The Confirmation

by L G Dickson

  ‘So, does your local Member of the Scottish Parliament get a “well done” kiss?’

  Annie let out a short sharp yelp, spilled some coffee and wiped toast crumbs from her mouth with the back of her hand.

  ‘Really? Oh absolutely. Well done you, James. Really – well done you.’ As she moved towards him arms outstretched she suddenly realised how ridiculous she must look.

  ‘Good God, look at the state of me.’ She looked down at her black nylon socks and felt the tangled mess sitting on top of her head.

  ‘You look just lovely.’ And then he kissed her, marmalade residue and all. They started to move in unison towards the bedroom and then just as they got to the foot of the bed, the doorbell rang.

  ‘We could pretend we’re not here,’ she whispered.

  James nodded in agreement and resumed his passionate kissing, pulling at her bra straps. Then suddenly he pulled himself away.

  ‘Ah, wait a minute. Might be something to do with the count. Maybe there’s paperwork I forgot to sign or maybe there’s something wrong, with the result, I mean.’ Flames of desire had been quickly doused. He shook his trousers in an attempt to rearrange and settle the contents and made his way to the front door.

  ‘Bloody hell, James.’ After Annie’s own ardour had quickly been extinguished, her immediate thought was that this was not the state in which anyone from officialdom should find the partner of a recently elected politician. She ran out and locked herself in the bathroom.

  She was trying to untangle her hair when she heard voices at the front door, barely audible at first and now getting louder. She took her towelling robe from behind the door and went out to join them. It was as she had thought. Kirsty and Duncan, Virginia and Gordon, Hugo and Jack. The girls were showering her man in kisses and the men were slapping him and each other on the back. Annie joined the melee just as Duncan produced a bottle of champagne and carton of orange juice. ‘Bucks fizz all round?’

  ‘Well, lovely people, some of us have to get to work so I’ll pass, thank you.’ Annie briefly joined in the kissing and hugging and then quickly extricated herself to finish off her morning prep. She wasn’t sure anybody had noticed until, just as she picked up her briefcase and headed for the door, James was suddenly at her side.

  ‘Sorry about all this, darling. They’ve all got a bit over excited.’

  Alcohol and citrus gave him a little rosy glow but he looked tired. Happy but tired. It was his turn to burrow down into her neck.

  ‘It’ll just be us tonight – finally.’

  Her walk up Gloucester Lane to the offices of Saunders and MacKay was brisk. She couldn’t help but feel elated at James’s success, and the adrenaline rush that accompanied his news was propelling her up the grey cobbled lane, through the higgledy-piggledy arrangement of mews properties on either side.

  She had a nine o’clock with Bryce and had only just made it in time. Simon was waiting to give her a brief ‘state of mind’ update. It helped Annie no end to understand Bryce’s frame of mind before any meeting and this was just another unique, if quirky, little role undertaken by the indispensable Simon.

  ‘Not himself at all today. Not angry or anything, just not himself. Looks like he’d rather be anywhere rather than here right now.’ Simon handed her a plastic cup of insipid dark brown liquid. ‘Here’s your coffee. Hope you can fathom him out.’

  He gave her a kind of good luck look and ambled back to his desk. Not like Bryce, not like him at all, Annie thought. He’s always so focused.

  She knocked gently and waited for him to invite her in.

  ‘Come in.’ He sounded weary, reinforcing Simon’s assessment. ‘Aah, Annie. Of course. We’ve got a meeting, haven’t we?’

  She sat down opposite the large mahogany desk and watched Bryce pull out a number of the drawers on either side and swiftly close them again. Clearly unable to find what he was looking for, he looked up at her and smiled.

  ‘Yes, I’ve brought my briefing notes. Normal Friday run-through of where we are on key cases?’ She looked for some sign of recognition.

  ‘Ah yes, of course. But before we begin I just wanted to speak to you about something.’ He cleared his throat noisily before going on.

  ‘We have a couple of options for new premises that I’m going to put to a full meeting of the partners. My recommendation will be Lyon House on Queensferry Road. It’s a purpose-built office block, as I’m sure you know, and it can accommodate everyone.’

  Bryce looked blankly at her as Annie considered the implication of his words. Neither he nor Annie had worked anywhere other than Moray Place. They would be leaving the grand stone edifice with its cracked ceilings and flaking plaster, unable to cling onto the cornice’s ornate carvings. They too could cling on no longer – the open-plan glass box awaited.

  ‘It’ll be stifling in the summer – all that glass.’ It was an inadequate response but it was all she could muster.

  ‘And the other thing is – I won’t be going. I’m going to retire, Annie. It wouldn’t be me. I know that and so there’s no point trying to lever myself into something that’s just not going to feel comfortable. It’s a young person’s game now. Settlements over lunch are a thing of the past. You could beat someone hands down in the courtroom and a couple of hours later you’d be sitting down to dinner. It was the people I knew, the friendships forged. That kind of thing is gone – and I need to go with it.’

  He spoke crisply and curtly but at the same time she thought he looked terribly sad, as though he’d lost someone very dear to him.

  ‘Oh, Bryce. I can’t imagine this place without you. You are Saunders and MacKay. Can’t you just give it a go? It might not be all that bad.’ She knew she sounded less than convincing.

  He pulled himself up, clasped his hands and set them resolutely on the desk in front of him. The old Bryce was back.

  ‘No, Annie. I’ve made up my mind.’

  Change again, Annie thought. So much change.

  CHAPTER 16

  Over the next few years life seemed to settle down; everyone seemed to stay in the same place and finally take root – everyone that was apart from Hugo. After he had finished his studies, during which time he had worked part time as a researcher for James, he headed back to his homeland before settling in Brussels to work on climate change policy. Much to Annie’s delight he had not returned alone. At university Hugo had met a pretty young girl from Glasgow, of Italian heritage, named Sofia, and they were now engaged to be married. She was small in stature, of slim build with long dark hair and huge brown eyes. Annie could see more than a faint resemblance to his mother but James dismissed such notions.

  ‘That’s just creepy.’ He was listening to Annie, settled into his familiar spot on the sofa, hands clasped and eyes shut.

  ‘Oh, I don’t think so. I think it happens a lot.’ Annie was reading through case notes for a tribunal hearing the following day. A senior council official’s office had been found to contain large quantities of sex toys, pornographic videos and numerous copies of a magazine entitled Spank. Annie moved the conversation on by trying to talk to James about spanking but he claimed not to understand the attraction.

  ‘Must be something. Is it power, dominance or is it just a bum thing?’

  ‘I’m sorry, darling, I really have no idea. It’s not something I’ve ever really thought about.’

  ‘Mmm. Wonder if any of the others might know.’ She put her papers down and lifted her glasses up to rest on her head. ‘Shall we invite everyone round Saturday or pop up to see the Drummonds?’

  ‘Not if we’re going to spend the evening talking about weird sexual fetishes.’

  ‘No, of course not. Just thought it would be nice.’ Annie shrugged her shoulders and let out a resigned sigh. Despite the exotic nature of the case she had in front of her, Annie was bored at work and the
accompanying negativity was spilling over into home life. Bryce’s encouragement to apply for the role of managing partner had failed to persuade her; she knew intrinsically that it wasn’t the right fit. Reluctantly she had to admit to herself that she just didn’t want the responsibility and was sensible enough to recognise her limitations, or at least that’s what she told everybody. The ensuing barrage of objections from friends and colleagues fell on deaf ears. As a result she was, in Simon’s words, ‘back on the tools’ and working for, again in Simon’s words, ‘a complete tosser’ called Logan. It had occurred to her that there must be smart, well-adjusted, kind men who just happened to have a surname for a first name – Annie just hadn’t met one yet. She was also acutely aware that she was in danger of joining Kirsty in her condemnation of all such accursed creatures.

  The phone rang, jolting her from her moment of introspection. It was Virginia.

  ‘Hello, darling. Just wanted to say Gordon and I are simply overwhelmed at getting the invite. He’s such a lovely boy and never in a month of Sundays did we expect this.’

  Silence.

  ‘Annie? Are you there?’

  Annie was trying to piece together the bits but there were just too many imponderables.

  ‘Sorry, Gin. Invite to what?’

  ‘Hugo’s wedding of course.’

  Annie was more than a little stunned by the news. Obviously brother and sister had spoken about a wedding – sometime in the future, possibly next year – but she had no idea that firm plans had been made.

  ‘Right, of course, of course. Well, it will be lovely and hopefully the date works for you.’

  ‘Oh yes, don’t worry about that. How are we all going to get there though? Kirsty got her invite this morning too and of course they’re all excited, as you can imagine.’

  ‘Oh yes, yes. I can imagine. Look, let me just chat to James and we’ll see what we’re going to do about the travel thing.’

  ‘Oh great, great. I’ll just leave it with you. And, Annie?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘We really are thrilled to be invited.’

  ‘Well, of course you’d be invited. He loves you both.’

  ‘What was that all about?’ James was sitting upright, clearly alerted to the note of consternation in Annie’s voice and the confused look on her face.

  ‘Hugo’s wedding.’ She moved slowly to sit back down by his side, mulling over the slightly one-sided conversation.

  ‘Really? When?’

  ‘No idea.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Nope. Still no idea.’

  The look of consternation slipped seamlessly across to James. ‘He seriously hasn’t spoken to you about this?’

  Annie knew there must be some misunderstanding. Hugo couldn’t possibly not invite his own sister to his wedding.

  Just as they were discussing ringing him up to clarify, the phone rang. It was Hugo.

  ‘Annie. Have you got an invitation?’

  ‘No, no invitation. But Kirsty and Virginia have theirs.’ She tried to sound unfazed by the whole thing.

  ‘Oh God. I am sorry. They were supposed to go out next week but Sofia picked up a few from my desk by mistake and sent them. I’m so sorry. Of course I wanted to discuss with you.’

  Tension eased. ‘You don’t have to discuss anything with me, Hugo, it’s your wedding. I’m just happy you’ve sorted things. So when and where exactly?’

  ‘Well, it’s 5th May next year at Craigachie House.’

  ‘Craigachie House, really?’ The House was on the Assynt Estate, not that far from the cottage that now belonged to Annie and James, and had recently been restored to something like its former glory.

  ‘Well, we thought about all sorts of venues, countries even, but Assynt means so much to you and James and I think without that, well, I’m not sure I would have found my path in life, my passion. In fact I probably wouldn’t have met Sofia.’

  He spoke to her in his clipped French accent tinged with Scots from far across the continent. ‘It’s really because of you two that I’ve got my career and, I guess, the love of my life. Somehow it feels like it all started there – in Assynt, I mean.’

  From far across the continent, he’d never felt closer.

  ‘And, Annie?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I want to ask James to be my best man. Do you think he would be okay with that? Can you hear me? It’s not the best connection.’

  Now she was choking back the tears. ‘I’m sure he would. Let me pass you on to him.’ She passed the phone, absolutely sure about the connection.

  *

  It was a beautiful, simple wedding. The ceremony took place in a light and airy room that had all the hallmarks of a Robert Adams neo-classical interior design project. Pale pastel colours and ornate plasterwork. Alcoves filled with busts of Greek gods and charioteers racing round the ceiling. Annie and her cohort were among the first to arrive; she was without James who had already headed off to meet up with Hugo and so it was Duncan, puffing out his chest and straining to get free of his tartan cummerbund, who proudly escorted her in with Kirsty at his other side. They entered ahead of assorted Scottish, Swiss and Italian guests and suddenly a kaleidoscope of deep reds, greens and blues had shattered the pristine formality of the room. The bride and groom had requested that guests wear something tartan, anything at all, from a mere notion of tartan plaid to full Highland dress. And what an assortment it was: kilts and trews, skirts and sashes. The Highland hordes had descended and the pale Wedgwood tones and white plaster mouldings shrank back into the walls in fright.

  Hugo looked dashing. His sleek black hair had grown and was swept back from his face. He had chosen not to wear a jacket but stood proudly next to Sofia in a crisp white shirt and kilt while James, with a nod to formality, was wearing his green Lovat tweed jacket, setting off his tartan perfectly. Annie was sure she’d never seen him look so handsome. Drummond, Anderson, Kerr and other assorted shades and patterns of plaid mingled, swirled and clashed. It was a magnificent sight.

  The general din began to subside to allow the ceremony to begin. Annie glanced across to the other side of the room to see the elegantly pristine figure of Céline. She stood perfectly still; quiet and still, wearing a pale pink Chanel suit and matching pillbox hat. White gloves and sharp stilettos completed the mother of the groom ensemble. There was no tartan here. She suddenly turned, smiled and waved and Annie could see she was pressing a small cotton handkerchief with her thumb, hard into the palm of her hand. Annie smiled and waved back – and then suddenly she saw it pinned to the left side of Céline’s Parisian creation. A small ribbon of Anderson tartan. Annie blinked back the tiny tear that had filled the corner of her eye, sure that Céline had done likewise.

  After the ceremony and reception, Céline was heading back to Edinburgh with family members for some mandatory sightseeing. The happy couple were spending a few days at Annie and James’s cottage before spending the rest of their honeymoon in Italy and the New Town friends were heading back to Drummond House for a few days. Annie had overheard James giving Hugo instructions on setting the fire, hot water controls, location of various keys and what could be found in the makeshift garage that he might find useful. Annie smiled. She had left detailed instructions on the table in the lounge and had stocked the kitchen with enough provisions to make their stay more than comfortable. It hadn’t occurred to her that there might be something in that garage remotely useful to a couple on their honeymoon but, then again, James knew best. Best man after all.

  Duncan’s brother Lachlan had brought a small minibus from one of the estates Drummond Enterprises was now managing and they all stumbled in with their assorted cases and shopping bags filled with provisions for a long weekend. Beef, who was now playing rugby for Scotland Schoolboys, plonked himself down opposite Annie. He was onl
y thirteen but he was starting to develop a muscular physique even at that tender age. His round face was covered in freckles and his teeth gleamed at Annie as he regaled her with tales from the playing fields of Perthshire. He was such a gregarious little lad, full of energy and zest for life. She knew it was unlikely to last through adolescence but she enjoyed his vim and vigour for now. Soon he would enter the dark teenage tunnel and so best to appreciate him now.

  They were exhausted but still laughing at Duncan’s exuberant approach to Scottish country dancing. They were all completely satiated with good Highland fare but, despite numerous protestations, Kirsty and Virginia quickly whipped up some serious doorstopper sandwiches and heated a mountain of sausage rolls in the Aga.

  The detritus from Hugo’s wedding was spread across the Drummonds’ sprawling lounge – tweed and tartan accessories, ties and sashes, wilting buttonholes were all cast aside on tables or draped over the back of chairs. Annie sat with her head on James’s shoulder and looked across at Gordon. He was lying flat out, his head in Virginia’s lap, one arm outstretched with his hand round a tumbler of malt. His eyes were closed and he was smiling, a strange little crooked smile.

  ‘He doesn’t really drink whisky,’ Virginia whispered loudly over his head while wrenching the glass from his hand. Duncan had poured out a few good measures of Dalwhinnie for the company and the effects were starting to show. Annie could hardly keep her eyes open.