I'm sitting in the white-tiled
kitchen of the re-vamped
60's
Glasgow tenement
that I share
with my
wife Lesley and our twenty-year-old son Douglas. It's a
cold Friday evening and I'm sipping coffee waiting for
something good to come on the telly.
Fat
chance of that, I can hear
you
say. I can hear Dougie getting ready to go out the front door. 'Where
are
you
off
to tonight? Hot date, is
it?'
Dougie shouts his reply from the hallway, 'Yeah! I'm meeting
a girl
I met at a
club on Saturday. We're going to the new Thai restaurant opposite
Bridge Street station.
'Oh aye.
Well be safe, son.'
'I am always safe. See you later, and don't wait up', Dougie pokes
his head
round the
kitchen door,
'and tell mum sorry but I've frozen my dinner
and I'll eat it
tomorrow.'
'She won't be happy.'
'Try to smooth
things over for
me, dad. Tell her I'll make it up to
her.'
'That's
easier
said than done!
You know your mother, and besides, I'm
in her bad
books anyway.'
'Thanks dad.'
Dougie disappears and I hear the door slam.
Then
re-open. 'I forgot my brolly.'
The door slams again. Peace at last. At
least until Lesley comes home from her meeting of the 'women's group'.
And why can't kids close the door quietly? I wonder if I was as noisy
as my
son when I was his age. I was probably worse, much worse! And by the
way, me and
Lesley are going through a bad patch.
To be honest. Things have been
terrible for a few months; ever since she suspected me of having an
affair with a young lassie
from the petrol station. It was only a wee
fling,
it meant nothing, and
was over in a few weeks. Lesley
didn't know for sure either, but women have a sixth sense about these
things, don't they? Anyway, it's left a stain on our marriage and I'm
in
the doghouse. Hopefully it
will all blow
over in time.
It's late now.
Lesley is in bed and I'm in the bathroom staring in the mirror at my
ever-increasing bald patch. I hate getting old. Although forty-five
isn't old these days, is it? Not if you have some cash in your pocket.
And apart from the hair-loss, I'm in
pretty
good
shape for a man of my
age. Good enough to still get lucky
sometimes. Most of my old friends
have beer
guts
the size of
Texas, but my stomach is still flat... well,
if I stand up straight and breathe in, it is.
I hear keys in the front door - Dougie is back, and the muffled
giggling tells me he's not
alone. I don't mind him bringing
girls back
to the flat. The walls are thick and young men should enjoy themselves,
shouldn't they? God knows I did! I certainly had my share of girls
when I was his age. I was in the army and the girls loved the uniform
and all the talk about army life. Seems a long time ago now, though.
Now I've got a scornful
wife
pretending to be asleep in the next room. Our
bed is not a welcome place for me these days. To tell the truth, it's a
long time since there was much of a welcome there.
I hear Dougie and the girl go into his room and shut the door. Seconds later there's music playing. He's good like that, he knows his mum and dad don't want to hear any noctunal noises. There's nothing worse, is there? You know, nothing worse than listening to your son enjoying himself with a lassie. I finish cleaning my teeth, leave the bathroom and immediately catch the girl's perfume lingering in the air. It can't be! No, no, no. It's just a coincidence. Lots of young girls have the same perfume, don't they? It can't be her. I feel panic rising up inside me. I creep up to Dougie's door and listen. The giggling has stopped. I cup my ear to the door and try to listen for her voice, hoping it's not a voice I recognize from a few months ago. I hear nothing, and creep back to my room. As I slip between the sheets into a cold bed next to an even colder wife, I'm starting to worry. I lie awake for hours in the dark hoping it's not Janice with Dougie, and trying not to stray across the invisible line that seperates my side of the bed from my wife's side. I look at her, snoring in the dark and wonder where all the years went to?
Lesley always gets up early on
Saturday mornings. This is mostly to avoid me, but partly to
go to yoga with her new friend Linda. Recently, she's been seeing a lot
of Linda. She encourages Lesley to 'be herself', and
tells her to be more independent from me. Let's just say me and Linda
are not the best of friends. Let's just say, I think she's a dyke.
Anyway, Linda is long gone when I get up at
eight-thirty and quietly nip
into the kitchen to make some fresh coffee. Today is 'Blue Mountain'
day.
I know it's not cheap, but I love my coffee - it's a kind of hobby. But
as
I take my cup back to my bedroom, the toilet flushes and a girl walks
out dressed only in one of Dougie's T-shirts. It's a very short
T-shirt. She smiles a familiar smile, 'Good morning Alex', she
whispers, 'Long time, no see!'
'Janice! What the hell are you doing here?' I whisper, barely
concealing
my panic.
'Relax, Alex. I'm with Dougie. He's a good lad.
Not as skillful as his
father, but I
have to say, but
what he lacks
in technique, he
makes
up for
in enthusiasm.'
I don't know what to say. 'What the hell are you doing?' I ask her
again.
'I'm not sure Alex. But I am sure we're all going to find out sooner or
later.' She smiles, turns and walks back to Dougie's room. I am angry,
scared and confused, but still can't take my eyes off her long legs as
she disappears into my son's bedroom. Legs that a few months ago were
wrapped around me.
I sit on the edge of my bed,
thoughts running through my head, mostly going in circles and
collapsing
in on themselves:
What is she doing here? Is it just a
coincidence or something more sinister?
What will Dougie think of me if
he finds out his father slept with his girlfriend? Will Lesley finally
tell me our marriage is over? Should I tell Lesley the truth? Stupid,
stupid fool!
I hear Dougie pad
past and go
into the bathroom for a shower. He's
singing. The poor boy is in love! Was I as naive
as him when I was his
age? Suddenly, my door opens and Janice walks in, and closes it behind
her. 'What are you doing
here?' I half whisper, half shout.
She sits next to me. 'What would you like me to do, daddy?' she says
in an irritating childish voice.
'Listen, Janice. I don't know what game you're playing, but it isn't
funny. This is my house... my family... my life, for God's sake.
I'm angry now but can feel my fear lurking
just below the surface.
'Please, Janice. Go back to Dougie's room. This is... is... crazy.'
'Alex. You don't seem very happy to see me again', she says, pretending
to be hurt, 'maybe you don't love me anymore?'
'Love you! Love you? We both know it was just a fling. Stop playing
with my life.'
'Alex, don't be angry. I just want to be close to you again.' And with
that, she stands up, laughs,
and quietly slips out the door. What
the
hell am I going to do?
The two old ladies on the table
next to me stop talking and stare at me. I realize I've been stirring
my coffee for five minutes. I'm sitting in a cafe on Argyle Street on a
dull windy afternoon, and I feel sick with nerves. My clothes are
drenched
with sweat despite the
cold and I can't stop touching my
pocket to check that the envelope is still safely inside. I never
thought I could be so scared of a woman, especially a young skinny one,
half my age. Inside the envelope is almost four thousand pounds.
That's all the money I could scrape
together without Lesley
becoming
suspicious. First of all, Janice demanded more, but I managed to
convince her that I simply couldn't give her any more. I'm a good liar
when I have to be.
She's late. She said 3pm, but it's now almost twenty past and it's
making me even more nervous, I'm shaking like a leaf. I need a
cigarette. I quit smoking last New Year, but I really need one now.
Stress
does that to you, doesn't it?
Suddenly, she's here, and she's wearing sunglasses and a head-scarf.
How stupid is that! She looks like she's watched too many spy movies.
And what the hell am I doing? I'm no better - I'm
wearing my old trenchcoat and a hat. Maybe in the future I'll look back
at this and laugh. Or maybe not.
Janice sits in front of me. She
looks just as nervous as I do, and that calms me down. She wants to be
a player,
but in truth, she's
just a wee girl on the make.
'Well?' she
says.
I say nothing, but put my hand inside my coat and pull out the
envelope. 'So', I say, 'do you promise to leave me and my family alone
for ever?'
'Is all the money there?' she asks, ignoring my question.
'It's all there. But do you promise to leave us alone?'
'Alex, Alex, Alex... Of course I do. Give me the envelope and
I'll
be
out of your life for good.'
I slide the envelope across the table. She looks around the cafe before
picking it up and putting it in her bag.
'I never want to see your face again, you hear me?' I say sternly.
'If you come back, I'll tell the police about this blackmail,
I promise you.'
Janice smiles, stands up and leaves. I wait twenty seconds and follow
her out the door. She is walking quickly, and turns right onto Buchanan
Street. I follow her from some distance behind so she doesn't
see
me, dodging
into shop doorways
when needs
be. A few blocks up
the street there's a car waiting. It's a car I
recognize - it's my car. Janice gets in the passenger seat and the car
drives off. I run after them but I can't see who is driving. What
the hell is going on?