Dumfries (50 page)

  “Why?” she’d demanded, instantly feeling guilty at causing a painful-looking wince tae disfigure that spotty face ae his.

  “Because, er, Simon, Mr Epstein, ma boss, said Ah’ve tae tell ye that he’s aboot tae put the kettle oan,” Gerald hid replied shyly, avoiding eye contact wae her.

  Mr Epstein?  Christ, he must be aw ae nineteen, and he’s getting people tae call him Mr Epstein, Senga remembered thinking tae hersel, as she passed through the glass door, under a brightly decorated sign announcing that a Mr Simon Epstein wis the sole proprietor, in tae the brightly lit showroom. The size, wance inside, seemed a lot bigger fae how it hid looked fae ootside in the yard.  The place wis bright, cheery and very professional looking.  Oan either side ae the cavernous space, running the whole length ae the warehoose as ye entered, there wur massive horizontal rolls ae carpet sitting oan framed gantries stretching fae flair tae ceiling.  In the middle ae the room, there wur two lanes running parallel tae the carpet rolls, wae carpet samples stacked oan tables.  Whit looked tae be salesmen, in similar shirts and ties tae young Gerald’s, wur busy dealing wae customers.  Senga’d recognised a few ae Simon’s carpet fitter boys, lifting up awready cut rolls ae carpets, oan tae two-wheeled trolleys, before disappearing oot ae the side door tae fill up wan ae the big trailer vans.  Despite the misery and anxiety churning aboot in her stomach, she’d been impressed.  She’d heard Simon hid been daeing well fur himsel, bit she hidnae expected this.  She’d spotted him staunin at the far end ae the warehoose wae his back tae her, talking tae Frankie Fritter, his right-haun carpet-fitter.  When Frankie’d clocked her, he’d said something and Simon hid spun roond, a big grin spread across his face, as he waved her towards a glass-fronted office.  As she’d neared it, he’d started walking at a forty-five degree angle towards her, catching up wae her jist ootside the office door.

  “Senga, ma wee nightingale, how ur ye daeing, hen?” he’d sang wae a big smile, motioning her intae the office, the way D’Artagnan wid’ve done, when opening a door fur some French mademoiselle.

  “Hello, Simon.”

  “So, whit dae ye think then?” he’d asked her, waving his erm towards the warehoose, beyond the glass.

  “Ah’m impressed.  Is this aw yours?”

  “Yep…lock, stock and barrel,” he’d acknowledged, motioning her tae take a seat as he flicked the switch oan the back ae the kettle.

  She’d watched him gaun aboot the business ae making them a cup ae tea.  She’d known Simon Epstein since her ma and da moved up tae Keppochhill Road in Springburn fae the Toonheid when she’d been aboot fourteen…jist o’er five years ago.  He hidnae really changed much.  He wis still pretty hyper, gieing anywan who cared tae notice, the distinct impression that he wis oan edge, even when displaying that cheeky grin ae his, that she’d first come across the day she’d shyly turned up at class in The Albert Secondary School across in Petershill and been introduced tae everywan.  Snappy Johnston, Jake McAlpine, Ben McCallum and Simon hid aw been in the same class as her.  She’d loved her auld school in Springburn.  In the Toonheid, the schools hid been segregated in tae Catholic and Protestant, which meant she’d only seen her pals efter school and at weekends.  Fur some reason, she’d remembered being surprised a year or so later tae find oot that they’d aw started running aboot wae Tony Gucci, Joe McManus, Silent Smith and Johnboy.  It wis only efter she’d thought aboot it, that it hid dawned oan her that she shouldnae hiv been surprised.  While Simon Epstein could be extremely charming, he hid a quick temper oan him, which Senga and a couple ae the other lassies hid witnessed when they’d bumped intae him wan night, when he wis staunin, sober as a judge, eating a poke ae chips, ootside The Capri Fish and Chip Shoap oan Dundas Street, opposite the bus station.  He’d been challenged by three young tickets and wan ae them, who’d looked tae be aboot the same age as him, hid pulled oot a knife.  Efter hivving greeted Senga, Frances Smith and Aggie McCoy, like Mr Charming, he’d turned tae Mr Vicious and then back tae Mr Charming again in the space ae ten seconds.  It hid aw been o’er in a flash and the only noticeable sign that something hid been amiss hid been the three young guys lying spread oot oan the pavement, groaning, and either clutching their hauns between their legs or trying tae stem the blood that wis gushing oot ae their noses, as Simon bent o’er, picked up the knife and drapped it doon a drain at the side ae the pavement.  It hid been horrible tae witness, despite the injuries being clearly self-inflicted.  The fact that she worked in the casualty department, up in The Royal, hidnae been lost oan her either, at the time.  She remembered when everywan in the class wis asked whit they wanted tae dae or become efter they left school.  Oot ae the four future Mankys in her class, it hid been Simon Epstein who’d informed Mr Morton, the modern studies teacher, that he wis gonnae be a successful businessman and hiv a tall building named efter him someday, ignoring the raised eyebrows fae the teacher and the sniggers fae the rest ae the class. 

  “No a millionaire then?” Mr Morton hid snidely scoffed at him, playing tae the crowd.

  “That comes wae the territory,” Simon hid replied seriously, in a matter-ae-fact voice.

  She wondered whit Mr Morton and the rest ae them in the class wid say noo if they hidnae awready been in tae Carpet Capers.

  “So, is this business or pleasure?” he’d asked, putting a fancy China cup ae tea doon in front ae her, oan tap ae wan ae the glossy Indian and Afghan rug magazines, that wur neatly stacked oan the coffee table.

  “Ah’m no sure, Simon,” she’d said, looking away, biting her bottom lip.

  “It’s no that wee ugly auld man Ah’ve seen ye oot and aboot wae, is it?  Jist say the word, and Ah’ll go and speak tae him and gie him a piece ae ma mind,” he’d said, sounding jolly, clearly trying tae fake interest in her boyfriend trouble.

  “Naw, it isnae that.  And anyway, Rory’s goat a black belt in judo, so he his,” Senga hid replied defensively, smiling fur the first time in God knows how long.

  “Hoi, his Johnboy never telt ye aboot the squad ae black, broon, and tartan belted, white-suited, Hi-Karate types that me and Ben set aboot in Gourlay Street wan Thursday night efter they’d been prancing aboot up in the Springburn Halls trying tae impress bampots like themsels?  Fuck, they ended up spread oot across Millarbank Street, looking like a bunch ae spastic crabs, so they did.  In-between pissing oorsels laughing, Ah managed tae deck three ae them and Ben two, jist before they aw high-tailed it across Keppochhill Road and jumped oan tae a number 32 ootside the fire station.  The cowardly basturts left the wee primary school snappers that wur wae them staunin there pishing themsels in fear, in their good white baggy-troosered outfits.  Bloody liberty, so it wis.  Wan wee boy asked Ben if he’d come back and take the class the next week, before asking him tae show him how he managed tae deck the two he’d put doon. Their black belts didnae help them that night, so Ah widnae allow yersel tae be too impressed by some ugly posh pug, who claims that a black belt is something special,” Simon hid said, smiling pleasantly, taking a loud slurp ae his tea fae his Partick Thistle mug, while drumming they fingers ae his right haun oan his knee.

  “So, how is Johnboy then?” she’d blurted oot, no quite sure whit tae say, efter that gush ae verbal diarrhoea.

  “Daeing time,” he’d said o’er the rim ae his mug.

  “The place looks busy.  Ye must be daeing fine,” she’d said, changing the subject, as she looked oot through the big glass windae tae the showroom flair.

  “Ach, well, Ah don’t hiv any overheids worth talking aboot since Ah bought the warehoose ootright.  It’s been hard graft, bit there ye go…Ah’m sure you, being a nurse, wid know aw aboot that.”

  Senga remembered sitting, wondering whether she’d made the right decision in coming roond tae speak tae Simon.  His ‘oan the edge’ nervy mannerisms hid only added tae her uncertainty and she hidnae been sure as tae how she wis gonnae manage tae raise the subject ae the situation that her and Lizzie hid found themsels in.  She’d found it difficult no tae be mesmerised by his jumpiness.  He came across as if he wis plugged in tae a wall socket or something. She’d furgoatten aw aboot that side ae the boys.  They wur aw like that, noo that she came tae think aboot it.  Aggie McCoy, who’d been gaun oot wae Silent at the time, put it doon tae them always ducking and diving, looking o’er their shoulders and getting by oan their wits.

  “Dae ye want a tour?” he’d asked, breaking in tae her thoughts, still politely smiling, while clearly finding it difficult tae sit doon fur mair than a minute at a time.

  “Naw, Ah’m fine Simon,” she’d replied, shaking her heid.

  “So, it’s business then?”

  The matter ae fact way in which he’d said it hid taken Senga by surprise.  She’d looked across at him. He’d stoapped fidgeting and hid been staring at her, encouraging her tae speak-up, wae they eyes ae his.  She hidnae been able tae help hersel, and hid burst oot greeting.  He’d leaned across, lifting up a scented box ae tissues fae the wee coffee table separating them and hid wordlessly haunded them across tae her.  He hidnae come o’er and physically comforted her, bit hid jist sat, stock still, no saying a word, waiting patiently fur her tae regain her composure.  That wis another thing that the lassies hid aw picked up aboot the boys…there wis never much public show ae affection or emotional attachment displayed when ye wur roond aboot them.  Wan night in Jonah’s Lounge, Paula Baker hid gone up tae Snappy Johnston and Ben McCalumn tae prove a point.  Wae Senga and the rest ae the lassies observing fae up in the corner table, Paula hid gone and nonchalantly stood up close tae them.  The baith ae them could be seen tae visibly, bit clearly unconsciously, physically back away fae her, because she’d obviously been staunin too close.  

  “Emotional cripples,” Paula hid declared, smiling, efter returning tae the lassies’ table. 

  Twenty tissues later and efter she’d hid tae compose hersel fur the umpteenth time, he’d finally spoken.

  “Look, Senga, Ah don’t know why ye’re here, bit noo that ye ur, ye’d be as well tae get it aff ae that fine chest ae yers, whitever it is that’s bothering ye.  The fact that ye’ve come here, insteid ae elsewhere, suggests tae me that ye might be in a wee bit ae bother, so don’t be shy…spit it oot…ye’re noo wae a friend,” he’d said quietly, shaking his heid at somewan through the glass, who’d been aboot tae come intae the office.

  “Ah don’t know where tae start,” she’d sniffled, wiping her nose and eyes wae another tissue and inspecting it tae see how much make-up wis oan it.

  “Well, how aboot at the beginning, eh?”

  And that hid been that. The floodgates hid burst open again and she’d babbled non-stoap fur nearly an hour.  Strangely, he’d never interrupted her wance tae ask a question or tae ask her tae repeat anything, although wae the amount ae drivel she’d been coming oot wae, it wis a miracle if he’d understood whit the hell she’d been oan aboot.  She’d heard hersel repeating snippets that she’d awready raised at the beginning ae her story.  The only visible reaction fae him hid been when he’d stood up and goat her a glass ae water or when he’d lifted up the tissue box, encouraging her tae delve deep.  She’d noticed that his eyes narrowed at the mention ae The Stalker or Wan-bob Broon, bit other than that, he’d sat totally immobile, wae no a fidget in sight.

  “So, whit dae ye think then, Simon?  Is it jist paranoia, or is there something in whit Lizzie’s saying?”

  “Well, ye’ve done the right thing in keeping it between yersels and no publicly broadcasting it.  That’s a good thing, so it is.”

  “So, there is something there?”

  “Ah never said that.  Because ye’re paranoid, disnae mean tae say ye’re wrang,” he’d replied, wae jist a hint ae a wee smile appearing at the side ae his mooth.

  “So, we’re jist paranoid then?”

  “Look, Senga, how well kin ye trust yer flatmate?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Don’t get me wrang…Ah’m jist saying.  It’s really important that the pair ae ye keep this under yer hats…at least fur the time being.”

  “Whit’s that supposed tae mean?”

  “It means there’s some wild allegations in there that certain people widnae appreciate, even as a sick or innocent joke.”

  “So, ye think we’re making aw this up then?  Fur Christ’s sake, ma life his fallen apart, and ye’re talking aboot sick jokes?  Believe you me, Simon, this isnae funny in the slightest, fae where Ah’m sitting.  Ah’m scared fur Lizzie…and masel.  Whit ur we gonnae dae?  We cannae go oan like this furever, wondering if there’s gonnae be a chap oan the door and it’s the polis…or worse.  And no tae mention that poor nurse,” she’d sobbed.

  “Look, here’s ma take oan it, fur whit it’s worth.  Let’s say, fur talking sake, that ye’re right aboot a connection between this farmer, doctor and nurse.  Dae ye think fur wan minute youse wid be safe jist because ye went tae the bizzies?  Ye hiv tae think rationally here, Senga.  If some farmer, a big-shot doctor and a poor wee nurse kin get bumped-aff, then two wee nurses sharing a flat aroond in Barrington Drive ur no gonnae be much ae a problem tae get shot ae, if somewan wanted tae.  Oan the other haun, if this is aw jist a co-incidence, which it sounds as if it is, then the worst thing youse could dae is make it in tae a big deal.  That’s how malicious gossip gets started in the toon, so it is.  The fact that youse hivnae done that and everything oan the home front looks hunky-dory suggests tae me that ye’re in the clear…at least fur the time being.”

  Senga hid been hinging oan tae his every word and it hid taken a few seconds fur the add-oan at the end ae his sentence tae sink in.  When it did, her alarm level hid shot through the roof.