Never Greener

by Ruth Jones

  Anthea turned to Adam, hoping to complete the swap, but Adam was having none of it and marched straight over to Matt and Hetty.

  ‘Sorry, mate, but this one’s spoken for!’ And he grabbed Hetty back to his side, a little too aggressively.

  What followed was an undignified tug-of-war, with Hetty becoming an involuntary pulling rope between the two men. At first, she continued to laugh, but then it got out of hand and, after one particularly big pull, Adam lost his grip and Hetty went flying, ending up slumped and ungainly halfway across the floor. Her dress got torn in the process and one of her false eyelashes indecorously dislodged.

  ‘Right, stop it, that’s enough!’ she shouted over the blaring music. People around them hadn’t really noticed and were still dancing.

  ‘You idiot!’ Matt shouted at Adam. ‘You OK, Het?’ He helped her up, feeling partly responsible but glad he could level the blame at Adam.

  ‘Out of the way!’ said Adam. ‘Here, Hetty, come and sit down.’

  ‘Fuck off, Adam, you’re not needed.’ And Matt pushed Adam away by the shoulder, making him lose his footing slightly.

  Now people were watching.

  The song continued to blast from the speakers as Adam regained his composure and went for the jugular.

  ‘What’s the matter, Matt – can’t handle the competition? You feeling left out, honeybun? Bit jealous, are we?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Adam,’ Hetty yelled over the music. ‘Matt and I are just friends, why on earth would he be jealous of you?’ She dusted herself down and examined the rip in her dress.

  ‘Oh, he’s not jealous of me, babe. He’s jealous of you. Isn’t that right, Matt?’

  And for one moment, his head swirling from the gin and the dancing, and surrounded by a crowd of vague staring faces from a time he’d long since forgotten, Matt thought he was in some alternative, parallel existence.

  Hetty looked confused. Adam smirked and Matt shook his head … before launching forth and punching Adam squarely in the face. He went flying and screams abounded.

  Anthea Weldon felt a stirring primal response to this display of machismo by Matt, who looked at Hetty before walking away.

  Matt sat outside the hotel smoking and trying to sober up.

  He didn’t really want to go home – Kate would probably still be at the wrap party – although at least that would mean he could go straight to bed and avoid yet another fake conversation with her.

  And he couldn’t stay here. Not after this. Deep down he suspected that his life might be unravelling.

  He was on his seventh cigarette by the time Hetty came out. She was carrying one of her shoes. The heel had snapped off during the chaos.

  At first, they didn’t speak. She sat next to him, clearly still shaken, looking like she’d been pulled apart at her seams.

  ‘Adam says I have to ask you what it all meant. So here I am. Asking you.’

  He didn’t really know how to explain. It all seemed so tawdry and base. And it was also such a long time ago. He thought a while before answering, his voice sad and dull and monotone, ‘It doesn’t really matter, Het. Not in the grand scheme of things.’

  ‘I’d still like to know. You’ve just spoilt the entire evening for me. At least do me the courtesy of telling me what’s going on.’

  She was right. There was no avoiding it. And actually, the way he was feeling right now, there was nothing much left to lose.

  ‘The night we got our results. You went to find Adam and he wasn’t there.’ He couldn’t bring himself to look at her, to see the trust and naivety drain from her face. ‘And then you came looking for me. You knocked on my door, and you sat outside it for a while and you talked about him and how you wished you and I could be a couple instead, because we’d get on so well.’

  ‘That was a joke!’ Hetty mumbled, and Matt carried on.

  ‘But you didn’t think I was there, did you? And eventually you stumbled back downstairs to your room.’

  ‘I don’t really see where you’re going with this …’

  He sighed. ‘Well, I was there, Het. I was in my room. I heard you knock. I heard everything you said.’ He took a long drag on his cigarette, filling the air between them with sour smoke as he exhaled. ‘And so did Adam. Because he was in the room too.’

  Hetty still didn’t get it. ‘You were hiding from me?’

  And he finally looked at her, and saw the penny painfully dropping.

  ‘Was that the only time?’ she asked.

  ‘No. No, it wasn’t. Look, I can’t explain it, and—’

  Hetty interrupted him. ‘So you’re gay?’

  ‘It was a handful of times and it was only ever with him – that doesn’t make me gay.’

  ‘No,’ she said thoughtfully. As if she was solving a puzzle. ‘But it does make you unfaithful.’

  ‘Unfaithful?’

  ‘To me.’

  And she picked up her broken shoe and hobbled back inside.

  54

  Kate’s mother Yvonne was beside herself with excitement that her daughter and family were coming for Christmas. This was only the second time they had come up to Scotland for the holiday, usually opting to spend Christmas somewhere hot and exotic like Thailand, which Yvonne found bizarre.

  ‘Why would anyone want to eat a turkey dinner in the scorching heat?’ she’d said to Gordon.

  ‘I don’t think they eat turkey on Christmas Day,’ he’d replied. ‘That’s the whole point. Kate’s trying to do something different, and good on her!’

  Sometimes Gordon wondered about the gaping holes in his wife’s common sense.

  Kate and Matt had also spent December in India before – ‘Do they even celebrate Christmas in India?’ Yvonne had asked Gordon incredulously when she heard, to which he’d sarcastically said, ‘No.’ Which was a mistake. Because that sent Yvonne into a complete spin about Kate and Matt destroying Tallulah’s childhood with all this foreign-holiday nonsense. ‘That child needs cold weather and Quality Street and Father Christmas coming down a chimney. What they’re doing is tantamount to deprivation!’

  Gordon ignored her histrionics. He’d found it was the best way.

  But when he heard of Kate and Matt’s plans to visit, he too was delighted. Apart from the fact that he’d get to see his only daughter and granddaughter, which in itself was a rarity, it also meant he wouldn’t have to listen to Yvonne complaining about Kate’s weird ideas.

  Yvonne had pulled out all the stops, decorating their home to within an inch of its life, putting up two real trees: one in the garden that lit up at night, and the other in their spacious living room.

  She and Gordon had moved in 1987, a couple of years after Kate had left home and the revelation of her ‘troubles’. They never mentioned Luca, or his subsequent adoption – it was all too painful for words. Yvonne had become ‘horribly sad’, eaten up with sorrow and loss, and Gordon thought moving house would give them all a fresh start. They called it downsizing, and, yes, it was essentially a flat. But Yvonne preferred to call it a ground-floor luxury apartment, it being blessed with three bedrooms, two bathrooms and a study – aka Gordon’s little sanctuary. It also boasted a beautiful large lounge with a magnificent fireplace, in front of which Tallulah could put a carrot, whisky and a mince pie for Santa.

  They arrived mid afternoon on the twenty-first, just as it was turning dark and Christmas lights were coming on for the night.

  Tallulah was sleepy but excited to see her Nannie and Grandy, whom she saw so rarely but completely adored. Especially Grandy, with his funny beard and silly voice.

  ‘Oh come here, wee one, let me get in first with a cuddle!’ Yvonne cried as they stepped through the door, scooping Tallulah up in her arms and smothering her with kisses.

  ‘I bet that taxi from the airport set you back a pretty penny, eh Matt?’ said Gordon, who always overcame his shyness at initial meetings by asking practical questions.

  ‘Well, it was worth every penny!’ Kate answere
d on his behalf, as she often did. ‘Now Dad, how’s about you pour us a nice couple of brandies to warm us up whilst I indulge in my horrible nicotine habit. I’ve gone three hours without one!’ she announced, and walked straight through the kitchen to the back garden. Yvonne followed, Tallulah still in her arms, fiddling with Nannie’s pearls. ‘Don’t go scattering your dirty stubs willy-nilly on my patio now, Kate. I’ve put a special ashtray out there for you.’

  ‘Happy Christmas, Mum!’ Kate shouted, realizing the price she was paying to see Callum for a few blessed hours was going to be very high, given that her mother was already getting on her nerves.

  Gordon looked at Matt and smiled, a silent understanding passing between the two men that they would both require a good deal of patience to endure the next few days and their respective wives’ sometimes overbearing personalities.

  ‘Here, give me those cases,’ Gordon said, always preferring to do rather than discuss. ‘And I’ll make yours a triple.’

  Matt smiled. He’d always been very fond of Gordon.

  Two hours later, Yvonne was clearing the dishes and Gordon was playing Guess Who? with Tallulah, who found it hysterical that Grandy actually looked like one of the characters. Matt could tell that Tallulah’s giggling was on the verge of turning to tears, and that it might be an idea to think about bedtime.

  ‘It’s OK, I’ll give her a bath tonight,’ Kate said, and affecting an air of nonchalance she continued, ‘And then we need to talk about plans for tomorrow. Because I’ve still got a bit of shopping to do.’ She threw it in casually, almost hoping no one would notice.

  ‘But all the presents have arrived!’ Yvonne whispered, careful not to spoil anything for her granddaughter, who was still engrossed in the game. ‘I’ve even wrapped everything for you!’

  ‘That’s great, Mum, and thank you! But there’s still a couple of things I need to get for a certain someone,’ she said, winking overtly at Matt.

  He found this out-of-character display of affection a little disturbing, to say the least.

  ‘Right, well, what about the ice-skating, and the Christmas show at the theatre? I’ve got it all planned,’ said Yvonne, unable to curb her enthusiasm.

  ‘Oh, I’m definitely coming ice-skating!’ Kate said. ‘But then why don’t you go to the show, and I’ll disappear for a couple of hours and do my thing. Give my ticket to Aunty Norma, if you like.’

  ‘Huh. You won’t catch Norma inside a theatre, pet,’ Gordon intervened. ‘She’s terrified the roof will fall in on her.’

  ‘Aye, she has some strange ideas, that one!’ said Yvonne.

  Kate smiled at Matt and he politely reciprocated as his mother-in-law carried on, ‘And will you be seeing Jinny and Bill while you’re up? I saw her mother a few weeks back – they’d love to see you, I’m sure.’

  Kate’s smile dropped and she caught Matt’s eye, awkwardly. ‘Yes, maybe. We’ll see.’

  ‘Aw, you’ve not fallen out with her again, have ye? Honestly, Matt, those two, they behave sometimes like they’re still at school!’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Mum. Now, Lules, it’s time for your bath, and then bedtime!’

  Tallulah complained that the game wasn’t finished, but Grandy promised to keep everything exactly how it was so they could finish it in the morning before they went ice-skating. Tallulah seemed satisfied and tootled off to the bathroom with her mum.

  Matt excused himself to indulge in his recently reacquired nicotine habit, and Yvonne was left with Gordon.

  She turned to him and whispered, ‘I don’t think things are right between those two, Gee. Matthew hardly said anything at dinner.’

  ‘Ach, hush your nonsense, the man couldn’t get a word in edgeways,’ he said. But secretly he agreed with his wife, and he wondered what was really going on.

  Outside, Matt lit up his second cigarette, listening to the faint hum of party music in a house nearby, mixed with cheery pub revelry, even some carol-singing – all drifting in the Scottish night breeze. He wondered if it would snow.

  He checked that he wasn’t about to be disturbed by Yvonne offering him another mince pie and then took out his phone. He went into his contacts list and scrolled down the ‘H’s till he found ‘Hetty’.

  He pressed call, and his stomach flipped nervously; not wanting to have this conversation, but unable to bear not being friends any more. It rang. And rang. Matt knew that on the other end, Hetty would be staring at the screen and choosing once again not to speak to him.

  The voicemail kicked in. Hi, this is Hetty Strong – please leave me a message!

  Matt cleared his throat and began pretty much the same message that he’d left last time:

  ‘Hi Het, it’s me. Again. Am in Edinburgh now. Look, I hate us not being friends like this. Adam is … well, he’s nothing, was nothing. And you and me, we’re worth far more than all that, aren’t we?’ He paused. ‘Call me, mate. Please. This is really weird.’

  He ended the call and sighed.

  There was a bit of a fuck-it element in the air tonight, and he knew he had another call to make. He went back into his contacts and found the number he needed. His finger hovered over the call button. He’d been wanting to call for days – no, weeks. But every time, he backed down, overwhelmed by what the conversation might uncover. Maybe it was the wine at dinner or the whisky after it that made him press call. And once again, his stomach flipped.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hello, you. It’s Matt, Kate’s husband. How the devil are you?’

  In the bathroom, Kate sat on the toilet seat watching Tallulah in the bath, lost in her own world of Disney and bubbles and a conversation with a Christmas elf.

  Kate had locked the door. If anyone challenged her, she’d say it was force of habit. She knew Matt was outside, smoking, and her parents were still in the living room, discussing the fact that four vegetables on Christmas Day was ample – anything more was simply showing off.

  Kate got her phone out. She knew she was taking a risk, but part of the excitement lay in the risk. She wanted to break the rules they’d set for themselves, to go so near to the brink of mayhem that maybe they’d have to jump off. Her breathing speeded up with anticipation. She called his number. If he couldn’t answer, he wouldn’t. Fuck it.

  55

  Three miles away, Callum and Belinda’s fondue night was well into its second hour.

  Fondue night at the MacGregors’ had become a bit of a Christmas tradition amongst Callum and Belinda’s friends. Always held on the twenty-first, in recent years they’d added a melted-chocolate option to the traditional melted cheese.

  Callum was topping up Sue’s glass. It was the one time of the year when she was slightly softer towards him, but without fail after her third drink she’d find the opportunity to take him to one side and say, ‘I may have forgiven you, Callum MacGregor, for what you did to my friend …’ At which point Callum would finish off the sentence for her, ‘but you’ll never forget. Yep. I know, Sue. You don’t need to remind me every year!’ And he’d move onto another guest before she could start raking over old coals.

  Belinda knew she did it too. She’d had words with her several times about it, but to no avail. ‘Honestly, Sue! Let it go, babes. I love the fact you’re so loyal to me, but the poor man has served his time.’

  ‘Not in my book, he hasn’t,’ Sue would say, and Belinda would shake her head. Strange that she now felt sorry for Callum getting a hard time from her best friend – his misdemeanour happened seventeen years ago, after all. Belinda decided the only way to deal with it was to laugh it off.

  She looked over at Callum now, chatting genially with their next-door neighbour and his mate Gary, and she felt an unexpected surge of love for him. He was looking good, fair play. Actually, he always looked good to her, but recently he was looking even better. He’d lost a few pounds in the past few weeks and bought himself some new clothes. Very unlike him to go clothes shopping, but Belinda wasn’t complaining! And there was something
a bit more sprightly about him; he had his old cheekiness back. She sidled past him heading for the kitchen, sneakily squeezing his bum en route. He looked pleasantly surprised and she winked at him.

  In the kitchen she checked on the cheese fondue. A ridiculous idea really – no one except Gary ever really dived in with the cheese – but a few years back, when Belinda had suggested swapping the fondue for canapés, there was uproar amongst their friends. And so it had stayed.

  As she gathered together all the accoutrements to take through, her mobile started ringing.

  Her hands were full.

  Might be one of the kids.

  Not Ben of course, who was spending his first Christmas away from home, backpacking his way around the world. No doubt the other two would follow suit when their turn came.

  Ailsa was at Tom’s tonight and Cory, home for two weeks now since uni broke up, had a bar job in his Uncle Fergus’s pub. She’d barely seen him since he’d been back but at least he was earning a few quid.

  She just hoped whoever was calling wasn’t expecting a lift – Belinda had warned them there’d be none available, not on fondue night. They’d have to sort their own transport. And she hoped they’d remembered, because by now both she and Callum were way over the limit.

  But it wasn’t her phone that was ringing.

  It was Callum’s.

  He’d left it by the sink.

  Ailsa had set them both the same ring tone when they’d first got their mobiles, the theme from Rocky – it was absolutely ridiculous, but had since become such a family joke that neither of them had had the heart to change it.

  Belinda put down the fondue tray and reached for the phone, thinking how silly Callum was to leave it so close to the washing-up bowl.

  ‘Kettley’s Garage’.

  Strange.

  ‘Callum?’ she called out half-heartedly, knowing he was unlikely to hear. And did it really matter? She thought about ignoring it, but then changed her mind, curious as to why a garage should be ringing her husband at seven p.m. four nights before Christmas.

  She pressed answer. ‘Hello?’