by V Clifford
As they chatted they passed Loch Leven with its romantic castle nestled on the island, and Viv mused on how nice it would be to visit. She’d never been, and a day like this would be perfect.
‘The nineteen-thirties,’ Gabriella continued, ‘don’t seem far enough in the past to be called antique. As my mum takes delight in saying, “My mother threw one of those out”. Infuriating. But it doesn’t stop her doing the same.’
‘Any brothers or sisters?’
‘Two brothers and a sister. I’m second eldest. The only one that isn’t married.’ She glanced at Viv then continued. ‘And they’re ever hopeful. But I’m guessing it’s never going to happen. How about you?’
‘There’s just my mum and my sister now, and she is a . . . ’
‘Wait. Hold that thought. I’ll have to concentrate for this next bit otherwise we’ll end up in Inverness instead of Aberdeen.’
Gabriella indicated and took the slip road for Dundee and all was well. The Tay glistened and inevitably McGonagall’s words ‘the Tay, the Tay, the silvery Tay’ ran through Viv’s head. It was such a huge river, weaving its way through stunning countryside; still navigable until the early nineteenth century, but now used for little beyond recreation. Viv wondered what the chances were of Gabriella lending her the car for an hour, and wished she’d given this a bit more consideration. See-sawing between two mindsets wasn’t going to make a pleasant drive and she sat back and sighed.
Gabriella said, ‘What were you going to say about your sister?’
‘No matter, I can’t remember.’ The opportunity to be a passenger was rare for Viv, who liked to keep her hands securely on the wheel. On this journey she watched the rolling green Perthshire countryside go by, and let the striking woman to her right make the decisions.
‘How long will your job take? No hurry, just wondering about the time frame.’
‘It would be great if I could have a couple of hours before the punters come in. Trade get first pick at noon, and the public get entry at two. It’s quite a big fair, this one, and tons of dealers come from all over the north-east, so it’ll definitely take me that time to get round them all. Shit! I forgot to leave a note on the door to say I’d be closed for the day.’
‘How would you feel about lending me your car for an hour or so?’
‘No probs. If I buy anything they’ll put it to one side until you get back.’
Viv couldn’t believe how easy-going this woman was. Angst must be in there somewhere. They spent time going through friends that may or may not be mutual. The process of filtering was good fun and they did have people that they both knew, some they shared a dislike of, and others who were ‘darlings’. Gabriella knew Margo and Lindy, but Viv wasn’t yet sure of her ground, so when Gabriella asked what her job for the day was Viv kept her details vague. ‘Seeing a client.’
Gabriella didn’t persist. When eventually they pulled up outside a modern hotel on the outskirts of Aberdeen, they both jumped out and nodded towards the automatic doors, understanding each other’s urgency to visit the loo. They ran to the entrance and panicked at the slight delay in it opening. A short while later, after washing their hands, Gabriella shook the car keys at Viv. ‘You be okay?’
‘Yes. Sure. I hope I’ll be back in an hour. Less if things go well.’
Gabriella raised her eyebrows in an enquiry, but Viv just got into the driver’s seat and adjusted it along with the rear view mirror. Gabriella gave a tentative wave and watched until the car was out of sight. Very trusting, given they’d only just met.
Once away from the hotel Viv pulled into a bus stop and checked her emails for the Grant’s address, then, using Google maps, found directions. They took her towards the centre of Aberdeen then west out into the countryside. Ten minutes later she was driving on a quiet road surrounded by farmland. It wasn’t long before she spotted a stone farmhouse set back off the road, with barns and a couple of cottages within shouting distance that could be the Grants’s. A rough track from the main road appeared to be the only access.
The poor old Volvo bumped and heaved over the tractor ruts. A high beech hedge protected the garden from easterly winds and a shabby lawn was home to a child’s swing that looked as if it had been there a long time. No sign of fancy ornaments or neatly defined flower-beds; nothing to prevent children playing. The house itself looked pretty forlorn with its upstairs curtains drawn and no sign of life.
Viv stepped out of the car onto a gravel drive and sauntered over to a small wooden barn sitting at the left of the house. The barn door was ajar and she swung it back to expose a disused chicken shed. There were nesting boxes along the back wall and straw on the floor, but the poo on the floor was dry and not very smelly, so Viv guessed it hadn’t been inhabited recently.
She walked round to what was most likely to be the house’s front entrance. She pushed at a gate that obviously hadn’t been in use because it took a bit of effort to lever it over tufts of couch grass. An iron doorknocker, a bit grand for these premises, produced a thudding hollow echo. A tiny stiff letterbox also took a bit of persuasion to open, but she hunkered down and managed to peek into a spacious hallway. A shaft of light fell onto the staircase exposing marks where a runner had been on the wooden treads. An empty black cast iron umbrella stand, with a mirror on the wall above it, were the only other things she could see. It looked derelict. She tried the door. Locked. She retraced her steps and found the back door. A slight gap in the lace curtains in the glass porch revealed a similar picture. The Grants had definitely moved out.
Not sure what to do next, she became aware of the sound of voices and stood on tiptoe to see beyond the garden hedge, trying to identify where they came from. Then she heard a car door slam and an engine start up. To her surprise the truck drove up the track towards her, halted, and an athletic young bloke jumped out. In a local accent he said, ‘Can I help you?’ He was not unfriendly, but not chummy either.
‘I’m looking for Andrew Grant.’
His mouth twitched, but he didn’t take his eyes off her. Viv could hold a stare, and did. He glanced at the chicken shed, causing Viv to briefly follow his gaze. ‘They’re not here. Gone to . . . ’ He stopped himself. Then continued. ‘Away. They’ve gone away.’
Viv tried to keep her tone light. ‘Any idea where I might find them?’
‘No idea. Been gone for some months now. New tenants coming next month.’
His eyes moved back towards the chicken shed. She wondered what the attraction was. She brushed an imaginary hair away from her face and nodded in the direction he came from. ‘D’you think anyone else round here might know where I could find them?’
Quick as a flash he responded. ‘No. No, I don’t. They didn’t mix.’ His posture changed, his long legs parted, and he hooked his fingers into the belt loops on the back of his trousers. ‘Who are you anyway?’
She looked around and this time his stare was following hers. ‘Um, just a friend . . . Thanks for your help. I’ll try the church.’
Now his tone became distinctly unpleasant. ‘Did you hear me? They’re gone.’
‘Yes. But I thought . . . ’
He interrupted. ‘Well you thought wrong. Now . . . ’ He gestured with his thumb for her to get moving.
Viv walked toward the Volvo knowing that he was watching her every move. Once in the car she mouthed, ‘Well, what the hell was that about?’ She drove quickly out of sight, let go of her breath, and tried to recall the route back to the hotel.
Chapter Nine
There was no sign of Gabriella at the hotel door, so Viv walked into the reception area and followed the signs for the ballroom and the Antique Fair. It was heaving with traders in the process of unwrapping stock from old newspaper and bubble-wrap. She still couldn’t see Gabriella so elbowed her way through the throng of trestle tables set up in long crowded rows. She bumped and squeezed until she spotted the nape of Gabriella’s neck. The dark graduated bob had been beautifully cut and Viv wondered whose scissors h
ad been there. She was crouching next to a bookcase, inspecting beneath the shelves.
Viv, hoping not to alarm her, gently tapped her on the arm. ‘Hi. How’s it going?’
Gabriella straightened up and grinned the most welcoming smile. Viv’s heart took a leap. She grinned back. ‘You had any luck yet?’
‘Yes. I’m doing pretty well.’ Gabriella pointed to a pile of goods behind a trader’s stall. ‘That lot is for me. I’m just trying to decide if this bookcase has too much woodworm in it to be rescued. I think it’ll be fine. It’s a risk but no one will die.’ She turned to the trader and said, ‘I’ll take it.’ They must have already negotiated the price because Gabriella counted the notes into his hand and started to lift the case toward the other things. Viv grabbed the opposite end and together they edged the bookcase round behind a small chair with distinctive thirties’ arched arms, in a rough brown and blue fabric. Gabriella nodded to the trader and pointed at her watch. ‘Half an hour, while we grab something to eat?’ He nodded back and Gabriella gave him the thumbs up.
In the foyer they checked the hotel menu. It looked fine and they were both too hungry to go in search of anywhere else. The restaurant was busy with families making the most of the ‘eat as much as you can’ carvery. Gabriella’s eyes bulged as a short, bald, pastie-faced guy passed with his plate piled with meat and Yorkshire puddings. ‘God, that’s enough to put me off.’ A sullen waitress came and showed them to a table awash with coca-cola and crumbs. They exchanged a questioning look before Gabriella said, ‘Can you do this?’ gesturing at the mess.
Viv shook her head. ‘No. Let’s find something else.’ They headed back to the ballroom, collected the purchases, and once the car was loaded they drove south towards Forfar, scouring the roadside for any signs of somewhere to eat.
‘Right. If I don’t eat . . . like now, I’m going to start chewing off your arm.’ Said Gabriella.
Viv laughed, and pulled out her phone. ‘D’you mind?’ she held it up. ‘I’ll find us somewhere to eat in Forfar.’ This was easier said than done. It’s not that there weren’t restaurants in Forfar, but nothing seemed to open on a Sunday. They settled for a modest-looking place right beside the A90. The loos were clean, as was the table, and, unbelievably, they had a homemade vegetarian dish which Gabriella fancied. Viv was fleetingly worried that if Gabriella was a veggie, she’d be picky about all sorts of other things. Once they’d settled at a table, a jolly, homely woman took their order and as she gathered up the paper menus Viv asked Gabriella, ‘So, how long have you been a vegetarian?’
‘Oh, I’m not. I’m not even an aquatarian. I just liked the sound of the aubergine thing.’
‘Glad that you ordered chips. I was out with a work crowd once and every single woman said no to chips until they came, then they all wanted ‘just one’. So I ordered chips for ten and at the end of the meal all plates were clean.’
‘Women who police what they eat get on my tits.’ Gabriella put her hand up to her mouth. ‘Sorry, it just slipped out.’
‘Start as you mean to go on. You’re right. I don’t know a single woman who isn’t on a diet, hasn’t been on a diet, or isn’t just about to start a diet. And yes that gets on my tits too. So we’ve established that we’ve both got tits and that there are occasions when things get on them.’ Viv caught Gabriella’s profile as she glanced out of the window, and wondered when she had managed to renew her bright red lipstick without Viv noticing. She idly started to rearrange the condiment set on the table but Gabriella put her hand on top. Viv withdrew her hand. Then realising that Gabriella looked concerned, said, ‘Sorry. It felt as if I’d been stung’
‘Maybe you had.’
‘I didn’t mean to . . . ’
‘It’s okay, Viv. You don’t have to justify being nervous.’
The waitress approached and they both sat back to give her access to the table.
When the waitress withdrew, Gabriella said, ‘So you haven’t told me what it is that you spend your days doing. Is that an okay question?’
‘Sure. I’m a hairdresser.’ Viv’s heart sank as she spotted the look of disappointment on Gabriella’s face.
‘Really?’ She tried to recover her composure, but the pitch of her voice gave her away. ‘Where do you work? And how come you were swanning about in Victoria Street on a Saturday? Isn’t that a hairdresser’s biggest day?’
Viv, uneasy at the need to defend herself, continued. ‘I work for myself. Freelance. I travel to people’s houses, and have done for years. I suppose I’ve managed to train my clients, well, those who can, to have their hair cut during the week. I do have some who can’t do any other day. In fact I’d just finished work, when as you say, I was, “swanning around Victoria Street”.’
‘Oh, I didn’t mean anything by that . . . ’ Gabriella looked penitent and Viv laughed. ‘It’s okay. I’m not a skiver. I do other things besides cutting hair.’
Gabriella was over-compensating, and too eagerly said, ‘Okay we’ll get to that. But what made you become a hairdresser in the first place?’
‘It’s a long story.’
Gabriella nodded, encouraging Viv to continue. Viv sighed. ‘Okay. I hated school and always wanted to be a hairdresser. Not any old hairdresser but one who would cut like Sassoon. No shampoo and sets for me. So I got a job in a good salon, did my apprenticeship and worked for a few years with them. But I’d always been a reader and one day I decided that cutting hair wasn’t quite enough, so I went back to school, got some Highers, then went to uni. All the while I had to cut hair to finance the studies.’ Viv hesitated but Gabriella nodded for her to go on. ‘Once I got into the rhythm of studying I loved it and I enjoyed hairdressing even more . . . It gives me a kind of right brain left brain balance. So I went from one degree to another to another. My intention was never to collect degrees, although being called Doctor certainly had its appeal. Beats spinster.’ She sighed. ‘So here I am, a hairdresser with more degrees than I know what to do with.’
‘What a great story. You should write about it.’
‘Too busy cutting hair, writing columns and poking my nose into other people’s business.’
Gabriella raised her eyebrows. ‘Such as?’
‘Well I occasionally get asked to investigate things, and sometimes I don’t get asked but investigate anyway.’ She grinned.
‘Curious.’ Gabriella blew a strand of hair from her eyes and stared at Viv.
Viv, embarrassed, looked at her nails and, mortified at how grubby they were, quickly bunched up her fingers. ‘I’ve covered a few newspaper articles, and at times I’ve snooped around for the police.’
Gabriella smiled, but her disbelief was apparent.
Viv pressed on. ‘It’s true. I also used to be a part-time academic.’
This certainly had Gabriella pointing her fork. ‘Now are you sure about that?’
‘Yes, entirely sure. Trust me, I’m a doctor.’ She started to laugh. ‘What is this?’
Gabriella looked straight at her. ‘Well, what is it?’
Viv looked away and felt herself colouring – had she made a huge assumption? She stammered, ‘Well I don’t know. You tell me.’
Gabriella grinned. ‘Could be a beginning.’
Neither of them ate very much but nor did they seem too keen to get back on the road. They ordered ice cream but didn’t eat much of that either. Then they ordered coffees, which they drained. Relieved when Gabriella accepted her offer to drive Viv was grateful to have something else to focus on. She slipped into the driver’s seat, wiped her palms on her thighs and started up. Relieved to gain some control, she rolled her shoulders, and gave Gabriella the lowdown on what it was like to juggle three careers. They avoided chat about current or previous relationships, frightened to puncture the atmosphere of the day. During quiet moments, which were few, Viv imagined how the day might end. She would help Gabriella into the shop with the bits of furniture from the boot, but then they’d have to say cheerio. What then? She bl
inked the decision away. No amount of talking herself into the sanity zone worked. She imagined ways of keeping this woman’s attention. They surely couldn’t end the day on ‘cheerio’. Viv’s internal dialogue flitted from waking up in the morning with Gabriella by her side, to a night of regret and apologies for Walter. She knew which she’d prefer.
Once the boot was unloaded, however, Gabriella rubbed Viv’s sleeve and looked directly at her. ‘Your place or mine?’
Viv, surprised, hesitated, but smiled back. ‘Mine’s closer.’
Monday morning felt exciting and sunny and she hadn’t even opened the curtains. Viv jumped up, pulled on a dressing gown, and headed to the kitchen to make tea. The muscles in her face couldn’t resist smiling. As she waited for the kettle to boil she ran through the things she’d like to do today. The first of which was groveling to Walter. Well, not quite the first. She set up a tray with two huge china cups and saucers next to a Keep Hot teapot with matching sugar and milk set. She laid the tray on the end of the bed and opened the curtains wide to a glorious morning. Gabriella stirred, squinted and Viv imagined anyone faced with such a smile first thing in the morning would easily be hooked.
‘Tea in bed. How good is this?’ Gabriella plumped up the pillows then pulled the duvet up to her chin. She patted the space next to her and Viv slid in. They drank in silence. Viv became reflective. Felt misgivings rising, even though they’d only talked and cuddled. A parental voice inside her head screamed, ‘What the hell are you up to?’
Gabriella cut into Viv’s thoughts. ‘I’ll have to get going.’
Viv, trying to look disappointed, let go of a slow breath when Gabriella jumped out of bed still wearing underwear and a t-shirt, grabbed her trousers and shirt and bolted through to the shower.
Viv rubbed her face with both hands and whispered her thought out loud. ‘What the hell are you up to, Fraser? Haven’t you had enough drama for one week?’ A little later, Viv got round to ringing Walter.
