I’m lying on the landing, I said. My legs are fucked. I was trying to dance.
I tried to phone you a few times, he said.
I knew he was lying. I was always in.
I’m sorry I didn’t come round with the contact sheets.
You’re a bad wee bugger, I said.
Listen, I could come round now if you want. I’m down at the Swan Hotel. I’ve been photographing swans.
Why? I asked.
Neds were throwing stones off the bridge. A swan was tangled up and they killed it.
That’s horrible!
I know. It’s fucking criminal.
Bastards, I said.
So will I come over or not? I’m just down the road.
If you want to, but I’m knackered. I can’t entertain you.
I’ll be there in half an hour, he said.
Okay.
Toodle pip!
I hung up and went downstairs slowly. I smelled of night clothes and sweat. I crouched down in the bath and washed under my arms. I tried not to think of the swan being stoned but it kept coming into my head. I wished I didn’t know. I put on my pink baggy trousers, brushed my hair and put on some lipgloss.
I lay on the couch and waited. My heart was racing. I didn’t usually get visitors during the day. I got up again and put on some eyeliner.
He turned up an hour and a half later.
Sorry I’m late. I had a smoke to calm me down. The swans upset me.
Did you have to photograph the dead one?
No. Just the vicinity and some healthy ones.
I hope they get who did it.
They’re cunts. They ran away.
It’s like something out of Taggart.
He laughed. So how are you, doll? You’re looking a wee bit peeky.
I’m getting on with it. I have no choice.
Are you even a wee bit better?
Sometimes I think so, but there’s still so little I can do. I just want to get back to uni but I still have days where I think I’m dying.
When d’you think you can go back?
Fuck knows. It’s supposed to burn itself out in five years so I’ve got two and a half to go. Honours is out the window, but I only need one class to get an Ordinary degree.
What about Fizzy? How’s she doing?
Horrendous. She needs a wheelchair when she goes out. I doubt she’ll get back to her medical degree, poor thing.
What about Handsome Horace?
Same as last time I saw you. In Dundee doing his MSc.
That’s right, I forgot.
You’ve got no memory, all the dope you smoke.
Have you got any biscuits? he said.
I think there are KitKats.
I wouldn’t mind one. And some of that perfumed tea if you’ve got any.
Help yourself, laddie. I take it weak with a little milk.
Tea for two coming right up, he said. He grinned and went into the kitchen.
I couldn’t decide whether I fancied him or not.
Where’s your cups, doll? he shouted through.
In the cupboard on the left.
Where’s the milk?
In the fridge.
Where’s the fridge?
Callum!
Keep the heid, he said. I’m only kidding.
He came through with the tea and offered me a KitKat from a stack on the plate.
I just put them all out, he said.
I shouldn’t really be drinking Earl Grey. It gives me a headache but I love the taste.
It clears my head, he said. What’s in it?
Oil of bergamot.
What’s that?
No idea.
It sounds exotic. Like something that should be smoked.
Do you smoke everyday?
I usually have one to get me started.
How can you work?
I can work fine.
But doing it every day must be bad for you.
It’s not. Cannabis helps people with cancer. It’s pain relief.
But you don’t have cancer.
Aye, not yet. You should have a smoke. It would help your muscles.
I’d be too scared to smoke now. I feel stoned all the time anyway.
So what else has been happening?
Nothing. Jana thought she was pregnant but she’s not. (The minute I’d said it, I regretted telling him. It seemed disloyal.)
Is that your friend I saw having sex? he said.
Yup.
She didn’t like me.
No wonder. You were spying on her!
What about your pal next door? D’you still see him?
He’s getting married in two weeks. He said your mum was in buying a carpet a while back.
Aye. She would’ve been.
I couldn’t bring myself to mention the bruise. I changed the subject. Have you heard from Roquia?
Nah. She’ll be onto better things. She’s probably shagging some handsome prince in Stirling.
Are you not jealous?
Nah.
But you two were together since school, I said.
I know.
Was it not bitter when you finished?
Not really. She just went mad one time ‘cos I went out to buy cigs and didn’t come back for three hours.
What were you doing?
I met someone I knew and we went for a pint.
And that’s why you finished?
She was leaving her job and going to uni anyway. It was on the cards. What about you? Do you not get jealous of Ivan being away?
No. I trust him a hundred percent. He’s coming down for Richard’s wedding. I can’t wait.
That’ll be a posh do.
Queen’s Hotel.
I could do their photos cheap.
I laughed. I think they’ve got their photographer booked. It’ll be like the royal wedding. If Ivan and I ever get hitched you can do ours. I want black and white. Colour’s common.
You’re on, doll. Listen, I better go. I’ve got another job to go to.
But you just got here.
I know, but I’ve to photograph a wee girl up at the hospital. They’ve raised money for a dialysis machine.
Dead swans and ill children – all in a day’s work for you.
He reached into his army bag. Here, you can borrow this, he said, handing me a home-made tape.
Violent Femmes? I’ve never heard of them.
They’re supreme, he said.
Thanks a lot.
Your legs’ll be fine if you dance to them.
He pecked me on the cheek. See you, doll. I’ll take you for a wee spin next time.
I loved his ironic use of doll. It was sexy.
See you.
I watched him lope down the path. I could still feel his kiss, sticky on my cheek. I didn’t want him to go. I watched his car turn right and disappear at the top of the road.
I got the dictionary out and looked up bergamot. I wanted to tell him it was a citrus fruit that grew in Italy and Africa.
12
A Wedding, a Graduation and Ganesh
CLARE IS STUNNING with piled up hair and her ivory dress. The five bridesmaids are in puffy cerise. I feel sexy with my new bra. I ask Ivan if he can tell the difference, see that I’m more lifted.
Beery uncles keep asking me to dance. Are you not joining in with the young ones?/You don’t want to be a wallflower!/You’ll get up for the Gay Gordon, won’t you?!
I decline politely a hundred times. I’m saving my legs for Ivan.
Sean’s brought Nellie (she’s changed her mind about being just friends). She’s too grown up looking for a nineteen-year-old. She says she loves my dress. I tell her I had to have it taken in. She says she loves Next but her mum says it’s cheap rubbish.
It’s my favourite shop, I say.
She puts her hand over her mouth. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything.
She says she likes my shoes.
I tell her that I’m annoyed they’re scuffed alr
eady.
Cream marks so easily, doesn’t it? she says.
Ivan is the most handsome man there.
We do the St Bernard’s Waltz. One, two, back two, side two, pause…up-down, side two, back two, twirl, twirl, twirl…It’s like riding a bike, it all comes back from school. My legs are trembling and I’ll pay later but I force myself round the dance floor.
The two youngest bridesmaids dart around the tables like cerise goldfish.
Later, a drunk woman in a long tartan skirt cries in the toilets about fluffy towels. She’d wanted white ones for their present but she could only get pink. She says over and over again that they make a lovely couple.
I’d given them a huge Rosina Wachtmeister print, signed from Ivan as well. I loved her cats with big silver heads.
Rita and Nab whirl round doing Strip the Willow. Nab gets mixed up and ends up with the wrong partner. Rita is laughing.
Ivan dances with Clare. They look good together.
Richard says he’ll always love me as the girl next door. I tell him I’ll miss him.
I fantasise about cutting the cake, Ivan holding my arm. I want an ivory dress too. And a platinum ring. Or white gold.
We watched Scotland and Denmark in the opening rounds of the World Cup. The Scottish players looked as if they had rickets, and their strips looked like they were from C&A. Scotland lost, of course. Denmark got one. We slagged Nab about plundering Vikings. He smiled and said, The Danes definitely nabbed a goal from the Scots. He loved punning with his name.
Rita and Ivan had persuaded me to go to Dundee for a week while Rita decorated my room. (Ivan had moved back to his parents for the summer while he did his MSc project.)
I spent a week planning what to pack and seeking reassurance. Are you sure your mum won’t mind me sleeping for twelve hours every night?/Are you sure she’ll understand that I have to lie down at the drop of a hat?/How will I manage the journey?
Door to door, said Ivan. You’ll be grand.
He came to collect me in his new yellow second-hand VW Beetle. He told me he hadn’t had time to clean it and it still had the previous owner’s – an old hill walker – grey curly hairs sticking out of the driver’s seat.
Gross me out the door, I said as I clambered in.
There is nothing wrong with cliches: cliches come from life and life is real. When Ivan told me he was going to India, MY HEART FROZE.
Square window. Ivan’s garden, overlooking the Tag.
me Why didn’t you tell me?!
ivan I didn’t want to upset you. You know I’ve always wanted to go to India.
me How long for?!
ivan A few months. Once I’ve handed in my dissertation.
me What’ll I do without you? You’ll never come back!
ivan Of course I will! I have to come back for my PhD.
me No you won’t. You’ll meet a beautiful Indian woman and stay there. Or an Australian. They’re always travelling. Then you’ll go back to Sydney with her.
ivan Helen, stop being so dramatic! I just want to take a few months off. That’s all.
me When are you going?
ivan Probably end of September, if I can get my dissertation in early.
me That’s only three and half months away!
ivan I want to see the Ganesh festival.
me What’s Ganesh?
ivan He’s an Indian god, a pot-bellied elephant with a broken tusk. They celebrate his birthday by carrying clay statues of him into the sea and leaving them there to dissolve. Rez says it’s amazing to see.
me I want to go home now. I’m not staying here.
ivan You can’t go home. You are staying here. You’re on holiday.
me I don’t like Dundee. People are strange looking.
ivan What are you talking about?!
me They’ve got an in-bred look.
ivan That’s so childish. You’re being ridiculous.
me I don’t care. It’s what I think. We’re spilling our beans today, aren’t we?
ivan I thought you were having a nice time here. My mum and dad are doing their best to look after you and make you feel at home.
me I know they are, and I’m grateful – I was having a nice time until you told me you were going round the world.
ivan I’m not going round the world. Stop being so infuriating.
me I don’t want to speak to you anymore, my head feels like it’s folding in. And don’t call me Looby, I’m not a play-thing. [She’s trying to be tough, she secretly loves it when he calls her Looby]
ivan You’re not the only one – my head’s folding in too.
She was lying in Ivan’s dead sister’s bedroom, thinking about how relaxing it would be to be a clay elephant dissolving in the sea, when Ivan came in with a cup of tea and a minty chocolate biscuit in green foil.
Here, he said. A peace offering.
These biscuits remind me of the plasma exchange, she said.
How come?
Remember I got addicted to cream eggs wrapped in green foil during the steroids and then I couldn’t face chocolate for ages.
Kind of, he said. Listen, I know it’s shite for you that I’m going away and if I was the ill one I’d feel the same as you, but I have to go and I think it’d be worse for us if I didn’t go.
I know, said Helen. I just got a shock. I’m sorry.
I’m sorry too.
And it should be ‘if I were the ill one’. You need the subjunctive. Well, in French, you do.
He smiled and unwrapped the biscuit. Here. They’re nice to dip in your tea.
Does your mum know you’re going?
Yeah. She thinks it’s great, but she’s terrified I get some terrible Third World illness.
Well, you could get a terrible illness living in Balloch, couldn’t you? said Helen. Will you need lots of vaccinations?
Hepatitis A, typhoid, polio booster, malaria tablets.
You’ve got it all planned!
You need to plan vaccinations, you can’t have them the day before you go, can you?
Just promise me you’ll come back, Ivan. Promise me.
I promise, he said. He’d twisted the green foil into the shape of a nail.
Is that another nail for my coffin?
I don’t know what you’re on about. He’d put the foil into his mouth and was chewing it.
Don’t do that, she said. You’ll hurt your fillings.
Are you coming downstairs? he said. Argentina’s playing.
When Ivan drove her back to Balloch at the end of her stay, they had to stop in a lay-by. You can’t let Rita and Nab see you in this state, he said. You need to stop crying.
I know, she said between sobs.
I’ve never known anyone who cried so much.
I’m sick of it too, Ivan, she said. I’m so sick of hearing myself. I hate being like this, I hate it!
They stopped at a Little Chef so that she could wash her face.
I honestly can’t help it. My hypothalamus is fucked. You know it is.
Have you stopped for now? he said.
I’ve stopped, she said.
D’you want a doughnut?
Yes, please, she said, I’d love a doughnut.
Rita and Nab were standing in the driveway, grinning from ear to ear.
Two people, one big smile.
They had sanded her bedroom floor and got her a new sheepskin rug. The walls were white with a hint of a tint of apple and she had new curtains from Habitat and a white vase that Rita had filled with sweet peas from the garden.
Thank you so much, said Helen, hugging both of them. I love it! It’s like a room in a magazine.
You’re a lucky duck, said Ivan.
He was staying to eat but was going back to Dundee that night.
Helen lay down for an hour before dinner. She felt guilty for being so sad about Ivan when Rita and Nab had worked so hard to decorate her room. She hated Ivan for ruining everything.
So how was Dundee? Rita asked cheerf
ully when they sat down to eat.
It was lovely, said Helen. I rested lots and sat in the garden. Ivan’s mum was great. She took me to the beach. I’ve got some blue shells.
And we went to an old Italian cafe for ice cream, said Ivan. It’s the best ice cream in Scotland.
No, it’s not. It’s not as good as the ice cream here, said Helen. Gallini’s is the best.
And we watched the World Cup, Ivan went on. Helen kept changing who she was supporting every five minutes.
I always want whoever’s losing to win, said Helen.
How’s your MSc coming along, Ivan? asked Nab.
Okay, he said. I’m doing a summer placement in a lab at Ninewells. Research into drugs for Alzheimer’s. I think I’d like to get into that area.
How is your grandmother? said Rita.
She’s getting worse. She keeps burning her cuffs on the cooker. I think she’ll come to live with my parents soon.
I had a nice chat with her, said Helen, but she kept calling me Alison.
Such a shame, said Rita. She’s not that old, is she?
Seventy-five, said Ivan, but if you ask her what age she is, she says: I’m seventy-five but I wish I was older so that I could die.
As soon as Ivan had gone Helen told them he was going to India.
We already know, said Rita. He told us when you were resting. He’s worried about you. You’ll need to try to be mature about it, she said, sighing.
How can I be mature? said Helen. I’m only twenty-two and I’ve got a mystery illness.
Well, you’re nearly twenty-three and you can’t tie Ivan to your apron strings, her mother went on. You have to be strong. He’s been a huge support so far. You have to let him breathe. It might do you both good to have a break.
Helen went back upstairs to her magazine bedroom and stared at the hint of a tint of apple walls. Deep down she knew Rita was right. She also knew that everything came down to figures of speech in the end: she was a lucky duck and she couldn’t tie Ivan to her apron strings.
Going to India was a great opportunity.
stranger What are you ironing?
me My polkadot dress for Jana’s graduation next week. The dress I wore to Richard’s wedding’s got a stain on it.
stranger Why are you doing it on the floor?
The State of Me Page 10
