‘He asked me about you. He said that the redtops may be getting ready to run a story about you being implicated in two investigations, one being run by your own force and the other by the police in Spain. The suggestion is that you’ve been informally suspended.’
‘What did you tell him?’
‘After I’d picked myself off the floor and got my laughter under control I told him to bugger off.’
‘Thanks, Gregor.’
‘Somebody’s making mischief for you, Bob.’
‘Don’t I know it,’ Skinner replied. ‘Someone close, too: I can sense it. There is nothing worse than being betrayed by a friend.’
Ninety-seven
‘Do you think glass ceilings exist any more?’
‘Why do you ask that?’
Alex Skinner reached across the table for the bottle of St Émilion and topped up her goblet. ‘I’d have thought that was obvious. Here we are, two women having dinner together, not a man in sight. I’m still well short of thirty and I’m an associate in the biggest law firm in Scotland. Two days ago, I had a phone call from the chair. . another she. . of our most serious rival, asking if I’d like to join them as a partner. For your part, you’re still well short of forty: you’re our nation’s First Minister and we’re sitting in your official residence.’
‘I suppose,’ said Aileen de Marco. ‘Yes, if a Martian bloke was teleported into this room he could be forgiven for thinking that we’re equal shareholders in humanity, and maybe even the dominant half of the species. But drop him into my home city, Glasgow, and he wouldn’t think that. He’d see the pubs, filled with so-called alpha males while Mum stayed at home with the weans. He’d see the hookers in the red-light district, selling sex to sad or voracious men, then giving much of their money to their pimps and the rest to their drug pushers, none of whom are likely to be female. He’d see foreign girls in sweatshop jobs, thinking they were lucky to have them. He’d see wee neds on the street corners, tooled up, learning to be just like their big brothers and even their dads, bad news one day for their womenfolk. He’d see refuges for battered wives. Would he see a single refuge for battered husbands?’ She peered over the top of her glass. ‘Would. . he. . fuck.’
‘Maybe Martians don’t have blokes,’ Alex mused. ‘Maybe they’re. . androgynous. . hermaphroditic.’
‘Then they can go and screw themselves.’
‘Stop right there!’
Aileen giggled. ‘Yes, maybe that was taking it a bit too far. Mind you, why does Doctor Who always regenerate as another man? Why does he never turn into a woman?’
‘If he did she’d probably make a hell of a mess the first time she went to the toilet. As for his first period. . Jesus, the mind boggles. Can you imagine David Tennant with PMT?’
‘No. Definitely not. As for the standing up or sitting down bit, though, I don’t think he does. I don’t go all the way back, but I’ll bet you, in forty years, or whatever it is, of travelling through space and time, the old Doc has never once taken a piss. Speaking of which, is that bottle empty?’
Alex picked it up and shared its contents between them. ‘It is now.’
‘Will I open another?’
‘Better not. School day tomorrow, and all that.’
‘What did you say to her?’
‘Who?’
‘Your rival firm’s boss. She who tried to lure you?’
‘I told her thanks but no thanks, that I’d stay with Curle Anthony and Jarvis for a bit longer.’
‘And how did she take that?’
‘She told me she wouldn’t ask again.’ Alex smiled, a little crookedly. ‘I told her there was something illogical in that. If they want me now, I said, then in a couple of years’ time, when I have more training and experience behind me, they should want me even more. So she left the offer open.’
‘Did you tell your boss?’
‘No. It would only cause bad feeling between the firms.’
‘Maybe you should,’ Aileen suggested. ‘He might offer you a partnership straight away.’
‘He has done already or, rather, he’s promised me one; when the time is right, he said.’
‘In that case, why don’t you tell him that the time’s right for your rival?’
‘He’d think I was blackmailing him. Anyway, I like doing what I’m doing at the moment. A promotion would change it.’
‘You sound just like your dad.’
‘That’s a compliment.’
‘It’s meant to be. He has your reluctance to move on, but there comes a time when you have to, or spend the rest of your life wondering. His has come now.’
‘Not yet,’ said Alex. ‘Sir James retires next year, doesn’t he?’
‘Not any more. He goes next month.’
‘And will Pops. .?’
‘He’s promised me that he will.’
‘He’s made his mind up? How did you manage that?’
‘I suppose you could say there was a bit of mutual blackmail involved.’
Alex peered into her glass. ‘I see. He’s doing that for you. So what are you doing for him?’
‘He’s supposed to tell you that.’
‘God,’ she gasped, ‘you’re going to marry him.’
Aileen nodded. ‘Is that okay with you?’
‘Are you asking me for his hand? Of course it is. . as long as I don’t have to call you “Mother”. Sarah had a brief flirtation with that notion, after my brother was born.’
‘No, “First Minister” will be fine. Seriously, though, you don’t mind?’
‘I couldn’t be happier for both of you. You’re made for each other. Here, you’re not pregnant, are you?’
‘Jeez, no. Your dad has enough children as it is.’
‘Only three of his own. Mark’s adopted, remember.’ Alex paused. ‘Have you done due diligence on each other, told each other all your secrets?’
‘He knew most of mine before we started to get serious. But, yes, he’s told me all of his. . including his dalliances, between his two marriages, and even during his second.’
‘Mark’s mum?’
‘Yes. He doesn’t think you know about that.’
‘Sarah told me, one time when she was mad at him. Did he tell you who the mystery woman was too?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘There was somebody, when I was fourteen. I never found out her name. He hinted at her on Sunday, but he still kept it to himself.’
‘Yes, he told me about her too.’
‘Was she married? I wondered that, afterwards.’
‘No,’ Aileen replied, ‘but she married someone else, and that’s how it finished.’
‘Who was she?’
‘Now that, I don’t think I can tell you. I’m a politician, Alex; I know the value of trust between two people, and I’ll never do anything to put that at risk.’
‘That’s good. .’ said Alex ‘. . because I’ll always trust you.’
Aileen glanced at the clock on the sideboard. ‘Speaking of Himself,’ she said, ‘he should be home in triumph now from his trip to Monaco.’
‘Yes, was that a result or not! Maggie will be so pleased to see that man put away for the rest of his life.’ She paused. ‘You said he’s going home, not coming here?’
‘Yes. He told me he’s got one more thing to sort out, and that it might mean an early start. Once it’s done, and here I quote him, he’ll be free to concentrate on the next stage of his career, and of his life.’
Ninety-eight
Caitlin Summers smiled as the interview began. It was the third time she had watched it, having recorded the original transmission on the Sky + box that she had discovered as an added bonus when she had moved into her new home.
‘Why this location?’ the BBC arts correspondent asked. ‘Isn’t it a bit of a contrast from your last home in the United States. . New York, wasn’t it?’
‘That’s right, and the choice is quite deliberate. I’m a creature of extremes, a risk-taker, and I like to think it shows in my work.’
‘Being an artist in Scotland has been a risky business lately. I suppose you’re aware that three young painters have been murdered this year.’
Caitlin watched herself smile mischievously at her female inquisitor. ‘Are you saying I’m live bait?’