily swooping around the greyish sky, and watched as they danced along the foam of the incoming tide.

He walked a few steps towards the murky grey water and let it touch the tips of his toes. He felt he had all the time in the world to himself, and let the wet stuff touch his feet, before stepping back and watching it ebb away once more. He liked the sound of the surf and watched it for quite some time before a voice broke his train of thought.

"Ye'll not be catching any fish today laddie"

"Eh?"

"I said, ye'll not be catching any fish today."

Roy looked around but could not see where the voice was coming from. He knew the sound of it but just could not place it. It felt familiar but at the same time unfamiliar.

"You were always one to go oot on a day like this wanting to catch a wee fish eh!" said the voice.

A hand touched his shoulder which startled him.

Roy turned around quickly. Right behind him was the wiry figure of Finlay Campbell, his Grandfather.

"Made ye jump did I? Aw ahm sorry laddie, I didnae mean too."

"G... G... Gramps?" stuttered Roy.

"Aye, who did think I was then?" he smirked. "A bloody ghost?"

Roy sighed and put his hand out to touch Finlay's shoulder just to test he really wasn't a ghost. Finlay grabbed Roy's hand "Good to see you son" and embraced his grandson warmly. Roy could smell Old Spice and talcum powder and thought of his childhood when his Gramps would take him out on his little boat.

"We'll not be going oot anywhere today laddie" muttered the old man. "Naw not today, yer old Gramps sold that wee boat when my Edith got sick. Aye, I miss that old boat, but I couldnae be doing with going oot in all weathers anymore, not with Edith being home and not being well, and we needed the readies too y'ken." he said with a wink.

Roy thought of his Grandma and her sorry decline into the void of dementia. It hit his Gramps hard and him too as a child. He did not understand it at the time, he was too young but as he got older he experienced it once more as his father succumbed to the illness.

"Runs in yon family," said Roy.

Finlay, grabbed Roy's hand. "Aye, yer poor wee Da 'an all, so sad, so terrible. Let's go for a walk eh? Blow off the old cobwebs like."

They walked along the beach towards the wreck of the pier, the waves were crashing against what was left of the old wreck. Soon it would also succumb, like Edith, like his Da.

Finlay walked a few yards in front of Roy and disappeared behind one of the struts of the pier. In a mild panic Roy chased after him. "Gramps? Gramps? where are ye?" He looked behind the strut but saw nothing, just foamy dark water sloshing and flapping against the rotting wood.

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Roy felt a thud at the back of his head "Ouch" he turned around to see his father standing behind him holding an old leather football, a toothy grin spread across his face. The sand and the surf had disappeared to be replaced by a muddy field, patchy grass and the odd dog mess.

"Ah! yer were never one for fitba were you son? Although ye did like to go to St Mirren Park wi me as a bairn, but that petered out when ye got older. I think ye just went for the Bells pies aye." he laughed.

Ray Campbell was a hulk of a man. He worked in the shipyards when Roy was a young boy but was later laid off like thousands of others when Roy was at school leaving age. Like his father and Grandfather, he was set to follow in the family footsteps of working in the shipyards but instead settled into a more comfy occupation at an insurance company. 9-5 Monday to Friday, no shift work or unsocial hours.

Ray tossed the old ball at Roy's feet and walked backwards towards the bent and rusting goal posts behind him. "Let's see if ye old Da still has that magic, mon now, put the ball on the spot and see if ye can put it past me."

Back in the shipyard days, his father was an aspiring goalkeeper. Playing regularly for the works eleven and at one point wangled a trial with Celtic, but to no avail there was no place for him at the Old Firm club. He carried on with the works team until the old yard was closed down for good.

Roy picked up the ball and placed it where there he thought there should be a penalty spot, instead there was little bald patch in the grass. He wiped his hands on his trousers and looked up.

"Best shot now wee man, toap bins or bottom corner, I will stoap it y'ken."

Roy took a few steps back, picked his spot and ran towards the ball and hoofed it as hard as he could. His head snapped back as he made contact and the muddy leather sphere sailed over the fence behind.

"What the bloody hell was that son?" Yelled Ray disappointedly. "Ah don't know about Celtic but with a shoat like that ah think Albion Rovers mebbe would be interested in ye." he shrugged his shoulders and walked around the wooden fence to retrieve the ball.

Roy waited for his father to return with the ball, he waited and waited before walking to the fence and peering around the gap Ray had walked through. There was no one there. Empty, just crisp packets and broken glass littering the floor. "Da? where are ye? Da??"

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"Whoosh....Whoosh..." Roy could sense speed and motion, his eyes were closed and his stomach was flipping somersaults. "Whoosh...Whooosh...."

He could feel bony hands grasping at his waist. "Whoosh".

"Isn't this fun laddie?" he heard a woman's voice scream out in excited joy.

He opened his eyes and the world around him was one of colour, noise, wind and when he looked down, height. He always hated heights which made him more anxious than ever. The ferris wheel was moving at some pace.

"Oooh look, ye can see my house from here" gasped the old lady.

Roy glanced across to see his Grandmother Edith, her faced etched with delight as the big wheel went up and down and around and around.

"Ah hope ye will not be sick sonny, ah know what you are like on these things." she chuckled.

"Gran.. I don't like heights and I don't like things that make ma stomach do funny things."

Edith had always been a bit of a daredevil. She rode a motorcycle well into her 60's before she got sick. Always the first to line up for the most stomach churning rides at the funfair and the big ferris wheel they were on was simply nothing for her yet it terrified Roy who had a life long fear of heights.

The wheel seemed to be getting faster and faster which made Edith even more excited. "Cannae this go faster? Mon lets go faster and faster and..."

The wheel was running at an insane speed now and Roy was shouting and screaming for it to stop. "Please stop, I don't like this..." tears were running down his cheeks which the wind was licking at and drying.

When suddenly it started to slow and slow and slow and eventually stop.

Edith had disappeared, Roy was at the very top looking down. It was getting dark and the lights of the wheel and surrounding fairground were ever more brighter. Too bright. He looked at the incandescent bulbs on the frame of the wheel and one by one they switched off leaving total blackness.

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"Huuuurgh"

Roy's eyes were wide open in the darkest night. Struggling for air, he felt like he'd slept with an elephant lying on his chest.

"Huuuurgh"

A musky, damp odour enveloped his senses. His clothes wet with sweat and caked with dust. He tried to get up but his head hit something heavy and dense inches above him. He reached out his hands and sensed there was literally inches between him and what was above him and also each side of him.

Roy tried to kick his legs upwards but they would not move far as his feet met the same fate as his head. Sheer horror set in as Roy thrashed and thrashed yelling and screaming. "Heeeeeelp, I'm alive!! Please somebody help me...pleeeeeease."

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The vicar and mourners had long gone, the workmen who filled in the hole too.

No one can hear you scream in a 5'5 box 6 feet under the ground.