She began to warm to him as he told her more about his job and how important he felt it was to look after people with age-related problems. He did his best for the old people, he said, but he couldn’t help feeling depressed at times by their plight.
‘It comes to all of us eventually, Doris, and it is a depressing thought. Especially if one comes home every night with nothing to distract one’s thoughts. I watch television but that is living an artificial life and a lonely one, don’t you think?’
She agreed and admitted that she felt something similar. They felt exactly the same about lots of things as it turned out, and it was good to be able to talk to someone who understood. Soon it was as if they had known each other for years, they were talking so freely and earnestly together. The pretty girl assistant asked them if they’d like more coffee and it came as a sudden surprise to realise that there was someone else present. It had been as if they were away in a world of their own.
They finished their coffee and he asked, ‘When can I see you again, Doris?’
‘Do you work shifts?’
‘Yes, and I am working evenings this week, but I could see you at lunchtime again tomorrow. Then next week, if you agree, we could have dinner together. I will be on early shift next week and so free every evening.’
She smiled and rose. ‘Until tomorrow then? But I must rush back to work now.’
He pulled her hand to his lips. ‘I shall look forward to seeing you again. It has been such a pleasure.’
As she passed the window outside, she glanced in and saw him standing at the counter waiting to pay the bill. He was really a fine figure of a man. It was perfectly appropriate that he should have such a muscular figure. No doubt his job entailed having to be able to lift heavy patients. He was a handsome, caring, hard-working man.
What more could she want? She returned to Goodmans with a spring in her step. Little fountains of happiness and excitement kept bubbling to the surface. Her efforts to calm herself and tell herself she was being childish and stupid were all to no avail.
She blessed the day she’d put the advert in the paper. Of course, she had no intention of mentioning it to anyone. She knew the reaction she would get – all the cautions and warnings she’d already given herself. Now she didn’t care. Even after that one meeting, she felt they were soulmates.
In the afternoon, it was quite a struggle to concentrate on her job. The first person she had to deal with was an alcoholic woman who lived in a homeless place – a real dump where they put everyone out in the morning to walk the streets until it was bedtime again. This woman had come from a well-off family and she was obviously well educated. However, because of the drink, her family had disowned her. She carried all her worldly possessions in a large handbag she always clutched close to her. Every shop in the area knew her. Rather than have to go back to the homeless people’s place, she preferred to get arrested and spend some time in a police station or in prison.
‘Come on, Marion,’ Miss Eden said, ‘give me the watch.’
‘What watch?’ Marion slurred.
‘I saw you.’
‘I’m away.’ She lurched towards the door.
Miss Eden sighed and followed the frowsy-haired woman outside. The security guard stepped outside with them.
‘All right, I have reason to believe …’ Miss Eden began her usual spiel and the woman staggered back inside the store with her and upstairs to the manager’s office.
Miss Eden felt sorry for the manager. She had thought there was something bothering him and it turned out his wife had been ill. Then, as if it wasn’t enough to be mugged and robbed, his wife had died.
He had been encouraged to take more time off but said he’d go mad if he had to spend all day and every day in the house on his own. So would she. It was bad enough every evening and at weekends. But now her luck had changed.
That evening she had a bath and washed her hair and sat smiling to herself as she wielded her hair dryer. She had something to look forward to now. What a difference it made to life. It gave it that little extra personal dimension. Before, it had been all work and very little play. Only her karate, and even that was work-connected. She had to be strong and fit and quick off the mark for her job. She had to be able to defend herself.
Oh, how glad she was that she’d put the advert in the paper. She couldn’t concentrate on the television. She kept seeing in her mind’s eye the strong face of Andreas. He hadn’t been in Scotland very long, apparently, but liked the country. He especially liked Glasgow. People were friendly and made him feel at home. Nevertheless, he was shy at forming relationships and had got into the habit of just returning to his lodgings after work. It was not enjoyable to go out on one’s own, he said. She agreed. She knew exactly what he meant and how he felt.
The next day, lunchtime seemed an eternity in coming. Even though she had been kept busy as usual, time still didn’t pass quickly enough. She had to do a bit of staff training. For one thing, she had to make sure all the staff knew what to do in order to control their fitting rooms. They had also to keep the display windows locked during the day. Recently a lock on the window displaying dummies wearing expensive designer-label coats had been picked and the coats stolen. This was during the day and she had been off duty.
‘During the day?’ she’d said unbelievingly to the manager. ‘And all the dummies were in the window?’
‘No,’ Mr McKay had said. ‘All the dummies were on the shop floor because the staff never saw anyone going in.’
After the staff training session, she received a message on her mobile asking her to go urgently to the children’s department on the first floor. There was a woman with a baby in a pram … That was always worth watching. It was the same with shopping trolleys. They could be perfectly innocent, of course, but so often stolen goods were taken out hidden in prams or shopping trolleys.
What with making arrests and filling out reports, she began to fear she would be too late for lunch. Indeed, she was ten minutes late and was panicking as she hurried along Glassford Street. She was at least thankful that she had agreed to the meeting in The Granary again. It was only minutes from Goodmans. What a blessed relief it was to see him sitting at one of the tables near the window this time. She smiled and waved at him and he smiled and waved back.
‘I’m sorry I’m late,’ she announced breathlessly when she reached him.
He stood and gave her his little bow. ‘You are here. That is all that matters.’
Yes, that was all that mattered. She was here with him.
14
‘Is that you, Sam?’
He nearly dropped his mobile. He was sitting in one of the morning meetings in Mrs Goodman’s office surrounded by other buyers and managerial staff. Not to mention Douglas and Minna Benson.
‘I’m in the middle of an important meeting,’ he managed. ‘Could you please call back later?’
Then he apologised to Mrs Goodman and switched the mobile off.
It was Viv on the phone. God knows what she was going to say. Or even where she was calling from. Please God it’s not from Glasgow, he fervently thought. He hardly heard what was said or decided at the meeting, he was so worried about the call.
It was lunchtime when she called again.
‘What is it you want?’ His voice sounded harder, harsher, than he’d meant it to.
‘Don’t you dare talk to me like that.’
‘But, Viv …’ He struggled to modify his tone and make it seem more reasonable. ‘I thought I’d already made myself perfectly clear. There’s nothing more to be said.’
‘Oh, I’ve a lot more to say to you, Sam.’
‘Viv, we’re finished. We never really got started, in fact. What we had was little more than a one-night stand. It didn’t mean anything.’
‘You think not? Well, you could have fooled me. In fact, you obviously did fool me. Well, you’re not going to get away with it. Believe me, Sam Webster, you haven’t heard the last of this.’
And she hung up.
He groaned inside. What the hell was she going to do? His greatest fear was that she would come up to Glasgow and somehow confront his wife and family. He wondered if it would do any good if he went down to South Castle-on-Sea and faced her, had it out with her once and for all. Maybe he should try that. Should he phone her first and tell her he was coming down? If he was going to confront her, he’d better do it right away, in case she was on the point of leaving South Castle-on-Sea and arriving in Glasgow any day now – tomorrow, even.
He couldn’t bear to do nothing, just to wait. He called her back.
‘Viv, I’m coming down to South Castle-on-Sea tomorrow. I’ll leave first thing in the morning and come and see you as soon as I arrive. All right?’
‘OK by me.’
‘See you tomorrow then.’
‘OK.’
It was a relief in a way that he’d managed to contact her and make this arrangement. It meant she wouldn’t be rushing up to Glasgow. Hopefully, this time, he would manage – somehow – to make her see sense and accept the inevitable.
He went home early and took Moira a bouquet of flowers. One of his daughters had gone back to Edinburgh University. The other was as usual attending Glasgow University, but tonight she was out clubbing with some friends.
‘Oh, how lovely, Sam. Thank you, darling.’ Moira took the flowers and went through to the kitchen with them. ‘I’ll stand them in the basin until after we’ve had our meal. Then I’ll arrange them in a vase.’ She laughed. ‘I’ll probably need two vases. You’re far too good to me, Sam.’
He kissed the top of her head and put his arms around her waist.
‘I’m not good enough for you,’ he muttered, and he meant it.
She twisted round to face him and gazed up at him. ‘Darling, how can you say such a thing? You’ve always been a good husband, and lover, and father. What more could any woman possibly want?’
Loyalty? Faithfulness?, he thought. He had always tried to be a good husband, right enough. But there had been the occasional lapse and now one of them was catching up with him.
‘It’s a damn nuisance,’ he said, ‘but I’ve got to go back down to South Castle-on-Sea tomorrow. But it’ll just be for one night. I might even be able to get back in the same day, if I leave early enough.’
‘No, no, darling, that would be too stressful for you. Stay the night.’
‘Are you sure you won’t mind?’
‘Of course not. It’s your job.’
Sometimes he wished she wouldn’t be so reasonable and sympathetic. It made him feel even more guilty.
He left earlier than usual the next day. He wanted to get the ordeal he faced with Viv over and done with as soon and as quickly as possible. He had already booked in to a B. & B. near the centre of the town. No way was he going to stay overnight with Viv. What he should have done in the first place was walk out the moment she came on to him. That was when he should have booked in at the other B. & B. Any other B. & B. Oh, how he wished he had.
She was waiting for him, standing at the window, peering out. As soon as he stepped inside, she tried to embrace him. He pushed her away.
‘For God’s sake, Viv, how many times must I tell you! There’s nothing between us. Nothing at all. It was as you said at the beginning – we were both lonely. I was away from home and missing my wife and family. As a result of that terrible period of loneliness, I was unfaithful to my wife a few times with you. That is something I bitterly regret.’
‘All right, Sam.’ Her tone became soft and wheedling. ‘You don’t need to leave your wife but what’s wrong with going on as we were? Keeping each other company and enjoying each other while you’re here?’
‘Viv, I’ve booked into another place for tonight and I intend staying there every time I’m in South Castle-on-Sea after this. I should not have slept with you, or anyone else, and I’m sorry. It’s certainly never going to happen again.’
‘You smug, hypocritical pig! Don’t you go all goody-goody on me. You can’t just brush me off whenever you feel like it.’
‘Viv, calm down. What’s the point of suddenly getting all worked up about this? I was perfectly straight with you right from the beginning. I told you my wife was the only one I cared about and you said you understood, but there was no harm in us having a bit of fun occasionally and enjoying each other’s company when I was in South Castle-on-Sea. Those were your very words.’
‘Oh, so it’s all my fault, is it?’
‘I’m not saying that. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine. And I repeat – I’m sorry, but whatever it was, and whoever’s fault it was, it doesn’t matter now because it’s over. I’m going now, Viv, and I don’t want to hear from you again. So please don’t write to me or phone me or contact me in any way again, because it won’t change anything.’
‘Oh, won’t it? We’ll soon see about that.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Your wife might think of changing something if she gets to know that you were having an affair.’
‘I have not been having an affair.’
‘And once she knows about this little affair, she’ll begin to wonder how many other affairs there’ve been. One in every place you visit?’
‘You’re mad. What’s the point in all this? What do you think you’ll gain by it?’
‘Satisfaction, Sam. The satisfaction that you won’t be getting away with just dumping me when the fancy takes you.’
‘You’re a malicious, vindictive, stupid woman, and I’m warning you, if you hurt my wife in any way, you’ll regret it. I’ll see to that.’
‘Oh, I’m quaking in my shoes, big man,’ she sneered.
He strode away from the house and out onto the promenade. He was glad of the cold wind blowing from the sea. It helped cool his anger. It did not, however, relax the tight pain in his head. With his fists bunched into his coat pockets, he hurried along the promenade and round a corner towards the B. & B. he had booked into. All the time, he was feverishly trying to think what he could do. Should he phone Moira and give her some sort of warning? Viv could phone her tonight. Or would she wait and travel up to Glasgow, and actually go and see Moira? It was an appalling vision.
There was a pub near the B. & B. and he went in and ordered a double whisky. It didn’t help. He had another and that did nothing to help him either. He bought a half bottle and took it up to his room. It didn’t change anything or go any way to solve the problem, but at least it knocked him out eventually and he didn’t regain consciousness until nearly nine o’clock the next morning. He dressed hurriedly and took a quick breakfast before setting off in his car for Glasgow. He couldn’t concentrate on doing any business. That would have to wait until his next visit. All he wanted to do was to get home as quickly as possible. He didn’t know what he was going to do there, but he had to do something.
He wondered if he should confess to Moira. Get his word in first. The mere thought made him feel sick. It took all his will-power to concentrate on his driving. But he couldn’t help thinking, ‘What a mess!’
And he kept remembering how lucky he had been with such a lovely wife and children and such a happy home. Viv was going to do her damnedest to ruin it all. No doubt she would put on a great act as the poor, hard-done-by, deceived and abandoned woman.
There was nothing else for it. He would have to confess the truth to Moira. He prayed that he would get to her first.
15
Mr McKay started his search in the Merchant City area – first of all in the streets and lanes nearest to Glassford Street. On the corner of Glassford Street and Argyle Street was Marks & Spencer’s, and there was a plaque on the shop wall at the corner of Argyle Street and Virginia Street. It was where the Black Bull Inn had been. Robert Burns stayed there when he wrote to Agnes McLehose. She didn’t want their correspondence to be known and suggested they sign their letters ‘Sylvander’ and ‘Clarinda’. Before she died, Agnes wrote in her journal, ‘I parted with Bur
ns in the year 1791, never more to meet in this world, may we meet in heaven.’
Oh, how Mr McKay echoed those words – broken-heartedly. And the words of the poem Burns wrote to his ‘Clarinda’ – ‘Ae Fond Kiss’.
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever;
Ae fareweel, and then forever! …
Had we never lov’d sae blindly,
Never met – or never parted,
We had ne’er been broken-hearted.
He wandered around wearing something he’d bought earlier that day – a dark, hooded anorak, with the hood pulled well over his face. At the end of Ingram Street he came to the Gallery of Modern Art, in Queen Street. Even at this late hour, and despite the dark smir of rain, there were people squatting between the pillars and on the front steps. They were young people, some of them drinking out of cans and bottles, and laughing and fooling about. He didn’t think any of them were tramps likely to be rooting in bins for something to eat.
The Gallery of Modern Art had been built originally as a tobacco lord’s mansion house and in front of it was a statue of the Duke of Wellington on a horse. It had become a habit of the young people to climb up to the statue and put a traffic cone on the Duke of Wellington’s head. Now even in Glasgow guide books, the picture of the Duke always showed him with the incongruous and undignified red and white traffic cone perched on his head.
Jenny used to laugh at that and say it was such a typically Glasgow thing to do. Jenny had a good sense of humour and she liked art. He had never understood, and certainly didn’t appreciate much of the modern art in the gallery, but Jenny had.
He skulked into every corner and lane in Queen Street, until he reached Argyle Street, and then walked along Argyle Street and down every close, lane and alleyway until he reached the Trongate. Jenny had always been interested in the history of Glasgow and after she was confined to bed she spent a lot of her time reading books about the origins of the city. She had been particularly fascinated by this area. (Oh, how interested and full of life she had been. What a cruel waste!) Just west of King Street was the oldest music hall in the United Kingdom, the British Panopticon. Sixteen-year-old Stan Laurel had started here. There were mermaids and bearded ladies in the attic and a zoo in the basement with a Himalayan bear which escaped into the Trongate and terrorised everyone until it was shot by its eccentric owner, A. E. Pickard.
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