Primavera was there when my happy life went to rat-shit. When I tried to piece things together again, she was there for me too. I didn’t see her as part of the Dark Plan but, as I lay there, I did begin to admit to myself that she had been the easy option, a crutch I had been all too keen to grab and lean on, one that I was leaning on still.
As I lay there thinking, I understood that her departure hadn’t simply thrown me off balance. It had made me realise that I didn’t know any more who Oz Blackstone was, or even whether he was, in his own right. Everything in my restored existence, the winning lottery ticket which had been based on her parents’ birthdays, even this weird new career of mine, this acting game, had come from or through Prim.
Whatever they said after the event, I knew damn well that if Miles Grayson hadn’t happened to be married to her actress sister, no way would he have cast a part-time wrestling announcer and voice-over artist in one of his projects. The fact that his publicity department has orders never to refer to our relationship is proof of that.
‘Will the real Oz Blackstone please stand up,’ I said, aloud once more.
‘Will any Oz Blackstone please stand up,’ a voice replied. I opened my eyes and sat bolt upright.
It was Susie Gantry.
I shook my head and squeezed my eyes shut, expecting that when I opened them again, she’d be gone. But she wasn’t; she stood there, short, trim, tits like racing airships, shown to their best advantage in a red woollen sweater, thrusting out from her fur-lined black leather jacket as it hung open.
I felt disorientated for a moment. I swung off the lounger and pushed myself to my feet. ‘Susie. .’ I heard myself mumbling.
‘Surprise, surprise,’ she chirped, in her slightly nasal Glaswegian accent, oblivious of my confusion. ‘How’s my favourite yuppie, then?’ She swung her bag into a more secure position on her shoulder, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed me on the cheek.
‘Astonished,’ I answered her. ‘What the hell. .?’
Her expression changed, dramatically and suddenly; cheery, chesty Susie turned before my eyes into a wounded robin redbreast. A frown creased her eyes in a way I’d never seen before, and her pretty face fell. ‘Oz, I’m sorry,’ she exclaimed. ‘Have I got it wrong? Yes, I have, haven’t I? But when you and Prim put that note in your Christmas card, with your new address, and said you’d be pleased to see me early in the New Year, I thought I’d just turn up out of the blue, to surprise you, like.’
She chewed her lip for a second or two. ‘Silly Susie, right enough.’ Her chin trembled and I could see how fragile she was. I gathered her up in my arms, lifted her clear off her feet, and kissed her on the forehead.
‘Silly Susie nothing!’ I said firmly, setting her down gently. ‘It’s me that should be sorry. I was miles away there. Welcome to L’Escala. Sit down there and I’ll make you a coffee.’ She raised an eyebrow; I remembered that sign of old. ‘Or I could get you a drink …’
‘A beer would be nice, thanks.’
I decided that I needed one myself, so I uncapped two Sols from the fridge and carried them outside.
‘Thanks again,’ said my visitor. ‘I’m fair parched.’
‘How did you get here?’
‘I flew to Barcelona yesterday, stayed overnight in a hotel and got the fast train to Girona this morning. Took a taxi from there. The driver had a hell of a job finding this address; eventually he dumped me at the big roundabout coming into town. I went into the fruit shop there and asked for directions.
‘Lucky for me there was an English woman there. . elderly, long dyed hair, dressed sort of gypsy style. She heard me mention your name and said she knew you. She gave me a lift. A right character, she was.’
‘You’re not wrong there,’ I laughed. ‘I’ll take you to her bar some time.
‘You got a suitcase?’
She jerked a thumb over her shoulder; I saw it sitting at the top of the driveway, a great big black thing on wheels, with a handle.
‘So where’s Prim?’ Susie asked. ‘Down the shops? Having a lie-in?’
I glanced at my watch. ‘Probably still asleep,’ I told her. ‘She’s in Los Angeles.’
She gave a small scream. ‘Oh my God,’ she exclaimed. ‘I’ve really done it, stupid wee bitch that I am.’
‘Don’t be daft,’ I told her quickly, in case she got emotional on me again. I explained the situation with Elanore, painting the rosiest medical picture that I could.
‘Oh dear,’ she sighed when I was finished. ‘I’d better go, hadn’t I? I’ll check into a hotel and fly home as soon as I can.’
If it had been anyone else, I’d probably have left it at that, but not with Susie. She and I had been to the same place emotionally; she had lost a partner, and her scars were a lot fresher than mine. She didn’t have all that many friends, and I didn’t fancy the thought of letting her go back to Glasgow on a downer, embarrassed and with her tail between her legs.
‘No you bloody won’t,’ I told her. ‘We invited you, and you’re staying. For as long as you like. . How long is that, by the way?’
‘My return flight’s booked for a week on Sunday.’
‘Fine. Chances are, Prim will be back well before then.’
‘If I stay here she’ll be on the first plane,’ Susie murmured.
‘No she won’t.’
She gave me a faint smile. ‘But what will the neighbours say?’
I laughed. ‘This is L’Escala, kid, and you’ve been in town for an hour. They’re saying it already. Come on, I’ll show you your bunk.’
I picked up her suitcase and carried it into the house, then upstairs to the main guest bedroom at the front. Before the family had left, Mary and Ellie had insisted on changing all the beds. I was glad now that I had let them. For all it was unexpected and unorthodox, I was glad of Susie’s arrival too. There would be no brooding with her around. Mind you, I still had to break the news to Prim.
‘I like the new pad,’ she said, after I had given her the grand tour round the place. ‘I wish I could find one like it in Glasgow.’
‘So build yourself one.’ Susie had taken over the running of her father’s construction group; after a sticky start she was making a damn good job of it too.
She wrinkled her freckled nose. ‘I could think of twenty good reasons why I don’t; every one of them a degree Fahrenheit.’
I left her to unpack, then, when she was ready, took her to lunch at a place in the country, a nice traditional farm-house restaurant called Mas Pou, where they don’t get upset at all if you skip the main course and have a couple of starters instead. The house red there is very local, very new and fairly strong. Susie took a liking to it at once.
‘Are you two ever coming back to Glasgow?’ She dropped the question without warning, as soon as she had finished her omelette cake.
‘Sure we are, Susie,’ I told her. ‘I don’t know how much time we’re going to spend there in future, but we’re not going non-resident or anything drastic like that.’
‘So you’re not going into tax exile then?’ She smiled as she said it. The red had relaxed her; the surface tension that she had displayed earlier seemed to have gone altogether.
‘No way. I’d rather pay tax than become a nomad. We’ll still be around. We might sell the flat, though.’
She looked at me in surprise. ‘You serious?’
‘I think so.’
‘Give me first refusal, then.’
‘If you want, but why?’
‘Ach, I’ve got to get out of my place, Oz. It’s just full of Mike.’
You find your own truth in bereavement. I don’t know a hell of a lot about life, but I do know about death, and that there are things for which we can’t plan, and through which we have to find our own way.
‘Funny,’ I told her. ‘That’s exactly why I chose to stay on in my apartment. . because it seemed full of Jan.’