Scratch (51 page)

‘You’re wrong, this
is
different.’ Well, it
was
.

‘What about Deborah?’

‘Huh?’

‘Deborah, that girl you went out with a few years ago.’

‘Debbie? What about her? I felt bad when we finished, but it was nothing like this.’

‘Not for you. It was for her, though.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘It was obvious she loved you, Jim. When you broke-up with her I guarantee she went through exactly what you’re going through now.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘That’s not …’

‘Jim, everyone goes through it, but everyone causes it in others too, at some point. This is the first time you’ve been on the receiving end but I would guess that, given the amount of girls you’ve broken up with over the years, you’ve almost certainly caused at least a couple of them to feel the way you do now. Sorry, son, but you’re not the hero and Paula isn’t the baddie. We’re all both.’

That made me laugh.
You’re not the hero
. ‘So,
all’s fair in love and war
, is that it?’ I’d always hated that saying.

‘Don’t be an idiot, Jim. There’s nothing fair about what you’re going through any more than it was fair when you put those other girls through it. But it’s a part of life and there’s bugger-all anyone can do to change that. The only way to avoid it is to meet the right person at the right time.’

‘And when’s the right time?’

‘For you? Anytime from here on in. Maybe you could have made a life with Deborah or one of the other girls, but it wasn’t the right time because you hadn’t dealt with Paula and you hadn’t gone through this. Maybe if you met Deborah today you would feel completely different.’

‘I doubt it. Last I heard she was married with two kids.’

‘There’s my point,’ Dad said. ‘She wanted a life with you but you weren’t ready for that because it wasn’t the right time, so you broke her heart; exactly as Paula has done to you. But Deborah has since gone on to meet the right person at the right time, and make a life with him. That’s what you can do, now.’

I’ll admit I was almost starting to see what he was talking about, but I wasn’t about to let that get in the way of my feeling like shit. ‘Okay, thanks Dad. I think it’s going to be a wee while yet before I start thinking about anyone else, though.’

‘Of course it is,’ he said. ‘Just try and bear what I’ve said in mind. It might help a little when things seem at their darkest.’

‘Yeah, I’ll try. I need my bed now.’

‘On you go. But do me two favours, will you?’

‘Okay.’

‘Say hello to your mum tomorrow before you leave for work.’

‘I will.’ I got up to leave. ‘And the other one?’

‘Let me know when you want to watch
The Big Boss
. I haven’t seen it for nearly forty years; I’m champing at the bit, looking at it sitting there on the shelf.’

I nodded, smiling (inwardly
and
outwardly). ‘How about Sunday afternoon?’

‘That sounds like a fine plan,’ Dad said. ‘Incidentally, this would probably be the ideal time for you to actually stop smoking.’

‘How do you figure that?’

‘You’re going to feel like shit for the next few months either way; you might as well get some good out of it.’

I laughed. ‘I’ll give it some thought.’

I slept a little better that night.

***

‘Hi, Mum,’ I said the next early afternoon.

She and Dad were finishing their lunch. ‘Jim,’ Mum said. She didn’t say any more; she just got up and, to my intense embarrassment, hugged me.

‘Okay, thanks,’ I said awkwardly, disentangling myself from her as gently as possible.

‘Oh, Jim, why didn’t you tell us what was going on with Paula?’ Mum was almost crying, which was even more embarrassing than the hug.

‘Eh,’ I said.

‘I’m so sorry, son.’ Christ, now
she
was at it.

‘Yeah, cheers,’ I said.

‘You could have told me, you know. You shouldn’t go through something like this on your own.’

‘That’s kind of the way we do it in this house, though.’ That probably wasn’t fair of me, but she didn’t seem bothered.

‘Well we shouldn’t. Next time something like this happens you’d bloody better clue me in, all right?’

‘Okay. I’m sort of hoping there won’t be a next time.’

‘I hope so, too,’ she said, wiping her eyes. ‘But there are no guarantees in life.’

‘Good of you to mention,’ I said.

‘Are you hungry?’

‘I am a bit.’

‘Sit down and I’ll get you something.’

‘Cheers.’

Mum disappeared into the kitchen. I sat at the table and looked at my dad.

‘I’m assuming you gave a full and frank report,’ I said.

‘She’s my commanding officer, I had no choice.’

I chuckled. ‘Yeah, fair enough.’

‘She was just relieved you hadn’t become a Scientologist or something. So was I.’

It felt good to talk to him like this. Weird as fuck, but good. It was almost as though we were friends or something.

‘So, Jim,’ Mum said, coming out of the kitchen bearing a cheese and ham sandwich. ‘Your dad and I were thinking. It’s probably about time you moved out.’

‘Oh,’ I said. So much for ‘friends’. ‘Yeah, well, it might be a wee while yet, I’m afraid.’ I could just about afford the rent on a flat on my new salary, but it would take another few months before I could put enough away for a security deposit.

‘Maybe this will help.’ Mum went over to the sideboard and rummaged in a drawer, pulling out a brown, A4 envelope. She handed it to me. ‘This is yours.’

I opened the envelope. It was full of ten-pound notes. ‘What’s this?’ I was even more confused than usual.

‘We’ve been putting half your rent away,’ Mum said. ‘We knew you’d never save anything on your own.’

There was clearly a new emotional dynamic forming within the family unit, but it was still at the foetal stages and I hadn’t yet developed all of the necessary and appropriate responses. I therefore said, ‘Eh,’ instead of the
ohmygodthat’sbrilliantthankyouthankyouthankyou
I was actually feeling.

They seemed to understand.

Chapter 32

I found a flat in
Garnethill
, funnily enough. It was within walking distance of The Basement and only marginally smaller and more squalid than the one I’d sold eight months earlier. The rent was only a couple of hundred a month more than my mortgage had been, too.

‘Jim,’ Jed shouted, storming out of the kitchen a few minutes before opening time. ‘Do us a
fuckin
’ favour and tell that fucker tae get the fuck out of my
fuckin
’ face, will ye’?’

‘What’s the problem?’ I said, laughing.

‘Don’t mind him, Jim,’ Abe said, following Jed to the bar. ‘The wee wanker
cannae
do as he’s fucking told.’

‘Aye, right,’ Jed said. ‘That bastard’s
tryin
’ tae tell me I still need to wash all the
fuckin
’ pots. I’m meant to be a
fuckin
’ chef, now.’

‘
Commis
chef,’ I pointed out.

‘Aye, that’s no’ a
fuckin
’ KP but, is it?’

‘Sorry, bud,’ I said. ‘Till we get a new one, you’re still it.’

‘That’s just
fuckin
’ ridiculous.’ Jed shook his head in disgust.

‘Get your arse back in that kitchen, wee man,’ Abe said.

Jed looked me pleadingly. ‘You’re his boss,
fuckin
’ tell him.’

‘But he’s still your boss. Sorry, mate.’ I held my hands up.

‘
Fuckin
’ management, you’re all a bunch of
fuckin
’ cunts.’

‘Less of the fucking language, you,’ Abe skelped Jed lightly on the head. ‘I need thirty plates clean and polished, and you’re the one polishing them. Move your arse.’

‘Touch me again and I’ll
fuckin
’ stab you,’ Jed said, slouching back towards the kitchen.

‘Aye, I’d be worried if I thought you’d know what end of the
fuckin
’ knife to use,’ Abe said,
skiting
Jed’s head with his hand again as he followed.

Next to Terry and Ronni those two were definitely my favourite couple.

‘Ready to go?’ Kate asked, coming out of the office.

‘We are indeed.
D’you
want to do the honours?’

‘My pleasure.’ Kate opened the door. It was five-to-eleven.

By five-past we were mobbed.

We hadn’t cracked Monday and Tuesday nights yet, though I had some ideas on how to sort that, but The Basement was now full every lunch time and every evening, Wednesday through Sunday. The numbers were looking better every week, takings and stock. Sammy was so delighted we almost never saw him. Lovely man though he was, that suited me fine.

Fortunately, we still tended to get some breathing space between three and five most days. I had my back to the door and was sorting the big notes in the till into bundles of a hundred when someone spoke from behind me.

‘Good afternoon, James.’

I turned slowly, knowing exactly who it was but praying somehow it wasn’t. ‘Hi, Simon,’ I said. ‘Or is it Joe?’

‘I answer to both, James. Could I trouble you for a pint of
Guiness
?’

I poured the drink.

My dad was right. As time passed I did stop thinking about Paula for longer and longer periods. Now, four months after she’d left, my record was sitting at roughly the five-hour mark. It was amazing though, how many references you see or hear to
Germany
on any given day. I’d never given it any thought before, but now there seemed to be something on the news almost every day - be it about their politely political attempts to take over
Europe
or the fact that one of their teams had given Celtic another drubbing in the Champions League - and every mention gave my heart a dizzying, misery-inducing jolt.

It could have been worse, I supposed - at least German food hadn’t taken off in Glasgow as yet. If Paula had moved to
Italy
I’d never have been able to eat a pizza or have a cappuccino again.

 
I’d managed not to think about Paula that day since Abe had called Jed a wanker in the morning. I’d had hopes of making it all the way till I finished at six, but that was buggered, now.

‘Here you go.’ I put Simon’s pint in front of him.

‘Thank you kindly.’ Simon took a long swallow and smacked his lips. ‘A well cared for and expertly poured example of the species. You do your job well.’

‘Yeah, thanks.’

Simon looked at me. ‘You look well, James. Are you?’