No Wonder I Take a Drink

by Laura Marney

  I could hear them all squealing and jumping on Gerry’s bed. Gerry was drinking more than was within reason, despite what his gushy mother said. Either that or he didn’t have the same tolerance for alcohol as Steven. It was genetic and slightly worrying, another family trait, one that Steven got from me.

  Gerry was not amused making it plain that playing children’s games was uncool and the hilarity quickly died down. Thanks to Gerry, once the girls had gone home, Steven retreated back inside his cocoon, a pupa of insecurity and teenage huffiness.

  That was one of the few laughs we’d had since they’d arrived. I was getting cabin fever spending so much time in the house. Now that the boys were taking Bouncer out I was missing my daily walk. One morning I played Inverfaughie FM at full volume in a bid to drive the boys from their stiff sheeted beds. This was in revenge for all the Slipknot and Cradle of Filth I’d had to listen to. An hour or so of accordion music would get them on their feet I reckoned, and I was right. Two hung-over disgruntled teenagers clogged up the kitchen. Over coffee and almond slices I tried to talk them into a day out with me.

  ‘D’you fancy a wee run in the car today? You’ve not seen much of the countryside, it’s lovely.’

  ‘We saw it on the way up Mum.’

  ‘Yes but that was from the train, you’ve not seen the real Highlands yet.’

  ‘I’m a bit tired Mum, could we leave it and maybe do it tomorrow?’

  I didn’t let him see how pissed off I was. I considered my position and a possible strategy: the presence of Gerry meant that insisting was going to be out of the question, and I’d already tried cajoling without success. I was going to have to use the most powerful tool in the box.

  With my head bowed in disappointment, I nodded my silent acquiescence. As I stood quietly washing the dishes I didn’t reproach my son with how I’d hardly seen him; I never mentioned the cupcakes and curries, the tidying, the toilet rolls. But he knew.

  ‘I suppose we could go today Mum, I don’t mind either way.’

  ‘Och no, not if you’re too tired. I’ll need to get this place cleaned up anyway.’

  ‘No, I’m not, I’m fine. That’ll be good to get out and see a bit of the place, won’t it Gerry?’

  ‘Eh, yeah.’

  ‘Och, we can maybe do it some other time. You lads need your sleep, and I’ve a big traybake to do.’

  ‘Can we go out Mum, please? Can we?’

  ‘Well…och, okay then.’

  Chapter 17

  The boys weren’t keen to leave Bouncer in the house on his own.

  ‘He’s fine,’ I told them, ‘I leave him all the time when I pop down to Jenny’s.’

  Nevertheless, Steven insisted that we leave him fresh water, a bowl of Chappie and his plastic snowman to play with. I put on Inverfaughie FM so’s he didn’t get lonely, he always seemed comforted by the local voices.

  Steven, unbidden, sat in the front with me as I drove the coast road.

  ‘Where are the Highlands? All I can see is mist,’ said Gerry.

  It was true, it wasn’t very scenic. Due to the heavy mist we could only see about two feet beyond the grass verge on the road. Steven drew Gerry a look of absolute disgust.

  ‘What d’you want man, a free holiday and a view?’

  That clamped old Geraldo. As Steven turned back round his hand grazed mine on the gear stick and when he winked as well, I knew it hadn’t been accidental. To wind Gerry up I gave a running commentary describing the islands and lochs as we passed along the grey tunnel of mist.

  The mist lifted long enough for us to see a group of old people at the side of the road. There were four of them, two women, two men. The men were sitting on a bench facing out to sea. The women were behind the bench, squatting. At first I thought the ladies were having a naughty outdoor pee. I wasn’t going to draw the boys’ attention but then I noticed their trowels. They weren’t peeing, the women were digging up the wild irises that grew by the side of the road, not just cutting the flowers but scooping the bulbs out of the ground and putting them in a poly bag. I did an emergency stop and rolled down my window. Steven and Gerry were dumfounded by what happened next.

  ‘What the bloody hell do you think you’re playing at?’ I said to the oldsters.

  They tried to ignore me. The men stared beyond me and the mist, straight out to sea. The women squatted lower and dug faster.

  ‘Hey! Stop that right now. If you want flowers go and buy them, you mean old gits! You might just be passing through but this is where we live. We don’t come to your place and dig up your flowers, do we?’

  Although they still ignored me, the men at least seemed to see the force of my argument. They turned towards the women. The women slowed but didn’t completely stop.

  ‘Right, that’s it. It is my duty to inform you that we are off-duty volunteer conservation officers and are making a citizen’s arrest. Out of the car lads.’

  Steven was giggling until I nipped his arm. Gerry got out without question.

  ‘You have the right to remain silent’ I said, ‘but anything you do say…’

  Luckily the old folk got off their mark, dropping their poly bag to give them more speed as they hobbled towards their car.

  ‘That’s it, run you buggers! Hirple for it, it’s the conservation volunteers!’

  Steven and I laughed and laughed so much we induced hysteria. The fact that Gerry didn’t laugh seemed to make it even funnier.

  ‘We could be the ones who get arrested. Those people could report us,’ Gerry said.

  ‘What for?’ said Steven.

  ‘For impersonating an officer, that’s what!’

  Gerry was gritting his teeth and getting quite steamed up. I dug the irises back into the ground but, as the flowers listed like drunks, I didn’t hold out much hope for them. The old women had left their wee trowels in the bag. Oh well, I thought, I’m sure I can find a good use for them, that’s what conservation was all about.

  ‘Yes, but I said we were volunteer conservation officers and technically we are. Anyone can make a citizen’s arrest.’

  ‘Intimidating pensioners, how sad is that?’ Gerry sneered.

  This was too much for Steven.

  ‘Shut it Gerry, it’s a long walk back to Glasgow. Just chill out man.’

  Steven walked off into the mist. Gerry had nothing to say after that. I felt a bit sorry for him. After all he was just a fifteen-year-old boy, but he’d started it and anyway, he’d had Steven to himself since they’d arrived. Nevertheless, I was the adult and should apologise and I was about to when Gerry muttered, ‘sheggite deggay eggout.’

  Oh very brave, I thought, not only is he too scared to say it loud enough or in proper English, he’s too scared to say it in front of Steven.

  ‘Fegguck eggoff!’ was, I felt, the most appropriate reply.

  Gerry’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. I would deny it if Steven asked.

  *

  A few nights later when they came back from the pub I was still awake.

  ‘Guess who we met tonight, Mum?’

  I knew. The only person in Inverfaughie that we both knew.

  ‘You met Jackie in the pub? What was he saying?’

  ‘No, he wasn’t in the pub, he just came past, on his bike. It was him that recognised me.’

  ‘Did he ask after me?’

  ‘Yeah, he said how’s your mum.’

  ‘And what did you say?’

  ‘I said she’s fine. He’s going to take us out fishing tomorrow.’

  ‘All of us?’

  ‘Eh, no. I think it’s just me and Gerry. I didn’t think you’d want to come.’

  ‘Well, no. I don’t.’

  ‘So. Just as well then.’

  ‘What time is he coming for you?’

  ‘I said we’d see him at the pier for half eight.’

  ‘Half eight! You’ll never make it out your beds for half eight.’

  ‘Yeah we will. Jackie’s got a boat and rods and stuf
f, he’s going to take us out. We’ve to bring a packed lunch.’

  I didn’t know Jackie had a boat. He never offered to take me out in it.

  I got the boys up at half seven and gave them a cooked breakfast. I made up a tin with loads of sandwiches and cakes, plenty for them and Jackie as well.

  ‘What time will you be back, Steven?’

  ‘I’m not sure Mum. Shouldn’t be too late.’

  As I waved them off down the hill I shouted after them.

  ‘Tell Jackie he’s welcome to join us for dinner if he wants, nothing special.’

  ‘Nothing special? It’ll be a full-on fish tea, fresh from the sea, and I’ll be providing it.’

  I ran around cleaning up. I didn’t want Jackie to see the house a mess but I didn’t do the makeup thing. Jackie had made it plain he wasn’t interested. Hopefully he’d get the message that he was quite safe with the boys here and realise that I only wanted to be friends.

  The boys were back at four, with three fish each, but no Jackie.

  ‘What do you make of these beauties then eh? I told you I was bringing home dinner, didn’t I?’

  They were so chuffed with themselves, they rattled on for ten minutes, boasting about how they caught them.

  ‘Oh, and Jackie says thanks very much Mum, but he can’t make dinner. He’s got a booking for the boat later on.’

  So that was why I hadn’t seen much of him, he wasn’t a gardener, he was a sailor. He probably had a girl in every Highland port.

  ‘He gave me this to give you.’

  Steven produced from his rucksack the bottle of malt whisky I’d left in Jackie’s coal bunker.

  ‘He says thanks very much but he doesn’t drink. It would be wasted lying in his house, he said. It won’t be wasted here though eh Mum? This’ll come in handy for celebrating the catch.’

  ‘So Jackie rents out his boat to fishing parties, is that it? How much did he charge you?’

  ‘Nothing, it was free. He’s a brilliant guy. He said seeing as we’re local we can come any time, but it only runs from Easter to September. You want to see some of the fish he’s caught, big conger eels and everything man, he’s got photos of them.’

  I sighed as I got out the whisky shot glasses and the frying pan. I’d learned more about Jackie second-hand from Steven, than I probably ever would from the man himself.

  Steven and Gerry went fishing another twice with Jackie before they went home but I never saw hide nor hair of him. I comforted myself with the thought that at least he was being kind to my son, which meant he couldn’t completely hate me.

  *

  I was all jolly when I took them to the station, I waved and laughed as the train pulled out. On the way back I was so blinded by tears I had to stop the car. When I was helping him pack I’d asked Steven what he thought of Inverfaughie. It took him a while to answer.

  ‘It’s okay,’ he said.

  ‘Okay to live here, or “okay but not special”?’

  ‘Dunno.’

  I took to my bed and thought of Polly through the wall. Rebecca came in for me after school but I told her I’d walked Bouncer already. She came the next day as well.

  ‘Sorry Pet, I’m not really up to it today, I think I’ve got a bug. I took him round the garden for ten minutes at lunch time.’

  ‘Oh please Trixie, just down the hill and back, please. I’ve been looking forward to it all day.’

  I pulled my jeans on over my jammies and marched down the hill and back up again.

  ‘I’ll ask Mummy if you can join her group if you want, Trixie.’

  It suddenly dawned on me how rude I was being. I hadn’t spoken a word since we left the house and we were nearly home.

  ‘Och I’m awful sorry Pet, I didn’t mean to ignore you, I’m just a bit fed up since Steven went away.’

  ‘You could join Mummy’s Imhag group. It’s for ladies who are fed up, Mummy’s having them over next week, it’s her turn and me and Michaela have to play quietly upstairs.’

  ‘Imhag? What does it mean?’

  ‘I don’t know, Mummy says it’s for people who have problems but I think it’s something to do with health. Daddy said that you must have piss-poor mental health to bring a bunch of loonies into your home.’

  Mental health, Inverfaughie Mental Health Association Group? No, not association, awareness, that was it. That was all I needed, to sit around with a bunch of saddos moaning about how miserable life in the Highlands was. They were probably English anyway. Well I was made of sterner stuff. Okay, I was a bit down because Steven had gone, but I wasn’t mentally ill.

  ‘No, I don’t think so Rebecca. But I think it’s great that your mummy is doing something about getting better.’

  At Rebecca’s age everything showed on her face and she couldn’t hide her disappointment.

  ‘Anyway, now that we’re out, why don’t we continue on down to the village and get sweets at Jenny’s?’

  That cheered her up and her concern for my mental health was a wake-up call to me. I’d need to keep a check on my moods. I must try to stay cheerful, keep my head down, get on with it.

  Chapter 18

  It was getting into the summer season and still I couldn’t decide about running the B & B. I was too busy with the garden. I found a garden centre out by Thessie and I pestered the man for ages with questions about what I should plant. I ran around filling my trolley until I realised how much it was all going to cost. The poor wee guy was crestfallen when I went to the cash desk with only a few packets of seeds.

  The weather was warmer, warm enough now to spend as long as I liked outside without getting frostbite. Jenny told me to take Walter’s old garden furniture and give it a lick of paint. There was still no word on when he was getting out of hospital but Jenny was always thinking about him. I brought four picnic chairs and a table from Walter’s and, with Rebecca and Michaela’s help, painted them bright yellow. It was lovely sitting there, with no mist and hardly any cloud. The views were spectacular.

  Now that I had the furniture, and the weather was nice, I decided to have my dinner al fresco. The girls had gone home for the night to follow their usual routine: homework, telly, then bed. I fancied something special for a change so I defrosted a steak. Fried mushrooms and onions gave it a proper steakhouse feel and I thought, to hell with poverty, and opened a bottle of wine. It took ages to prepare and when everything was ready I took it out to my lovely rustic garden.

  I hadn’t even sat down to eat when the midgies started. They hadn’t bothered me much until now but I wasn’t usually in the garden this late in the day. It was the midging hour. I was walking to and fro with the cutlery and the HP, but the minute I stopped I could feel them on my forehead. I rubbed my head and flicked the tiny black specks away. It wasn’t often that I bothered to cook a proper dinner so I wasn’t going to be put off by some tiddly wee flies. I went back inside and got my secret weapon.

  The citronella candle described itself as ‘insect repellent’ and cost seven quid. Except for a three-inch no-fly zone around the candle itself, it didn’t work. The midgies kept on coming. I tucked my trousers into my socks and pulled my sleeves down. The smell from the candle made my eyes water.

  While I was moving the midgies couldn’t get me, it was staying still that was the problem. I got up and walked around the table, popping mushrooms or a tottie into my mouth every time I passed my plate. After a few circuits they fell away. Midgies were so small that a few times round a four-foot table must be equivalent to a thousand-mile trip for them, hah! Chuffed with the successful ruse, I sat down to enjoy my meal.

  But I had mistaken retreat for reconnaissance. They had only been marshalling their forces; now, team handed, they redoubled their efforts to bite me. This was a full-scale attack.

  I’d fooled them once, I’d do it again. I’d just keep circling the table. You had to be hardy in the Highlands and I rose to the challenge, pitting my wits against nature. If I kept moving I’d still get the views and
the great outdoors as well as my dinner, I’d burn calories into the bargain. Stopping to cut my steak might have proved problematic, but on the spur of the moment I invented an anti-midge manoeuvre. While I cut with one hand, I whirled the other arm like a windmill. That worked reasonably well but I could feel them again at my ankles, I had to stay mobile. By now I was moving at quite a pace around the table. The arm whirling alone didn’t offer full body protection. I was getting breathless and my dinner was getting cold. I needed a seat and something to keep the midgies away from my legs. I brought the candle back into use again, putting it on the ground between my legs. Immediately I felt an uncomfortable heat in my groin. To avoid singeing I was obliged to flap my thighs.

  Almost by accident I had hit on a workable solution. Simultaneous thigh flapping and arm whirling was the answer. This permitted sitting down and left one hand free to cut up food. I’m not saying it was relaxing, but the Highland midge had not got the better of me.

  Unfortunately, that night, sated with steak and the full bottle of wine by way of a victory celebration, I forgot to close my bedroom window. Next morning I found I’d been eaten alive. I looked as if I’d been carpet bombed, my face, neck and wrists scattered with pustulating sores. If I’d known the midgies were so determined I would have opened a vein and left out a saucer for them. They could have queued up in an orderly fashion and drank their fill of my blood. At least that way I wouldn’t have had such an allergic reaction. The bites made me bloated and scabby. Over the next few days I coped as best I could with antihistamines and calamine lotion but one particularly nasty bite over my eye became swollen.

  Jenny said I should see Dr Robertson. Maybe she was right, but my previous career made me reluctant to go anywhere near doctors. I was pleased to have someone, even Jenny, so concerned for my health. I was feeling pretty sorry for myself, it was good to have company.

  ‘Och no, honestly Jenny I’m fine,’ I said, although I was nearly blinded by the bite over my eye.