As the door closed behind me, Joan’s farewell clipped off by the wood, I felt rather than heard someone approach. Footsteps could soon be heard, the walker hidden by a high hedge.
‘Malcolm.’ I knew it was him even before he appeared in my line of sight.
He stopped at the top of the path, his face blanched with surprise. ‘Oh. Andy.’
‘You and I need to talk.’
‘Aye, aye.’ He put his bag on the ground and stuck both hands in his pockets. He looked anywhere but at me.
‘Why don’t you go in, say hello to your mum, dump your bag and we’ll go for a drink.’ I stood aside to let him pass.
‘Aye, right. Back in a minute.’
A few minutes later, Malcolm opened the car door and got in beside me.
‘Somebody been using you as a punch bag?’ he asked, in a half-joking tone.
‘I doubt there’ll be any pubs open yet,’ I said, ignoring his comment. ‘The Coffee Club do?’
‘Aye.’ Malcolm slumped into the seat, his chin tucked into his chest.
We drove off in silence. I didn’t want to speak to him until we were face to face; he just didn’t want to speak.
At the Coffee Club, Malcolm was first in and chose a seat near the door. For a quick exit, I thought. In silence, we waited for the waitress.
‘She’s had one too many helpings of chocolate fudge cake,’ Malcolm said unkindly after she had taken our order.
‘Right, Malcolm. Suppose we start at the beginning…’
‘Aye, well. I was in some bother. So I filled in a couple of slips at the bank…’
‘A couple of slips?’
‘They were all against folk who had plenty money in their account.’ He studied the menu, despite the fact he’d already ordered.
‘So that makes it alright does it?’ I barely stopped myself from shouting. ‘That excuses your theft does it? They had plenty of cash in their account?’
‘No it doesn’t,’ he answered, his face long with shame. ‘I was being flip. Anyway what’s eatin’ your gusset?’ He looked me up and down. ‘And why are you not wearing a bank suit?’
‘What clown initialled and authorised your bogus withdrawals?’
‘You did.’ He flinched as the implications of this registered.
‘Aye, and who do the bank think is your accomplice?’ My face was only inches from his. He leaned back, to recover his space.
‘Andy. I am so … I am so sorry. I had no idea they would try and pin it on you. I’ll hand myself in tomorrow.’
‘Will you fuck. You’ll do it today.’ I grabbed his arm, which was resting on the table. I squeezed it, hard. He pulled away and rubbed at the pain.
‘Right, right. I’ll do it today.’
‘And I’m coming with you.’
‘What? Do you not trust…’ he changed his mind about asking that question. ‘I suppose not. Andy believe me. I am so sorry. I never imagined…’ He paused while the waitress set down our steaming cups.
‘What’s happened to you?’ he asked while rubbing at an invisible stain on the table top.
‘I’ve been suspended, pending an investigation.’ I poured sugar into my cup, ‘Since they thought I was involved they didn’t want me around in case I tampered with any evidence.’ I took a sip and burnt my lip. The coffee was too hot. ‘What on earth were you thinking, Malcolm? Did you think the customers wouldn’t notice? Did you actually think that we wouldn’t trace you once they did? Did you actually think?’
‘I’ve made a mess of things haven’t I?’
‘You got that fucking right.’
He leaned forward and rested his forehead on his right hand. His eyes fixed on the table as he spoke. ‘Someone,’ he began slowly, ‘had some evidence, photographic evidence of me in a compromising situation. They threatened to send it to Head Office.’ He ran a finger round the lip of his cup. ‘And they were going to send stuff to my mum. I couldn’t allow that. My mum would have had a heart attack. I didn’t give a fuck about the bank, it was Mum I was worried about.’
‘This someone was bribing you then?’
He nodded. ‘Ten thousand the first time, fifteen the second.’
‘There was a first time?’
‘Afraid so. The bastard lied to me. Said he destroyed the photos. Then he came back for more.’
‘Where were you when Dallas was on the telly? They always come back for more. What was in the photos?’
‘I can’t tell you.’
‘Can’t or won’t?’
‘Does it matter? I don’t want you to know. I don’t want anyone to know.’
‘Where did you get the money from the first time?’
Malcolm said nothing, his concentration deep in the sugar bowl.
‘Oh, Jesus.’ It came to me. ‘Those cash differences. That was you! You fucking idiot, Malcolm, how could you? I spoke up for you. I trusted you.’
‘Sorry, sorry, sorry. If I could undo it, believe me I would. I was a clown to think I could get away with it.’
‘You said this last time you handed over fifteen thousand. We could only account for three and a half?’
‘I actually managed to take five. The rest…’ he ran a finger along his lips, ‘… the rest I took from my mum.’
‘Oh, Malcolm.’ This was too much. ‘Your own mother?’
‘I couldn’t let her find out, not like that, not ever.’
‘Malcolm what’s so bad that you’d steal from your own mother?’
‘I can’t tell you.’
‘Did you murder someone?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘Did you rape a ten-year-old?’
‘Andy.’
‘What? Cos it must be something downright fucking evil for you to steal all this money.’
‘I’m not telling you.’
‘Why did you run away to London? Why did you then come back?’ I was relentless, I wanted answers. This was something I could have an impact on.
‘What is this? Why don’t you just shine a torch in my eyes and get it over with?’
‘Believe me, if I thought it would work, then I would.’ ‘I ran away because it was all getting to me. I couldn’t handle it. Taking money from my mum was the last straw. I knew I’d reached bottom. Then I got another letter from the blackmailer.’
‘He wanted more?’
Malcolm nodded. ‘So I ran away. I couldn’t go on stealing.’
Looking at Malcolm as he spoke, I could barely believe that this was the same guy I’d known all these years. His famous sense of humour, crushed under the weight of his problems, his long fingers never still as he fidgeted with every item on the table, his eyes searching the face of everyone who came in the door.
‘What made you come back so quickly? You’ve been barely gone a week.’
‘I knew that the blackmailer would carry out his threat when I didn’t give him the money. After all, he’d got plenty from me already. Each day I was away I spoke with Mum, I knew from her voice that she’d received nothing. So I thought, if I came home I could intercept the mail before Mum got to it. The bank, I would just have to take my chances. I know that if there is any potential of embarrassment they don’t bring a case to trial. I hoped that they would just sack me.’ He started playing with the salt cellar.
‘You’d be as well telling me what’s in these photos if they’re going to be sent to the bank anyway.’
‘Andy, I can’t tell you. Not face to face. I’ve known you too long. I don’t want to see the expression on your face when you find out.’
‘Okay.’ In the face of Malcolm’s contrition, I suddenly felt ashamed of myself for pressing the point. ‘So what do we do now?’
‘Will you take me into the bank to face the music?’
‘Sure. If you want me to.’ Now that he was going to own up to his actions, my anger at him had dissipated and I was keen to offer my support.
‘Who’s conducting the investigation?’
‘Roy Campbell.’
‘
Fuck.’
Conversation and noise hit the brick wall of Malcolm and my appearance when we entered the banking hall. Heads looked up from printouts, fingers hovered over keyboards as everyone watched our progress through the hall and into my office.
‘Ah. The very man.’ Roy Campbell was sitting behind my desk. His eyes were on Malcolm as he spoke.
‘Malcolm’s here to tell you everything. Including the fact that I had nothing to do with any of this,’ I said.
‘We know,’ answered Roy, still staring at Malcolm. His expression a mixture of loathing and disgust.
‘What do you mean, you know? Why the fuck have I been suspended then?’
‘We’ve just only worked it out. This was handed in, over the counter this morning.’ He opened a large brown envelope and threw the contents across the desk at me. ‘The police are on their way.’
‘Oh no,’ I heard from behind me, then felt a gust of movement as Malcolm sprinted from the office.
‘Malcolm,’ I shouted and turned to go after him.
‘Leave him. We don’t want to see the disgusting animal in here again.’
‘Roy, what the…’
‘Andy, look at the pictures.’
I followed the line of his accusatory finger.
‘Oh … shit …’
14
When I reached my car, there was no sign of Malcolm. I’d hoped that he would wait to speak to me. Roy followed me out.
‘So what happens now?’ I asked him
‘This,’ he waved the photograph in the air, ‘we burn. Malcolm ceases to exist as far as the bank is concerned.’
‘They won’t charge him?
‘What do you think? The press would have a field day with this. I can just see the headlines. I just mentioned the police to give him the frighteners.’
‘What about me?’
‘You go home, put your suit on and get back to work.’
‘Oh, you think so.’ I stared at him, cooling down the heat of my anger before I spoke. ‘I want a written apology from you and from the bank before I even think about it. I feel a few days on the sick coming on, after all the stress I’ve been put through. There might even be a case for compensation.’
‘There’s no need to be like that.’
‘No need?’ I shouted at him. ‘No need?’
His expression changed as he realised he was in a deserted car park with a very angry and much bigger man than him. And one with a recent record of violence. He took a few steps back.
‘Andy…’ His tone was placatory, almost subservient. ‘I was just doing my job.’
‘Just doing your job? What a prick. All kinds of nasty people have used that as their justification.’ I stabbed him in the chest with a rigid finger. ‘You couldn’t wait to suspend me. You probably danced around my office after I’d gone.’ I stepped towards him.
‘Andy, calm down. Hitting me won’t undo any of this.’
Fortunately, I was not so angry that his words couldn’t reach me. ‘Aye, but it would make me feel a whole lot better.’ I poked him again. He took another step back and came up against a wall. He cowered, trying to merge with the brick.
‘Look at you, you’re pathetic.’ As my words sounded in my ear, I heard them in Anna’s voice. Not so long ago she had thrown the same words at me and here I was asserting my power over another, weaker person. I was no better than she was.
I thrust my hands into my pockets and backed off.
‘Stand up and come away from the wall, Roy. I’m not going to hit you.’
‘Of course you’re not.’ His laughter was just short of hysteria and filled with uncertainty.
‘No I’m not. But I do want a letter of apology and I’m going to take the rest of the day off. Give the letter to Sheila. She’ll get it to me.’
I drove to Malcolm’s house. He would have gone straight home to try and stop his mother from opening the envelope that was surely there. I had to speak to him, to offer him my reassurance. What I had seen depicted in that photo was going to take some getting used to. The truth that Malcolm was gay, was neither here nor there as far as I was concerned. But it was obviously an issue for him. Hadn’t we got over all that? Clearly not. Shame had driven him to the theft, as it had driven me to physically attacking someone. Shame was something that I was on intimate terms with. Perhaps I could be of help to him.
Joan opened the door to me as I walked up her path.
‘Andy, what’s going on?’ She twisted her fingers. ‘Can you tell me, cos that boy of mine is saying nothing.’
‘Where is he?’
‘I heard a commotion out in the street, opens the window and there’s my Malcolm wrestling in my front garden with another guy. This fella’s shouting at me, look at this envelope missus, he shouts. I thought Malcolm was going to kill him. I’ve never seen him so angry.’
‘Where’s Malcolm now?’
‘He’s up the stairs in his room.’
‘I’ll go and speak to him.’
‘Will you son? I’m worried sick. Don’t know what’s got into my lovely wee boy.’ She started to cry.
Putting my arm round her shoulder, I led her into the living room.
‘You have a wee seat here, Joan. I’ll go and speak to Malcolm and see what’s going on.’
‘No need, Andy.’ A voice carried from the door. ‘He’s here.’ Malcolm’s clothes were dirty and torn, his hair dishevelled and his eyes shone with defiance. His whole body was rigid with it. Like an animal that had been backed up against a wall, he was turning to fight.
‘Have you come here to gloat? To tell me how much I disgust you? Well you can save your breath, cos I couldn’t give a fuck anymore.’ He looked at his mum. The anger that was keeping him upright lessened a little. ‘Here you go, Mum. This is what all the fuss is about.’ She caught the envelope, her expression fearful. Whatever was hidden within the brown paper, she didn’t want to see.
‘On you go, Mum. You might as well know what your son is.’
‘I don’t want to look at this, Malcolm.’ She looked tiny in her chair.
‘Well you’re going to have to.’ He reached her, opened it up and thrust the photograph into her hand, ‘The bank will soon be charging me with theft and this’ll be all over the papers.’
A small sound escaped from between Joan’s lips. She didn’t want to look at the photograph, but simultaneously was unable to tear her gaze from it. In it she saw her son playing a prominent part. He was naked, bent over an office desk, while another naked male was poised to take him from behind. The bank’s highly recognisable logo was on the wall behind them.
‘Malcolm, the bank won’t charge you. They’re afraid of the negative publicity it would attract,’ I said.
He looked at me. The anger in his eyes died. It was replaced with deep, burning mortification.
‘Oh no.’ He reached out and tore the picture from his mother’s hands. He fell to his knees in front of her. ‘Mum, can you forget you saw this?’
His eyes searched hers for a clue to her reaction. Several emotions vied for the stage of her face. Disgust and disbelief bowed before the curtain for mere seconds. A mother’s love for a son in turmoil then took centre stage. I could see she wanted to hug him, but her repugnance at the images held her arms down by her sides.
‘Son, I don’t care if you’re gay, straight or if you wear garters under your suit. But this is something a mother doesn’t want to see…’ She closed her eyes against a flow of tears. Malcolm’s shoulders heaved as he gave in to his.
‘Listen, I’ll go and wait outside…’ I felt I was out of place.
Sitting in my car, I searched my memory for clues as to Malcolm’s sexual identity. People had continuously, over the years, questioned me as to his preference. They cited his lack of a long-term girlfriend and his continued habitation with his parents.
For me, all of that was a big, fat so what.
There was a knock on my car window, the door opened and Malcolm sat in the passeng
er seat. His eyes were puffed red with spent emotion, but otherwise, he looked lighter, easier.
‘Thanks.’ He offered me his hand. ‘Thanks for seeing this thing through with me. You’re not disgusted?’
‘If I’m to be completely honest, I’ve always kinda known that you were…’ I was unsure if I would offend him by saying the word. He helped me out.
‘Gay,’ he said.
‘But you weren’t talking about it, so I wasn’t going to bring it up. Anyway…’ I shrugged. ‘Who cares?’
‘Yeah, we like to think we’re living in enlightened times.’ He shook his head. ‘Besides, it was my call. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, never mind tell anyone else.’
‘But why didn’t you just tell everyone as soon as you were faced with this blackmail? People are a lot more understanding nowadays.’
‘Are they? Really? Sure, in the big city, there’s safety in numbers and anonymity. But in a town the size of Ayr? Folk give it all this tolerance crap in public, but in their own home it’s a different story. Besides, you have no idea what it’s like growing up, knowing you’re different. All I wanted was to be the same as everyone else. Dad screamed at the telly every time Boy George was on it. When we were kids, the worse insult you could call anyone was to call them a poof. I wanted no one to know. I would have hid it from myself if I could. So, knowing that every ounce of me was screaming “liar”, I carried on with my life as a hetero. I went out with girls, got drunk with the guys and hoped that I would be happy.’
‘Were you?’
‘I couldn’t have been more miserable. Eventually…’ his fingernails came under close scrutiny ‘… I cracked up. Either I would continue to live as a fraud or I would end it all.’
‘You thought of suicide?’ I was shocked.
‘Yes.’ He stared at his own private movie somewhere beyond the windscreen. ‘I couldn’t handle it anymore. I was something that disgusted me, something that disgusted everyone I knew. I couldn’t live with it.’ He looked at me. ‘Can you imagine what my dad would have done if he’d lived to see this? He’d have kicked my arse out. Never wanted to see me again.’
A Suitable Lie Page 26