‘Whatever direction you decide you want your life to take, you can’t be ambivalent about it.You’ve got to be certain, and you’ve got to be certain for the right reason.
‘I haven’t a bloody clue what your reason will turn out to be, but I’m sure that you’ll find it. Even then, there’ll be no guarantee you’ll get what you want, but I know that you won’t unless you’re completely committed to it.’
Jan reached out and touched my cheek, holding my gaze. ‘Remember those birds we used to watch from the beach when we were kids, the gulls and the ducks, floating on the sea just behind the crest of the tide, getting closer to land, but never quite allowing the waves to bring them in to shore? Well, my darling, no more drifting on the tide. It’s make your mind up time.’
I smiled at her, but I wasn’t laughing. ‘Two days ago, I thought I had; but maybe I was just treading water. The Mediterranean’s different, remember. No tides.’
She stood up and stepped inside, drawing me with her. ‘Now, what’s the thing you want to do uptown, because time’s getting on?’
I folded the chairs and carried them inside as Jan closed the French doors. ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘I want to go to a jeweller’s.’
I told her no more than that, all the way up from the loft, through Waverley Station and out into Princes Street. I could tell that I had her interest, but typically, she refused to ask me anything about my purpose.
Finally we reached Laing‘s, in Frederick Street. ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘I’ll tell you now. This is a bit of detective work of my own.’ I led her inside and asked for Gregor, the manager. ‘He’s one of my Tuesday football pals,‘I explained to Jan as he came bounding down the stairs at the rear of the shop.
His eyes lit up as he saw us, and I could tell that he was anticipating a diamond sale. I put him right at once, as he greeted us. ‘I’m after nuggets of information,’ I said, ‘not gold.’
‘Christ, Oz,’ he groaned, ‘that’s corny. But tell me about it anyway.’
He motioned Jan and I to chairs at one of their fitting tables, and sat down with us. ‘Remember that watch I bought last year for my dad?’ I asked him.
‘Sure. Giorgio of Beverley Hills. A good line for us.’
‘Glad to hear it. They’ve all got serial numbers, yes?’ Gregor nodded. ‘And they’re guaranteed, obviously,’ I went on. ‘So, are the serial numbers registered with the guarantee, or are they just for show? In other words, can you identify the purchaser just by looking at the back of the watch?’
‘Yes, assuming that all the paperwork’s been done. Why? Has your dad been getting unwanted mail from Giorgio?’
‘No, nothing like that. The thing is, I found a watch just like it in Spain, and I’d like to return it if I can. A guy out there told me that those watches were made for the UK market only.’
‘And America.’
‘Mmm. But assuming it is UK, if I give you the serial number could you come up with a name and address?’
He scratched his chin. ‘If we sold it, I can tell you straight away. But it’s probably odds against that. What’s the number?’
‘930100.’
He stood up. ‘Give me a minute.’ He trotted back up the stairs to what I assumed was his office, reappearing a few minutes later. ‘No, it isn’t one of ours,’ he said. ‘But the first letter of the serial number tells me that it is a UK watch, and the second that it was sold in the West of England.
‘I can’t make any promises, Oz, because the manufacturers have no obligation to give me information about other people’s customers. We’re significant buyers, though. I shouldn’t imagine I’ll have any bother. Will you be at Meadowbank tomorrow night?’ he asked. ‘I should have news by then.’
‘Sorry. I’m going back to Spain this afternoon. But you can fax me, one way or another.’ I scribbled my St Marti number on a scratchpad which lay on the table.
‘Sure, I’ll do that,’ he said. ‘It’s a pity you can’t stay longer. Our Tuesday night game’s got too serious since you left. Anything else I can do for you, while you’re here?’
I nodded, and pointed towards a display case beside our table. ‘Since you ask. See that gold necklet?You can wrap that up for me.’ Gregor’s eyes lit up again.
Buying jewellery in Laing’s is always a pleasant experience. Very few shops these days have the knack of making the customer feel special, but theirs is one that does. I replaced my card in my wallet and slipped my purchase into the pocket of my jacket, as Gregor showed us out into Frederick Street. ‘I’ll give you information any time you like if that’s what comes of it,’ he said, waving us farewell.
We walked casually back the way we had come, pausing to window-gaze in the specialist Waverley Shopping Centre. It was dead on 2 p.m. by the time we arrived back at the loft. ‘Better head for the airport,’ said Jan, in a matter-of-fact way, as we stood, looking out of the window once more.
‘Yes.’ I paused. ‘Listen, I can get a taxi.’
She threw me one of her most dismissive looks.
‘Okay,’ I grinned, ‘but I had to offer.’ I picked up my bag, and Gavin Scott’s print, in its tube, and we headed for the door.
Half-an-hour later, Jan pulled up at the airport. We looked at each other. It had all been said. Well, almost. ‘Whatever,’ said Jan. ‘I love you.’ We kissed.
‘Whatever,’ I said. I took the long box from my pocket, ripped the paper from it, took out the necklet and fastened it around her throat. She looked at me in surprise, but didn’t say a word. The gold seemed to shine even brighter.
She smiled and touched my cheek. ‘Think of it this way. At worst we’ll be step-brother and step-sister … or maybe at best.’
19
My flight landed in Barcelona ten minutes early, and so it was just after nine-thirty when I stepped through the blue channel and out into the concourse. The arrangement had been that I would catch the last train to Girona and take a taxi home.
But there she was, copper tan, sun-gold blonde, bright-brown-eyed. My Primavera.
All the way home I had thought of my weird weekend. My reunions, my serious conversation with my sister, and the ShaneWarne googly that Jan’s rediscovered emancipation had thrown into my comfortable, complacent life.
I was certain that I loved Prim. I was certain that I loved Jan. I was certain that sometime very soon I was going to have to make a painful choice. That was where my certainty ended.
Somewhere in there, there was something profound, something meaningful, something which gave me the answer. The big overwhelming reason leading me to the decision which I knew I had to make, a situation which I had not as much as contemplated only twenty-four hours before.
My eyes were closed for most of both return flights, apart from the occasions when I was shaken by the flight crews so that I could decline their offers of drink, token food and duty-free that I could buy cheaper in the shops in Spain. But was I asleep? Oh no. All the way back to what I had called home when I left it, my mind was racing, full of thoughts of Jan, our night together, and of the many nights in our past.
I had no idea what I was going to say to Prim, or even how I would feel when I saw her. For that matter I had no idea how I would look to her. Would the truth be written in my eyes, or betrayed by the way I spoke to her?
I still had no answers to any of it as I stepped out through the International Arrivals doorway, to find her there, in the front of the crowd. I was surprised, and in there was a tiny flash of frustration, for some little devil inside me had worked out that if she hadn’t been there I would have had an opportunity to throw a moody, to begin an undermining process, a distancing of myself from Prim and her love.
But when I saw her my smile broke out, in spite of itself. I heard myself say, ‘Hello love, I wondered if you’d be here, in spite of what we agreed.’ And my arms, burdens and all, spread out to enfold her and to return her hug.