No Wonder I Take a Drink

by Laura Marney

  ‘That’s brilliant Steven. Good on you.’

  ‘And I can work all the hours I want. They can’t get enough of me. Gerry works there as well.’

  ‘Suits me, that means you’ll have your own cash when you come up. I won’t have to provide the refreshment allowance for your nightly trips down the Calley like last time.’

  ‘Well actually Mum, you won’t have to anyway.’

  I knew it, I knew it. I’d tried to keep it light but I knew the minute he said he’d got a job.

  ‘Don’t tell me, are you maybe going to give me an allowance?’

  I was making it harder for him but I couldn’t help myself.

  ‘Mum, what happened was, when I went for the interview Gary, the supervisor, said he needed somebody for six weeks. I had to promise or else he wouldn’t give me the job.’

  ‘Well, you can still come up for the weekend can’t you? You can bring Gerry, anyone you like. Come anytime.’

  ‘I’m awful sorry Mum.’

  ‘It’s okay. Honest.’

  I felt numb when I the phone put down, an absence of any emotion. He had been such a clingy baby. He bawled if I left the room. If I went to the toilet he stood outside, anxious in case I should climb out the window and down the drainpipe.

  Steven phoned every night for a week after that. Guilt made him very attentive. We spent hours chatting and making each other laugh. I told him about Smidgy and he did a brilliant impersonation of Nettie in full flow. But although he joked about her, Steven seemed genuinely fond of the old dear.

  ‘God love her, she could do with a holiday you know, Mum.’

  ‘Not with me she couldn’t.’

  ‘I’d feel bad coming up to Inverfaughie again without her. She moaned for weeks about it the last time. I felt really guilty.’

  ‘Just tell her there’s no room.’

  ‘She’s not daft. She knows it’s a B & B, you told her yourself when you were bumming about it. She’s not likely to forget.’

  ‘But Steven, she does my head in!’

  ‘Could she not come up with me? One weekend wouldn’t kill you Trix, I’d never hear the end of it if I came without her.’

  ‘Oh for God’s sake! What’s this? You can’t come unless Nettie comes, is that the deal? Right okay, she can come, but she’s you’re responsibility. And don’t bloody well call me Trix again! You’re not too old for a skelp you know, boy!’

  Steven laughed.

  ‘Mum, I’m sixteen and you’re still coming away with this patter, You’re not too old. When will I be too old for a skelp?’

  Automatically I gave him the stock reply I had used since he was wee, my euphemism for never.

  ‘When you grow a beard.’

  Steven found this even more hilarious.

  *

  When they got off the train the first thing I noticed was their luggage. Steven and Gerry had a sports bag each, Nettie had a suitcase on wheels. The next thing I noticed was the bum fluff on Steven’s chin. A beard. I had to laugh. This time I got a hug before Bouncer did, which was an improvement.

  ‘Oh there you are Trisha love,’ Nettie babbled, ‘Thanks very much for inviting me, I won’t be any trouble. You look terrific! Country life certainly suits you.’

  I hoped the look I drew her would convey my distaste for such transparent flattery. She was here for the weekend then she was out on her ear.

  I had a funny feeling that when we got to the car Nettie would be in the front with me while the boys took the back seat. That would set the tone for the weekend, the lads larging it down the Calley and the old woman lumbered with the even older old woman. I wasn’t wrong.

  Chapter 20

  It was all go back at Harrosie. I had new neighbours on the other side. Three women were unloading their car into the house next door that had so far lain empty. I had a good idea it wasn’t the owners Clive and Linda from Sussex. These women must be renting the house for a holiday. They seemed friendly enough, waving and smiling as we passed them. I didn’t get time to investigate further, I had to get Nettie and the boys settled in the house.

  ‘Oh you’ve got the place lovely!’ said Nettie.

  ‘Well I haven’t really done anything, it was like this when I moved in.’

  ‘Och no but you’ve got all your own wee bits and bobs about the place, that’s what makes it home. Look! I remember when that picture was taken!’

  Nettie had picked up the old photograph of the wee girl from the mantelpiece.

  ‘I don’t think so Nettie. I found that photo here. I just stuck it up there because I felt sorry for the wee soul.’

  ‘Och your bum! I went with Elsie to the studio. The photographer had to work for his money that day, I’ll tell you. He was running about with a big golliwog doll, wagging it on his head, trying to make you laugh, but you wouldn’t smile for him. It was strange because you were always a smiley baby. He kept shouting, Look at the gollie dollie! He was very arty. Look at the gollie dollie!’

  The old dear had finally lost it. At that moment, when I should feel sorry for her, I hated her. Steven had chosen this senile old woman over me.

  Rebecca and Michaela were in like a shot as soon as they saw my car was back. Rebecca’s face was red when she told Steven she liked his beard. Michaela related the strange mystery of the resurrected rabbit and although the boys sniggered, they didn’t spill the beans.

  ‘Rebecca, I saw people going into the house next door when we came in. Have you seen them? Are they here on holiday d’you know?’

  ‘Aye,’ said Rebecca, ‘Daddy says we’ve not to bother them.’

  All day I was dying to get a chance to go next door but my guests had no sooner had their lunch than they wanted taken out.

  ‘Come on Mum, we’re only here for the weekend and it’s a cracking day, let’s not waste it. We want to see the sights don’t we Nettie my old love?’

  Nettie giggled like a schoolgirl. My old love. She didn’t know when she was being had. Steven was only entertaining his sniggering pal Gerry.

  ‘Why don’t we take the boat ride around the islands? You would enjoy that, wouldn’t you Sweetcakes?’

  There was no end to Steven’s inventiveness when it came to affectionate names for Nettie. Throughout the weekend there was Dollface, Sweetheart, Candypants, Tiger, Gorgeous and Sweetpea. He even called her Hun. As in Honey I presumed and not as in the football refrain Go home ya Hun. It was easier to keep my mouth shut and do as I was told. Despite the fact that I had new neighbours I hadn’t even met yet, we went on the boat trip.

  It was a beautiful bright day. I hadn’t brought sunglasses and had to constantly shield my eyes from the sun glinting off the water like thousands of little mirrors. At the kiosk Steven wanted to buy tickets for me and Nettie, even though they were twelve quid a head. Automatically I pulled out my purse, it was a nice gesture but it was too much for Steven to shell out. While Steven was speaking to the ticket man Nettie put her hand on my arm.

  ‘He’s working, let the boy get it,’ she whispered.

  Making sure Gerry was watching, Steven handed me my ticket as casually as he could.

  ‘There you go Mum, my treat.’

  ‘Thanks Son.’

  Steven crooked both arms, one for Nettie and one for me and affected an old-fashioned manner.

  ‘Shall we go in?’

  Once aboard, the boys went up on deck while Hun and I were parked inside out of the wind. Nettie did everything she could to please me. She went and got us coffees and bars of chocolate from the buffet bar.

  ‘That’s a wee special coffee. Just to say thanks again for inviting me, hen.’

  The coffee had whisky in it, loads of it.

  ‘Cheers Nettie. It’s me who should be thanking you, for taking Steven in.’

  ‘Not at all Trisha, it is a pleasure to have him. Can I just tell you that he’s a credit to you. Never done talking about you, he told me how you stood up to those people stealing the plants. Steven thinks the world of y
ou. You’ve done a smashing job bringing up that boy.’

  That warmed me as much as the whisky.

  ‘I hear the kids calling you ‘Trixie’, I like it. Can I call you Trixie too?’

  ‘Only if I can call you Sweetcakes.’

  ‘Oh that boy of yours! He’s full of carry-on. I know he’s at it but it’s a good laugh isn’t it?’

  She wasn’t such a bad old stick really. Sometimes she could be so like Mum.

  Steven rushed down the stairs towards us.

  ‘Hurry up or you’ll miss them. Dolphins!’

  He bolted for the deck but then remembered and rushed back to help Nettie on the stairs. Nettie was right, he was a lovely boy, a credit to me. Steven’s face was flushed with excitement as he hustled us upstairs towards the dolphins. He might have a beard but he was still a wee boy, my wee boy.

  On the way home, Steven informed us that we were going on a distillery visit tomorrow.

  ‘And if you’re good, I’ll take you out to lunch.’

  None of us had ever been to a distillery but Steven was confident that we’d enjoy it.

  ‘They take you round and show you how the make the whisky, and Nettie Hun, you’ll like this bit, they give you a wee half.’

  ‘Oh, that sounds smashing,’ said Nettie. ‘Can we go, Trixie?’

  ‘I don’t see why not.’

  We were all knackered by the time we got back, but as I got the dinner on, the boys hit the bathroom. Nettie pottered round the kitchen helping me.

  ‘I hope they photaes turn out, it’ll be just like the thing if they don’t,’ said Nettie. ‘Oh that was a dream come true so it was! I’ve seen dolphins on the telly obviously, but to see them right up beside us like that!’

  ‘Och you see all kinds of wildlife up here, every day. See that road outside the house Nettie? Two nights ago there was a big stag, with antlers out to here, standing on the road, just standing there for ages. I sat on the couch and watched him, it was fantastic. Better than any wildlife programme.’

  ‘But what was he doing out there?’

  ‘D’you know, I’ve no idea. Maybe he was waiting for a bus.’

  At that moment Steven walked in wearing ironed jeans and howfing of Paco Rabanne.

  ‘Och that’s just stupid,’ he said. ‘Everybody knows the bus doesn’t stop here.’

  It was quite nice, us all sitting down to eat together, and we were ready for our dinner. The lads were going off down the Calley as usual but for once I didn’t mind being left. Nettie and I would just settle down and watch telly, there was a good film on at half eight. As I was clearing the plates Rebecca came in the back door.

  ‘Trixie, the ladies next door want you to go in and see them.’

  ‘They want me to go in? What for?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  I sorted Nettie out with a cup of tea and a plate of home baking on her lap and she was quite happy.

  ‘Nettie, I’m just popping next door a minute with Rebecca, I’ll not be long.’

  I wondered what they wanted me for, surely if they had a problem with the boiler or anything they would have asked Roger. But this was a good chance to meet them and get a nosey at the house.

  They were dead nice. Nurses they were, Julie, Eileen and Sarah, Glaswegians, working out in Saudi. Rebecca had insisted that we take Bouncer with us and when they saw him they made a big fuss. They had obviously taken a shine to Rebecca as well. It was great to be back in Scotland they said, see a bit of greenery. They were here for a week and were going to make the most of it. I told them about the dolphins and they said they’d take the trip the next day.

  They were going that night to a ceilidh, they’d seen a poster in the tourist office for a ceilidh in the hotel at Cullsnoddy, about twenty-five miles north.

  ‘Is it any good?’ the small one, Julie, asked.

  ‘I’m sorry, I couldn’t tell you, I’ve never been.’

  ‘Och let’s go anyway,’ said Eileen, ‘there’s a spare seat in the car if you want to come with us Trixie.’

  Typical, I thought. I’ve been in Inverfaughie for months and the first time I get an invite, I can’t go.

  ‘I really would love to come, I haven’t been out for months, but I’ve got my family up this weekend.’

  They were fine about it and said another time then. As I was leaving I remembered what I’d come in for.

  ‘Rebecca said you wanted to see me about something?’

  The girls looked at each other and then back at me.

  ‘No, said Sarah, ‘Rebecca said you wanted to see us.’

  I looked at Rebecca and she stared at the floor, her face turning crimson. God love the wee soul, she was networking on my behalf.

  Nettie was sitting where I’d left her, quite the thing. The lads were upstairs getting ready, they had a CD on, up full blast. I had been knackered earlier but now, now I was full of beans. I couldn’t sit down. I tidied round Nettie and then moved to the kitchen, banging the dishes about as I cleaned. The music the boys were playing was pumping me up. Rebecca must have sensed my mood because she stayed in the living room with Nettie. Bouncer gave me a wide berth too.

  ‘You’ve become a dab hand at the home baking,’ said Nettie as she tottered into the kitchen, ‘Rebecca and me have eaten the whole lot. Where do you want me to put my plate?’

  ‘Just leave it on the table thanks Nettie.’

  I had my arms up to my elbows in the washing bowl and my back to her.

  ‘Och I’m fair wabbit with all that fresh air today, so I am. I cannae concentrate on the telly with all that’s going on in this house. Those boys playing their records and you banging about in here.’

  Outraged, I spun round. Nettie, standing at the table, had her back to me. I gritted my teeth so hard it hurt. I considered stoving the selfish old cow’s head in with the pot I was scrubbing.

  ‘I’d be happier on my own in here tonight. I cannae hear the telly right if somebody else is with me, it’s my ears you know. It’d be nice to get a bit of peace and quiet, get the place to myself for a wee while.’

  My mouth fell open in amazement with an involuntary squawk. Rebecca. She had nobbled her. I was astonished by the implausible story about her ears, but what was remarkable was that Rebecca, at age eight-and-a-half, had trained Nettie, a woman nearly ten times her age, to circumvent the whole guilt trip giving me the opportunity to go out with a clear conscience. After talking Nettie through the TV remote control and where the teabags were kept, I ran upstairs and got my kit on.

  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had my good clothes on. I howked everything out the wardrobe and threw it on the bed. There was a bit of colour in my arms and legs from all the gardening I’d been doing. This would be a perfect opportunity to show off my tan in a strappy wee dress. Maybe I was getting old or had lived in the Highlands too long, but everything I tried on, everything I would have once considered pulling apparel, felt indecently scanty. I decided to play safe with a pair of smart trousers and a wee top. It was a ceilidh I was going to, not a lap-dancing club. I hardly thought then that it was going to be such a night of revels and revelations.

  Washed, dressed, perfumed, made up and bejewelled, I stood at the nurses’ front door.

  ‘Room inside for a wee one?’

  Chapter 21

  The nurses were ages with myself, maybe a bit younger. The big four oh being such a sensitive number, it wasn’t the sort of thing I could ask directly. Without giving them the full inquisition I was able to find out that they were single and had no kids. I got the idea that they were career girls, and party girls. Big drinkers anyway. Before we left, except for Julie who was driving, we all sank two large voddies.

  Clothes-wise, they were covering all eventualities. They wore hip-skimming jeans and skirts with backless tops under fleeces and cagoules. They even had balaclavas. Haven’t adjusted yet to the climate, they said, as they drank long vodkas in their woolly hoods.

  ‘I hope Culsnoddy Hotel is w
armer than this house,’ Julie said.

  I doubted it. The house was bloody roasting, they had the central heating on full blast.

  I tuned the radio to Inverfaughie FM in the car and we caught the mood, heuching and cheuching on the way there. It was disappointing when we arrived at the hotel. After we’d paid our five pounds each, we discovered that we were the only people who weren’t with a coach party. There was a coach tour from England, one from Holland and one from Germany. Most of them were a good bit older, pensioners really. They sat at big circular tables waiting for the band.

  It didn’t seem to put the girls off. We hardly had our coats off and Sarah was up at the bar getting the first round in. I said that to them: that I admired their spirit, on holiday to the Highlands and making the best of it. I felt as if I had said the wrong thing because they were very quick to assure me how much they loved it.

  ‘When we’re in Saudi all we think about is Scotland: Glasgow and the Highlands,’ Eileen said, and the others agreed. ‘You get sick of the sunshine you know, there’s more to life. There’s home.’

  I thought they were about to burst out greeting so I proposed a toast, ‘To home,’ I said, raising my glass.

  ‘To home.’

  I took to calling them The Three Nurseteers and subsequent toasts were based around the One for all and all for one theme. Julie only had one drink seeing as she was driving but the rest of us were quite well on when I noticed a man setting up a microphone.

  The guy looked amazing, he had grey-white hair, loads of it, pulled into a tight ponytail on top of his head with curls reaching down to his shoulder. Although he must have been fifty-fiveish, he had incredibly bright eyes, like a baby. Not exactly a handsome man, but very striking. In full Highland dress, he looked as if he had just stepped out of a Scotch House catalogue, he was that clean-looking. He introduced himself, said his name was Spider, and welcomed everyone.

  Then he says that due to circumstances beyond anyone’s control the band were unavoidably detained on Lewis and were unable to be with us this evening. I don’t think the tour party people really got this because they didn’t seem to mind or want their fivers back.