T2 Trainspotting Page #6

but I'm not feeling anything.

We were young. Bad things happened.

It's over.

Can we go home now?

-Two hours to the next train.

-Oh, for f***'s sake.

Look, we're here as an act of memorial.

Nostalgia.

That's why you're here.

You're a tourist in your own youth.

Just 'cause you had a near-death experience,

and now you're feeling all fuzzy and warm.

What other moments will you be revisiting?

Here's a good one.

How about the time you sold

Tommy his very first hit,

leading him on to heroin addiction,

HIV infection,

and ultimately his death at the age of...

What was it, 22, 23?

-Twenty-three.

-Twenty-three.

How innocent was that?

Aye, that's mine.

How's yours?

Don't know what you're talking about.

She'd be a woman by now.

Maybe kids of her own.

But she never got that far, did she?

Never got to lead her life.

Because her father,

someone who should have been

looking after her,

protecting his own infant,

was too busy filling

his own veins with heroin

to check that she was breathing properly.

How do you keep a lid on that one?

Well, that's that, then.

Here we go.

F***'s sake.

-All right, doll.

-Thanks.

Looking good, baby.

Not bad yourself, daddy-o.

Why, bring it over here.

Really?

I'm not wearing any knickers.

For f***'s sake.

Well, tell you what... Just away for a piss.

Back in a moment.

We'll see what's happening, okay?

-All right, then.

-Aye.

Deal. Done.

Hi. I can't take your call,

so please leave a message.

F***.

What's all this, then?

Planning a special event, are we, sir?

Just give us the tablets, pal.

Remember not to exceed the stated dose.

Just give us the f***ing tablets

before I come through there

and pound your f***ing head in.

Aye, all right. F***ing calm down.

-F***'s sake.

-C*nt.

Prick.

C*nt!

F***. F***.

Rent Boy, where... Mark?

Go! Go, go, go!

F***!

Go on, then, you f***ing c*nt, you!

F***.

Go! Would you f***ing go?

F*** it!

F***.

I didn't know.

Okay, okay.

I might've heard something.

I'm sorry I didn't mention it.

You might've heard something?

All right, f*** it. I knew.

I knew, and I could have served you up

to him on a plate any time I wanted to.

I bet you were f***ing

looking forward to it, too, weren't you?

Yeah, yeah, I was. I was looking forward to it.

I ought to f***ing kill you.

F*** is this?

Get in.

It's Mark and Simon, right?

Do you know who I am?

Good.

So you know that I own a couple of saunas

in the north of Edinburgh.

In fact, you boys should know,

I own all the saunas in Edinburgh.

So your venture

was never gonna happen, was it?

I couldn't have you on my doorstep

in competition for my members of staff,

for my clientele.

It was never gonna happen, Simon, was it?

-No, Mr. Doyle.

-Right answer.

I wouldn't let it happen.

And it's not gonna happen, right?

Thankfully for you two,

I've done some due diligence on you,

and what I hear is you're a couple of losers.

Two absolute losers.

-How's that sound, Simon?

-Yeah, yeah, that's probably right enough.

Aye. "Probably right enough." Right answer.

Take your clothes off.

All of them.

F***'s sake.

"Probably right enough, Mr. Doyle."

If you groveled a bit more,

we might not be going home in the buff.

At least I have my dignity.

Is that what you're calling it?

Are you ready?

-No.

-Come on.

Hello, boys.

You just delete that right now.

I put it on Twitter. No one will see.

Veronika, don't you understand?

There's not gonna be a sauna.

-Never.

-I know that.

So we lost everything.

-Did you not get the e-mail?

-No, I didn't get a f***ing e-mail.

We got the money.

-What?

-How much?

The money. What do you call it?

-Small Business Development?

-How much?

100,000.

No!

Yeah!

First,

there's an opportunity.

And then,

there is a betrayal.

Mark stole from me.

His best friend.

So this money is mine.

First,

there is an opportunity.

And then,

there is a betrayal.

Simon knew that Francis Begbie was out,

and he chose to keep that a secret.

I owe him nothing.

We owe him nothing.

-All right, Murphy?

-Franco.

Sit down.

Sit down.

Now...

So where is he?

Don't say, "Who?"

Don't say, "I don't know."

Just f***ing tell me where he is.

-Still a junkie, Murphy?

-No.

I'm clean now, Frank.

You? Clean? F***ing joke.

What is all this sh*t anyway?

It's just, like, stories and that.

"Stories"?

What are you writing stories for?

Who's gonna read sh*t

written by a c*nt like you?

Just thought maybe my grandchildren, or...

-You got grandchildren?

-No.

What you writing

f***ing stories for them for?

They may not even like stories.

You thought of that?

No. That's a good point, Franco.

"The sweat was lashing off Sick Boy."

-Sick... Sick Boy? What, is it about him?

-It's about all of us, like.

-All of you? About me?

-No, not about you.

F***ing better not be.

"Strolling Through the Meadows."

Here, read it.

-What?

-Read it.

"Strolling Through the Meadows.

"The pubs, like, dead busy.

"It's full o' loco-locals and festival types."

'Cause the festival was going on,

see, in the story.

"They're all having a little snort

before heading off to the next show.

"Beg...

"Beg..."

I was definitely gonna cut this bit out, Frank.

Well, f***ing read it.

"Begbie's pissed his jeans."

I remember that night.

Read on.

-What?

-Read on. Read on.

"The boy, likes,

just wouldn't hand over the wallet,

"even when Begbie pulled the knife, like.

"The last words I heard the dude say was,

"'You won't use that.'

"Begbie went f***ing crazy, got, like, that

carried away with the bladework, you know.

"We nearly forgot the wallet, likes.

"Blood was flowing into the latrine,

mixing with the piss."

Blood.

Mixing with the piss.

It was an ugly sight, man.

Murphy.

You've got hidden talents, man.

"Then it happens.

"All I did was put a pint

of Export in front of Begbie.

"He takes one f***ing gulp out o' it.

"Then he throws the empty glass

from his last pint

"straight over the balcony

in a casual backhand motion.

"The glass crashes down on this girl's head,

"which splits open as she falls to her knees.

"Begbie's on his feet and we're racing

down the stairs, and he shouts..."

"That lady got glassed!

"And no c*nt leaves here

till I find out what c*nt did it."

"That lady got glassed.

"And no c*nt leaves here

till I find out what c*nt did it."

That is lovely.

What else have you got?

What's this? What's this?

London, London.

"Renton had never seen so much money.

"He stole the money.

Took it from his friends."

What? No, that is just a story, that one.

That is just a little story.

"Renton felt no sympathy for Begbie.

"No.

"Renton's real guilt was for Spud.

"He loved Spud.

"Spud had never hurt anybody.

"If there was one person

whom Renton would try to compensate,

"it was Spud."

"Compensate"?

I'm only gonna f***ing ask you this once.

How much money did he leave you?

4,000. Left it in a locker.

Well, you didn't f***ing

tell us that at the time.

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