by Owen Mullen
A baby should have taken their happiness to a new level. Instead, they’d lost each other and the jokes his married male friends had made weren’t jokes anymore. Monica was confused and in pain and however much he tried to help her it always ended the same. But he loved her and wanted to protect her, if he only knew how.
She spoke and his heart went out to her. ‘Alice likes to take her time with her bottle. I should’ve told Mrs McLeod that…what if she chokes?’
He looked over at his wife, seeing the change in her. Monica was pale, uptight and distracted, her features sharpened by the evening light, her mind on search for something to fret about. When they met he’d found she’d been laid-back and unfussy, totally confident in who she was. That girl, the one he’d fallen in love with, had worn her good looks casually, comfortable in the knowledge she was desirable even in faded old jeans and a T-shirt. Where was that lady now?
He reassured her. ‘That’s not going to happen. Mrs McLeod has more experience with babies than most people I know. Alice is safer with her than both of us put together.’ He took her hand. ‘Switch off. You need to. We need to.’
She turned away. ‘Easy for you to say, you’re not her mother.’
The reply stung and he reacted. ‘No, you’re right. I’m her father, in case you’ve forgotten.’
As soon as the words were out of his mouth he regretted them. Gavin reached across and made another attempt to take Monica’s hand. ‘Let’s relax and enjoy ourselves. Catching up with everybody will be good.’
His wife’s blank expression told him he was wasting his time trying to be positive. She changed the subject but not the tone. ‘Mackenzie’s only been to see Alice once. Once in three months. Not exactly interested, is she?’
Gavin sighed. ‘Kids are a difficult subject for her. You know that.’
‘Maybe it wouldn’t be so difficult if she did something about her drinking. Just saying.’
Her husband gripped the wheel. ‘Well, could you try not “just saying”. It doesn’t help, Monica.’
They drove on, lost in unspoken resentment.
This wasn’t how it had been. This wasn’t them. They’d loved being together in the car: discussing everything and anything; mooching around antique shops in Perth or Auchterarder; stopping for lunch at a village pub, sniggering at the horrified reaction of the locals when she kissed him.
Good times. Great times.
He ran a hand through his blond hair. Adele and Mackenzie – both brunette – kidded him he wasn’t really their brother: the hospital had made a terrible mistake and given their parents the wrong baby. Maybe there was a grain of truth to it because he was very different. His sisters were more complicated: Adele, quick to judge and less apt to smile. And Mackenzie. What could he say about her? Ten years younger than him, eight younger than Adele: the baby of the family; a delightful child who’d grown into a rebellious teenager and then a confused adult.
He hadn’t seen his young sister since the christening when she’d left directly after the service and hadn’t come back to the house. Monica wasn’t pleased. Mackenzie had seemed sullen and withdrawn that day and Gavin imagined her and Derek were rowing. It happened. Who knew it better than him?
At Charing Cross he took the M8 West towards Glasgow Airport over the Kingston Bridge where an hour earlier traffic would’ve been bumper-to-bumper.
‘Listen. Families are hard work at times. What other people do or don’t do isn’t something we have any influence over. It can’t come between us. The important thing is to stay close. Alice needs us, and we need each other. Let’s do our best to have a nice night, okay?’
Monica mellowed and squeezed his hand. ‘She will be fine, won’t she?’
‘’Course she will. Tomorrow at the crack of dawn she’ll tell us just how all right.’
His wife laughed. ‘We should’ve called her Rooster.’
* * *
Blair and Adele Gardiner
The dull thud of loud music poured from the twins’ bedrooms through the Gardiner house. Thirteen-year-old Adam and Richard were already showing signs they were not the children their mother had finally given birth to after a twelve-hour labour, but in fact, aliens scoping out Planet Earth in advance of an invasion. Both had the same blond hair as their uncle.
Since leaving primary and starting ‘the big school’ a habit had developed: they came home, raided the fridge, usually for cheese, and went to their rooms, reappearing only when they were called to the dinner table – the party had upset their routine.
Blair Gardiner stuck his head round the kitchen door and saw the look on his wife’s face. ‘What’s wrong?’
Adele put the ramekins back in the fridge and pursed her lips. ‘Panna cotta isn’t set.’
Blair checked his watch. ‘Plenty of time. Be ages before you serve them.’
‘But what if they don’t set?’
‘Leave them as they are. None of them will know the difference. When it comes to food they’re Philistines.’
‘Gavin isn’t. He’s a great cook.’
Her husband said, ‘He’s the exception, I’ll give you that. But it’s your party. You should’ve let me book a table somewhere like I wanted to. Save all this work.’ He nodded towards the beef browning in the oven.
‘Well, it’s why we spent so much money on the kitchen, isn’t it? Besides, I don’t mind. This is the first time any of them have seen the house. Two birds with one stone.’
Her husband shrugged. ‘To hell with your family. No offence.’
‘You don’t mean that.’
‘Try me. When was the last time Gavin or Mackenzie invited us to their places?’
‘The christening.’
‘The christening doesn’t count. They couldn’t avoid it and, if we’re telling the truth, neither could we.’
‘Mackenzie managed to.’
Blair hesitated. His sister-in-law was a subject best avoided. His reply was as neutral as he could make it. ‘Mackenzie goes her own way. Always has.’
Adele wiped her hands on a dishcloth and turned her attention to chopping tomatoes for the salad. ‘Didn’t tell you, I called her last week.’
Her husband tried to sound casual. ‘Oh yeah? How was she?’
‘In a word: pissed. Swearing. Slurring her words. Couldn’t make out half of what she was saying.’
‘Where was Derek?’
‘Working late, or so she said. Probably had as much of it as he could take. You wouldn’t believe what she was saying about him. Terrible stuff. I think she hates him.’
‘Well, he is old enough to be her father. And he certainly acts like it.’
Adele stopped what she was doing and put down the knife. Her voice took on a tone her husband was all too familiar with. ‘What’s that supposed to mean? Perhaps you’ve forgotten how Mackenzie was before she met him? I certainly haven’t. As far as I’m concerned my sister doesn’t appreciate how lucky she is. Derek saved her.’
‘But you have to admit he treats her like a child.’
‘Maybe because she behaves like one.’
Blair held his tongue. Adele was a fan of Derek, he wasn’t.
‘She landed on her feet and can’t see it.’
‘But if she isn’t happy…surely that matters more than money?’
Adele glared at him. He had blinkers on when it came to her sister. ‘I wish you’d open your eyes. Nobody’s attacking Mackenzie.’
‘Doesn’t sound like it.’
‘I couldn’t care less what it sounds like. She’s a drama queen, always has been. Everybody gets it but you.’ She scrutinised him. ‘Why is that, Blair? Why’re you always on her side?’
He rejected the suggestion. ‘I’m not. I’m not on anybody’s side. I look at her and I see an unhappy woman, that’s all. Never been keen on Derek Crawford. Don’t deny it.’
‘Because in your opinion he’s too old for her?’
‘That’s part of it, yes. But you have to admit he’s very controlling.
No wonder Mackenzie drinks.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. Nobody makes anybody drink. My sister’s an alcoholic, that’s why she drinks. And yes, I’ll admit Derek likes to be the boss, except somebody has to take the reins. Mackenzie doesn’t.’
‘Okay, fair point. But surely circumstances play a part?’
‘You mean circumstance like that big house she lives in or the endless spending on clothes?’
Blair shook his head. ‘You know what I’m saying.’
She gave ground, no more anxious than he was to row. ‘Yes, I do but you’re coming at it from the wrong angle. I’ve read a lot about alcoholism. It’s an illness. If the person gets the help they need they start to understand how to deal with life without turning to drink.’
He was stubborn. ‘Don’t disagree with any of that. But it still can’t be easy living with Derek Crawford.’
The corners of Adele’s mouth drew back; the smile had a hard edge. ‘Still defending her, eh? Really starting to think you fancy her.’
Blair felt colour rise in his cheeks and took a step towards the door – he should’ve stayed out of the kitchen and let her get on with it. An argument, especially this argument, was the last thing they needed. His reply sounded unconvincing even to him.
‘Now you’re being ridiculous.’
‘Am I? Shall I tell you what she told me?’
Whatever it was, her husband didn’t want to hear it. Adele didn’t give him a choice.
‘Apparently she’s got herself a stalker.’ She saw the confusion on his face. It pleased her. ‘My sister claims somebody’s following her. Makes a change from pink elephants, doesn’t it? Trust Mackenzie to go one better with a drink problem than everybody else.’
‘Maybe she’s telling the truth.’
Adele snorted and went back to the salad. ‘Get real, she’s making it up. Or she’s imagining it. Sad either way. Poor Derek – the guy you don’t like – deserves a medal.’
The twins burst into the kitchen, too self-absorbed to notice the tension between their parents. Adam opened the fridge and studied what was there: a reflex action. His brother spoke for both of them. ‘We’re starving. When’s dinner?’
Blair replied more sharply than he intended. ‘Your mother’s busy. I’ll bring it up when it’s ready.’
‘What is it?’
‘She hasn’t decided yet.’
Adele said. ‘I’ll do pizza for you as soon as the roast comes out of the oven.’
Not what the boys wanted to hear. Adam screwed up his face, dissatisfied. ‘How long will that be?’
‘As soon as I can, darling.’
‘But we’re hungry now.’
Their father tried and failed to keep impatience out of his voice. ‘How can you be hungry? You demolished a block of cheddar between you.’
His sons stared back at him until Adam – the eldest by twenty minutes – answered with logic of his own. ‘That was an hour ago.’
Blair wasn’t having any of it. He wasn’t in the mood. ‘Scat! Make yourselves scarce. Take some more cheese if you need to, then beat it. And keep the noise down.’
He turned to his wife. ‘We better start getting ready.’
* * *
Blair was in the dining-room polishing glasses when he heard Adele’s footsteps on the stairs. Dressing hadn’t been an enjoyable experience, they’d ignored each other, and he’d left her putting on her makeup. He sensed his wife standing in the doorway and faced her. Adele’s dark hair was twisted into ringlets and piled high on her head. She made a what-do-you-think gesture and waited for his reaction: the black dress, together with the pearl choker and high-heels, highlighted her slim figure. No doubt about it, she was still a looker.
He smiled; he couldn’t help himself. ‘Knockout. How do you do it?’
‘I wonder that myself, sometimes.’
Blair pointed to the table-setting. ‘Looks great, well done. And the panna cotta’s beginning to set, I just checked.’
She nodded. ‘Have you opened the wine?’
‘All done.’
Adele ran her hand along the back of the chair nearest her, aware this was the closest they’d been in months. ‘I want to say I’m sorry. I should’ve taken your suggestion and gone out, just the two of us. Instead I got us involved in this palaver. On top of that I haven’t been sleeping well. It’s Mackenzie. I get so stressed thinking about her.’
He steered the conversation to a better place. ‘’Course you’re stressed. Isn’t every day you’re thirty-nine. I’m a year ahead, how do you think I feel?’
‘No, really. Mackenzie’s a touchy subject with me, always has been. She hasn’t been an easy person to live with. I switch between wanting to mother her and having to stop myself strangling her with my bare hands. Suppose I haven’t ever forgiven her for how she treated Mum and Dad. They couldn’t understand her and blamed themselves.’
‘That’s not what you should be thinking tonight. I’m wrong, too. It’s your birthday; your family’s coming to share it with you. As it should be. Mackenzie has to work through her problems, same as the rest of us. And you’re right. Derek isn’t my idea of a husband for her. But what do I know?’
‘I feel sorry for him. Her drinking’s out of control again. I’m afraid she’s losing the place. A stalker.’ She laughed. ‘Can you believe it?’
‘Obviously she does.’
‘Obviously, but you can’t trust anything she says. Surely you haven’t forgotten the fiasco over – ’
‘Forget that stuff. Forget it. Tonight’s about you.’
For a moment they were together. Adele said, ‘The boys are awful quiet.’
‘Aren’t they? I wonder why.’
She searched his face. ‘What’ve you done, Blair Gardiner?’
‘Hunted them to the new Star Wars movie. They’re teenagers, bribery solves everything. Probably feeding their faces with junk as we speak. And don’t worry, they’ve been warned to get themselves home as soon as the film ends.’
‘Why didn’t I think of that?
‘So long as one of us did.’
Adele eyed her husband up and down, taking in his boyish face, a contrast to the grey at his temples. ‘Looking pretty sharp yourself, by the way. Like a younger Michael Douglas.’
‘Yeah? How much younger?’
‘Young enough for me.’
She moved towards the door. ‘And don’t be too quick to top up Mackenzie’s glass. She can’t handle it.’
‘I won’t. But let’s not kick the dog before it barks, eh?’
* * *
When Derek and Mackenzie Crawford arrived home, the scene they’d had in Buchanan Street was still very much alive. She ran upstairs to a bedroom and slammed the door leaving her husband to stomp around the lounge, furious and frustrated. At five o’clock he tiptoed in and stood for a moment, watching the rise and fall of her body under the clothes. Building his business from a dodgy second-hand outfit with only one employee – him – to two dozen dealerships had taken nearly thirty years. The journey hadn’t been uneventful though nothing like as demanding as marriage. But he loved his wife.
He put a hand on her shoulder and shook her gently awake. ‘Mackenzie. Mackenzie. Blair’s asked us not to be late because Monica will want to get back to the baby.’
She pulled the clothes over her head without acknowledging him. Derek went downstairs; he’d give her ten minutes to come round. Drinking didn’t agree with Mackenzie, especially lunchtime drinking. Was there anybody it did agree with? He listened for signs she was up. There were none. He tried the softly-softly approach again with no better result. Finally, he stormed into the room, dragged the clothes off the bed onto the floor, close to shouting. ‘Always got to push it, haven’t you? Enough of this fucking nonsense! Get yourself together or I’ll throw a basin of cold water over you!’
Later, when he heard the shower hiss, he knew his threat had worked; she’d surfaced. But it was still forty minutes before she came downstairs, sull
en and lethargic, her eyes hooded and heavy. Sleep hadn’t helped; she was still affected, a mystery because she hadn’t had that much. Derek thought he’d found them all but there had to be a bottle hidden somewhere. It didn’t auger well. What state would she be in after a few more?
This was the wrong time to bring it up.
‘Ready? Okay.’
On the drive from Whitecraigs he’d tried making conversation and got silence for his trouble. It couldn’t go on – he wouldn’t let it go on. Across from the Mount Florida Bowling Club, he pulled the silver Audi A5 into the kerb in front of a row of terraced houses, between Blair’s blue Vectra and an emerald Peugeot SUV GT. The Peugeot was unfamiliar and he wondered if Blair and Adele had invited friends to the party.
Hampden Park wasn’t far away. The national obsession with something the country was rubbish at these days was beyond him. Derek forced himself to play golf with his bank manager occasionally because it was useful and he was surprisingly good at it. Beyond that, sport didn’t interest him.
He turned off the ignition and faced his wife. ‘Before we go in here, remember it’s Adele’s birthday. Go easy on the booze, alright?’
Mackenzie gave a mock salute. ‘Yes, sir.’
Derek felt like slapping her. ‘Don’t spoil it or there really will be trouble. Take a telling.’
‘Sod off.’
He shook his head and got out. Three boys, about fourteen-years-old, were admiring the sleek lines of the Audi. Mackenzie dropped her bag and bent to pick it up. One of the lads said something which made his pals snigger. Derek had been brought up on the streets and didn’t take shit from anybody. The look he gave warned them to back off.
Blair was waiting at the door, and inside after the usual hugs and kisses, he took their coats and clapped his hands together. ‘Now, what can I get you two?’
Derek said, ‘Sparkling water if you have any.’ He mimed driving.
Mackenzie didn’t hesitate. ‘Dry white wine, please. And don’t be mean.’