Fresh - By Mark McNay Page 0,3

up and took us into his typist’s office. She gave us a sweetie each and we sat down and waited while the head tried to get our uncle. Archie picked a massive snotter out his nose and showed me it before he wiped it under his chair.

About half an hour later my uncle Albert came into the school and took us round to his. He said the hospital was no place for weans and the best place for us was with our auntie Jessie. So we sat at the kitchen table eatin cakes and tea and he went to the hospital to visit my ma. By the time he got home that night we were in our beds. He woke us up to tell us our ma had took a turn for the worse. We didnay know what to say. Archie looked at me for a while then he turned his head and went back to sleep. Well Ah thought he did but years later he telt me he waited till he heard my breathin go, then he fell asleep himself.

The next mornin my auntie Jessie said we could have the day off and Ah thought brilliant. But my uncle Albert turned round and said we’d need somethin to keep our minds off our ma so he sent us in. It was alright. People kept askin me if it was true my ma was dead. Ah got extra puddin at school dinners as well. And about halfway through the afternoon my uncle Albert came in for us and took us to Pat’s cafe.

He sat us down in the window seat and went and got us a Coke and a KitKat each. Then he put his hand on Archie’s arm and telt us that he’d always looked at us as just the sort of boys him and my auntie Jessie wished they had themselves. We were strong boys and our ma and da would be proud of us. Me and Archie chewed our KitKats and nodded. Then he telt us. Our ma was dead but we werenay to worry coz we were coming to live with him. Archie got up and ran out. Ah just sat there and finished my KitKat.

The polis brought Archie back three days later. He had a black eye. They said they’d had to restrain him and it took three of them to get him in the motor. They’d found him down the Central Station trying to jump on a train to London. Just like yer da said my uncle Albert, and patted Archie on the head. He gave Archie a cuddle and smiled at my auntie Jessie. Ah’ve never saw my uncle look so sad. No even when we went to the funeral.

*

A flurry of dead birds brought Sean back to the factory. O’Grady banged those chickens on the line. One after the other. Bang. Bang. Bang. And here we are in the final of the Embassy world chicken-hanging competition at the Crucible in Sheffield. And what a competition it’s been. O’Grady has struggled to find his form this year and there have been times when we doubted he’d make it into the final. But make it he did and what a game he’s given Hendry. Both players have had opportunities to win, but neither of them have fully exploited their chances. In the last frame we thought O’Grady had lost but Hendry missed an easy three-pounder and gave the frame away. And here we are in the final frame. Two chickens left to go and the pressure is on. O’Grady needs to hang the pair of them to win. He reaches for the first chicken, and look at this, he’s flashing a smile at the crowd, does this man feel no pressure? Listen to them cheer. No wonder they call him the chicken-hanger of the people. The crowd is going wild. Hang them chickens they chant. But O’Grady lets them drift towards the end of the line and the long drop to the floor. Fifty thousand pounds hang in the balance. What is he doing? The chickens are turning and tumbling from the end of the line when O’Grady catches them in mid-air and slams them home. What a hero.

CHAPTER 2

His belly rumbled.

Ah’m fuckin starvin.

If it went on much longer they’d turn up and he’d be sat in the corner, grey and dead from malnutrition. Like a fucking skeleton he’d be. All sucked in at the cheekbones, with a bit of a beard