by Ian Skewis
His thoughts drifted back to the restaurant and how he had waited for her to come back out of the kitchen. When she reappeared he bit the bullet and introduced himself, reminding her that he was the one who had picked up her purse. He was relieved when she remembered instantly.
‘Alistair,’ she repeated, as if it sounded foreign on her tongue. ‘That’s a nice name. Simple.’
He frowned, unsure what she meant.
‘I mean uncomplicated,’ she said, smiling, but her azure eyes drifted downwards, and Alistair quickly surmised that something was troubling her.
He became aware that he was being watched. Customers were giving him the once over because of the way he was dressed.
‘You might have to remove your baseball cap,’ Caroline whispered.
Alistair took it off and ran a hand across his cropped hair in order to conceal his scar. Then, in a moment of annoyance at being singled out, he said loudly, ‘Actually, this is Glasgow. They don’t really bother about that kind of thing, even in the West End.’ He took pleasure in seeing the startled look on Caroline’s face and briefly wondered if he had taken his defiance a little too far, but now he couldn’t stop himself. ‘It’s all right everyone, I’m not a drug dealer,’ he announced, mimicking the serious and self-important tone of a BBC news correspondent. He heard someone tut, but by and large they all went back to their business.
‘See?’ he said, arms folded in mock defence but smiling broadly.
‘You’ll get me fired,’ whispered Caroline through a nervous giggle. ‘I’ll get you some tea, then you’ll need to go.’ And she gestured for him to sit down. After he’d finished he was about to pay when she said that it was free of charge.
‘Thanks,’ he said, secretly relieved that he could keep whatever minimal loose change he might have for another day. Then he added, ‘I’d like to see you again.’
He tried not to appear too nervous as she paused before looking up from the till. He witnessed that same troubled look again. She seemed to be trying to read him. ‘Well, you know where I work now, so I suppose I can’t stop you,’ she said, and gave him a wary smile.
In other words, yes, Alistair thought, and it was his turn to feel unbridled confidence when he walked out of the restaurant.
After another cup of tea at the Grand, Alistair decided his face didn’t fit and suggested they meet at Kelvingrove Park instead. They sat on a bench looking at the Stewart Memorial Fountain, with its gilded cherubs defending a circular moat of water supplied from Loch Katrine, the Neo-Gothic tower of Glasgow University rearing up behind it in the distance. Caroline talked about her job. She hated it.
‘No, really I do,’ she said earnestly. ‘It’s just not very… me.’ And she self-consciously stroked her hair.
Alistair was bemused at how she could be down to earth one minute and full of airs and graces the next. He could see why she had chosen Matthew, the guy with the Colgate smile. They had a lot in common, right down to the private-school accent. But what the hell does she see in me? he wondered.
‘So what do you want to do with your life?’ he asked.
Caroline shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I just want a better one.’ She stared right back at him, as if still trying to read him.
Alistair avoided her gaze and wanted to ask, Am I on parole or something? He could tell that she was not yet convinced about his motives. She was very guarded and seemed to be weighing up the odds, deciding who was the better man – him or Matthew. The possibility that she might even contemplate sticking with that posh twat was too much for him to bear. He speculated that she might be cooling off on him already and was about to confront her on the issue when she moved a little closer to him.
‘It’s my fucking family’s fault,’ she said tersely.
Alistair inwardly sighed with relief. I’m still in the game, he thought, but felt himself seizing up at the prospect that Caroline was about to go off on yet another tirade about her mother. Here we go again. Bracing himself, he sat through her entire monologue, pretending to listen, as she described in great detail how her mother had kept her ambitions in check by constantly interfering and bringing her down. She loathed her brother, too.
‘He’s a moody little mummy’s boy,’ she grumbled. ‘If he had his way he would have me killed for dishonour.’ And her father was something of a nonentity, too, it seemed. Alistair stared into the middle distance, waiting patiently for her diatribe to conclude.
‘I keep feeling that I’ve got to please them. Is it the same for you?’
‘It’s the same for all of us,’ Alistair lied.
‘I don’t think they see me as someone to be reckoned with, you know? Nothing I ever do is good enough for them. I feel like a performing seal sometimes.’
Caroline paused for reflection and Alistair cast a sidewards glance at her. She touched her ear lobe, and said quietly, ‘I just want to make something of myself, you know? In order to do that I need to focus and work as hard as possible. But I want to do it for myself, not for them. And I want no distractions. I can’t afford to be veered off the straight and narrow.’
Alistair sat silent, unsure what to say. Something brushed up against his leg, and he turned to see Caroline smiling slyly. ‘Well, I don’t mind the occasional distraction,’ she said softly. Her lips were brushing against his and they kissed, in full view of everyone in the park. I guess this means we’re serious now, he thought as he concentrated on not getting a hard on.
But it was something of a mystery to Alistair at first. Why would someone like Caroline opt out of a relationship with a well-bred restaurant owner and opt in for a pale-skinned wee man who had left his middle-class roots behind and settled for surviving in one of the poorest parts of Glasgow with no job and hardly any money?
Am I just a bit of rough to her?
A few more park meetings later she answered his question. ‘You make me smile,’ she said, without prompting. ‘You’re genuine. You don’t have to speak fancy or anything. You’re just… you.’ She shrugged and laughed helplessly.
‘I’ve got working-class charm,’ he said, putting on a grin and puffing up his chest and arms in a parody of pride, whilst trying to subdue the doubts and fears he carried about his newly declared status.
Her resulting laugh empowered him. He had something that Matthew didn’t – he wasn’t sure what it was but Caroline seemed to like it. Spurred on by her belief in him, he spent the next few days searching laboriously for a job – any job – but to no avail, so he did what he always did – and picked someone’s pocket. There wasn’t much cash in the purse but there was enough to fund his planned night out. He harked back to the moment he had found Caroline’s purse and he felt his face redden with shame at the thought that he had almost stolen from her, too. He marvelled at how things had turned out.
Two months passed and they had become inseparable. As a direct result of her existence in his life, Alistair felt his self-confidence blossom. He no longer looked in the mirror and saw a friendless 21-year-old staring back at him, the scar making him look much harder than he actually was. His expectations were raised and so was his view of the world around him.
Several months later, the all-too-brief Glasgow summer was coming to an end. The light was already so cold and clinical it cast a scientific glare on the buildings, making them seem hyper-real, their angles rendered stark and clear-cut. The glass fronts of the metropolis towered into the blue, rising towards the broken rays of the sun and mirroring wedges of dazzling light across the city, whilst freezing fog transformed the distant office blocks into monolithic ghosts. As Alistair walked amongst the throng and towards the iconic Victorian bridge of Central Station, he noted the looks of derision and fear. It was a curious dilemma that he had tolerated for most of his young adult life – that perfect strangers should give way to him – as one does a leper – because his matching blue tracksuit and trainers and the scar above his brow gave him the look of the lowest common denominator. But he was used to people’s narrow ass
umptions by now. Their prejudice would have been justified once upon a time – but not anymore: he was a sales rep for a sports shop; his tracksuit was his uniform. He was earning a wage and paying his tax. He had passed his driving test, first time. He was just like them now. One of the good people.
Reminding himself of this fact gave him an increased vigour as he strode under the bridge with its neon shopfronts and rank smell of stale chip fat. Now that they were an item, there was no need for secrets and doubts, no need to deflect any more questions. She knew about his missing father. She knew about the fight Alistair had with a policeman that resulted in him requiring 14 stitches across his forehead. She knew about his old friends who were petty criminals. There was nothing she didn’t know about him. Caroline had encouraged Alistair to open up and let her further into his private world. Now he felt unburdened, liberated from a self-imposed prison. He smiled dopily as he came to the startling conclusion that Caroline had done the impossible. She had actually made him happy.
And then, only hours ago in the car, the announcement that she was pregnant. It was the absolute confirmation of his hopes and dreams. The highest of peaks, surmounted, vaulted over in one giant step.
*
They were back on the road once again, the windows rolled down to let some much needed air in.
‘I’ve got a new job, in a book shop,’ she said. ‘I’ve left my parents’ plans for me on the back burner.’
‘Good for you,’ he replied, admiring her new-found confidence.
‘I’m twenty. I can do what I like now,’ she said evenly. ‘I start as soon as we come back from your mum’s.’
‘Great,’ he said, suddenly sounding less enthusiastic than he intended.
‘You okay?’ He felt her looking at him now, frowning with concern.
Alistair sighed. ‘A wee bit tired, that’s all.’
‘Do you want to stop off at a hotel or something?’
He felt her hand on his knee and glanced at her. ‘Nah. I’ll be fine,’ he replied, smiling faintly. ‘Glasgow to Hobbs Brae is an easy ride.’ A moment passed and he felt her hand lift away, an indication that she was not entirely convinced with his explanation. He decided to tell her something that had been on his mind of late.
‘I’ve got a surprise for you,’ he began. ‘A special surprise.’ He cast a quick look at her and caught the beginnings of a smile on her lips as she tried to keep her eyes on the road ahead. He tapped his fingers playfully on the steering wheel and waited for the suspense to become unbearable.
‘Okay,’ she relented, ‘what is this special surprise?’
‘It’s a secret,’ he said, and burst out laughing. A split second later he felt a stinging sensation on his thigh from the slap that she gave him. He looked at her questioningly and saw her mocking smile.
‘So intriguing. And keep your eyes on the road, lover.’
He gave an obedient nod of the head and stated, ‘Everything is a prelude, a prologue, to something else.’ He smiled cryptically.
‘That’s deep, for you.’
‘Not me,’ he replied. ‘My mum.’
‘Thought it was too good to be true,’ she quipped.
‘Besides, I’m not deep.’
‘What are you then?’
‘I’m deeply shallow.’
Caroline’s resulting laughter was disarming. It pealed loud and clear like a bell, temporarily taking his mind off what had been nagging at him. A car had been tailing them for some time now. A Porsche. He thought he recognised the registration plate, but he didn’t want to jump to any conclusions just yet.
He felt Caroline looking at him concernedly again. ‘Another coffee?’ he quickly suggested.
‘You know me so well,’ he heard her reply warmly.
They arrived at another service station. Alistair allowed Caroline to walk ahead of him, then opened the door of the café for her.
‘How gentlemanly,’ she commented, and adopted a simpering pose.
‘After you,’ he said, not really paying heed, for he was too busy looking around to see if there was anything suspicious. He was relieved to find that the car had vanished.
‘You must have been desperate for a break,’ she remarked once they’d sat down, ‘given how quickly you turned off that road. I nearly got whiplash.’
‘Sorry,’ he said, and changed the subject by making an observation that she was drinking camomile tea.
‘Coffee’s not so good when you’re pregnant,’ she said, looking down at her cup. ‘I read that somewhere.’ A pause, then he heard her say quietly, ‘Of course, neither’s whiplash.’
Alistair exhaled. It was obvious she knew that something was wrong and she wasn’t going to give up until he told her. ‘Maybe I’m just a wee bit more tired than I thought,’ he said, hoping that would be the end of it.
Caroline stared at her cup a little longer, then said, ‘You don’t wear your cap anymore.’
‘Guess I don’t need it anymore,’ he said flatly.
She stared at him. ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’
He nodded.
‘Are you worried about me meeting your mum?’
Alistair thought, Give it a rest, why don’t you?
‘Yeah, that’s it,’ he lied.
‘Don’t be. She can’t be any worse than mine,’ Caroline began, and Alistair braced himself for another onslaught of mummy issues. Pretending to listen, he self-consciously touched his forehead as he thought about how sullen he must have sounded. True, he hadn’t visited his mother in a long time, but right now what worried him the most was Caroline’s ex-boyfriend. Why would he follow us? he wondered. Jealousy? Obsession? Something else I don’t know about?
He sensed Caroline had stopped her diatribe and he felt the urge to fill the silence with something, anything, that would maintain some semblance of normality whilst his mind raced with the possibilities.
‘How you feeling? Tired?’ he asked, trying to sound upbeat. No response. Thinking that she had caught him out for not listening and was in a mood, he was about to apologise when he saw that she had fallen asleep.
Alistair sat there for a moment and watched as she slept. He smiled to himself. Here he was once more, amazed to be sitting opposite the mother of his child, her eyes closed to the world, her trust in him implicit. He loved her. It had become the defining fact of his life. He loved everything about her: the shape of her posture in the bedclothes; the casual grace of her walk. Sometimes he could taste her, could detect the memory of her scent, even though she wasn’t there. It disturbed him the way he felt. Caroline’s absence could be every bit as overpowering as her presence. She left a huge fingerprint in his small world.
Which made the continued presence of Matthew all the more difficult to accept. It was his car that had been following them, he felt sure of it. Alistair suspected he was being paranoid, but he knew that her ex was never quite out of the picture, and the sight of the Porsche all but confirmed it. He had learned that they still remained good friends, even saw her in Matthew’s flashy vehicle once in Glasgow, and this after they had supposedly split up. He wondered why she hadn’t told him but at the same time he understood; she didn’t want to make him jealous. But what if she’s still seeing him, in that way? And what if the child isn’t mine at all? Does she have any more secrets, or surprises in the waiting? He shook his head a little and dispelled once more the ghost of his insecurities, reminding himself that he’d given Matthew the slip. Just then Caroline jolted awake. Alistair didn’t dare to ask what or who she had been dreaming about.
Back in the car, his spirits lifted. He passed a sign for Loch Ness and distracted himself by talking about the mythical monster and what if it was really true. Before long he decided to cut out such crap and stop at another service station. They went for a meal and more tea. Trying not to notice the suffocating heat, he turned the conversation to his mother and he wondered how she was. He was looking forward to seeing her expression of surprise and delight when he told her that she
was going to be a grandmother.
‘Can I borrow your phone?’ he asked.
Caroline looked blank.
‘I’m not getting a signal,’ he explained.
‘Sure,’ she said, after a pause, and passed it to him.
‘I need to call my mum to let her know what time to expect us.’
‘Of course. I think it’s really good that you’re staying in touch with her now. I know it’s not easy. Mine is a… well, you know what I think about her.’
He nodded, not really listening because there was a strange tone at the other end. He waited.
‘That’s odd,’ he said finally. ‘Phone’s dead.’
Caroline’s eyes widened. ‘Is she not in?’
‘No, it’s not that. It’s like it’s been cut off or something.’
‘Power cut maybe? I did hear someone say there’s a storm coming.’
‘Guess so.’ He brooded for a moment, then hung up and passed the phone back to Caroline.
‘I’m sure everything’s okay,’ she said, and touched his knee again. ‘So, what is this special surprise you’ve got me?’
‘I’m taking you to see my mum, remember?’ He kicked himself at how sarcastic he sounded.
‘I know that, silly,’ she said, laughing. ‘I mean the other surprise.’
He managed a smirk. ‘Just you wait and see.’
‘Okay, man of mystery,’ she replied, and they left the station café.
Alistair rubbed his tired eyes. A four-hour journey and we’ve done nothing but stop at service stations, he thought. But he was finding it difficult to concentrate. He could feel a headache coming on.