Tombstoning (12 page)

‘No one tricked anyone, or pushed anyone,’ said Gary.

‘Maybe someone who was jealous of him,’ Mike continued. ‘Jealous of everything he had that they didn’t. It’s possible, you can’t deny that.’

‘Like Gary said, no one pushed anyone, Mike,’ said David.

‘When you suddenly disappeared after the funeral, David, there were rumours that you’d had something to do with it. I never paid those rumours any fucking mind. That would be ridiculous, I used to say, David wouldn’t have had anything to do with Colin’s death.’

‘That’s touching, Mike, really.’

‘And anyway, he most probably just topped himself, didn’t he? People do it all the time. The suicide rate amongst blokes in this country is through the fucking roof. Of course, there is another possibility. Maybe he jumped off for a thrill and fucked it up. Kids have started doing that, you know, they’re calling it tombstoning.’

‘Yeah, we heard,’ said Gary. ‘But that’s not what Colin did.’

‘We’ll never know, will we? It’s a right fucking mystery. Must’ve been hard for you though, David, living with the death of your best mate, your bosom buddy, your special little friend that you went everywhere with.’

‘Are you trying to say something?’ said David.

‘Like what?’ Mike couldn’t pull off a pretend innocent look without smirking.

‘Like that me and Colin were gay.’

‘I never said that, did I?’ He turned to the others. ‘Did I say that? Did I?’ He waited for an answer, and after a few seconds of silence turned back to David. ‘I never fucking said that, OK? And even if you were, what fucking difference would it make? Unless it was having a dirty, hidden secret that made Colin top himself. Couldn’t stand living the lie any more and all that shit.’

‘You’re a fucking joke,’ said David, and the air chilled.

‘What did you say?’

‘You heard me.’

They stared blankly at each other as the beat of some cheesy dancefloor-filler throbbed all around them, their faces close enough to smell the booze on each other’s breath. Eventually Mike broke the spell, chuckling to himself and downing what was left of his bottle of Sol.

‘Watch yourself, David, you cheeky cunt,’ he said, pointing with his bottle hand. ‘Just watch yourself.’

He turned and sauntered towards the bar and the vacuum he left was filled with slightly nervous exhalations. Jonathan and Plunge had been hiding wide-eyed behind their pints, hoping Mike would ignore them. Gary glared at Mike’s back as he walked away, muttering ‘fucking prick’ under his breath. David just shook his head and smiled at the ridiculousness of it all.

Nicola was washing her hands in the toilets when Kirsty and her entourage swanned in. This was not a coincidence.

‘Nicola!’ Kirsty declared it as if surprised to see her. ‘Great timing, we’re just about to have a cheeky wee line of Uncle Charlie, why don’t you join us?’

She pulled out a wrap, unfolded it and started chopping out lines of white powder as Anita watched the toilet door and the other two pretended to relax at either side of her. It was like being back in the school bogs, thought Nicola. She hadn’t snorted anything in years. She had been quite partial to a bit of speed in her student days, and tried various things while travelling, but all that had stopped with Amy. But then here was Kirsty with a couple of kids younger than Amy, and a couple of grams in her pocket. Nicola had never really taken to coke anyway, its price always seemed way out of proportion to the effect. It was the narcotic equivalent of a Prada bag, a rather tacky and ultimately pointless demonstration of wealth in the face of those that didn’t have it.

‘I’m all right, thanks.’

‘Very wise, I’m sure,’ said Kirsty. ‘You’re so responsible.’

‘No, I just don’t like coke.’

‘But I did notice there was something you did like out there,’ continued Kirsty, getting out a note and rolling it. ‘Or rather someone.’ She took a blast, then the other nostril, then did the sniffing thing so as not to lose the coke snot. She passed the note to Claire. ‘I couldn’t help seeing that you and David Lindsay seem to be getting on well.’

Nicola sighed. ‘He’s OK. We’re just friends.’

‘It looked like you thought he was more than OK earlier on. Anything we should know about?’

‘What, in your official position as town gossip, you mean?’

‘Nicola Cruickshank, there’s no need to be like that, I was only asking. I don’t know what you see in him, myself, he’s hardly catch of the day, is he? But then I suppose as a single mum you can’t be too choosy about which men you let into your life.’

‘Now, Kirsty, that is just plain rude.’

‘Not at all, dear, I’m sorry if you took offence. I didn’t mean anything by it.’

‘Didn’t you?’

‘I didn’t as it happens. You’re being very hostile, you know that? I don’t know why you’re being so defensive, unless you’ve got something to hide.’

‘Whatever, Kirsty. It doesn’t really matter what I say, does it? You’re going to assume that me and David have a thing going, aren’t you?’

‘And would I be wrong if I assumed that?’

Nicola sighed again and thought about leaving, but something kept her there. By this time the note had been passed round all four girls and back to Kirsty. There was still a line cut out in front of them and Kirsty offered the note to Nicola.

‘Sure I can’t tempt you?’

‘I told you, Kirsty, I’m not a fan of coke. Turns people into gobby, arrogant arseholes, as far as I can tell.’

‘Now who’s being rude?’ said Kirsty with a smile, before quickly ducking down to hoover up the last line and sniffling. ‘And how does David feel about Amy? He does
know
about her, doesn’t he?’

Nicola let out a small snort of a laugh. ‘Sorry to disappoint you, Kirsty, but yes, he does know about her.’

‘And they get on OK? I mean, it’s such a lot to take on, someone else’s daughter. I suppose you both living in Edinburgh makes things easier.’

‘Kirsty, I haven’t said there’s anything going on, have I?’

‘Well, isn’t there?’

Nicola shook her head. What was the point?

‘There is nothing going on between me and David. Is that clear enough for you?’

‘I think the lady protests too much, what do you think, girls?’

‘Oh for fuck’s sake,’ said Nicola, tired of the exchange. She pushed herself up from the sink she was leaning against. ‘If you’re quite finished slagging off me and my…’

‘Yes?’ said Kirsty. ‘Your what?’

‘My
friend
,’ said Nicola, deliberately. ‘Then I’ll get out your way.’

She pushed past Kirsty, then Anita at the door, letting the throb of the dance music briefly enter the toilets as she swung out. She headed off towards David, who was within spilling distance of the bar and talking to a little goblin of a man she recognized as Gary Spink.

‘Nicola, you remember Gary, right?’

‘Hi Gary, long time no see.’

‘You’re looking great, Nicola.’

‘Thanks. Are you the man responsible for getting muggins here shapeless this afternoon?’

‘Well, it was a quiet pint really, but you know how these things can escalate.’

‘I do indeed. I’m away to get a round in, what are you both having?’

She went to the bar, and David felt a mixture of pride and irritation as he watched Gary’s gaze follow her arse.

‘She’s looking great, isn’t she?’ said Gary. ‘She seemed pretty friendly with you. Something going on there I should know about?’

‘That would be telling.’

‘Because if not, I might have a go at chatting her up myself.’

‘In that case, yes, there is something going on.’

‘I knew it. You look good together.’

‘We’re not actually together, you understand. Well, we might be. I don’t know, really.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll leave you to it. I wouldn’t have a chance with her anyway.’

By the time Nicola returned, Jonathan and Plunge had somehow drifted back into orbit around them, and introductions were duly done. Nicola turned to Gary.

‘You were another of the ADS, weren’t you?’

‘For my sins.’

‘Have you kept in contact with Neil?’

‘Haven’t seen him in years, don’t know what he’s up to.’

Plunge piped up. ‘I thought I saw him earlier.’

The rest of them seemed to notice Plunge for the first time.

‘Really?’ said Gary. ‘Here? I thought he was a bit of a recluse these days. Are you sure it was him?’

‘We’re talking about Neil Cargill? Joined the Marines? Yeah, I’m sure I saw him earlier. It wasn’t in the reunion bit, he was over the other side of the club, on his own. He’s a stocky fucker, with tattoos? I’m sure it was him.’

Plunge turned to point to where he had seen Neil. To the right of the DJ booth was a dark area, where the lights seemed not to reach into the corner, but there was no one there. They all craned their necks in comedy unison, like meerkats on the lookout, to see further into the dark recesses of Bally’s, the swarm of drunkards around them making it impossible to see clearly for more than a fleeting moment.

‘It was a while ago, about an hour or something,’ said Plunge, as if trying to justify the lack of a Neil Cargill in the corner of the room. ‘But I did see him.’

‘He got chucked out the Marines, didn’t he?’ said Jonathan.

‘Did he?’ said David.

‘Yeah, I’m sure I read it in the paper or something. He fought in the first Gulf War – Desert Storm and all that – and then I’m sure I read that he got discharged not long after. Don’t know whether it was because he was injured or what, but there was definitely something in the paper about it.’

‘Seems weird,’ said Nicola, ‘thinking that someone our age was out fighting in wars ten years ago. Can’t imagine what it must’ve been like.’

‘Just watch the news, we’re doing it all over again,’ said Gary.

David wasn’t really interested in talking about politics, the mention of the current conflict flicking a switch in him to off. He wanted to change the subject.

‘Right, seeing as how we’re here to remember our school days, I can’t help feeling that we should be getting into the spirit more. For a start, we are not nearly drunk enough. I suggest some drinking games. You lot grab a booth and I’ll get another round in.’

It was past two and the three of them were seriously steaming.

‘Check out Mr and Mrs Loverpants there,’ said Nicola, pointing at a couple in the adjacent booth, virtually screwing each other on the stained, raggedy seating. ‘We were never that bad, were we?’

‘What, you mean the two of us?’ said David. ‘I never got the chance.’

Nicola tried to hit him affectionately on the arm, only she missed and fell slightly against him. She righted herself. ‘No, I don’t mean the two of us, I mean
us
– our generation. We were never just out-and-out shagging in the middle of Bally’s, were we?’

‘Maybe
we
weren’t,’ said Gary, ‘but some people were.’

‘Really?’ said Nicola. ‘It’s amazing what you don’t remember. Like, I don’t remember so many of our year being such arseholes.’

‘That’s about all I remember,’ said David. ‘Although I was just sitting here thinking they weren’t as bad as they used to be.’

‘Fuck off,’ said Nicola. ‘They’re twats, the lot of them. Present company excluded.’

‘But what about the lot we were in the Lochlands with last night? They’re all right, aren’t they?’

‘Aye, I’m not talking about them either.’

‘Who are you talking about, exactly?’

‘The arseholes. The twats. Kirsty Boyd and her pals, and all the rest.’

‘Now Kirsty,’ said Gary, waving a green chartreuse around in front of his face, ‘she is an arsehole. And a twat. I’d still shag her, likes.’

‘Then you are a sad man, Gary Spink,’ said Nicola.

‘Nicola, you are absolutely right,’ said Gary.

‘And what about you?’ Nicola said, turning to David. He looked a bit blurry, in keeping with the rest of the room.

‘What about me?’

‘Would you shag Twinkletoes over there, given the opportunity?’

‘No thanks. It would be like having sex with a teacher or an auntie. Not good, in other words.’

‘We had one or two teachers I wouldn’t have minded shagging,’ said Gary. ‘And I have a nice auntie, too.’

‘You are one sick fuck,’ said Nicola. ‘Really. Although, our art teacher Mr Thompson was a bit of all right, wouldn’t have minded getting him into the art cupboard once upon a time.’

‘Gary, which fucking auntie are you talking about?’ said David. ‘I’ve met your Aunt Kate, and if it’s her you’re talking about you really are a sick fuck.’

Gary just smiled. David shook his head then turned to Nicola.

‘Mr Thompson!’ he said. ‘You fancied Mr Thompson? He was so gay. You had no fucking chance.’

‘I could’ve turned him though, eh? Don’t you think?’ she snuggled up to David’s arm and Gary laughed.

‘I reckon you could turn anyone,’ Gary said and it was David’s turn to laugh.

‘What, even straight guys?’ David said. ‘Turn them gay, you mean?’

‘Shut up, you cheeky fuck,’ said Nicola, letting go of his arm and shuffling clumsily out the booth. ‘I’ve still fucking got it,’ she said, doing a drunken shimmy. ‘Now, what are you pair of arseholes wanting to drink?’

As Nicola tottered away, both men watched her go.

‘She really is something,’ said Gary. ‘I guess she was worth coming to this reunion for, wasn’t she?’

‘I reckon so,’ said David. ‘Although it’s been a laugh all round, frankly. Mind you, that could well be down to the fact that I’m steaming drunk and I haven’t really done any socializing with anyone except for you and her.’

‘So, what now?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Between you and her? You going for it?’

‘Dunno, just wait and see. We’re both old enough to know how the world works. At the moment we’re getting on great, so let’s just see where we go from here.’

‘And what about Arbroath?’

‘What about it?’

‘Is it going to be another fifteen years before you come back?’

‘It’ll be another fifty years before I set foot in Bally’s again, that’s for sure. But I might make it back for the odd game at Gayfield, if you keep me posted. That’s if you’re going to be here, what with the plans for art college and everything.’