by V Clifford
Sal had convinced herself that a sabbatical in the USA was exactly what her career needed and that New York wasn’t that far away. Besides, there were direct flights now from Edinburgh, so no excuses not to see each other. But the fact that Sal was going at all was the problem. Or was it her solution? They’d had the ‘living together’ chat and it hadn’t ended well. The next thing that Viv knew Sal had applied and been accepted to do a year’s exchange to NYU. Viv wasn’t at all keen on the idea but preferred it to the live-in situation that Sal was pushing for. What was wrong with her? She didn’t want to be with anyone other than Sal. That much she’d worked out after seeing Sal with someone else. A feeling of dread haunted her. The thought of not having Sal’s company daily caused her gut to clench. Added to this emotional broth was the fact that she hated goodbyes. It took a certain kind of maturity to handle them and she wasn’t there yet.
She arrived at Sal’s tiny lower flat in the Stockbridge colonies and hovered at the gate to a postage-stamp-sized lawn reserved entirely for a Mollie the Collie emergency. It was a joke to call the space a garden, since garden presupposed a place to take pleasure in. Not so here – a wood store and two bins inhabited the single line of four paving slabs where previous residents might have parked a deck chair. Since there was no bark of acknowledgement, she assumed that Sal had arranged for Moll to stay with Brian up in Doune. Sal swung back the door before Viv had the chance to knock. No surprise there, since Sal was efficient and no doubt watching for Viv’s arrival from the window.
‘Ready?’ Viv asked, not feeling in the slightest bit ready herself.
Sal nodded, ‘Can you give me a hand with this?’
She stepped aside to reveal a huge bright yellow suitcase that could be seen from the moon. Viv grabbed hold of its handle and pulled it out onto the path. Viv waited at the gate while Sal retreated inside closing shutters and tending to whatever locking up and switching off had to be done before a long trip abroad. Viv swallowed hard as she pictured Sal meeting a whole department of new colleagues. Would she come back? Would she get sucked in by the American dream? Was there still such a thing? She hoped not.
Sal stepped out and closed the door, locked it with three different keys then remembered something else to do. Viv trundled the monster suitcase behind her towards the Rav, illegally parked on Glenogle Road. The Stockbridge Colonies was one of the most desirable areas of the city. Only a stone’s throw from good pubs, shops and eateries, but the most enviable thing was the Victorian swimming baths right on the door step. She heaved the case into the back of the car and turned to watch Sal trying to organise another three bags. A rucksack kept slipping off her shoulder onto another bag looped over her arm. Another small but smart looking rucksack wouldn’t stay on her other shoulder. How would she manage them all at the other end?
‘What the hell are you carrying all that for?’
Sal shot her a don’t-even-go-there glare as she stopped again to rearrange the ensemble.
Viv travelled lightly in the knowledge that people all over the world wore tee shirts and pants and brushed their teeth. No matter where she went she could purchase anything that she’d need, and if she couldn’t nobody died. She took hold of the heaviest rucksack and strode to the Rav where she’d left the tailgate open. Sal threw the remaining bags in and jumped into the passenger side. They drove off in silence. Viv felt sick. She swallowed and tried to slow her breath. ‘When’s your first trip home?’ It was out before she realised.
Sal snapped. ‘God Viv, I’ve not even left yet.’
Viv bit back a jibe, and kept her eyes on the road. She chewed her lip as they drove round the back of the Botanic Gardens.
Sal said, ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean . . .’ Silent tears rolled down her cheeks. She swiped them with the back of her hand then fumbled about in a pocket for a handkerchief. ‘I knew this was a bad idea . . . I’ve forgotten tissues.’
Viv, relieved that she’d managed to contain her tears, pointed to the glove compartment. ‘There’s a box in there. Help yourself.’
Everyone has different ways of dealing with tension in relationships. These two wanted to be together for the long term, but Viv had this giant obstacle about living together. Sal wasn’t a quitter, but at some level thought that a bit of distance might be a good thing, otherwise she wouldn’t be on her way to the USA. She was clear about what she wanted. But after Dawn, Viv was scared and Sal knew it. Having an ex who’d treated her like an out of date fashion accessory meant Viv’s defences were impenetrable. She’d given Dawn her heart and soul then been spat out like stale chewing gum. She could never let that happen again. It didn’t seem to matter that she knew Sal was completely different; once bitten and all that.
Sal glanced across at her. ‘I am sorry. I mean now isn’t the time to be bitter. We are still together.’ This sounded like a question.
Viv snorted, ‘Yeah, with a large body of water between us.’
‘I’ll be home every couple of months. It’s not as if they’ve given me a green card or anything. There’s no chance of it becoming permanent. You do know that, don’t you?’
‘You doth protest too much methinks.’ Viv kept her eyes firmly on the road ahead. Why would she mention a ‘green card’?
Sal drew in a deep breath. ‘We’ve been over this. You know it’s an exchange sabbatical. One year. The prof from NYU won’t want to spend the rest of her life at Central.’
Viv interrupted her. ‘That’s an odd way to think of it. It doesn’t matter what she wants. It matters what you want. It matters how tied up in the American dream of profiling you become. No point in hypothesising about what some professor that you’ve never met might or might not want.’ Her tone had risen out of her comfort zone. She told herself to quit while she was ahead. This was not the way to say goodbye.
Sal blew her nose. Viv admired the volume produced by such a petite woman. She welled up again. The driver of the car in front delayed his reaction to the traffic lights and Viv hit the horn. He threw her a rude gesture then stalled.
‘For fuck sake!’
Sal stretched across and put her hand over Viv’s. ‘It’s okay. We’ll get there.’
An ambiguous statement when so much was at stake. How possible was it to sustain a relationship over such a distance? The whole idea of them having two roofs in Edinburgh drove Sal to distraction. They both knew that they could live on their own happily enough and Sal had suggested she’d like lots of weekends in the country which meant space was available if and when they needed it. Viv could take or leave the countryside but understood that Sal wanted a grown-up relationship, the kind where she came home in the evening and discussed her day over a glass of wine and a bowl of pasta, put her feet up and watched a bit of TV before going to bed with the person she loved. But understanding this, and at times even being drawn to the idea, it was still a step too far.
And now Sal was on her way to a new university with the FBI’s new forensic profiling library and new colleagues. Way too much temptation. Viv’s insides flipped. The slip-road to the airport was nose-to-tail with traffic and they sat in silence as the queue inched forward. It was as if they were being taunted by an external force, compelling them to confront whatever needed confronting – and yet they each shifted in their seats in silence. Their silence wasn’t nothing; it was the weight of a particular something that sat like Sisyphus’s rock between them. Neither believed in letting things lie, so before they reached the terminal Viv exhaled a long, loaded sigh. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly what she felt but it was somewhere between frustration, exasperation and bloody mindedness. How could two women, known for their exceptional communication skills, not address what might happen next?
The traffic began to move enough for Viv to change up into third gear. It was agony. ‘I suppose we have to just suck it and see.’
Sal turned to face her. ‘Oookay. Odd choice of analogy though.’
They pulled into a space in the short-term car park and Viv jumped out a
nd went to fetch a trolley. The sooner the inevitable was over the better. She returned, hauled Sal’s giant case from the boot, and lifted it onto the trolley. Sal stood rooted to the spot swiping tears from her cheeks. Viv abandoned the bags and scooped Sal up into a tight embrace and spoke into her hair. ‘We’ll be fine. Just don’t forget about me.’
Sal withdrew. ‘How could you even say that?’
‘Coz I don’t know what else to say. We both know that you wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t for me.’
‘Don’t flatter yourself. I’m dying to get into this new job.’
‘That, I suppose, is what I’m scared of. I’m scared that you’ll love it and not come back.’
Sal stroked Viv’s cheek. ‘Now who’s being daft? Of course I’m coming back. What would Moll do without me?’
The mention of Mollie had them both clinging to each other. Sal probably found it as difficult to leave the dog behind as she did Viv, but it didn’t feel like that now. An airport security announcement brought them both back to the practicalities of getting Sal checked in and through to departures. With her arm around Sal’s shoulder Viv wheeled the trolley towards the departures entrance. No mean feat with so many people bustling about and bollards to negotiate.
The queue for Sal’s flight was snaking round its cordons. People, like the walking dead, slowly pushed their bags forward.
Suddenly Sal said, ‘What am I doing?’
Viv looked at Sal to see if she’d changed her mind. But Sal was digging around in her rucksack.
She pulled out her ticket and flapped it in front of Viv, ‘Business class. They paid for business class. We’re in the wrong queue. Over there.’ She pointed to a desk where a woman sat idle. ‘That’s where we should be.’
There were lots of people behind them now and they had a problem getting beneath the cordon to access the other desk. Only then did the penny drop and Viv realised how prestigious the post was that Sal was going to. She was being totally selfish by not embracing this as a big deal for Sal. She should be excited for her, not behaving like a spoiled child.
‘Look Sal, this is a great chance for you. I could come and visit.’
Sal’s look of alarmed disbelief confirmed just how badly behaved she’d been.
Viv rubbed her hands over her face, ‘No, really. How smart are you getting to fly business class? No cattle in sight for you.’
Sal handed her ticket to the woman and turned to Viv. ‘Nice that you’re getting the hang of it.’ She smiled and turned back to answer security questions about her luggage. Viv hovered and warmed to the idea of joining Sal in New York. A vision of a loft apartment with bare brick walls and endless space began to take shape.
‘Send me pics of your accommodation.’
Sal nodded, still distracted by the process of her luggage being checked straight through to New York even though she was going to be at Heathrow for a couple of hours before the transatlantic hop.
‘I’d have to fly cattle from Edinburgh direct.’
Sal didn’t make eye contact. Viv needed to go through the necessary thought process in her own time.
‘Yeah. I think that’s doable. If you’ve got the space.’
Sal hooked her arm into Viv’s, ‘Oh, I think if I was sleeping in a hermit’s cell I’d make space for you.’
By the time they stepped onto the escalator there were smiles on both of their faces.
Chapter Three
The drive home was a whole lot easier and Viv’s shoulders were returning to their rightful position. In her head she planned when she could shift her clients to take time off. No point in going all that way just for the weekend.
Before she got back to the flat she received a text from Mac, ‘Dinner at B’s?’
She didn’t answer until she was on her way upstairs. She sent a question back. ‘Why? What are you up to?’
‘Nothing. Just wanted to run something by you.’
‘Nothing’ was always something with Mac. She put the kettle on and checked her emails before answering. ‘Okay. I’ve got stuff to do, so not late.’
The stuff she had to do could be done at any time, but it was best done while she was fresh, and that no longer applied in the middle of the night.
Mac replied, ‘7pm?’
She agreed, glancing at the time; only an hour to go. She was starving but knew if she went down the chocolate digestive route she’d take the edge off Bella’s delicious dish of the day. She went back into her cubbyhole study and ran through more info on the petty thief. Nothing like trawling the net to lose track of time. Next time she looked up it was time to be at Bella’s.
‘Hi,’ she said, panting after her sprint to the bistro.
Mac stood and pulled out the chair opposite him. Old manners were so seductive. ‘She’s got your fav on.’ He nodded to the specials board. ‘Venison casserole. Good weather for a hearty stew.’
She laughed, ‘What the heck are you on? You sound like a TV chef.’
Bella arrived with menus but they both opted for the special and their usual beers.
Viv smiled, ‘How’s it going, Bella?’
‘Not too bad. Apart from this Baltic weather. It keeps people in their sitting rooms bonding with the remote control.’
Viv laughed. An image of her mum popped into her head.
Mac said, ‘Our gain. No need to give us small portions.’
Bella snorted, ‘You’ve never had a small portion from me yet.’
Viv interrupted, ‘No he hasn’t but I have. Gender biased portions Bella, not PC.’
Bella shook her head and wandered off with their order.
‘So what do you really want?’
Mac grinned, ‘No point in bull shitting you is there?’
She shook her head, ‘Nope.’
‘It’s unofficial.’
She interrupted him, ‘When is it ever anything else with you guys?’
‘You remember the sweep of the cyber analyst’s consoles that you did?’
‘Yes. It wasn’t that long ago.’
‘Well, we have another console that we’d like checked.’
Bella arrived with a basket of sourdough bread and a small bowl of pale yellow Italian butter. They tucked in without hesitation, confident that everything Bella served was tip-top.
‘Oh, I could live on this.’ Viv held up a slice of bread slathered with butter.
Bella called over her shoulder, ‘Luckily you don’t have to. There’s more food on its way.’
‘So, this console, who does it belong to?’
‘Ah, well that’s the thing.’
Viv leaned in, ‘Top brass got found out at last?’
Mac leaned back. ‘Was that a guess?’
She laughed, ‘Kind of. But when you want me on board it’s always a job that no one in-house would or should touch. So how high does it go?’
He raised his eyebrows, swallowed, then wiped his mouth with a napkin. ‘Oh, you know, the seat next to God.’
Bella appeared with two piping hot dishes of casserole with mash on the side. ‘Take your time. The plates are blistering hot. Don’t want health and safety on my case.’
It took them a few minutes to divvy out the mash but once they’d had their first taste and agreed its merits Viv said, ‘Who has already seen the console?’
Mac hesitated. ‘Well, Gordon, but . . .’
‘I can imagine what Gordon’s “but” is. I take it he didn’t find what you thought he’d find?’
‘No, he didn’t. But I’m sure there’s something more on there than he . . .’
‘Was willing to say or just couldn’t find?’
‘I think he genuinely didn’t find it. You on the other hand . . .’
‘Gordon’s lazy. Or scared. Which do you think it is?’
‘Not sure. That’s why I think you’d dig a bit deeper. You’re not scared or lazy.’
‘Don’t think seducing me with kind words will work.’
He pointed his fork at her, �
��Ah, but it does. You are one sucker for kind words and especially today . . .’