‘Sorry, Dad,’ I said. ‘I never thought. Anyway, you know me, I like surprises. And this one’s a cracker. Dad, this is my new friend, Primavera Phillips. Prim, this is the man you wanted to meet, Macintosh Blackstone, LDS, the bugger who christened me Osbert!’
My Dad shook his head. ‘Jesus, I don’t know. Come in and welcome, lassie. I don’t know what you’ve done to deserve this guy for company, but I’ll do my best to see that he behaves himself.
‘As far as surprises go, Oz my boy, two of us can play that game.’
In all my life, I’ve never managed to put one over on my Father. He is absolutely the most resourceful, wise, devious, cunning and artful old bastard that I know.
We stepped into the hall and it was my turn for the dropping jaw. I saw her feet first as she came down the stairs, then black slacks, then a colourful blouse, and finally … ‘Auntie Mary!’
Mary More, Jan’s Mother, has been an honorary aunt all my days, except at primary school when I had to call her ‘Miss’ like all the rest of the teachers. For all that she is fifty-three, she is still a slim, handsome woman, and, according to her daughter, a walking testimonial to the benefits of hormone replacement therapy.
She smiled, and tossed her carefully maintained auburn chest. ‘Hello Oz. Are you still playing detectives or is this a pure accident?’
‘Accident, Mary, honest. If I’d known, I’d have …’
‘What,’ said my Dad, ‘stayed away? Don’t be daft. Drop that bag and get through to the kitchen. There’ll be no fish suppers in my living room. Hope you’ve got some chips for us. Primavera … lovely name … would you like tea or coffee, or something else?’
Auntie Mary took charge. ‘Mac. Upstairs and get yourself dressed. I’ll take care of the tea or whatever. What will it be, my dear?’
She looked at Prim with a friendly, enquiring smile, but hidden in there I caught a line of communication, an inflection in her gaze. I know that she wouldn’t have meant to let it show, but I caught it clearly. It told me that I had just snapped the last faint thread between Mary and an unspoken wish, one that I never dreamt was there, that eventually Jan and I would be a couple, that we would toe the line and become a conventional pair of thirty-somethings, with a house in an acceptable suburb, a decent car in the garage and two point four cats or whatever. Poor Mary; if I’d only known, I could have told her long ago. Jan did tell her, but now it was clear that she never quite believed it.
But the look passed. Prim glanced across at me, and I rescued her. ‘I think what we really need is to raid the fridge, Mary. Unless that old bugger’s finished the Becks’ I left here last time.’
She laughed. ‘No chance of that. You know how your Dad feels about beer that doesn’t come in pints.’ She turned again to Prim. ‘We haven’t been introduced, dear. I’m Mary More. Don’t let the “Auntie” stuff give you awful ideas about Mac and me. “Friend of the family” is how I am best described.
‘How long have you known young Osbert here?’
I held my breath. Prim grinned and shrugged her shoulders. ‘Who knows? The moment I met him it was as if he’d always been there.’
‘That’s it then,’ said Mary. ‘Just make sure you always are, Oz.’ She led the way into the kitchen, and reached into the cupboard above one of the kitchen worksurfaces, to produce two white dinner plates. I noticed that she knew exactly where to look.
Prim unwrapped the fish suppers and loaded one on to each plate, while I knocked the tops off of two cold Becks’. I held one out to Mary, but she shook her head. ‘No thanks Oz, I must be off home.’
‘Don’t be daft, Mary. Just because we’re here …’
Her eyebrows arched, in much the same way they had when someone spoke in class. ‘As if I would bother about that! Oh no, you don’t think I stay over do you? Remember where you are. This is Anstruther. The first time my bedroom light doesn’t go on after News At Ten the jungle drums will be sounding all over town.’ My Dad appeared, as she spoke, in the kitchen doorway, looking reasonably tidy in a crew-neck sweater and grey trousers. Too bad about the trainers, though. ‘Isn’t that right, Mac?’
‘Oh aye. Ps and Qs must be watched. I think they’re on to us though. We went along to Elie for a meal in the Ship a few weeks back. One of my patients was in. Ever since then I’ve been getting funny looks in the paper shop.’ He took Mary’s hand. ‘Come on, hen. Let’s be daring. I’ll walk you home.’
‘Indeed you will not! Besides, you’ve got your chips to finish. Goodnight both.’ A wave and she was gone. Dad was allowed to see her to the back door, her shortcut home, and then he was back, plopping himself beside us at the big, pine kitchen table and wolfing his chips straight from the paper.
‘Well,’ he said, between mouthfuls, as we tore into the Pittenweem haddock, ‘what brought you two up here unannounced, interrupting my Friday night tryst?’
I swallowed some of my Becks‘, from the bottle. I’m not a poser, honest. It really is the best way to drink it. ‘Spur of the moment, really, Dad. We just decided it was time for you to meet Prim.’
‘Mmm. And delighted I am too. You’ve been sharing your life with a fucking lizard for far too long!’
He looked across at Primavera. ‘Pardon the barrackroom talk, my dear. It’s the way we are, Osbert and I. We used the word to give emphasis to a point.’
Prim, resting from her attack on the fish and chips, propped both elbows on the table and took her beer in both hands. ‘That’s all right, Mr Blackstone. I’ve been in barrackrooms, in Africa. You should hear, and see, how those boys emphasise their points.’
Dad smiled. ‘I can see you’re going to fit in around here. There’s one thing though. To everyone but that insolent bugger there, my name is Mac. Fair enough?’
She nodded. ‘Fair enough.’
We went back to our fish suppers, but before the end, I realised that I was flagging. I looked across at Prim, and I could see that she was drooping too. I glanced at my watch. It was 10.30 p.m. We had been flying, with precious little sleep, for thirty-six hours. Now the tanks were empty and we were both ready to crash.
She caught my glance, and looked at Dad. ‘Mac, would you mind if I had a bath and went to bed?’
‘Not at all, the pair of you look as if you’ve got a fair few miles on your clocks. Oz, show the lady where we keep the zinc bath.’
My room looks out across the Firth too. It used to be Ellen’s, by right of primogeniture (there’s a big word for a simple boy), but as soon as she left home for good I moved myself in there. I held Prim, in the dark, and we looked out of the window across the river. Night had fallen completely now and we could see the lights on May Island, closest to us this time, across on the Bass Rock and further along on Fidra, as each lanced its different signal into the night.
‘D’you want to watch the sun come up again?’
She turned and kissed me, her lips tasting richly of salt and vinegar. ‘No, my dear, I want to sleep till around midday, if that’s all right with you.’
‘Sleep as long as you like, as long as you don’t waken me.’
‘There’s no danger of that,’ she whispered, kissing me again, and smiling. ‘Because you’ll be next door.’
I put yet another gallant proposition to her, but she silenced me with a finger on my lips. ‘Oz, you’re too knackered to do me justice.’ I had to admit it: she was right.
I checked to make sure that there was a sheet on the bed under the duvet. There was, and the pillow slips were crisp and fresh. ‘You sleep here, then,’ I said. ‘Have your bath, and I’ll go down and crack another beer with the old man. He’s dreaming if he thinks he’s going to get away without being interrogated about Auntie Mary!’
I produced a couple of big, fluffy towels and my spare dressing gown from the hall cupboard, and showed her where the bathroom was, at the end of the landing. The bath was huge and deep and had been there since the house was built. When I was really wee, I could swim in it. There was even some scented stuff, for making bubbles. I leaned over to twist on the brass taps. By the time I straightened up and turned around Prim was half undressed. Her shirt was on the floor, her skirt was unfastened, and her bra hung from her shoulders, loose and unclipped.