Tombstoning

by Unknown

  ‘Founded in 1178 by King William I, consecrated in 1233, declaration signed in 1320, blah, blah. Fell down gradually in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, and everyone started using the stone to build their houses.’ She looked again for Amy absentmindedly. ‘That enough?’

  ‘I never knew that last bit, that the stone was used to build other houses. I suppose that makes sense. Wouldn’t get away with that shit these days, eh?’

  They went through a gap in the wall to their right, and found themselves amongst geometric lines mown into the grass, the occasional stretch of stone stubble sticking up here and there. A small sign said ‘Cloister Foundations’. They couldn’t see Amy anywhere, so they just meandered around the cloister area, soaking up the sun like cormorants at dawn. Just then David’s mobile rang.

  ‘So, your mobile sometimes works, then?’ said Nicola.

  He stuck his tongue out at her as he answered the phone.

  ‘Hello?’ he said, then, ‘Yes, that’s me.’

  Nicola’s thoughts drifted off as David stood with the mobile to his ear. Her folks’ house had been chaotic this morning, Amy carrying on up and down the stairs, the television on loudly, her parents fussing around in the kitchen with Radio Two on (again, way too loud) in the background. Her lazy bastard youngest brother Andrew, the one who still had the nerve to live at home, treating their folks with casual disdain, hadn’t come home, preferring to stop over at whichever mate or girlfriend he’d conned into taking care of him. Her folks had obviously been feeding Amy sugar since dawn, judging by how hyper she’d been, and it had been a relief to get to the abbey, to let her off the leash to scoot about the place on her own. It would be a greater relief to get back to Edinburgh and chill out properly, but she was glad to be here with David, and that they’d been through so much this weekend – the booze, the snogging, the fighting – together. It made her feel as if he was a comrade, a partner in crime with regard to the whole thing.

  She looked at David now as he put his mobile away. He suddenly looked a lot worse than he had five minutes ago.

  ‘That was Gary’s dad,’ he said, and seemed to swallow self-consciously. ‘Gary’s body was found this morning at the bottom of the cliffs. He’s in a coma, up at Ninewells in Dundee.’

  It took a moment before she understood. Gary? Who they’d said goodbye to eight hours ago? But they’d been nowhere near the cliffs. Nicola’s fuzzy head couldn’t work out what it meant. She looked at David, who seemed to be about to cry, and she started to feel a knot in her throat.

  ‘I’d better find Amy,’ she said, looking around her with a sudden urgency.

  They dropped off a reluctant Amy with her grandparents and drove to Dundee as fast as the roadworks let them.

  ‘You must be still drunk,’ said Nicola as they headed past golfers silhouetted against a shimmering blue sky. Oilseed rape fields threw pollen high into the air, making their eyes water and their noses run.

  ‘I’m fine,’ said David. He was certainly still over the limit, but that didn’t exactly bother him now. What the hell did this mean? How the fuck could Gary’s body have been found at the cliffs, when the last time they’d seen him was at the other end of town, heading in the opposite direction, and quite clearly making for his bed? He suddenly felt as if he might puke. It was too much like what happened to Colin. The drunken Saturday night, the dawn-lit farewell, the sense of easy-going hangover approaching, and now this. He couldn’t fucking stand it. Maybe he was cursed, should get away from Nicola or she’d be next. What else did Colin and Gary have in common, apart from being with him the night they fell from the cliffs? He realized as he thought this that it was stupid, that his current fragile state was making him think illogically, but he couldn’t help it. This just didn’t make any bloody sense.

  Half of him didn’t believe the phone call. Gary’s dad had sounded too calm, not the voice of a man whose son had fallen from deadly cliffs, and now lay in a coma in hospital, hooked up to all sorts of machines to keep him alive. It couldn’t be a joke – who the hell would set up something as sick as this? Maybe it was just a mistake. He wouldn’t believe Gary was injured at all until he saw it for himself. Gary’s dad had phoned him because they found the scrap of paper in his pocket with David’s name on it. He was linked to Gary just as he’d been linked to Colin, as a friend, as a drunken, stupid friend oblivious of this weird fucking shit happening while he slept. He really couldn’t handle this any more.

  Misjudging a narrowing of the road, he had to swerve to avoid a bus coming towards them. He felt sweat bead up on his forehead. The sun was filling the car with a musty air, and that and the dust kicked up by road diggers and the drifting pollen all made him feel claustrophobic, desperate to get out the car and rest for a moment. He sensed Nicola looking at him after the swerve, but he didn’t say anything by way of apology or excuse.

  ‘What do you think it means?’ she said.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘I don’t understand it.’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ said David. ‘This has happened to me twice. It’s like cot death – once is an accident, twice and you’re guilty of something.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid,’ said Nicola. ‘You’re not guilty of anything.’

  ‘I wonder if the police will see it that way.’

  ‘The police?’

  ‘Sure, they’ll investigate, won’t they? That’s two of my friends found at the bottom of the cliffs in mysterious circumstances. Gary had my number in his pocket, for fuck’s sake.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid,’ said Nicola. ‘And anyway, Gary’s not dead. He’ll be able to tell them what happened when he comes round.’

  ‘If he comes round.’

  ‘He’ll come round.’

  ‘He might fucking not.’

  They drove on in silence through the painfully bright, dirty day, the hospital drawing nearer.

  Gary looked somehow both better and worse than they’d expected. There were no obvious external injuries, but he was hooked up to a ventilator through his nose, and a large, hi-tech contraption which made David think of the Monty Python sketch about the machine that goes ‘ping’. For all the lack of evidence of a big fall onto rocks there was still something scary and depressing about Gary’s appearance. His body seemed somehow smaller, like it had shrunk in the wash, his straggly hair was like straw and his pale face looked peaceful but lifeless, as if he had already given up.

  Gary’s parents were sitting at the bedside in the tiny hospital room, in front of a large window so dirty it made the day outside seem wintry and cold. But the room was stiflingly hot and David felt his armpits begin to dampen as soon as he entered, a mix of the humidity and his own nerves. Gary’s dad Ian was a small, stocky man, made smaller by a stoop which indicated he had not taken well to all the crap life had dealt him. He stuck his chin out in stoic defiance of the current situation, yet the rest of his demeanour seemed crumpled and resigned, almost as lifeless as Gary. His wife June was distraught. A proud handsome woman with grey hair in a bun, her eyes darted around the room like a frightened animal’s, on the watch incessantly for something dangerous and life-threatening.

  When David and Nicola entered, June didn’t even acknowledge them, but Ian looked up and the sight of his face made David feel queasy.

  ‘What happened?’ said Ian.

  ‘Sorry?’ said David.

  ‘You were with him last night, weren’t you?’

  ‘Yes, but…’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘What do you mean, you don’t know? You must know. You said you were with him…’

  ‘Not at the cliffs,’ said Nicola.

  Ian seemed to notice her for the first time. ‘Who the hell are you?’

  ‘I’m Nicola, Mr Spink, a friend of David’s, and Gary’s.’

  ‘Were you out last night?’

  ‘We all were,’ said Nicola. ‘At a class reunion at Bally’s. Myself, David and Gary left af
ter there was a fight…’

  ‘A fight? Gary was in a fight?’

  ‘Not really,’ said David. This all seemed to be going wrong. Just then a sweaty, oversized police officer came into the cramped, steamy room. He was young, younger than David and Nicola certainly, and had a cocky jut to his face.

  Ian turned to him. ‘These two were with him,’ he said to the officer. ‘He’s David Lindsay. There was a fight. I want to know what the hell happened.’

  The policeman angled his head slightly at David, looking for an explanation.

  ‘Look, it’s simple, really,’ said David. His head was pounding with the heat of the place, and he was soaked with sweat. In this sauna, only Gary seemed dry and calm. ‘We were in Bally’s, and I got in a bit of a fight with this guy, Gary jumped in, and the two of us got thrown out.’

  ‘What time was this?’ said the officer. David expected him to be taking notes, but he just stood there, taking up too much space.

  ‘Dunno,’ said Nicola. ‘About two. We were all a bit drunk.’

  ‘You were there?’ said the officer.

  ‘I left with them.’

  ‘But you weren’t fighting?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Who were you fighting with, Mr Lindsay?’

  ‘A guy called Mike Clarkson.’

  The police officer made a face as if this was the least surprising news of his day.

  ‘He didn’t get thrown out as well?’

  ‘No, he seemed to know the bouncers.’

  ‘What happened next?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Nicola. ‘The three of us walked up the High Common, then we said goodbye to Gary at the path over the railway. He was heading home, so were we.’

  ‘Where do you live, Miss…?’

  ‘Cruickshank. Nicola Cruickshank. St Vigeans Road.’

  ‘And you?’ he said, turning back to David.

  ‘I’m staying at a B&B in Nolt Loan Road. I walked Nicola home, then went back there.’

  The police officer raised his eyebrows slightly. ‘And neither of you saw Gary again?’

  ‘Not until now,’ said David.

  ‘What time did you leave him?’

  ‘I’m guessing around half two, three o’clock?’ David looked to Nicola for confirmation, and she nodded.

  ‘And you didn’t argue with him about anything?’

  ‘It wasn’t like that at all,’ said David. ‘We didn’t argue all night. We’re as much in the dark about all this as you are. He wasn’t anywhere near the cliffs, and he was heading in the opposite direction. It doesn’t make sense.’

  Ian became animated. ‘It doesn’t make bloody sense, all right. But you pair were the last to see him before this.’ He nodded towards Gary, sleeping soundly despite the wires coming out of him. ‘You must know something else.’

  ‘We honestly don’t, Mr Spink,’ said Nicola.

  The room returned to a kind of stillness, David feeling the heat so much he imagined a tarmac shimmer coming off each of their bodies. June hadn’t moved or even acknowledged their presence, and just kept her head down, gazing at her son and then the machines around him as if looking for something.

  Ian broke the quiet again. ‘What about this Clarkson character?’ he asked the officer. ‘Shouldn’t you be speaking to him?’

  ‘Don’t worry, someone will have a word with Mike Clarkson. We know him.’

  ‘You mean he’s a troublemaker?’

  ‘We’ll speak to him, Mr Spink.’ The policeman turned to Nicola and David. ‘I’ll need contact information from both of you. We might have to get back in touch for a statement.’

  David and Nicola gave him their details. David noticed the badge on his uniform said PC Bell, and wondered if he was any relation to Angela Bell from their year at school. The name popped into his head just like that, although he couldn’t picture her, and certainly had no memory of a little brother or anything. He let it pass. Too many memories were coming back to him, and he didn’t like it.

  The policeman left and Ian turned back to Gary’s bedside, putting his hand on his wife’s shoulder. She still hadn’t stirred since they’d come in. David felt awkward in the room, uncomfortable with the grief that bound Gary and his parents. He started fidgeting with his hands.

  ‘Maybe we should leave,’ said Nicola to the Spinks, but there was no reaction.

  David realized they had never actually asked how Gary was, how serious his situation was. He couldn’t ask now, it seemed obscene to bring it up, so he just stayed quiet. And besides, judging by the faces in the room, Ian’s, June’s and Gary’s, it didn’t seem like the answer would be a very encouraging one.

  David and Nicola looked at each other, then slipped quietly out the door. There seemed nothing else to do.

  They drove in silence back to Arbroath, through the roadworks, past diggers and lorries. David felt ill. He was still hungover and driving made him feel dizzy and disorientated. He imagined gently nudging the steering wheel and guiding the car into oncoming traffic, feeling the impact of metal through his body. He snapped himself out of it. Sleep was what he needed, but he knew he had to drive back to Edinburgh. He also had to get his head round what the fuck had happened with Gary. It couldn’t seriously be anything to do with Mike Clarkson, could it? But then if it wasn’t, what the hell was the explanation?

  Nicola went to get Amy, and David returned to the Fairport to pick up his things and check out. It was already well after normal check-out time, but Gillian didn’t mind, fussing over David as he came in so that it was a relief to finally pay the bill and get out. He sat by the Keptie Pond for a while, watching young families with pushchairs strolling round the park, kids playing football over by the water tower, the stuff of everyday life still going on round about him as if people weren’t lying in sweltering hospital rooms in comas. He tried to think about what happened last night, both before and after he and Nicola left Gary, but his mind went round in circles and no clear thoughts distilled themselves out of the thick broth of his hungover brain.

  He picked up Nicola and Amy, and soon they were back on the Dundee road, this time heading all the way south to Edinburgh. David remembered his mood on this same road less than forty-eight hours before. His body felt more brittle now, his mind less sturdy. Back then he hadn’t seen Gary in fifteen years, now Gary was plugged into a life-support machine. Back then he hadn’t spent the end of two nights snogging Nicola, this fantastic-looking woman now sitting next to him.

  ‘Can we listen to the radio?’ chirped Amy from the back seat.

  ‘Sure,’ said David. He turned the dial. It was Radio One and the charts were on. An innocuous piece of glossy hip-hop slithered through the air, with half the lyrics blanked out. ‘That OK?’

  ‘Cool.’

  They sat for a while, letting the radio waves fill the car. They passed Perth over the bridge and fired on through another valley of low-lying fields and up a steep, winding slope where the radio reception faltered.

  ‘What happened to your friend?’ Amy said.

  ‘What, love?’ said Nicola.

  ‘Your friend. The one you went to see in hospital. What happened to him?’

  Nicola and David exchanged a look. This wasn’t David’s territory and he was glad to leave the talking to Nicola. She wasn’t exactly keen to explain, but it was part of the job.

  ‘He fell and hurt himself, honey.’

  ‘Where about?’

  ‘You remember the cliffs? We’ve been there with Granny and Grandpa, and I told you to be careful.’

  ‘He fell off there?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Wasn’t he being careful?’

  Nicola looked across at David. ‘I suppose not,’ she said.

  ‘Were you with him?’

  ‘No, we’d left him and gone home.’

  ‘Was he drunk?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Was he drunk? Drunk people fall over all the time, and it was Saturday night, and he’d been out with you drinking
, so I was just wondering if he fell off the cliffs because he was drunk?’

  ‘We don’t know why he fell,’ said Nicola. ‘Now maybe we should talk about something else.’

  ‘Is he going to die?’

  The question hung in the humid air of the car. They couldn’t outrun it. It was the question that neither Nicola nor David had yet asked out loud, although they’d both been considering it. David wondered what Nicola would say. It didn’t seem like she was going to say anything at all for a while.

  ‘We don’t know,’ she said eventually. ‘He’s in a coma.’

  ‘What’s a coma?’

  ‘It’s like when you’re asleep but no one can wake you up.’

  Amy considered this for a moment.

  ‘That sounds like being dead.’

  ‘It’s different because your body still works,’ said Nicola. ‘The heart still pumps blood, the lungs still take in air. But he can’t wake up, that’s all.’

  Amy seemed satisfied for now, and didn’t ask any more questions. David and Nicola were glad to let the radio fill the silence all the way to Edinburgh.

  Going over the Forth Bridge seemed to lift their spirits. The sight of all that open space on either side and the oversized Meccano of the rail bridge seemed to buoy the three of them, and they knew they were nearly home.

  It was early evening and trees were beginning to lengthen their shadows as their car crawled round the centre of town heading south. David didn’t want to leave them, he couldn’t stand the thought of being alone in his own flat tonight, despite the fact he felt exhausted. He had already grown accustomed to having Nicola around in only a few days, and the realization shocked him. He experienced a growing jitteriness at the thought of dropping her and Amy off, and not seeing them for an undetermined length of time.

  As if reading his mind, Nicola spoke. ‘Do you fancy coming to ours for your tea?’

  Before he got a chance to answer, Amy piped up. ‘Can we have pizza, Mum?’

  ‘You could live off pizza, couldn’t you, munchkin?’