by Daly, Bill
‘She’s teetotal. She used to enjoy the odd glass of wine but ever since Paul was –’ Charlie broke off and studied the photograph. ‘Ever since Paul was killed,’ he said with a sigh, ‘she hasn’t touched a drop – whether she’s driving or not. Paul was stone cold sober that night but the other driver was three times over the limit.
‘It’s bizarre the effect drunk drivers have had on my life.’ Charlie took care to replace the photograph in exactly the same position on his desk. ‘If it hadn’t been for the idiot that ran into DCI Williams’ car I’d be happily retired now, tending cabbages in my allotment. And if it hadn’t been for the moron that crashed into Paul’s car,’ he added with a shake of the head, ‘my grandson would still have a father.’
Jude Ramsay went up to the bar to collect the interval drinks, then carried the tray across to the table in the corner where Laura was waiting.
‘Your cold doesn’t seem to have come to much,’ Jude said, handing Laura her gin and tonic.
‘It seems to have dried up but my head’s still throbbing like hell.’
‘What did you think of the first half?’
‘Very good.’
‘Glad I dragged you out?’
Laura smiled sheepishly and nodded as she started to pour the tonic into her gin. ‘You said on the phone there was something you wanted to talk to me about?’
Jude lowered her voice. ‘Simon’s screwing around.’
‘What!’ Laura froze in mid-pour.
‘He’s got something going on the side.’
‘What makes you think that?’ Laura asked hesitantly.
‘For the past few months the poor little darling has been too exhausted to do anything in the sack.’
Laura continued pouring her tonic slowly. ‘Mike’s gone through phases like that. It doesn’t necessarily mean he’s screwing around.’
‘He was supposed to be at work yesterday but when I phoned his office I was told he’d taken time off.’
‘There might be some innocent explanation.’
‘Come on, Laura! You don’t have to stick up for him.’
Laura sipped at her drink. ‘Have you confronted him with this?’
‘Not yet. I’m biding my time.’
Laura hesitated. ‘Any idea who it might be?’
‘I’m pretty sure it’s his assistant, Maureen. The randy little slut could hardly keep her hands off him at last year’s office party.’
CHAPTER 6
‘Your steak pie was every bit as good as my mother’s, Mrs Anderson.’
‘There is no higher praise, Tony,’ Kay said. ‘What do you think, Sue?’ Kay turned to her daughter who was pouring coffee and handing round the cups. ‘This must be one for the Guinness Book of Records. I do believe it’s the first time in his life that your father has gone through a whole meal without once talking shop.’ She ignored Charlie’s pained expression. ‘Then again, it’s not every day he has someone who’ll discuss football with him all night.’
‘Sugar, Tony?’ Sue asked.
‘Please. Two lumps.’
A click and a loud bang came echoing from the kitchen, followed by a high-pitched plaintive wail. Tony stopped in mid-stir. ‘A cat flap, I presume?’ His question was answered by a bedraggled jet-black shape appearing in the doorway, its long hair glistening with moisture, its spindly tail erect.
Blakey froze for a moment, surveying the room, before padding over to Sue and rubbing his back up and down against her leg. Putting down the coffee pot Sue took a tissue from her handbag to dry his fur, then lifted the cat gently and draped him over her shoulder. ‘This was my fifteenth birthday present, Tony,’ she said, scratching gently at the top of Blakey’s head as he hung languidly on her shoulder, pink tongue protruding slightly, purring softly.
‘You didn’t take him with you when you moved out?’
‘It wouldn’t have been fair on him. When I was at university I shared a flat with three other girls and by that time he was used to a house and a garden. Not that I’d have had much chance of dragging him away from Dad, even if I’d wanted to,’ she added.
‘Too bloody right!’ Charlie snorted and leaned across to chuck Blakey under the chin. ‘Many’s the time you and I have put the world to rights over a few glasses of malt, haven’t we, old boy?’
‘I’m back in a house now and I’ve got a garden,’ Sue said, ‘but I can’t imagine for one minute that Blakey would want to swap his life of luxury here for Jamie trying to tear lumps out of his fur. Would you, my big, spoiled lump?’ she said, rubbing harder at Blakey’s head, the volume of the purring rising in a crescendo. Levering the cat from her shoulder, Sue untangled his extended claws from her sweater and placed him gently down on the carpet.
‘By the way, he was there again this afternoon, Dad,’ Sue said, catching a strand of loose hair as she straightened up and hooking it firmly behind her ear. ‘I’m talking about Tosh McCulloch, Tony,’ she explained. ‘He’s well known in this family. He and I were in the same class in primary school. His parents still live round the corner in Marjory Road. When I come out of school at four o’clock I often see him hanging around the playground gates. I’m sure he’s trying to sell the kids drugs.’
‘A ten-year-old boy in Sue’s school died last month.’ Charlie’s eyes were harder than Tony had ever seen them. ‘Cocaine overdose. I know in my guts that McCulloch was the supplier and if I ever manage to prove it I’ll strangle him with my bare hands, so help me God!’
‘Don’t let him get to you, Dad,’ Sue said. ‘He’s not worth a heart attack.’
‘According to Johnny Devlin,’ Tony said, ‘McCulloch was buying crack on Wednesday night.’
‘And selling it on to primary school kids!’ Sue said, tossing back her hair. ‘What chance do the poor wee beggars have?’
‘I’m going to have that bastard,’ Charlie growled, the colour flaring up in his cheeks and his knuckles turning white as he gripped hard on the sides of his chair.
‘You’re getting yourself worked up, Charlie,’ Kay said. ‘Let’s change the subject. Sue, what do you have planned for the weekend?’
‘A few of us from school are going skiing in Aviemore. We’re setting out at the crack of dawn tomorrow. Most of the crowd are staying over but I’m coming back tomorrow night to pick up Jamie because I’ve got a houseful coming round for his birthday party on Sunday.’
‘Don’t you mean Rainday?’ Tony suggested.
‘You’ve heard?’ Sue laughed. ‘I hope you haven’t forgotten, Dad? Jamie’s expecting you across on Rainday morning to play football with him.’
‘Don’t worry your pretty little head about that, my girl! I’ll be there come hell or high water,’ he said, getting up from the table to stretch his spine. ‘I’ll come over early, love – round about half-past eight. Don’t bother getting up. You could probably use a lie-in after the skiing.’
Sue took a sip of coffee and glanced at her watch. ‘Hey! Is that the time? Sorry to break up the party, Tony, but I really ought to be making tracks. I’m setting off at six-thirty in the morning.’
‘Fine by me. It’s been a long, hard week.’ Quickly finishing his lukewarm coffee, Tony got to his feet. ‘Mrs Anderson, thank you again for an excellent meal.’
‘Thank you for the flowers, Tony.’
Standing on the doorstep, Tony took Charlie’s hand in a firm grip. ‘Great evening, sir. I really enjoyed myself.’
‘I still insist Davie McParland was every bit as good as Jimmy Johnstone.’
‘You cannot be serious! No one could destroy a full back like Jinky.’
‘How would you know? You’re too young ever to have seen him play.’
‘I’ve seen more newsreels and television clips of Jinky than I’ve had hot dinners. Rain, hail or snow, my father travels up from Saltcoats for every Celtic home game. Other kids might’ve got bedtime stories, but my abiding childhood memory is of my father sitting on the edge of my bed describing in painstaking detail every run Jinky ever
made. Anytime you’d like the full ninety-minute commentary on the 1967 European Cup final, I’m your man.’
‘I’d rather hear about the 1971 League Cup final when Partick Thistle stuffed Celtic 4–1. What a match that was! Alan Rough played an absolute blinder.’
‘1971! Is that the last time Thistle won anything? My God, that’s before I was born.’
‘Which doesn’t seem to impair your ability to recite chapter and verse about what happened in 1967 when it happens to suit you!’
‘Worse than a pair of old fishwives,’ Sue said, buttoning up her coat and dangling her car keys in front of Tony’s nose. ‘If you’ve both quite finished bickering?’
‘I was just getting warmed up,’ Charlie complained. ‘Are you working this weekend?’ he asked, turning back to Tony.
‘I’ve booked time off. Anne was supposed to be coming up for a few days.’ His freckles flushed. ‘Are you on duty?’
‘Not officially, but I’ll have to drop into the office for a few hours over the weekend to clear some of the paperwork. I’ve got a backlog that would choke a horse.’
‘Where exactly do you live?’ Sue asked as they were merging with the light traffic on the M8.
‘Wilton Street. Do you know it?’
‘Sure. What’s the best way from here?’
‘Clyde Tunnel, up Balshagray Avenue, Crow Road and along Great Western Road.’
‘Then cut up Queen Margaret Drive?’
‘That’s it. My flat’s behind the old BBC buildings.’
‘You must be the blue-eyed boy,’ Sue said with an impish grin as she pulled out to overtake an articulated lorry.
‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s only once in a blue moon that Dad invites a work colleague home for dinner.’
‘I reckon he was feeling sorry for me. I’ve just split up with my fiancée.’
‘So Mum told me. Sorry to hear that.’ Cutting back in from the middle lane, Sue indicated left for the slip road to the Clyde Tunnel. ‘Was the break-up on account of the job?’
Tony shrugged. ‘Part of the reason, I suppose. Anne and I had been going out together for a long time – ever since fifth year in school. She’s a nurse down in Kilmarnock and for the last six months it seemed that every time she was off duty I was working – and vice versa.’ He paused. ‘But I reckon pressure of work was a convenient rationalisation for both of us. We’d been drifting apart for some time. But look on the bright side,’ he added cheerfully. ‘At least we managed to bail out before we got hitched.’
‘There’s nothing puts more strain on a relationship than being married to a copper,’ Sue stated emphatically.
‘Was your husband not a teacher?’
‘I wasn’t referring to Paul. I meant Dad. I’ve lived through it with Mum for years. She worries herself sick in case he gets caught up in the violence. Do you know that in more than thirty years of marriage she’s never once gone to sleep before he’s come home? He doesn’t even realise it. Most of the time she lies awake in bed in the dark until she hears his car, then she pretends to be asleep when he comes upstairs.’
‘Doesn’t he call and let her know when he’s going to be late?’
‘Hey! Don’t run away with the wrong impression. He’s very good about phoning – a lot better than most. But often it’s not practical. I don’t have to tell you that. Especially in the pre-mobile days – not that Dad has got the hang of those, of course!’ Tony smiled. ‘It’s ironic. Mum worries herself sick about Dad and, touch wood,’ Sue said, flicking her fingertips off her forehead, ‘the worst that’s ever happened to him was a dislocated shoulder when he tried to rugby tackle an intruder. On the other hand I never had a day’s worry about Paul and he got himself killed on the way home from a Thursday evening PTA.’
They drove the length of Moss Road in silence.
‘Do you know you get a wish if you can hold your breath all the way through the Clyde Tunnel?’ Tony said.
‘I didn’t know that!’ Sue’s eyes lit up. ‘I can never resist a challenge.’
The northbound tunnel was closed for maintenance work and they were diverted towards the southbound where one lane was open in each direction. Taking a deep breath as she approached the tunnel entrance Sue dropped down a gear and slammed her foot to the floor, Tony gripping the edge of his seat and sucking as much air as he could into his lungs as they accelerated down the slope. When they reached the low point in the tunnel they glanced across at each other’s bulging cheeks, trying desperately not to laugh. Half-way up the incline they closed in on a refuse disposal vehicle and Sue had to stand on the brakes. They slowed to a crawl. Tony was the first to crack, the breath exploding from his body as he convulsed in laughter, Sue lasting a few seconds longer.
‘I was doing fine until you started to laugh,’ Sue spluttered as they reached the tunnel exit. Flicking her indicator, she slewed off to the left.
‘Wrong way,’ Tony said, looking back over his shoulder and pointing. ‘It was straight on there,’ he said. ‘Up Balshagray Avenue.’ Sue said nothing as she looped over the intersection and rejoined the tunnel slip road in the opposite direction. ‘Where are we going?’
‘No stinking rubbish lorry’s going to do me out of getting my wish. Hold on tight!’ Sucking in her breath Sue hammered the car into third gear. Her lungs were on fire by the time they hit the bottom of the dip and her cheeks swelled up like balloons as they sped up the incline. ‘Made it!’ she gasped in triumph as they roared out of the tunnel. ‘Did you?’
‘Just about,’ Tony panted, his chest heaving as he spluttered for air. ‘But I think I left my stomach somewhere underneath the river.’
‘Don’t worry. We can pick it up on the way back.’
They had to travel half a mile along Moss Road, as far as the Shieldhall roundabout, before they could execute a U-turn, Tony chortling all the way, Sue with tears of laughter streaming down her cheeks.
‘No fun this time,’ Sue said with mock petulance as they re-entered the tunnel behind a line of slow-moving vehicles. ‘Still, mustn’t be greedy,’ she said, dragging her hair behind her ear and brushing the tears of laughter from her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘At least we both got one wish.’
‘What did you wish for?’
‘You mustn’t ask. If you tell anyone what you wished for it doesn’t come true.’
The main roads were clear of snow but there was a fair amount of slush in Wilton Street when Sue pulled up outside Tony’s tenement block.
‘Isn’t this where I’m supposed to invite you up for coffee?’ he asked.
‘Can I take a rain check?’ Sue smiled disarmingly. ‘I really am whacked. And I do have a very early start.’
‘Of course. Do you do a lot of skiing?’
‘Not really. In my case it’s more a matter of slithering down the slopes on my backside. That’s how I got this,’ she said, tapping the side of her nose. ‘A couple of years ago at Aviemore I aquaplaned for twenty yards on my bum before slamming head first into a tree. When they reset my nose they didn’t quite manage to get it straight.’
‘If you don’t enjoy it, why do you keep going back?’
‘I don’t really know. Because I enjoy the company, I suppose. I much prefer hillwalking, but it’s hardly the weather for that.’
‘I know.’ Sue looked at him quizzically. ‘I saw a photo of you in your walking gear,’ he explained. ‘Your father has it in pride of place on his desk.’
‘He hasn’t still got that old photo in the office?’ Sue shook her head. ‘I must have given him at least three more recent ones. I’m telling you, he doesn’t hang on to that photo because of me. It’s Jamie in a goalkeeper’s jersey that turns him on. I’m sure he has secret fantasies about Jamie playing for Partick Thistle and Scotland.’
‘Alan Rough reincarnate.’ Tony nodded sagely. ‘Now that would be something.’
‘You’re every bit as bad as he is! Be off with you!’
Tony hesitated as he gripp
ed the door handle. ‘Sue, if this is out of order, just say.’
‘What?’
‘I’ve got a couple of tickets for the Radiohead concert next week. To be frank, I got them as a surprise present for Anne. I was wondering … If you happen to be free?’
‘I love Radiohead.’
‘Have you ever seen them live?’
‘I went to the Glastonbury gig a few years back. They were incredible. However, before we take this any further, I have to nail my colours to the mast. I can’t stand “Creep”.’
‘That’s all right, neither can they. What do you think of Kid A?’
‘Not their best.’
‘Oh, come on! “Idioteque” is the best thing they’ve ever done.’
‘Not a patch on “Fake Plastic Trees”.’
‘There’s no accounting for taste.’
‘We may not be able to resolve this tonight,’ Sue said. ‘When are they on?’
‘Monday night.’
‘Is that the twentieth?’
‘I think so.’
‘Shit! That’s the night of the school nativity play. I can’t opt out of that. I’m everything from director and producer to set designer and costume maker, to say nothing of joint script writer with Matthew.’
‘Is he a teacher?’
‘An apostle. He has all the grandiose lines like: ‘Unto us, this day, a child is born’ and I get to customise them by adding “in Dennistoun”.’
‘What happened to Bethlehem?’
‘Unfortunately, Bethlehem no longer conjures up the magic of Christmas. If six-year-olds these days know anything about Bethlehem it’s a place where Arabs get murdered by Jews, or vice versa. Anyway, basing it in Dennistoun gives the story more relevance for the kids.’
‘Must make it tricky finding three Wise Men.’
‘The Wise Men don’t come from Dennistoun,’ she pouted. ‘They come from the East.’
‘Riddrie’s not necessarily an improvement.’ Sue laughed out loud. ‘In any event,’ Tony added, ‘I recommend you switch the action to Paisley.’
