It had always felt like they were more Sarah’s friends than his, falling into the category of people he never saw without her. Thus he guessed that whatever they had heard about the divorce, he was unlikely to have come out of the dispatches well.
That covered the anxious and awkward aspects of how he was feeling. The guilt part derived from the fact that he had only made the effort to get in touch after all these years because he suspected they might have information. In fact, it went double because he was pretending otherwise. He had called Austin to say he was staying in Inverness for a couple of days’ climbing (lie number one) and had remembered (actually just learned, so lie number two) that he and Lucas lived there now, so would they mind meeting up for a drink.
Austin insisted he come for dinner instead, which reminded Parlabane that Lucas loved to cook. He remembered huge noisy groups gathered around their kitchen table in Marchmont, candles jammed into wine bottles and the Lemonheads on the CD player. Lucas always squeezed in next to Parlabane as a non-medical ally and sole hope of taking the conversation elsewhere. He was a radio producer in those days, working on news and current affairs for BBC Scotland.
They got on well enough, but Parlabane remembered with a further pang how he had always bodyswerved Lucas’s overtures towards meeting up at other times because he tended to act like a bit of a fanboy. That was a hazard he’d never need to worry about again.
The front door opened before he could reach the bell, and they welcomed him inside with a warmth he felt he didn’t deserve for any number of reasons. It was an indication of how bad things had got after the Leveson Inquiry that he was always surprised when anyone gave the impression they still liked him.
As soon as he walked into their living room, he clocked the photo taking pride of place on the mantelpiece. Suits, smiles and a blizzard of confetti.
‘You guys got married?’ he asked.
‘Soon as it became legal,’ Lucas replied, his Canadian accent still not softened by twenty years in Scotland.
‘Congratulations.’
Parlabane felt an upspring of emotion that he hoped they interpreted as being all about them.
It wasn’t, though: it was merely another thing that brought home the scale of what was gone. Austin and Lucas had been together roughly as long as he and Sarah, but it turned out they had been beginning married life round about the time he and Sarah were ending it. Christ, he wondered: was life fucking with him right now by tossing these things in his face, or was it just that you inferred cruel parallels and painful significance all the more when you were feeling so raw?
At least it turned out he needn’t have worried about awkwardness deriving from what they had heard about his divorce, as there was far more awkwardness to be derived from them having heard nothing.
Lucas was setting down their main course on the kitchen table when Austin said it.
‘So, how’s Sarah these days? She took an academic post for a while, didn’t she? But last I heard she was back in the clinical side of things.’
If there was a positive to be gained from the ensuing confessional, it was that it provided plausible cover for him to turn the conversation towards another recently ended marriage.
‘Still, there’s always someone worse off than yourself. I gather you’re a colleague of Diana Jager’s. I read about her husband. Must be devastating.’
Austin nodded, finishing a glass of wine and placing a hand over the top as Lucas offered a refill.
‘Did you know her?’ he asked.
‘No. Sarah used to show me her blog. I didn’t know she ended up in Inverness until I read about the accident.’
‘I’ve known her for about five years. I saw her today, in fact. It’s awful. Awkward too: nobody knows what to say to her. Sorry for your loss? Can you say that? His body may never be found, they reckon. I don’t even know how it works: is it still seven years before he can be declared dead?’
‘Not necessarily,’ Parlabane told him, ‘if the police and the coroner conclude that death was probable. But even so, it’s a horrible limbo to endure. And you say she’s back at work?’
‘Yeah. I guess that’s how she’s dealing with it: staying busy, concentrating on something that will occupy mind and body.’
Kind of ironic, Parlabane thought, given that it all blew up for her over an article criticising a colleague for being back at work too soon after childbirth. He decided it would be politic not to share this, however; nor what it might indicate regarding her being not quite so devastated as people assumed.
‘It’s so terribly, terribly sad,’ Austin said. ‘We were all delighted for her when she got married, you know? All the things she wrote in that blog, it was the truth. You see it all the time: women giving the best of themselves to the profession, so they can’t find someone, or can’t find someone who’ll put up with what the profession demands.’
Parlabane wondered if he was being subtly got at here, despite the non-judgemental sentiments offered earlier. If so, these particular barbs wouldn’t pierce his armour. It had never been Sarah’s job that was the problem. She was the one who had issues with what his profession demanded, but given that they were issues unique to the way he chose to exercise that profession, there was still no way he was coming out of this well.
‘I gather they hadn’t known each other that long.’
‘About a year all told. That’s what makes it all the more tragic. She found someone and very quickly they both just knew. She was happy. She deserved to be happy. And then a few months after the wedding, this comes out of the blue. Bang.’
‘Die young, stay pretty,’ said Lucas, earning an odd look from his husband and a more guardedly curious one from Parlabane.
‘I don’t mean Peter,’ he clarified. ‘What I mean is, they say that about people, but can’t it be true about a marriage also? They might have grown old and died together, but equally they could have been broken up within a year. Point is, we’ll never know.’
‘Why would you say that?’ Parlabane asked.
‘Ignore him,’ said Austin. ‘He’s winding me up. It’s a running gag ever since I once confessed to an irrational insecurity that something would break us up now that we’re married, after being contentedly together for so long before.’
‘There should be a word for the fear of ironic twists of fate,’ Parlabane said, though he wasn’t convinced that an affectionate dig at Austin was the whole reason for Lucas’s remark.
‘We had Diana and Peter here for dinner,’ Austin said. ‘Maybe a month after their wedding. We squeezed ten around this table, if you can believe it. It was great to see her out like that. She wasn’t always the most sociable before then, but she seemed determined to make more of an effort after Peter came along. He had a really positive effect on her.’
Austin looked away and sighed, a glum but searching expression on his face.
‘We’ll need to try and reach out to her now. Make sure she doesn’t retreat into herself.’
By way of drawing a line under an uncomfortable subject, Austin got up and began clearing the dishes. Parlabane ignored protestations to stay in his seat and helped ferry a few items to the kitchen.
‘If you’re in an obliging mood,’ said Lucas, ‘perhaps you could spare an hour to give a talk to my students.’
Lucas had explained how he was now a senior lecturer in media studies at the University of the Highlands and Islands. Parlabane knew quite a few journalists who had moved into academia as work dried up in their own fields, many of them doing so with resignation and regret. Lucas, by contrast, seemed utterly content; indeed Parlabane couldn’t recall seeing him so enthused in talking about his work. It fitted his longstanding fascination with Parlabane’s activities back in the day, which always seemed to exercise him more than the subject of his own endeavours. Lucas, it seemed, was more comfortable as an analyst and an observer of the media than as a hands-on practitioner.
‘I don’t know, Lucas. It’s not something I could do witho
ut a bit of preparation.’
‘Oh, no, you wouldn’t need to give a lecture. Just a kind of Q and A. I would tee you up with the questions.’
Parlabane felt horrible now. He was indebted to his hosts for their hospitality, but strangely uncomfortable about the prospect of what Lucas was requesting, and he couldn’t tell him the truth about why. It wasn’t inexperience in speaking to students, as Lucas knew Parlabane had done plenty of that during his stint as rector of a university a few years back. It was the fear that this was what awaited him.
With so many doors closing all around him, it had already been in the back of his mind as a possible option offering a regular salary and even the chance to salvage some respectability. But it also represented a final surrender. It would be like being put out to stud, when he wanted to believe he still had races left in him.
‘I’m sorry. It’s not a good time, you know? Between the work situation and what happened with Sarah, that’s why I’m up here climbing: trying to get my head together.’
‘That’s okay, forget about it.’
But he could tell Lucas wasn’t going to. There was a glint in his eye as he spoke, ostensibly of bonhomie but somehow calculating. Parlabane’s explanation hadn’t cut it.
Austin got to his feet and announced his intention to have an early night as he was operating the next morning. He gave Parlabane a hug, a look of sincere regret on his face as he said: ‘So sorry again about you and Sarah.’
Austin headed up the stairs as Lucas crouched down in front of a cupboard and produced a bottle of single malt. He poured them each a generous dram of Glenfarclas. Parlabane recalled a line in a song about clearing your conscience with Speyside. So far the highland air hadn’t done it. Might as well let the highland spirit take a shot.
‘It really is great to see you again,’ Lucas said, sitting down opposite. ‘Let’s not leave it so long in future.’
‘Absolutely. Next time I’m up this way, I’ll definitely give you guys a shout.’
‘Where was it today? The Cobbler? Angel’s Peak?’
The question confused Parlabane for a moment, until he remembered the false pretext he had given for getting in touch.
‘The Cobbler.’
Lucas had that glint again. It made him uneasy.
‘Ranger service was advising strongly against climbing today due to high winds.’
Lucas sat back in his chair, helping himself to a sip, all the time keeping his gaze trained on his mortified guest.
‘Why were you lying to us, Jack?’
Parlabane couldn’t bring himself to argue, as that would be to lie again.
‘The usual.’
Lucas nodded, thin-lipped and glowering. He let Parlabane shrink under his admonitory stare for a few seconds then couldn’t keep it up any longer.
‘Sneaky sonofabitch,’ he said, with a dirty laugh. ‘I goddamn knew it.’
Parlabane gave a bashfully apologetic smile.
‘Thanks for not calling me on it during dinner.’
‘Didn’t want to ruin the atmosphere. But I’m calling you on it now. The price is you’re singing for your supper. UHI, Inverness Campus. Shall we say eleven tomorrow?’
‘I was serious when I said I wasn’t comfortable with it, Lucas.’
‘Yes, but I’m offering a quid pro quo, and I know you’ll go to any length to get a lead.’
‘I haven’t told you what I’m working on.’
‘Come on, Jack. Inverness may officially be a city these days, but it’s still a small town. How many stories could have led you to seek us out after all these years?’
‘Touché. So what have you got?’
‘First, do we have a deal?’
Parlabane sighed. Ordinarily he wouldn’t concede anything until he knew the likely worth of the information, but he owed Lucas what he was asking anyway.
‘We have a deal. But this better be worth it.’
‘Oh, it’s not. But it’s marginally better than nothing and I figured you’re desperate. My take on Diana and Peter.’
‘I’m listening.’
Lucas took another sip of malt and set down his glass, leaning forward. He dropped his voice too, and Parlabane was soon aware of another reason his deceit hadn’t been unmasked in front of Austin.
‘I like Diana. Let me get that out there so we can be clear where I’m coming from. She’s a bit of an acquired taste, granted, and she doesn’t exactly bowl you over with her light and warmth, but ultimately her heart’s in the right place, I think. She’s had to put up with a lot of shit, so I can understand why Austin was so happy for her. Why he wanted to believe she was happy.’
‘You think she wasn’t?’
‘I think she settled, that’s all, and it was rough on her, coming to terms with that.’
Parlabane couldn’t allow for ambiguity around Lucas’s choice of words.
‘Settled?’
‘I mean I think she compromised: dropped her standards and was then in denial about it. What may have made it worse is that she was so high and mighty on the subject. Her blog was notoriously unequivocal regarding the “nobility of a woman being alone” as opposed to putting up with someone unworthy simply to be in a relationship. Unfortunately I think that’s precisely what she ended up doing. That’s got to be a blow to your pride when you finally realise it: especially if you suspect other people realise it.’
‘What are you basing all this on?’
‘Seeing them together. I met Peter a few times. He wasn’t all that.’
‘Yeah, but it’s not about what you saw in him, is it. I know plenty of people who don’t get why a friend is with their particular partner. In fact, I’m pretty sure I was “that particular partner” in a lot of Sarah’s friends’ conversations.’
‘Never us, I swear,’ Lucas replied with a deliberately coy smile. ‘Hey, look, I know what you’re saying. It’s one thing when you know a guy’s punching above his weight, especially if he realises it and ups his game accordingly. But that’s not what I saw when they were round here.’
Parlabane sat forward. From Lucas’s face he could tell this was something that had troubled him, and yet possibly something he had found difficult to talk to Austin about.
‘Here’s the thing. We never saw them together before they got married, so I can’t compare. Nobody did, really. I remember Austin remarking on it: whenever Diana wasn’t at work, she was with Peter, together alone, exclusive. Like a cocoon. He took it to be a healthy sign: who wouldn’t? And maybe that built up my expectations, both of what he would be like and how they would be together.
‘As Austin told you, Diana was keen to be more sociable after they were married, and we missed the wedding because we were on holiday, so we had a dinner party for them after we got back.’
Lucas glanced over to the dining table, like he could still see them sitting there.
‘I was sitting opposite Diana, with Peter facing us both. He was pretty quiet at first. Struck me as naturally shy, so this was understandable in new company; and busy, loud company at that. After a few drinks, he was less reticent, but let’s just say he should have stuck with shyness and letting us imagine his unspoken thoughts were profound.’
‘Was he crass?’ Parlabane asked, thinking it unlikely, but he did remember being at Austin and Lucas’s place in Edinburgh once and sharing their unspoken disdain for the improbable new boyfriend who had turned up on the arm of a surgical senior house officer. They had later concluded that she was road-testing this Rangers-tattooed fucknugget for shock value before introducing him to her parents as an act of revenge.
‘No,’ Lucas replied. ‘Just conspicuously out of his depth. His frame of reference was so limited: all internet memes and sci-fi and videogames. It was like talking to a fourteen-year-old. When we were talking politics, he kept bringing it back to Game of Thrones and even Star Trek. Seriously, the guy could quote Star Federation directives on every issue but was considerably less up-to-date on UK or Scottish government
policy.’
‘So what?’ Parlabane asked. ‘I mean, I get that you found it annoying, but maybe Diana reckoned she needed a bit of geek in her life to counter-balance all the overblown hyper-seriousness that we both know comes with the job.’
‘It wasn’t me who had a problem with it: that’s what I’m telling you. It was Diana. She spent most of the evening spinning for him.’
‘Spinning?’
‘Managing the message. Interpreting for him. Saying “I think what Peter means is that …” You know?’
‘And how was he taking this?’
‘He was looking at her like: what the fuck? A mixture of embarrassment and confusion. He thought he was doing just fine, and here she was, explaining on his behalf. Not only explaining, either. She was quoting him on stuff more than he was opining himself, like he had played his A game elsewhere and she wanted us to see that rather than how he was performing here tonight.’
‘Quoting him on what?’
‘Gender issues, hacking and privacy, climate change, religious fundamentalism. When these things came up, he’d make a limited or sometimes inane contribution, and she’d be like: “Peter, what was that great thing you said about this that time …” He seemed reluctant to quote himself, maybe from being cued up and put on the spot like that, so he’d say he didn’t remember, and she would say it for him.’
‘And what was his A game like?’
‘It sounded a lot like Diana’s opinions reflected back at her after being rehashed enough that she thought she was hearing a new angle. Not exclusively, though. She was particularly keen to showcase what he had to say on things she didn’t get, like hacking and cyber-crime and cryptocurrency. But even on those, she didn’t seem so much like his wife as like a mother who was over-eager for her teenage son to impress in front of grown-up company.’
‘Ouch. That sounds like a pretty harsh take, Lucas.’
‘Just telling you what I saw, Jack. I may be biased and kinda bitter at having to wait a decade and a half for the state to permit me to marry the man I love, but it gives a certain perspective upon the danger of getting married after a whirlwind romance. While you’re distracted by the sex and the excitement, you can deceive yourself about your partner’s limitations. After the wedding, though, there’s nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Sooner or later you have to face the truth.’
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