'Could I speak to Laura please?'
'Aye, sure, who's calling?'
'Eh, Paul Green, she'll know what it's about.'
I don't know why I'm lying to Ryan.
To give Susan something to eavesdrop on?
So I don't have to explain myself to Ryan?
To give Jamesy a giggle and get back in his good books?
Because it's become such a habit lately?
He'll probably recognise my voice anyway.
'Cool, just hold the line a minute.'
The phone beeps at me as I'm put on hold, then rings as I'm connected to wherever Laura is.
'Hello, Laura speaking.'
'Hey, it's Davie.'
'I wasn't sure if I'd hear from you.'
'I'm really sorry, I've not been well and my phone battery…'
'I don't want to hear this just now, okay.'
'Okay, but I'd like to explain.'
'It's gone past that now, I'm afraid. We need to do this formally. I have to arrange a disciplinary meeting with you. Can you make… two weeks on Tuesday… eh… at eleven?'
'Aye, I suppose.'
'I have to suspend you until the meeting.'
'Then what?'
'I'm really sorry, David, that all depends on what happens at the meeting, it's kind of out of my hands now. Do you want a union rep with you? I can ask Stewart.'
'Aye, I guess so.'
'Okay, I'll ask him. See you then. Sorry it's had to come to this.'
'Aye, see you.'
I hang up the phone. I'm a helium balloon that used to be on the ceiling but now flops around on the floor. This day started off so good. I was up there, but now.
I know, Jamesy, it's a shite job. Why should I care? I don't even know if I'll go to this meeting.
'You in trouble?'
'Nah, not really. Got to go and have a chat with her about it, but nothing a bit of grovelling won't fix.'
'You'll be fine, they won't kick you out for one mistake.'
I nod at her, thinking about the verbal and the written warning I already have and haven't told Susan about.
'So, who's this girl? Is it serious?'
'I don't know, I hope so. I don't want to speak about it in case I jinx it.'
'At least give me her name.'
'Astrid.'
'Astrid, that's unusual, isn't it.'
'Come on, I don't want to talk about it.'
'Okay, okay.'
Susan puts the TV on.
'Oh you'll never guess what I caught Pammy doing the other day?'
I shake my head.
'She was filming herself on my camera, she had it set up on top of the bed and was acting out a wee play with her dolls.'
'Aww, that's funny.'
'It reminded me of you though, remember you and Lewis used to tape yourselves and make up radio shows? You'd make us listen to them in the car when we went on holiday.'
Davie held a finger up to his mouth, ssshhh, then pressed two buttons down on the cassette player: Record and Play together.
'Aye.'
'I wonder what happened to all those tapes?'
'Who knows, Mum probably chucked them out with all the other memories.'
'It was hard for her, everything reminded her.'
'Yeah, well, she wasn't the only one it was hard for.'
You promised. You promised. You promised. You promised.
I stare at the TV and Susan doesn't say anything else. Pammy comes back in and I'm grateful for the distraction. She puts on her Finding Nemo DVD, and even though I'm enjoying it, I feel my eyes closing.
I wake up sprawled across the sofa, with a blanket lying over me.
He took the duvet off her bed and covered her with it.
I get up and switch the TV on, then get back under the blanket. I've no idea what time it is, but it must be late. The rest of the house is silent, apart from the walls creaking. I find the remote control down on the floor next to the sofa, and turn the volume down. I'm illuminated by the flashing colours from the TV screen.
His face was illuminated when he opened the door and he took out the carton and unscrewed the lid.
I'm not sure what's on, some film with Clint Eastwood in it by the looks of it.
What's up, Jamesy? I know, I'm sorry. I konked out there. Tomorrow, I promise, tomorrow we'll get back down to business. I'm surprised you didn't want to play Susan a song earlier, when she started greeting like that. What song would you have given her? You can't do it to people I know, can you? It was bad enough at the party trying to explain away what we were up to, it has to be strangers doesn't it? A shared moment with a stranger.
Yeah, I just need a good night's sleep and I'll be back on the case. No work to go to, no Susan to answer to, I'm all yours, Jamesy.
I feel around in my pocket and send Astrid a soppy goodnight text, even though she's probably been asleep for hours. I lie watching Clint do his thing, not really sure what's going on.
19
Bizarre Love Triangle
Davie flicked the letterbox a few times and rang the doorbell again.
Come on, Lewey, where are you?
He bent down to look for his keys.
Davie dropped the orange juice.
MY ALARM GOES off and I can barely open my eyes to see it. I throw my arm out and switch the alarm off, then lie still for a few seconds. I'm fucking knackered. Jamesy and I were out really late last night. I don't even know what time we got in at. Alfie was still up, although that counts for nothing. I think he had a girl in there with him.
Davie noticed the strip of red light coming from the gap under Alfie's door. It shone across the hall floor like a laser beam.
Davie fell into bed. As he lay there his ears tuned into the darkness. There was someone in there with Alfie. He could hear muffled voices. Muffled voices which gradually faded into moans and the sound of Alfie's bed creaking.
Davie put Jamesy's headphones on, pulled the duvet over his head and tried to drown it out. He didn't want to hear that. It was over two weeks since he'd heard from Astrid, and hearing Alfie just reminded him of what he was missing. He'd texted her a few times and tried to call her, but her phone was always switched off, or it just rang out. He couldn't understand what had happened, why she was ignoring him. What had he done to put her off? He wanted to believe that her phone was broken, or she'd had to fly home to America in an emergency and couldn't contact him, but deep down he knew it was something worse. She didn't want to see him again and he didn't know why. He thought she liked him, she acted like she did. Was it just about the sex? Another Scottish conquest to add to her list before she went home. He'd even thought about going round to her flat, but Jamesy had persuaded him not to. He didn't want to look like some desperate stalker.
Jamesy's headphones have slipped off my head during the night and are now round my neck. His wire has curled round me like I'm a fly in a spider's web. Jamesy lies cradled under my arm.
I push off the covers and unwind him, put him on the bedside table.
Now, now, people will talk.
I force myself to get up before I fall asleep again. I grab a damp towel off the floor, better have a shower. I've got that fucking meeting with Laura today. I know, I know. I said I wasn't going to go, but the more I think about it, the more I realise I need to keep my job.
Davie pressed for £20.
You do not have sufficient funds available.
He pressed for £10.
You do not have sufficient funds available.
The ATM spat his card back at him.
We talked about this, Jamesy. I'll go part-time or cut my hours down, but I can't leave altogether. I know, I said that last week, but I'm starting to realise... I am committed. Come on, give me a break. Look, how's this for commitment. I hold my palms up towards him. My hands are aching this morning. I've got a permanent mark now, a rectangle imprint on both palms. I feel like that bad guy from Raiders of the Lost Ark.
There was a rectangular scar on each
palm, like he'd been burnt by something and the shape of it had melted onto his skin.
The scabs never get a chance to heal and have turned into raised welts, the scars of a self-harmer: the knife has gone in the same cut more than once. Sometimes I can feel a pulse, my hands beating.
Like a pulse: the shadow of her hand beating.
Davie and Lewis sat in the living room. Davie was watching some comedy sketch show on the TV. Lewis usually went to the Scouts on a Tuesday, but he hadn't wanted to go tonight, so he was sitting on a bean bag in the corner of the room, reading.
A sketch came on set in a chippy. One of the characters mistook the other one's hand for a fish. He took the hand, dipped it in the white batter then dunked the whole thing in the hot fat. The hand sizzled and crackled as it cooked in the fat, the sound of canned laughter playing in the background.
What if I cooked your hands like a fish supper? Davie asked. How would you be able to read then?
Lewis didn't look up from his book.
Eh, Lewey, what if I cooked your hands?
Davie crawled across the carpet and grabbed Lewis by the wrists.
Let go, you're hurting me, Davie.
Lewis's book fell to the floor at his feet.
I'm going to fry your hands, little brother.
Please, you're hurting me.
Lewey's wrist was all red and blotchy with broken veins purple beneath the skin.
What happened? Davie pulled up Lewis's sleeve.
Nothing, Lewis pulled his arm away.
Your arm's a mess, that wasn't me, was it? I'm sorry, I was just mucking about.
Nah, it's just a Chinese burn.
Who gave you that?
Nobody, people were just doing it at school today. Loads of people got one.
Lewis pulled his sleeve down, picked up his book and started reading again.
As I pass Alfie's room I hear Common People, the William Shatner version, coming from inside.
The clothes were thrown aside as he danced like a madman around his new bedroom.
I also get a whiff of bacon coming from the kitchen. The bathroom door is shut and I can hear the shower going, so I head towards the kitchen instead. I'll try and scrounge a bacon butty off Alfie, before he and his mystery woman scoff them all.
It's not Alfie in the kitchen after all, but some girl bent over the grill. She's wearing Alfie's retro Scotland football top: the yellow one.
As she bends over it rises up.
Her arse cheeks peek out from under her pants.
A tattoo on the side of her hip.
Butterfly.
A butterfly tattoo.
He followed it as it fluttered around the bedroom, before it was swatted by the waistband of a pair of shorts.
I recognise that butterfly.
She stands and turns to face me.
We both stare at each other without saying a word. The bacon sizzles under the grill and I can hear the fat spitting. Sparks ping off the grill element. The smoke from the bacon makes my eyes sting and they start to water. I don't want to wipe them in case she thinks I'm crying.
In case Astrid thinks I'm crying.
Fucking hell.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
We both spring into life, as the smoke alarm goes off.
'Jesus, Davie, I didn't know, I swear I didn't know.
'I ignore her and waft my towel across the smoke alarm until it stops. She pulls the Scotland top down and I realise I'm only wearing my boxers. Why are we embarrassed? We've seen each other naked.
Lay with one arm across his chest she slid herself on top she sucked the crumbs off her fingertip.
In a parallel universe, Astrid is making me breakfast. We sit on the sofa eating bacon sandwiches in our underwear and she has just spent the night with me. Me. Not Alfie.
She turns round and pulls the tray of bacon out from under the grill. I feel a strange mixture of concern and satisfaction as fat spits out onto her bare arm and she flinches. She puts the tray down on the counter and turns back to me but I'm already on my way out.
'Davie, wait.'
'Why? You didn't? It's been, what? Two weeks?'
'I know this looks really bad.'
'I texted you, I phoned you.'
'I know, but, please don't shout.'
She grabs my arm and pulls me back into the room, then shuts the door.
'Don't want lover boy to hear, eh?' I say.
'Don't be like this.'
'Like what?'
'I never meant for this to happen.'
'Well, you shouldn't have shagged my best mate then.'
'I didn't know Lee was your best mate.'
'Who the fuck's Lee?'
Nicknamed Alfie after the Michael Caine character.
'Don't get all fucking judgemental on me. I really liked you, I was upset, my friends took me out to get drunk and I did something stupid, that's all.'
'A stupid mistake. You're fucking cooking him breakfast.'
'He's in the shower, I only came through to check on it because he's taking so long and I thought the flat would burn down.'
The kettle is boiling, but hasn't switched itself off. The kitchen fills with steam, and my glasses cloud over.
We stand in silence and she reaches out to touch my arm, but I pull it away. It still feels like electricity when she touches me and I can't bear it. I feel like crying. I really do.
Davie stood against the wall drinking spiked Coke, while Mike slow danced with Lucy. Davie watched as Mike's hands moved down to Lucy's arse and Mr Henderson the Chemistry teacher came over and told him to behave himself. Davie went home before the lights came up. He couldn't bear having to walk home with Mike and Lucy, not when he'd hoped at the start of the school disco he'd be the one walking her home.
'I can't believe this.' I say, 'I was right then, it was all about the sex to you.'
'Don't you dare, Davie, you're as much to blame as I am. You lied to me.'
'What? I never did.'
'You said there was nothing going on with you and that girl from your work.'
'There isn't.'
'Well, how come my flatmate saw you fucking making out with her outside some fast food place.'
He looked down at his jeans, and could see the greasy stain from the chips and cheese which had landed in his lap.
'That wasn't, we're not together. I don't even know your flatmate.'
'She passed you on the stair that day you left mine, recognised you, she'd been telling us all about this couple she'd seen in the street, started off making out then ended up having a huge fight. We all had a big laugh about it.'
'But that was before.'
'Before you lied to me, told me you were just good friends.'
'So you just believed your flatmate? She doesn't even know me.'
'She was worried about me, said you were acting all weird in the stairwell.'
Leaning against the wall, blocking the way for her.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
'There's nothing between me and Martha. I really like you.'
'I really liked you too, but I don't want to get involved in something so messy.'
'You slept with Alfie, how fucking messy is that?'
I can't stand to look at her anymore. I head to my bedroom and throw on some clothes, stick Jamesy in my pocket and head back out into the hallway. The stinging in my eyes is turning into real tears now.
'Hey, Davie boy,' Alfie says, as he emerges from a steam filled bathroom with a towel wrapped round his waist.
'Fuck you,' I say and slam the front door behind me as I leave the flat.
I run down the stairs, holding my breath like the air is infected, and burst out onto the street. My heart is thumping inside my chest and I can't get it to slow down. I can hear it inside my ears, behind my eyes, in my mouth.
THUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMP
I look up towards the kitchen window, are Astrid or Alfie looking out at me? I can'
t work out what window it should be, so I scan along the building.
Someone's hanging.
There's a body hanging in one of the windows.
My heart stops thumping altogether.
Everything inside me stops.
Then.
I realise.
It's only a suit.
Someone's suit for work, hanging up for the day. Flat and pin-striped. No body filling it out. No head. No arms. No feet.
My heart starts going again and I feel it in my stomach this time. My gut contracts in time with each beat, getting faster and stronger and faster and stronger until.
I fall forward and throw up in the road. Retch until nothing's left and my throat and my nose sting with vinegar.
The crunch as he bit down on each onion.
The bones in my legs dissolve and I sink down onto the kerb. I sit there, lean my head between my knees and shut my eyes.
Fucking hell.
I can't believe what just happened.
I need to catch a breath, get myself together. I can't believe that just happened. Jesus. Breathe properly, come on, breathe properly.
Onefingeronethumbonearmonelegonefinger onethumbone armoneleg one finger, one thumb, one arm, one leg, one finger, one thumb, one finger, one thumb.
I try to replay the conversation in my head. Even though I just spoke to her, I can hardly remember what we said. Why did her flatmate have to go interfering?
And fucking hell, Martha. Why is it always her?
We all fall down.
I open my eyes and pick up a twig lying at my feet, trace shapes in the dirt with it.
What's that, Jamesy? Yeah, you're right. She didn't wait very long before she jumped into bed with someone else. She just assumed I was an asshole, didn't even bother to check to see if it was true or not.
Stupid slut. Even if I wasn't completely honest about me and Martha, she still went out and slept with Alfie. She should have spoken to me. I could have explained.
I never even thought of that. You're right. I'm sure I told Alfie what her name was. I did.
Astrid, eh? You're a dark horse.
I definitely did. He should have known. How many Americans called Astrid are there in Edinburgh, for fuck sake? Did he know it was the same girl and took her home anyway?
Anger rises up inside me and I push away the reasoning side of my brain. Push away the voice that says, you know Alfie's memory, he probably didn't remember. Or you know Alfie. He sleeps with girls and doesn't even find out what their names are.
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