The Black Halo (96 page)

What a beautiful summer’s day it was. No smoke rose from the chimneys for no fires were required. We played in silence for the pitch was a big one, and very demanding. Also the cork
screwed sideways when you hit it with your shoe. Normally in summer we didn’t wear shoes but we couldn’t play ‘football’ without them.

Neither of us was winning: in fact, no goals at all had been scored. This was our favourite pastime and we had many heroes among the adult footballers, including Stoodie and Hoddan. One was a
centre-forward, the other a centre-half: both strongly-built and adventurous. Maybe some day we would play for the district too.

A good distance away from the pitch, Strang passed with his dog. He didn’t notice us: he always strode forward in a great hurry. Tall and red-faced, he was one of the healthiest among us
and we couldn’t work out why he wasn’t in the war. We liked his collie dog Patch very much.

I must be getting better, I thought, I’m not sweating as much as usual. Daial wasn’t sweating so much either. It was wonderful to be out in the fresh air: as we ran we felt it
streaming around our necks. I dribbled past Daial but lost the cork at the corner flag. We were really very poor; we used to have a proper ball but since it burst, we couldn’t afford another
one. Indeed, I don’t know who was the poorer, Daial or myself. Though our poverty didn’t usually bother us, except when we couldn’t afford a ball.

The cork was of course one that would normally be found attached to a fishing net. When he grew up Daial was going to be a fisherman: I didn’t want to be one. I was more ambitious, I
wanted to go to university or college though it was hard to see how I could afford to do that unless I won a bursary.

At half-time we lay on our backs gazing up at the white clouds. I was quire tired though pleasantly so. I nibbled a blade of grass at the side of the pitch. In the distance I could hear Strang
shouting to his dog; also I could see Maggie hanging out her washing: her legs were very red and fat. I wondered what Janet would be doing. Once, playing draughts with her father and she sitting
between us, I placed my hand on her thigh under the table: she didn’t move a muscle. What an extraordinary sensation that was.

We rose to our feet at the end of ten minutes or what we thought was ten minutes for neither of us had a watch. Some day I might have a watch but not yet. Janet had a thin gold watch which her
father had given her but he owned the village shop. I thought I heard my mother’s voice calling me but that must have been an error for I didn’t see her about the house. She
didn’t like me playing football in case I became ill again. I was often ill with bronchitis: TB however was more dangerous and my father had died of it. He used to give me rides on his
shoulders and at one time he would smoke a pipe. He was also less strict than my mother.

As I dribbled past Daial I was looking straight at the sea and what seemed to be a becalmed ship. All day, though often we were not aware of it, there was the sound of the sea. Indeed, one of my
favourite Gaelic poems was entitled in English, ‘The High Swelling of the Sea’. It was about an exile who wanted to be buried beside the sea; it was a sad, beautiful song.

Looking at the sea I had forgotten about the cork and now Daial was in a good position to score. A few months ago we had gathered scrap iron for the War Effort. We had found an old wreck of a
car which we were pretending to drive; there were hardly any cars in the village.

Daial screwed the cork past the post so it was still nil-nil. Since this was wartime, we could see many ships passing and wondered whether any of the village boys was on any of them. Daial had
two brothers in the navy: I had one. The last we heard from him he was in New York. The money he sent my mother arrived late, and this caused us problems, for we were absolutely dependent on it. I
couldn’t imagine New York at all: our only town, Stornoway, was large enough for me. Whenever I thought of Stornoway I felt the intensely cold ice-cream on my teeth, or I smelt apples. Red
apples nesting among straw; though I hadn’t seen many recently. I hadn’t seen many oranges either, or sweets. Once I had eaten whale meat but didn’t like it.

I could hear the barking of a dog: Strang must be coming back. And what was very strange, he was crossing the pitch. I shouted at him because he was coming between me and the ‘ball’.
His face looked very red and healthy and smooth-shaven. He didn’t see me at all nor did he see the ‘ball’ though it was at his feet. He strode forward relentlessly towards the
smokeless village.

from
The Hermit and other stories
(1977),

first published by Victor Gollancz Ltd, London:

The Hermit; The Impulse; Timoshenko; The Spy; The Brothers; The Incident; Listen to the Voice; The Exorcism; Macbeth; Leaving the Cherries

from
Murdo and other stories
(1981),

first published by Victor Gollancz Ltd, London:

In the Castle; The Missionary; At the Fair; The Listeners; Mr Heine; The Visit.

from
Mr Trill in Hades
(1984),

first published by Victor Gollancz Ltd, London

What to do About Ralph?; The Ring; Greater Love; The Snowballs; The Play; In the School; Mr Trill in Hades.

from
Selected Stories
(1990),

first published by Carcarnet Press Ltd, Manchester:

By their Fruits; Mac an t-Sronaich; I Do Not Wish to Leave; The Ghost; The True Story of Sir Hector Macdonald; Chagall’s Return; Napoleon and I; Christmas Day; The Arena; The
Tour; The Travelling Poet; The Scream; The Old Woman, the Baby and Terry; On the Train; The Survivor; The Dead Man and the Children; A Night with Kant; The Maze

Uncollected Stories

On the Island first published in
The Scotsman
, July 1978;The Button first published in
Helix
2, August 1978; A September Day first published in
North
7,
March/April 1979 The Snow first published in
New Edinburgh Review
, May 1979; In the Corridor first published in
Words
5 1979/80; Christine
Words
9, 1980/81; The Kitten
first published in
The Scotsman
July 1982; The Parade first published in
New Edinburgh Review
, Autumn 1982; The Yacht first published in
New Edinburgh Review
, Autumn
1983; Record of Work first published in
Stand
25, no. 3, Summer 1984; In the Asylum first published in Chapman 42, 1985; The Black Halo and The Crossing first published in
Chapman
42, 1985; The Beautiful Gown first published in
Tales to Tell
, Edinburgh, 1986; Do You Believe in Ghosts? first published in
The Wild Ride and Other Scottish Stories
,
Harmondsworth, 1986; At Jorvik Museum first published in
PN Review
55, 1987; The Ship first published in
Chapman
54, 1988; In the Silence first published in
Chapman
54,
1988; The Ladder first published in
Chapman
54, 1988; Tommy first published in
Cencrastus
, Winter 1989; The Whale’s Way first published in
Cencrastus
, Winter 1989;
The Dawn first published in
Cencrastus
, Winter 1989; The Bridge first published in
New Writing Scotland 10: Pig Squealing
A.S.L.S., Autumn 1992; The Tool Chest, and The Wind first
published in
Chapman
73, 1993; The Boy and the Rowan Tree first published on the Internet in 1996; At the Stones first published in
New Writing Scotland 14: Full Strength Angels
,
A.S.L.S., Autumn 1996; The Game first published in
New Writing Scotland 15: Some Sort of Embrace
, A.S.L.S., Autumn 1997.