This is one of a series of 30 stories and essays by leading writers marking the 60th anniversary of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. The series was created by Sean Love for Amnesty International and continues next Saturday
AH WISNAE chuffed aboot this rehab situ, but after bein caught rid-handed comin oot the sheltered housin complex it wis that or the jail. N gettin the fuck oot ay Leith fir a couple ay weeks would be sound: the place wis like the Marie Celeste. Sick Boy had vanished, his Ma said tae her sister's in Italy. Swanney had gone tae ground n thir wis nae sign ay Spud; the poor cunt wis probably still at Scotch Corner. As fir everybody else, ah jist wanted tae scream in thir faces, Tommy, Begbie, Keezbo, the loat ay thum: fuck pubs, fuck Hibs, fuck birds, fuck mates, aw ah care aboot is skag, so jist fuckin well gie's some fuckin peace!
It pished doon oan the drive tae the centre, a two-storey white buildin, in the middle ay fuckin naewhaire in Fife. Ah sat in the back as ma faither drove in silence, my Ma gabbin nervously in between chain smokes. When we git thaire ahm hurtin bad. Ah cannae even climb oot the back seat of the car when the old boy gets oot n opens the door. Suddenly, a sweat-inducing pulse ay terror rises in me. Ah'm shitein it. - Ah dinnae want tae dae this!
As ah hear my Ma say something aboot a fresh start, ma faither goes, - Well, it's oot your hands now, pal.
- What gie's youse the right tae make ays?
My Ma looks at me, twistin roond in the seat wi her big doolaly eyes. - We care son, that's what gie's us the right, she shakes her heid and opens the door, musing, - Ah dinnae ken why this has happened tae us . . .
- Mibbe it's God, ah venture, - Giein ye another test, likes.
She looks at me and springs out the car, shouting at my dad. - Did ye hear um Davie! He's evil, she points back tae me in the motor, - Listen tae yersel, ya ungrateful wee-
- It's the drug talkin, Cathy, the drug, dad sais wi grim authority. Now that the Auld Girl wis kickin oaf, he could play good cop. The Auld Boy had a temper but was loathe tae lose it. The Auld Girl wis always easy going, so ma tactic wis tae get her tae play the bad fucker, which disarmed the Auld Boy's anger. But now ahm puppy-seek n runnin oot ay time.
Thir wis naewhaire roond here tae dae a runner tae. Jist some poxy village wi a few hooses, a pub, n this fuckin centre. We walk doon the gravel path tae the front door. It's exactly like the Sheltered Housing place ah tried tae screw; same magnolia waws, broon kerpit tiles, harsh lights n that omnipresent stench ay state control.
The centre director is a skinny woman wi dark, curly hair that's tied back, black-rimmed glesses n fine, delicate features. She ignores me, electin tae shake hands wi ma parents. A big, wholesome cunt wi a blonde fringe smiles at me, - I'm Len, he takes ma bag, - I'll take this tae yir room.
The Auld Man scans the doss. - Seems a no bad billet though son, he gies ma hand a squeeze. There's mist in his eyes. - Fight through it, pal, he whispers, - We believe in ye.
Skinny-Specky is blabbering oan tae my mother who's looking confused. - The essence of St Monance is a collaborative venture between two Health Boards and three Social Work Departments, the detox programme followed by client-centred individual and group counselling sessions.
- Aye . . . that's nice . . .
- The group is crucial to our philosophy. It's seen as the way to combat the peer structures on the outside that support the addict's behaviour.
- Aye . . . nice . . . cosy, she sais, lookin at the curtains.
- Well ye'll get nae bother fae him, my dad goes, turnin tae me, - Yi'll take yir chaunce here. Right?
- Right, ah say.
Ma first chance tae git the fuck oot.
- Anything tae get ye oaf the streets, away fae they losers n bams like that Spud laddie, n thon Matty. Nae ambition, he shook his heid.
- Removal from the peer environment is one of our key elements. Let the client take stock, so sayeth Skinny-Specky.
- They'll drag ye doon tae thaire level, son. Ah've see it, my Ma warns.
- That's ma mates. Ah've goat the right tae hing aboot wi who ah want.
- Thir junkies, she scowls.
- So? Thir no hermin anybody.
- The coorts saw it differently, my faither groans miserably, - Ye wir caught red-handed son, leavin thair wi that stuff. An auld woman, son. A pensioner.
Some auld minger that's gaunny be fuckin deid soon anywey . . . grassin auld cunt . . .
- Ye were better oaf hingin aboot wi Tommy n Francis, son, Ma urges. - The fitbaw, n that. Ye eywis liked the fitba.
A sudden bolt ay panic. Ah turns tae ma new hosts, - Will ah git anything here, like methadone?
- That depends, Skinny-Specky goes.
- On what? Now ah'm lookin at her like she's the only yin in the room.
Her glance is measured and unfazed. Its like she's seein me fir the first time. - On a number of things, but chiefly on how you respond. There will be on-going assessment. Take note though: we only prescribe methadone in extreme circumstances. This is about being drug-free. You'll be part of a group, a society here at St Monance, one that works, rests and plays together, and it will be tough.
Ah suspect thit that speech wis really fir ma parents. My Ma gies me a bone-crushing hug. Ma faither, noting my obvious discomfort, settles fir a weary nod. He hus tae pull her away; she's sobbin her fuckin eyes oot, makin a fuss, a drama oot ay things. - But he's ma bairn, Davie, he'll eywis be ma bairn . . .
- C'mon now, Cathy.
- Ah'll get masel sorted oot here, Ma, you'll see, ah try n crack a smile.
Just fuckin go! Now!
Ah want tae lie doon. Ah dinnae want tae be part ay Skinny-Specky's daft wee group, her fuckin society. But nonetheless ah'm awready daydreamin aboot fawin in love wi her; me n Skinny-Specky oan a Caribbean Island wi an endless supply ay gear, procured fae her employers in the NHS. She's like one ay they sexy librarian birds thit wid be shaggable as fuck when hair tumbles doon n the T-Rex come oaf. No that shaggin wid be much oan the agenda. Shall we make love on this beach underneath the stars or fix up again?
Your turn tae cook, Skinny-Specky.
Ah git tae ma room n lie oot oan the bed, but Len-the-Fringe comes back. - Don't get too comfortable. Our induction meeting's just about to start.
Other cunts! Aw naw. - How many's here?
- We have nine clients.
He leads me doon a corridor, but as we step intae this big room, the first thing ah hear is: - RENTON, YA CUNT, then aw this laughter followed by a round ay applause. Ah cannae fuckin believe it. Thir aw here! - Fuck sakes! Youse cunts!
- Goat the fill set now, boys, Johnny Swan laughs as Len cringes.
It's like a surprise birthday perty. Swanney's wearin a fuckin tie! There's Matty, zonked oot, and Spud shiverin, airms wrapped roond himself. - Catboy, eh sais.
And Sick Boy's slumped in a corner seat. Ah nods n sits doon beside um, - Nice place yir Auntie's goat.
Eh pills a tired smile. - Hud tae be done.
Spud asks Len aboot getting something for his cramps as Sick Boy and Swanney intro ays tae a couple ay Edinburgh boys, a biker called Seeker, whae ah ken by rep, n a shifty gadge called Mikey Forrester. Thir's a wee cunt, Ted fae Bathgate, n two Weedgie boys, thit git kent as Garbo n Skreel.
Swanney winks at me n pills oot a wee razor blade. The he nicks the inside ay his mooth, catchin the blood in his hands, looking tae Len, whae's shitein it. - Ma stitch hus burst . . .
- The nurse isn't in . . .
- Ah'll chum um tae git cleaned up, ah quickly volunteer.
- Right . . .
Sick Boy, Matty and Spud look daggers at us as Swanney n me nash doon the hall tae the bogs. He's goat works doon his boot and we quickly cook up. He pills oaf his tie n torniquet's me. We're dabbin away at a wrap ay speed n it faws oot my hand as he slams me up and the heroin goes tae ma brain, killing aw the world's pain.
Ah sit blissed oot oan the crapper as Swanney fixes, tellin me that one ay the Weedgie boys is hudin. He retrives the speed wrap n we finish it, even though it's the last thing ah want. He struggles tae fix his tie. - A great network ay contacts here.
When we get back Len-the-Fringe and Skinny-Specky have launched intae this spiel but nae cunt's listenin tae thum, thir aw slumped back in thir chairs. Aye, it's gaunny be awright in here. These are ma people: ahm happy tae be part ay the St Monance crew.
1. Everyone has the right to freedom of peaceful assembly and association.
2. No one may be compelled to belong to an association.