No Wonder I Take a Drink Read online

  As I sat beside him I could feel the heat of Jackie’s arm against mine. My eyes were dropping and without even thinking about it, I half turned and snuggled into him. I hoped he would take this as some kind of signal but he made no move. I opened one eye and keeked at him. His eyes were closed, surely he hadn’t fallen asleep again as quick as that? Maybe he was shy, maybe, like when I’d asked him to stay for dinner, he wanted coaxed. I decided I would try the old brushing-my-lips-against-his trick again. If he was awake he could respond without having to open his eyes and if he was asleep I could have my evil way with him again. It took me a minute to build up the courage. The smell of his clothes and the heat off him, his nearness was making my heart thump and my breath quicken.

  I went forward and as I leaned in towards him, quarter of an inch from making contact with his lips, he woke up with a violent snort. He had been asleep after all. Or if not asleep, then dozing, not fully conscious at any rate. Jackie yawned deep and long, pulling a gargoyle face and holding it so long that I began to worry that his own beautiful face would never come back. He stretched his arms out, creating a distance between us. The moment was gone. The first kiss was going to be an awkward one, there was no getting away from it. Then again, Jackie was an awkward kind of guy, it was probably just the way he did things.

  ‘Oh well, time’s getting on. I’d better be getting home.’

  I couldn’t believe it, he was going to cycle back down into Inverfaughie, he was going home and leaving me.

  ‘Oh Jackie don’t go. You’re too tired, it’s ridiculous, you’ll fall asleep at the handlebars.’

  ‘No I’m fine. The breath of air will do me good going down the hill. I’ll away and let you get to your bed.’

  He affected a cheeriness but underneath I sensed he was nervous. I was going to have to put my cards on the table.

  ‘Jackie you can stay here if you want to. I want you to.’

  ‘No. I’ll have to get home, where did I put my boots?’

  Jackie started scrabbling around the floor looking for his boots. I couldn’t let him go. I couldn’t stay here alone, without him.

  ‘There’s a great sea view.’

  I’d meant that as a joke, I expected him to laugh but his face was like fizz. I was confused and tired and I suddenly felt terribly lonely being left alone in this house so far away from everything.

  ‘Please Jackie?’

  He ignored me and carried on searching for his boots. I lifted a cushion and buried my head. This was not the way things were supposed to have gone. I didn’t get it, I thought he liked me. Why did he drive me to Glasgow if he didn’t like me?

  ‘Look, just keep the fucking boots, okay? I’m away!’

  He went through the kitchen and slammed the back door. I took the pillow away from my face. Surely the stupid bastard wasn’t going to cycle home with no boots on his feet?

  Yes indeed, that was exactly what he was going to do. I got to the front window just in time to witness Jackie hirple along the gravel path before mounting the bike and skiting down into Inverfaughie in his stocking soles.

  Chapter 13

  The next morning I tried my best to put the whole sorry incident out of my mind. I didn’t last very long. As soon as I saw Jackie’s boot hanging on the kitchen radiator I burst into tears. Look on the bright side, I tried to tell myself over a breakfast of four cigarettes, but there was no bright side. Once again I had made a total fool of myself. Worse than that, much worse than that, I had destroyed the only friendship that I had so far made in this godforsaken hellhole of loneliness. What had I done? Had I broken some unspoken Highland code of etiquette? Maybe I should ask him. Or maybe not. But I kept thinking of the fun we’d had singing in the car.

  I would return his boots. This was obviously a silly misunderstanding, we’d probably end up having a laugh about it. Then it occurred to me that I didn’t actually know where Jackie lived. I looked in the phone book but he wasn’t there. I knew it was Inverfaughie somewhere, I could ask Jenny in the shop. I’d take him a present, a thank-you present for driving me to Glasgow and to say sorry for whatever the hell it was I’d done.

  Jenny was always desperate for gossip and I knew that my story – driven by the gardener to Glasgow in the middle of the night and mysteriously retaining his boots – was going to be meat and drink to her. To put her off the scent I told her about the request I’d heard on the radio the other night.

  ‘I think Colin from the Calley must be stepping out with the new girl from the Seaward,’ I said.

  It was lucky I’d remembered it and I was pleased to be bringing her this titbit.

  ‘Stepping out?’ she replied, ‘I heard he was shagging her.’

  Oh Christ, I thought, if that was the kind of conclusion she was jumping to, what was she going to make of me with Jackie’s boots?

  ‘Oh, eh, is that right?’ was the best response I could make.

  ‘Just as well if you ask me, that Colin is very nearly twenty four now, and he’s never had his hole. I was beginning to think he was a bent shot.’

  My romantic notion that Highland folk were somehow sheltered from the vulgar realities of life was instantly shattered. I concentrated on buying a present.

  ‘What the nicest bottle of malt you carry Jenny?’

  ‘Oh, having a party are you?’

  I thought it best to ignore her prying. Get the stuff and get out of there as quickly as possible. Never mind asking her about Jackie’s address. I’d get it somewhere else. I took the most expensive malt she had and a big box of Roses chocolates. That was thank you and sorry covered and I wondered what kind of gift would I need for please be my friend again.

  As I packed my bag, I heard the bell on the door of the shop ring as someone else came in. I turned and who should I see staggering towards me with a white crepe bandage piled on top of his head like a turban, but Bouncer the dog.

  ‘Trixie, you’re awful pale. Are you not sleeping?’ said Jenny.

  ‘No, no, I’m er…’

  Actually I was lost for words.

  ‘Oh poor old Bouncer eh? The Minister brought him in last night. Found him out on the main road all battered and covered in blood. I’m looking after him while Walter is in the hospital but I’m not fit for it. I had to sit up with him whining and moaning all night. I took him to the vet and I had to pay thirty-four pounds for the stitches and the bandaging! Who’s going to reimburse me? I’m not fit for a dog, I can’t be running to the vet every five minutes, I have the shop. If someone could take him off my hands. Now you Trixie, you must be lonely out at that cottage all on your own, you could take him. It would only be for a wee while until Walter gets back, they say Walter will be back on his feet in a few days.’

  ‘I don’t think so Jenny, the cottage next door, they keep a rabbit. It wouldn’t be suitable.’

  “Ach, the minister, he was out on the hill, he couldn’t just see properly for the mist but he thought he saw someone hit the dog. Aye, hit the dog! Can you imagine anyone doing a thing like that?’

  Jenny busied herself giving me my change.

  ‘What’s that on your jacket there Trixie?” she said, ‘have you been having an accident?’

  ‘What? Oh, that, eh yes, I, cut my finger on the….’

  ‘Och poor Bouncer is awful lonely without Walter you know. It’s a terrible thing for a dog to be lonely, and him getting his head bashed in as well.’

  I looked down at the pathetic figure of Bouncer with his bandage falling into his eyes.

  ‘Okay, okay, I’ll take him.’

  ‘Och well done that woman! Walter will be fair pleased.’

  Jenny was absolutely delighted and before I had the chance to reflect on the wisdom of such a rash offer she’d rushed into the back shop. She returned and slapped on the counter: Bouncer’s basket, his Kennomeat and dry meal, his leads (various), his wee tartan waterproof coat and all his rubber toys. It took several trips to load up the car. After talking me through Bouncer’s feeding a
nd exercise regimes Jenny walked us to the door.

  ‘Now remember Trixie, you’ve not to let him out on his own. I don’t want that nut case beating him up again. Och I’ll miss the wee chap so I will but at least I know he’ll come to no harm with you.’

  As with everything Jenny said in her soft accent, it was possible to put more than one interpretation on it. Was she on to me, warning me not to do it again? Or was she just a daft and kindly old lady? As we left she called something to me that I didn’t properly hear. It sounded like, ‘and Jackie Robertson is Wee Free!’

  Bouncer wouldn’t get in the car. I instructed him to sit on the floor in the back. I didn’t have anything to protect the back seat and I didn’t want dog hairs all over place. There was plenty of room but he refused.

  Yes, I told Bouncer, regrettably it was true that I’d mowed him down and then hit him with a shovel and thrown him in a ditch, but I meant no harm. I explained in an urgent whisper that I wasn’t trying to bump him off, I thought I was putting him out of his misery. From what I could see of his face beneath his dressings, Bouncer looked confused. He seemed to be having trouble distinguishing between kindness and murder when the net result was the same. I had trouble making a distinction myself. The whole business was taking too long and finally in desperation I grabbed him by the collar and yanked him into the back seat.

  As I drove off Bouncer jumped up onto the back seat and barked at everything we passed: other cars, houses, farms, horses. That was fine while he was seeing things from the side window. I had to stop and let a farmer take a flock of sheep across the road in front of me and Bouncer tried to jump into my lap to get a better view.

  I found Jackie myself. With Bouncer barking enthusiastically in the back, I drove through the village looking for his house. By an amazing stroke of luck or, as I thought at the time, serendipity, I spotted Jackie on his bike, fully shod, turning into a street on the edge of the village. Even better, he hadn’t seen me. I planned to catch up with him and accidentally bump into him in the street. The car was facing the wrong way and by the time I found a place on the road where I could safely turn, Jackie had disappeared into one of the houses. Luckily his bike parked against the wall gave it away. I would have known it was his house anyway by the garden, the most looked-after garden in the street. The house itself looked a bit ramshackle, like the house of a man who lived alone.

  The street was deserted. If Jenny was anything to go by, others in the village might be intrigued to see me approach Jackie’s door. I wasn’t going to give them anything to gossip about, I would be discreet. There was no such word in Bouncer’s vocabulary. He went mad when I tried to leave him in the car. He yelped and did what he did so well, in fact what he had been named for: he bounced. Like a clock ticking, on the up stroke he rhythmically banged his swaddled head against the car roof. He only stopped when I put the lead on him.

  I gave Jackie’s door a loud confident chap, a friend-popping-round-to-visit type of knock. It felt like a long time Bouncer and I stood waiting. Bouncer got bored before I did, peering up at me and whining. Surely Jackie would have heard that knock? Or maybe he was working in his back garden. We went round to the back of the house but there was no sign of Jackie. I chapped the back door, maybe he was in a room at the back and hadn’t heard us at the front door. No reply. I chapped again trying not to convey my desperation to see him, to sort things out. It started to spit rain which gathered momentum into a full scale shower. I’d left my jacket in the car.

  Earlier, when I gave myself the positive thinking one step at a time look on the bright side pep talk, I had imagined how it would go. Jackie would be pleased to see me, he’d look a bit sheepish and to spare him embarrassment, I’d pretend not to notice. He’d apologise repeatedly for storming out and give a brilliant reason (although I couldn’t imagine what it might be). After subtly letting him understand how hurtful and confusing it had been for me, I’d tell him to forget it.

  The rain was getting heavier. He knows I’m standing here, I thought. When he sees that I’m not giving up, sooner or later he must come to the door.

  I was having difficulty seeing as the rain dripped from my sodden eyebrows. The boots that I had so thoroughly dried out were taking on water and the chocs were beginning to get damp. My jaw tightened and although the rain was cool I felt hot. I imagined the raindrops evaporating as steam as they hit my bare arms. I became reckless; fuck discretion, fuck the nosy neighbours, I wanted to shout his name, force him to acknowledge my presence. I was making an arse of myself, again. The man obviously didn’t want to see me. I couldn’t bully him in to opening the door. Holding him under siege was only making things worse. I put the boots in Jackie’s coal bunker with the whisky in one and the chocolates in the other. At least they would be dry there.

  *

  I knew taking Bouncer was a bad idea from the word go. As soon as I brought him out of the car Roger from next door was over quizzing me. The two wee girls, especially Rebecca, took an instant shine to Bouncer but Roger wasn’t so sure.

  ‘It’s Smidgy Rabbit we have to think about, Trixie. It’s a dog’s instinct to hunt, not the dog’s fault of course, but I’m worried that Bouncer might attack him. The children would be devastated if anything happened to Smidgy.’

  I knew all that, I didn’t need that patronising bastard to tell me, but I just smiled. I couldn’t afford to fall out with my only neighbour even if he was a dickhead. Obviously I wouldn’t be able to let Bouncer out alone, the stupid mutt had no road sense and if I didn’t knock him down someone else surely would. I wouldn’t even be able to let him run around the garden in case he ate Smidgy Bloody Rabbit. The full impact of taking the dog was only now beginning to hit me. I’d have to take him out for walkies, every day, several times a day, even when it was raining. And then I hit on a cunning plan.

  A while later, Rebecca, the oldest girl, chapped my door.

  ‘Can I take Bouncer out for a walk please Mrs Trixie?’

  I ushered her in straight away. Bouncer was already doing my head in. After my humiliation and our drenching outside Jackie’s house, Bouncer was keen to get in the car. He obviously wasn’t used to exposure to the elements without his wee red tartan coat. Although I shouted at him to sit on the floor, Bouncer drew me a look and leapt on to the seat. I’d only had the dog an hour and I’d already given up hope of keeping the seats clean, it was easier that way. We were both soaking but I just quietly dripped. As the superior species I had the sense not to try to shake myself dry in a confined space while someone else was driving.

  Since we’d come into the house Bouncer had sniffed every corner. He’d climbed up on to everything and where he couldn’t reach he rested his two paws and snuffled and peered. I had to follow him round in case he tried to mark out his territory by pissing on the furniture or whatever it was that dogs did. When Rebecca came in Bouncer turned his attention to her. She thought he was great. She clapped his head, a bit vigorously I thought. With every enthusiastic stroke Rebecca pulled Bouncer’s eyelids up to an unnatural angle exposing the whites of his eyes and making him look surprised. She roughly scratched his back and then his belly. I wondered if it was decent. Bouncer lay on his back, his eyes were closed and one of his back legs trembled. Rebecca was only eight, she didn’t understand the kind of ecstasy the dog was apparently experiencing. She was a chubby-faced wee girl, no cheekbones to speak of, she was never going to be as pretty as her mother. I knew that feeling.

  ‘Does your mummy know that you’re taking the dog out, Rebecca?’

  ‘Mummy’s tired, she’s sleeping today.’

  Rebecca looked at the floor as she said it.

  ‘Well, did you ask your dad?’

  ‘Yes.’

  I bustled about getting Bouncer’s stuff.

  ‘Here’s his lead. D’you think it’ll rain again? You can put his wee coat on him if you like.’

  ‘Oh cool!’

  Rebecca grabbed Bouncer’s tartan raincoat from me and tried to
fasten it under him. Bouncer, hoping for more sexy scratching, avoided the Velcro and lay on his back, rolling around playfully until his excitement became obvious.

  ‘Och just leave the coat off him Pet, he doesn’t want it.’

  I saw her to the door asking her not to go far and be back in half an hour. I’ll give her a pound I decided, although the wee soul hadn’t asked for any money. We could make it a regular thing, Rebecca could walk the dog twice a day and I’d pay her. Twice a day at a pound a time would be two pounds a day. Depending on how long I’d have to keep the dog until Walter got out of hospital, it was working out at fourteen quid a week, nearly sixty quid a month. I could just give her a flat rate of a tenner a week, or even a fiver, a fiver was a lot of money to an eight-year-old.

  Twenty minutes later I heard the front door. Rebecca hadn’t done the full half-hour, if she was going to be working for me she’d have to appreciate that half an hour meant thirty minutes.

  Roger stood at the door with his face like fizz. No sign of Rebecca or Bouncer.

  ‘Michaela has just told me that she saw my daughter out on the road with your dog, is this true?’

  He never gave me a chance to answer.

  ‘What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing sending a child out alone on an isolated road? How dare you exploit my children! I’m going to find her and if any harm has come to my girl so help me God I’ll kill you, d’you understand?’

  And with that he stomped off.

  ‘Get off your fat arse and take your own bloody dog out!’ Roger yelled back at me as I hurried to close the door.

  I heard him rev up his car and drive away. A few minutes later the door went again. As I cowered behind the front door I could hear Bouncer whining.