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Gul Y. Davis
Gul Y. Davis

Gul Y Davis' novella A Lone Walk received the J.B. Priestly Award for Young Writers, 2001. His writing has appeared in various magazines and anthologies. He has won awards from the Royal Literary Fund, The Financial Times and the Koestler Awards Trust. In 2006 BBC Radio 4 broadcast The Psychology of Dangerous Roads (adapted by the BBC from Gul Davis' short story by the same name). He is currently completing a new novel.
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   24.07.14 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 ›|  (9)    
Beneath the Fire   (Page 2 of 9)


          he smiles at this, warmlike. scratchin at his sideburn says, “that’s understood¸

          puttin my hands on my lap to stop em fidgin

          “I’m nothing to do with this place, alison. your solicitor, ged, asked me to come and do a report for the hearing next week¸ – watch his throat, like a bobbin apple bove his tie done up bad like a schoolboy’s – “I don’t work for anybody but myself and what I think I’ll put down regardless of what anyone else says or thinks¸

          make myself look at the doctor. “ged says – he says he’s gonna get the court to let me see lucy –¸

          my hand too heavy to move stop lucy itch-itch-itchin herself, nails pickin into her head. my eyelids too heavy to look shuttin so I don’t see her greasy hair bunchin up, little trickles of blood. only shelly’s little, sleepin breathin hot gainst my skin, tiny, tucked up, clingin into my side

          “lucy’s your child?¸

          “they’re with my aunt – I mean, I mean¸ – wipe my mouth – “I mean it’s so nice for lucy to be with my aunt in scotland –¸

          he’s glancin at papers on the desk. “your aunt’s looking after –?¸

          “cause¸ – my mouth loud – “when I was little I used to love stayin with aunty –¸

          “were they good, those times with your aunty?¸

          the varnish on the desk with that headache light smackin against it, and aunty stuffin parsley into pig-insides an goin yum-yum-yum haggis is made from brains, at dinin table makin a face that she’s eatin brain till I squeal – an on the spot want to get out the doctor’s room, like needin a pee only I don’t need pee need to get out room right then

          “are you in touch with your aunt often? – how’s your daughter finding it? – when did you last hear from her?¸

          the hairs in my nose singein – it’s nosebleed burn but worse, my eyelashes alight and lucy screamin

          an I am shoutin fuck off at the doctor, leave me alone, and he lowers his head. passes a tissue

          he’s not shoutin at me for swearin, not sayin right all your leaves off-ward are cancelled you hear

          with my hands goin bad, blow my nose, stare into the tissue

          he’s scribblin on his paper

          my breathin an the scratch-scratch of his pen

          “– please, please don’t put down me shoutin at you – please don’t put it down, they’ll never let me see, they’ll never let me if you do, I’m sorry doctor I’m sorry, I won’t do it again I’m so sorry doctor –¸

          he looks up, turns the piece of paper round for me to read only all I can see is scribble, turnin pink I wipe my eyes again

          “can you read?¸

          “it don’t matter anyway¸ I say, and look at the unplugged computer restin in the corner of the room on a little trolley, an wonder if I knew how to work one what I’d be able to do on it

   24.07.14 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 ›|  (9)    
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