No Wonder I Take a Drink

by Laura Marney

  ‘As you know ladies and gentlemen,’ explained Andy, ‘this prize goes to the contestant who has the biggest improvement on their previous score and, compared to other contestants, Jock has a good six inches.’

  Even the incomers got that joke.

  ‘I know he had the unfair advantage of being the only one sober, but he was the only one who got his score up and, as I tell you fellas every year, you can’t get it up when you’re drunk!’

  The worse the jokes got, the more the locals cheered. I was getting a bit bored and gagging for a drink, but now he was announcing the dog show results. A brown Labrador called Vivienne won Best In Show which was no surprise.

  ‘In the category Dog With the Waggiest Tail the prize goes to Bouncer, owner, Mr Walter McKinnon.’

  Jenny turned to me and touched my arm.

  ‘I’ve a wee confession Trixie. I changed your application form and put Walter’s name. It gives the dog a better chance. Don’t be annoyed with me.’

  ‘I’m not annoyed, don’t be silly!’

  And as Walter went up and collected the rosette I tried my hardest not to be annoyed.

  Was I really so meanspirited that I was jealous of a sick old man lifting the trophy for Dog With the Waggiest Tail?

  But the real kick in the teeth came with the flower show. I didn’t win, not even placed. Now that was unfair.

  ‘Mrs Betty Robertson, our champion this year and every year as far as I can remember, is a very modest lady. Betty does not seek publicity and has asked the committee if she can collect the rose bowl trophy later in the day.’

  Modest? Not brazen enough to lift a prize she knew she didn’t deserve, more like. Does not seek publicity! She was so blasé she couldn’t even be arsed turning up to collect it! I was robbed, I was gutted, I was publicly humiliated.

  The prize-giving over, there was only the raffle to be drawn. No doubt every ticket would belong to a Robertson. Your ticket probably didn’t make it in to the drum unless you were one of those bastards.

  ‘It’s a buff coloured ticket number 213, ticket 213!’

  It was one of mine. I had to pass the trophy table to claim my prize. On my way past I had a strong urge to drop-kick their fucking stupid rose bowl into the loch.

  I won a bottle of Old Pulteney malt. It wouldn’t go wrong. I was pretty pissed off and I just wanted a drink but no one wanted to come with me to the beer tent. Jenny was taking Walter home and Jan wanted to get organised for the ceilidh. Even Roger wouldn’t join me, Michaela was whining to go home.

  ‘Would you mind awfully if I took the girls home now Trixie? I’ll come back and pick you up later if you want.’

  Poor Roger, he’d been running around like a blue arsed fly all day.

  ‘Och no, that’s fine Roger, you take the girls home. I think I’ll go and check out the beer tent anyway.’

  *

  The beer tent was a complete joke. For starters it wasn’t even a tent, it was an unhitched horse box with a steep gradient. Secondly, it only sold one kind of drink: beer. Cans of weak supermarket lager at two quid a go, it wasn’t even chilled. But, inasmuch as the horsebox was filthy and full of drunks, it had a pub atmosphere. I got a can and a plastic glass and stood outside. I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned round. There was nobody there. I turned back to my beer and Kathy, Spider’s wife, the mad woman who’d tried to attack me, was pushing her face at me.

  ‘I think I owe you an apology,’ she said.

  I nearly choked on my lager.

  ‘Eh, hello Kathy.’

  ‘I’m sorry Trixie. I jumped the gun. I know now that you were the innocent party. It was that filthy red headed cheuchter nurse.’

  Kathy looked as if she was about to start foaming at the mouth.

  ‘Are you here for the ceilidh?’ I asked.

  Really, I should be directing her to the Inverfaughie Mental Health Awareness Group stall I thought, she was excellent membership material.

  ‘No, I’m not, I’m just the driver. I’ve got to go home to the kids. Spider is doing his Master of Ceremonies. He does it for them every year.’

  ‘And will the band turn up this time, d’you think?’

  ‘He’s away sorting out the band now, at least that’s what he told me. He’s probably sniffing out the available fanny.’

  Oh, but she was coarse, coarse and obsessive and miles madder than Polly. Kathy had a definite future with IMHAG, she could be chairman of the board.

  ‘There he is!’

  I pointed him out as he made his way towards us.

  ‘Hello there Trixie! Can I get you a drink?’

  ‘No thanks Spider, I’m still struggling with the one I’ve got. I’m not overly fond of this lager.’

  ‘Did I not see you win something at the raffle?’

  ‘Yeah, I won a bottle of Old Pulteney, the only bloody thing I won all day.’

  ‘Huh, tell me about it,’ moaned Kathy.

  ‘Well, what are you waiting for? Get it out and give us a dram!’

  ‘Are we allowed to drink whisky here, Spider?’

  ‘Are we allowed to drink whisky? Jesus Christ woman, this is the Highlands!’

  I was slightly perturbed at the measures Spider was pouring us from my bottle. I’d intended putting it away and keeping it good but I supposed he had been pretty free with his whisky that time at his house.

  ‘I saw Jock take the long jump personal best prize. Good for him!’ said Spider.

  ‘Oh that reminds me Spider, I’m glad I met you. I wanted to ask you about Harry. Jackie won’t tell me anything. Well that’s not strictly true, but he is so bitter he’ll only tell me the bad stuff, like when Harry threw him out.’

  ‘Aye well that’s Jock for you, bitter and twisted. Harry was decent enough, he never did me any harm. Listen, d’you know where the Portaloo is?’

  ‘It’s over behind the coconut shy but they’ve closed it. It was overflowing, did you not hear the announcement?’

  ‘Och it overflows every year. I’ll go anyway, it’ll give me something to piss against.’

  ‘Aye, well don’t be sniffing around any of your old slappers! I’ve got my eye on you Spider,’ said Kathy.

  ‘Fuck up,’ said Spider with utter contempt as he strolled off.

  Kathy turned her attention back to me.

  ‘He’s as big a hoormaister as his pal.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘That Jock or Jackie or whatever he calls himself.’

  ‘Jackie’s a hoor maestro?’

  ‘Maister,’ Kathy corrected me, ‘aye but Maestro’s probably a better word for it. He’s been practicing a long time.’

  It was hard to believe, and doubly insulting: if Jackie was some kind of Mistaluvvaluvva how come he’d always been so shy with me?

  ‘Och aye, he’s well know for it. What his poor wife had to put up with! Sure did his own faither not throw him oot the hoose for shagging when he was only a teenager?’

  ‘Really? I didn’t know that.’

  ‘Oh aye, he shagged their housemaid, got her pregnant. Spider told me, I think he was bloody jealous.’

  ‘Wait a minute Kathy, run that past me again. Jackie got the maid pregnant?’

  ‘Aye, carrying on right under his faither’s nose. The woman was married and twice his age but that didn’t stop the dirty little fucker.’

  The whisky stopped working. Suddenly I didn’t feel mellow anymore. I felt as if I had been poked with an electric cattle prod. I couldn’t wait for Spider to come back, I had to go and find him. He was nearby, laughing with a couple of young American women.

  ‘Spider! Kathy says it was Jackie that got my mum pregnant,’ I blurted, ‘Is it true?’

  Spider laughed as if I had cracked a joke. Then led me away from the Americans.

  ‘Now c’mon Trixie,’ he said gently, ‘you know it’s true.’

  Chapter 29

  I was crying in the car on the way home but Roger didn’t even ask why. I phoned Steven as soon as I got in
the door.

  ‘Promise me that you’ll never lie to me, will you Son?’

  ‘Mum, stop crying, what’s wrong?’

  ‘Steven, don’t tell me any lies. You’re not coming to live with me are you? Just tell me, it’s okay, I’ll understand, I just don’t want you to lie.’

  ‘Mum please, you’re scaring me, tell me what’s wrong.’

  ‘You’re not coming to Inverfaughie are you Steven?’

  ‘No, I’m not Mum. I’m sorry. Oh Mum please stop crying, has somebody upset you?’

  ’You know that guy Jackie?’

  ‘Yeah, your friend Jackie. Was it him, what did he say?’

  ‘He’s no friend of mine. He’s my father and it’s what he didn’t say that hurts.’

  ‘Mum, have you been drinking?’

  ‘Yes I’ve been fucking drinking, I’m upset! I didn’t tell you because you had your exams but Granny… made a mistake when she was young.’

  ‘I know, she got pregnant, that’s why they gave you the house.’

  ‘You knew?’

  ‘Nettie told me ages ago.’

  ‘I’m going to strangle that meddling old bag.’

  ‘Calm down, did you say Jackie was your father?’

  ‘Yes, good old Jackie is my father. I thought it was his father but it was him and he didn’t tell me. He let me think that Harry was my father, but Harry was my grandfather!’

  ‘You’re not making any sense.’

  ‘Och what does it matter? Nobody tells me anything, why bother, it’s only me! Who gives a shit?’

  ‘So that means Jackie is my grandfather?’

  ‘That’s right, he’s lied to you too.’

  ‘Hey, I’ve got a granddad! Cool!’

  *

  I was ready to go when Rebecca chapped the door. I did think about cancelling but that would mean I’d be letting down Jan and the kids, and the Gala Day Ceilidh was the biggest night of the year. More importantly I wasn’t letting that bastard Jackie ruin it for me. Cinderella, I said to myself, you shall go to the ball.

  I got done up to the nines in the tasteful understated dress and high heels I’d worn to Mum’s funeral. The last time I wore it I had to keep my jacket on to hide my huge arse but not anymore. If I said so myself, I looked terrific. I might not have won any gardening prizes but it had made me a strong contender for Inverfaughie Rear of the Year. As I applied my make-up I kept topped up with a wee whisky anytime I started to fade.

  ‘Rebecca tells me you’re going to stay on at the ceilidh after the children perform,’ Roger said as he drove. ‘I hope you don’t mind Trixie but we’ll have to come home. I can’t leave Polly on her own too long. I’ll give you the car keys when we get there, we can probably get a lift from some of the other parents.’

  ‘Don’t bother Roger, you take the car, I’m over the limit now anyway. I’ll get a taxi or something.’

  I couldn’t be bothered thinking about the Atkins family’s complicated travel arrangements.

  Roger got us there early but the place was already quite full. The Calley lounge was reasonably small and it looked like everyone who had been at the gala day had transferred to here. Most of them didn’t look like they’d been home. One local, my very own Daddy Cool, was conspicuous by his absence. Not to worry, I knew where to find him and there would be plenty of opportunities for telling him exactly what I thought of him. The ceilidh was neither the time nor the place. I should be concentrating on the kids’ show.

  ‘Did Rebecca tell you her good news, Trixie?’

  ‘No, what is it Pet? I could do with some good news.’

  ‘I’ve to play the solo. Jan asked me after the prizegiving this afternoon.’

  ‘Oh that’s brilliant! Well, it just shows you, Jan’s asked the best guitarist,’ then tickling her, I whispered in her ear, ‘not the best cupwinner.’

  Rebecca giggled and ran away. I was supposed to be sorting out where they should all sit on stage but there wasn’t enough room on the wee stage for ten chairs.

  ‘Trixie, I think I can see a solution,’ said Roger.

  ‘Good on you Rodge,’ I said, and left him to it.

  As Jan had predicted, the kids were hyper. As people poured in to the wee bar and the noise levels rose, the kids got more and more excited. It was difficult to keep them all in the same place. While Jan tuned up the guitars I got them to set their sheet music under their seats. The music stands would have to be passed into them once they were seated.

  Spider came over to check with Jan that they were ready to start on time. They were. The kids nervousness was infectious, I had the jitters myself now. It was a scary feeling, exciting, this was showbiz.

  ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to another Inverfaughie Gala Day Ceilidh,’ said Spider, jauntily swinging his kilt. ‘And if it’s anything like previous ones there will be an awful lot of sore heads in the village tomorrow!’

  Everybody cheered, they didn’t need warmed up, they were up for a sesh, the atmosphere was thick with it.

  ‘I’m sure you’ll all agree that we’ve had a super day, the weather didn’t let us down and we had the best turn out in years. I know how hard you all worked so well done one and all!’

  Jenny made her way through the closely packed chairs towards me. I could tell by her face that she knew that I knew. Jenny knew everything that went on in this town, word must have got back to her. As she got closer she put on a big wide smile but it didn’t get as far as her eyes, they remained shifty.

  ‘What are you doing here? You said you were going to stay in with Walter.’

  My voice was as cold as I could make it.

  ‘I wasn’t going to come, Walter’s not up to it but I thought you might need a hand with the kids.’

  ‘You knew, you knew and you didn’t tell me.’

  ‘Trixie. It wasn’t my place. I told him you’d got the wrong end of the stick. I told him he’d have to tell you and he said he would but…’

  ‘You were supposed to be my friend Jenny. You’ve lied to me every bit as much as he has.’

  ‘Och I’m sorry Trixie. I’m heart sore, I really am, but I was in a terrible position. I kept hoping he’d tell you, I have to mind my own business in the village.’

  ‘Yeah but everyone in the village knows my business! The only one who didn’t was me!’

  ‘Och you’re upset, you’ve every right to be, but now that everything is out in the open you and Jackie…’

  ‘Hello Jenny, nice to see you,’ said Jan walking in on us, ‘I didn’t know you were coming.’

  Jenny recovered quicker than I did and turned on her smile.

  ‘I’d be missed if I didn’t turn out, I always do my party piece. I make a fool of myself every year but what else are parties for?’

  ‘I am looking forward to seeing it. Excuse me ladies, I must go to the stage now.’

  ‘Trixie, I am your friend. That’s why I came.’

  ‘Leave it Jenny. Watch the show.’

  Spider was on stage waiting for silence.

  ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, I’m proud to tell you that we have some of our young folk with us tonight. Don’t worry now, they’ll be off home safe in the beds before the serious drinking starts! But these youngsters are our standard bearers, carrying forward the musical traditions of the Highlands and we want to give them every encouragement. Ladies and gentlemen please put your hands together for the Inverfaughie Guitar Group!’

  I didn’t know what to think, Jenny seemed sincerely sorry. After all she did leave Walter and come to see if I was all right. Maybe she was right, maybe it was for the best, maybe Jackie would stop trying to avoid me now that the truth was out. But I was having to readjust who I was again. I was almost having to do it on a daily basis. I needed a drink. I didn’t want to think about Jenny or Jackie, I just wanted to have a good time, was that too much to ask?

  I concentrated on the guitar group, who were absolutely fantastic. I think the audience expected them to umchingaching their way
through Michael Row The Boat Ashore or something of that standard, so they were knocked out by the classical repertoire. Without anyone realising it Jan had quietly worked wonders with a rowdy bunch of kids.

  Hardly anyone talked or went to the bar, instead they listened and clapped every piece. Even I felt proud and all I’d done was bake cakes. Maybe I should take up the guitar.

  Roger had done a good job with the chairs as well. I thought he was quite right to put Rebecca’s chair out in front, she was the soloist after all. When she played her piece, a traditional lullaby, smoothly and without a hitch, it was well received. I spotted one of the judges applauding, the woman who had held her pencil up, and hoped she was ruing her decision now. Rebecca saw her too and acknowledged the judge’s presence with a gracious nod. The whole band joined in to finish off with a toe-tapping arrangement of Mairi’s Wedding. After enthusiastic applause, the kids, flushed with success, all clamoured to get off the stage at the same time.

  Jenny had brought Mars Bars for them and I was kicking myself that I hadn’t thought of something nice like that. Everyone was falling over themselves to congratulate the kids, but it was Rebecca who received the greatest acclaim. Roger stood beside her, glowing with pride.

  There was a contraflow of kids packing their stuff and ceilidh band setting up. I was glad when the kids left, I was beginning to sober up. Glad to see the back of Roger as well, his constant anxiety had exhausted me. When they went away it meant we had a table to ourselves: me, Jan and my best friend Jenny. While Jan was out at his car I remedied my creeping sobriety. Without a word I left Jenny sitting on her tod and went to the bar. I bought a Coke and took it with me to the toilet.

  Safely inside the cubicle I swallowed half the Coke and refilled the glass with whisky from my hip flask. My Coke was now a telltale transparent brown which I hoped Jan wouldn’t notice. There was still some left in the hip flask so I necked it. With the wee charge inside me, I felt a bit better. The washroom lighting and mirrors of the Calley were particularly kind, and as I was washing my hands I took the time to appreciate just how hot I was looking. Fuck them, I thought, fuck them all.