Anywhere's Better Than Here (14 page)

She leaned her left elbow on the dresser and pulled the skin tautly to the side with her left index finger. She smiled into the mirror and said laughingly, ‘‘I know, it was so funny,'' and quickly flicked the liner on in one smooth tick. Perfect. Now was the hard part: doing the exact same on the other side. It looked quietly awful if one eye had a higher flick than the other or one was thicker or at a wonky, different angle. She swapped eyes and pulled the skin tight again. ‘‘I know, totally hilarious!'' she tried to giggle, but nothing was forthcoming and it showed in the make up. It was thick enough and long enough, but slightly higher. It gave her a subtly wonky look. She looked at the clock radio. 6.34. There was no time. She'd have to hope Gerry wouldn't notice. She was fairly confident that he wasn't the type to give a shit anyway. She layered on mascara and scrutinised herself in the mirror. Not too bad and, besides they'd both be fairly tipsy fairly quickly and hopefully the restaurant would be quite dark.

Now. The clothes. She pulled the pilfered dress out of the bag and gave it a shake. Mercifully, presumably because of its high nylon content, it wasn't particularly wrinkled. She quickly tore the shoulder pads out and contemplated pulling off the bow too but knew she'd have to get scissors for the job and that would mean going into the kitchen and she couldn't be arsed, so the bow would have to stay.

She stepped into the dress, this time managing to get it on easily. Perhaps the loss of the shoulder pads made it more malleable. She tried to visualise herself later on that night stepping out of the dress in Gerry's bedroom. She wanted to be all careless and smooth, impressing him with her level of sophistication. She'd read somewhere that world class athletes picture themselves running through the finishing line and then the thunderous applause of the spectators and the victory lap, arms raised in magnificent victory. She tried to run through a victorious sex scene with Gerry but got stuck at imagining him with his clothes off. She couldn't seem to imagine him with a realistic amount of body hair. He was either covered in a sort of downy hair suit, or he had one of those waxed, shiny Hollywood type of bodies with plastic-looking stomach muscles. Clearly, neither was at all accurate but she surprised herself by being quite keen to see what he was really like under his flannel shirts and chunky polo necks.

She glanced at the clock again. 6.47. Oh no! She'd obviously spent too long doing her visualisation. She struggled in to the tights, pulled a comb though her hair and put on her black high heels. Quite nice. She looked a bit like a fair haired Audrey Hepburn. Sort of. She went over to the wardrobe and sifted through the drift at the bottom. Miraculously, she found what she was looking for straight away. It was a pair of black elbow length gloves that Sandy had given her last Christmas. At the time she'd smiled and thanked Sandy and thought that they'd never see the light of day, which was probably why they were still balled together. She carefully painted on some dark plum lipstick and assessed herself critically. Not bad, not bad at all. She turned her head upside down and froofed her hair out. Not bad.

She transferred her purse into the owl bag, took her heavy coat out of the wardrobe and went through to the living room to say cheerio.

‘‘Wow!'' said Ed smiling up at where she stood in the door way.

Laurie smiled at him kindly. ‘‘Is it a fancy dress thing?'' he asked innocently.

Laurie scowled and Ed stood up. ‘‘I didn't, like, mean anything by it!'' he said, a look of panic on his face. ‘‘It's just that you look like a movie star,'' He struggled for words. ‘‘Katherine Hepburn, you know?''

Laurie willed herself not to look at Sandy.

‘‘I think you mean Audrey, Ed.'' She tried to sound as coolly controlled as she could manage.

‘‘Are they the gloves I gave you?'' asked Sandy. Laurie was forced to look at her. Surprisingly, Sandy had a look of pride on her face. Laurie nodded.

‘‘Oh Laurie, you remind me of myself when I was your age.'' She looked as if she might cry.

Laurie shuddered. ‘‘I'm off now.'' She made herself smile. ‘‘Don't wait up!''

They both looked at her as if she was their mother going out and leaving them on their own for the first time. She felt guilt settle around her shoulders. She straightened her back.

‘‘Now. If you need me …'' She laughed artificially. ‘‘What am I saying! You won't need me! You've got each other!''

Sandy and Ed glanced at each other. Now Laurie felt like the mad old auntie going back to the care home.

‘‘Have a nice time,'' said Ed, pulling his head into his hood and picking up the TV remote control.

‘‘Yes.'' Said Sandy, looking up at Laurie. ‘‘You have a good time.'' Chastened, Laurie left the flat.

Gerry was standing outside the Art Centre waiting for her. She slowed so she could watch him. There were a few other people standing chatting and smoking and Gerry looked conspicuously non-trendy next to them. They were younger than Gerry – about Laurie's age – and looked too cool for school. The girls had that sneery look on their faces that these art school girls often had. It was as if being brave enough to wear your gran's cast offs and have your hair cut at a daring angle made you some sort of untouchable. Normally Laurie would be intimidated by having to walk through them and in fact, she hardly ever went to the Art Centre for that reason, but tonight she felt toughened and careless. Gerry looked similarly untroubled leaning against the wall looking in the other direction.

The walk over from the flat had started off shaky with a feeling that she'd gone too far but after she'd rearranged herself she was running late and she had to jog the last half mile. As she galloped along, she felt herself acquire a sort of sheen of strength. It was up to her to do what she wanted with her life. It was hardly her fault that Sandy was such a door mat and had raised Ed to be similarly trampled. There had always been a feeling that Sandy thought she wasn't good enough for Ed and although Laurie understood that many mothers were like that, she half-agreed with her. Laurie knew that she was the wrong person for Ed and that he was the wrong person for her, but she also knew that life was often made up of inappropriate pairings and that people often had to make do with the results of poor choosing and slim pickings.

As she approached Gerry she doubted that he was the Right One either. If the Right One even existed. The idea that there was a soul mate for everyone was ridiculous anyway. What if her soul mate was Peruvian or Nigerian or something and she never visited those places and they never visited the East coast of Scotland? It was a stupid notion that stupid, unrealistic people liked to hang on to to comfort themselves. Often times, she'd noticed, people bandied about the ‘‘he just wasn't the one for me'' thing as a means of justifying cheating on people or leaving abruptly, or frankly, just being an idiot. At least she wasn't pretending this thing with Gerry had some higher purpose, some admission of love. What she was doing was just sort of selfish. And when she told Ed, he'd be upset of course, but she was confident that he'd be glad of it soon enough.

Gerry turned to her and smiled. He raised a hand and half saluted her. She felt an upsurge of excitement and almost ran towards him. When she got there they were both grinning but stood a foot apart, stuck for what to say.

Gerry reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. She felt tingly and also a bit sick. She hadn't felt like this with Ed. Or anyone really.

‘‘Hello up there.''

‘‘Hello down there.'' He smiled down at her.

Ordinarily, this level of corniness would horrify her, but there was something about this situation which let her relax her normally rigid standards. She could feel the art girls staring at her and Gerry and she lunged at him and gave him a big kiss. At first she could feel him resist a little, but then she felt him wind her into him and kiss her back. He tasted of drink, but not unpleasantly so, it was more that his mouth had a hot, sugary taste. She realised she was incredibly thirsty.

‘‘Come on,'' she said, pulling out of his arms and grabbing his hand. ‘‘Let's go in. I don't know about you, but I could do with a drink.'' She turned back to glare triumphantly at the girls, but there were all facing in the other direction smoking stylishly.

They entered the bar area and were immediately surrounded by noise and other people's body heat. Laurie shucked off her coat revealing her Hepburn outfit. Gerry looked down the length of her and raised an eyebrow. She pulled off the gloves and stuffed them into the owl bag.

‘‘It's a bit over-the-top isn't it?'' she asked him quietly.

‘‘No, no,'' he said. ‘‘I like it.'' He tapped her on the arm. ‘‘I really do. You look great, I'm just not used to it, that's all.''

‘‘Oh thanks very much,'' she said.

‘‘You know what I mean.'' He steered her towards a table that was being vacated.

‘‘Do you mind if we take your table ladies?'' he said smiling to the group of older women that were getting up to leave.

She noticed that his accent was slightly posher and his tone was a bit more formal. What was that all about? The women were charmed by it.

‘‘Oh no, not at all,'' said one of them. She was actually blushing. She was as old as Laurie's mother would have been.

‘‘Excuse me,'' said one of the women, looking into Gerry's face. ‘‘Don't I know you?''

‘‘No, no, I don't think so,'' said Gerry, his smile faltering slightly. ‘‘I get that a lot.''

‘‘No, I do.'' The woman thought for a second. ‘‘You're Dr Callander's son, aren't you?''

Gerry didn't answer.

The woman persisted. ‘‘I'm Iris Corcoran. I used to play bridge with your mother, oh, years ago.''

Gerry nodded very slightly. The woman faltered, finally realising Gerry's reluctance to talk to her.

‘‘Well …'' she said quietly. ‘‘Do remember me to them, will you.''

Laurie felt a chill.

‘‘Come on Iris,'' said one of the other women, pulling on her elbow. ‘‘Our taxi will be outside.''

Laurie watched the women walk up the stairs. The woman who'd spoken to Gerry glanced back over her shoulder and Laurie tried to smile at her, but she looked only at Gerry who was ignoring everybody and taking a long time to hang up his and Laurie's jackets on the back of their chairs. She sat down next to him.

‘‘Did you know her?''

‘‘Oh. Maybe.'' He stood up again. ‘‘What are you drinking?''

Laurie looked at him, but he was gazing over her head.

She sighed. ‘‘A cocktail.''

He laughed. ‘‘It's like that, is it?''

She laughed. ‘‘Yes, it bloody well is.''

‘‘Okay. What cocktail?''

She shrugged. ‘‘You choose. Something sweet.''

He walked over to the bar and edged his way in. She watched him as he caught the bar man's attention. He was taller than the other men at the bar and he had much nicer, broader shoulders. Tonight he was wearing a dark grey shirt tucked in to black jeans. His hair was still a bit damp at the nape of his neck and he'd trimmed his beard back a bit. He looked really nice and she was glad to be out with him. Whenever she went out with Ed (not that they ever really went anywhere these days) she felt like she was out with her brother.

Ed had never had the allure of a man and although she'd noticed he wasn't looking quite as fresh faced as he usually did, she didn't think that Ed would ever look like a man in the way that Gerry did. He'd probably just end up looking like an old boy. Partly, she supposed, it was down to build. Ed would always be quite wee and slight and Gerry had a breadth to him that would never be diminished by weight loss. But, more than that, Gerry had a manner about him that suggested he'd seen things that Ed would never see.

Maybe that was fanciful thinking on Laurie's part because she knew he'd been in the army and had presumably seen some action there. Whatever ‘‘action'' meant. She only had the vaguest of ideas of what had happened in recent conflicts in the world. She'd watched very little on the news. It was one thing thinking of war in terms of the distant past. But current conflicts were too real for her. Also the causes of the conflicts were always too confusing and inevitably bogged down with politics and religion.

If you were a career soldier it probably didn't matter what the roots of war were. You just went where you were sent, defended and dispatched as commanded. She looked steadily at Gerry's back. She could picture him in charge of a troop of soldiers. They'd be younger and would look up to him with respect, expecting him to know what was what. He had something commanding about him, as much as he tried to pretend he wasn't that sort of person. People would follow him into battle.

She would, anyway.

He walked back over to the table carrying a pint and a tall glass with something pink in it. He put them down on the table in front of her and backed away, bowing.

‘‘Hope it meets madam's expectations.''

Laurie took a sip. It was spicy and sweet and warmed up her mouth and throat as she swallowed.

‘‘Mmmm, nice. What's it called?''

Gerry sat down. ‘‘One Exciting Night, apparently.''

‘‘Is that so?''

‘‘I thought it was appropriate.''

‘‘I'll say.'' She was determined to make it so and she could see that Gerry was trying hard too. ‘‘So, what's in this exciting night, then?''

‘‘Let's see … gin, two types of Vermouth and grenadine. I think.'' He smiled at her. ‘‘Is it good?''

She took a bigger drink. ‘‘Yes, very.'' She took another big drink.