Long Time Dead (Gus Dury 4) (25 page)

I smiled at the image. ‘Well, he’s got a point.’

She picked up her foot, showing me a set of five-inch heels. ‘C’mon, in these? I’m good but I’m not that good!’

I went over to the window, watched Hod head for the Scotbet on Lothian Road. Wondered where he got the money to put a line on. Let it slide. He was probably only going in to soak up the atmosphere. Anywhere would be an escape from the claustrophobia of Amy’s flat.

‘Had any visitors?’ I asked.

‘Oh, aye … the other one, other part of Haud It ’n’ Daud It!’

‘Mac?’

‘Yeah, whatever you want to call him. They’ve been taking it in turns to mind me. I feel like a five-year-old.’

‘Good – you need looking after.’

Amy sparked up again, started waving her arms around: ‘You approve of this? God Almighty, Gus … I thought you at least—’

I put a finger on her mouth, said ‘Sshhh.’

She kissed the tip of my finger, smiled.

‘Amy …’

‘What?’

‘I was trying to say that … we were worried about you.’

She moved closer. ‘We … only we. Not you. That’s what you want to say.’

I looked away, laughed. There was sun shining on the windowpane. ‘Amy.’

‘Oh, shut up, Gus. You know you’re crazy about me.’

I felt shocked, exposed. I stepped back. My escape route was blocked by the wall. ‘
Y’wha’
?’

‘C’mon … admit it. You can’t get me out of your mind – that’s what you want to say.’

She was on me now, like a big cat with its prey. I had nowhere
to go as she put arms either side of me and opened her mouth. I responded for a brief moment, then pushed her away. ‘Amy …’

‘Gus, shut up.’

She managed to kiss me and undress me at the same time. This girl was impressing me no end. I went along with it … all the way.

It had been a while since I’d woken up with a beautiful woman on my arm; maybe too long. I’d forgotten how good it felt. As I looked down at Amy’s long hair spread out on the pillow I wanted to tell her how happy I was, but the thought of it seemed to immediately cancel out that plan. It was as if the mere suggestion was enough to throw happiness out the window. I had been through this so many times with Debs – the feelings of joy, then the feelings of sorrow – that I felt destined to be alone. Christ, I had felt it was what I deserved.

I’d made Debs miserable; she had said so herself. My problems, the drink, the self-destruction – they had all taken their toll. She didn’t want to be dragged down with me. Could I blame her? No way. I wanted Debs to be happy more than I wanted it for myself. As I lay there with Amy, though, I couldn’t help but think of Debs.

I had spent so long with Debs that she had become a part of me; when she had left it had been like losing a limb. An arm or a leg – one day you wake up and it’s gone. You get by, because you have to. But your sense of the world around you has changed. Dramatically.

I had thought I couldn’t go on without Debs once, then, later, when I thought about the truth of the situation I thought I could never go on with her. It was over. That was the truth of it. I no longer wanted to be with her because I knew I was no good for her. We had went on for too long trying to keep it together when the plain truth was,
it
was never meant to be.

I looked down at Amy. She was flat out.

I risked fingertips on her shoulder, traced the line of her back. She never stirred. Warmth was radiating from her. It felt unnatural. I had slept alone for so long that I’d become used to my own cold trembling bones.

Was this really happening? It didn’t seem possible; but it did feel right.

Amy was right: I wanted to be with her. I’d been fighting my feelings for so long that I’d almost convinced myself otherwise, but the truth was out now. In my warped head I could only see it going awry, but I knew I was judging her by my experience with Debs. This wasn’t Debs by my side. I’d need to remind myself of that every step of the way. Amy was her own woman; she deserved to be treated as such. I needed to lose my baggage.

Amy stirred. ‘Hmmnn … how long have I been out?’

‘Dunno … an hour, maybe.’

She drew closer to me, hugged. ‘And how long have you been awake?’

‘I haven’t been asleep.’

‘Oh, Christ … analysing the situation, eh?’

I laughed. ‘Sort of.’ The girl knew me so well. She reminded me of Debs in this regard, but she wasn’t Debs. Her perceptions were her own.

She sat up. ‘Got any smokes?’

I leaned out of the bed, pulled my jeans across the floor and released a packet of Marlboro red tops from the back pocket. ‘Here you go.’

‘Oh, man … these are the heavy hitters.’

‘You don’t like them?’

‘Nah … they’ll do.’

We both lit up. After a couple of drags, Amy turned to me. ‘So, Gus Dury …’ she tapped on my head, ‘what conclusions have you come to in that mind of yours?’

‘What about?’

‘Us!’

‘We’re an
us
now are we?’

She mock-punched me. ‘Too fucking right. I don’t just roll in the hay with anyone, y’know.’

I fended off some more blows, stuck my cigarette in my mouth, said, ‘Okay … okay … You win.’

‘I should think so.’

She smiled. I felt lucky to have her here.

‘One thing, though, Amy … you should know that I’m a bit—’

‘Of a prick! … Yeah, I know.’

‘Apart from that … What I was going to say was, I’ve just come out of a long relationship and …’

Amy leaned out of the bed. I watched her bare back as she grabbed an ashtray. She stubbed out her tab as she spoke. ‘Look, Gus, I know all that. And I know things aren’t exactly sweetness and light in your world, but so what? We have something … let’s just see where it goes.’

It seemed a plan. How could I argue?

‘Well, I want you to know that thing you did … when you disappeared with Gemmill. That really put the frighteners on me.’

‘Really … Is that what I’ve got to do to get your attention?’ She smiled, winked.

‘No. And I mean that, Amy. I don’t want you trying anything like that again. It’s too dangerous. The next time, we might not get away with our necks.’

She looked out of the window. The sun was going behind a cloud now. ‘You know, if you lot hadn’t come breenging in like that … I might have been okay.’

I got out of bed, pulled on my jeans. I tried to cool it, give myself enough time to find the right words but they never came. ‘More than likely you’d have been killed. You don’t know the kind of form Gemmill has.’

‘But look at what I found out—’

‘What, that Ben Laird owed money to Gemmill!’ I tried to sound offhand, lying, ‘That would have come up sooner or later.’

I wasn’t giving her proper credit and she knew it. ‘Oh yeah? … When exactly?’

‘I dunno. All I’m saying is, it wasn’t worth the risk.’

She got up, stood before me with the bed sheet wrapped around her. ‘Gus, we have Gemmill and Shaky, both with form and motive, possibly in the frame for murder. That’s down to me.’

I couldn’t fault her, but I couldn’t risk encouraging more of the same. ‘Amy … there’s more to this case than you know about. That pair are just skimming the edges. They don’t even know how deep this goes … They’re dangerous because of that, and they’re scared too … which makes them unpredictable. You should never have gone anywhere near Gemmill.’

‘Well, if you told me all the facts, maybe I’d make better decisions.’

I picked up my shirt, flung it on. This was an argument I was never going to win so I played cautious. ‘The fact is, Amy, I care about you, and I don’t want you hurt. Can you get your head around that?’

She nodded, moved closer and put her arms around me. ‘I don’t want you hurt either.’

I sighed. Way things were shaping up, that wasn’t going to be an option.

IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN THE happiest of days; I’d opened up to Amy and found myself experiencing something close to joy. Never a good state for a drinker: it means something bad is just around the corner. It’s the alky’s rationale. Days are meant to bring grief; it’s in the contract. The minute something starts to go right, panic sets in.

I holed up in an East End drinker. I’d given up staying out of Shaky’s manor. The self-destruct button had been flipped, nothing mattered to me any more. If he found out I was still working the case after he’d warned me off, so be it. Like I said, I expected grief … it was in the post.

The thing about getting together with Amy was that it meant dredging up more memories of Debs. I couldn’t escape them, she was still a part of me. My hands trembled as I picked up my mobi. I was well on, blootered drunk. Had put away the best part of a bottle of low-flying burdie. It stung on the way down but I was past caring; I needed drink … I needed to be drunk. To block out the hum of thoughts circling inside my head. If it ended me, so be it.

Ringing.

I cursed her loudly. ‘Fucking pick it up, Debs … what you doing to me?’

I wanted her to tell me she was okay, that I could move on.

Ringing.

I needed to know things were over between us for good. That all the hurt of our past was behind us. That I was free to stop worrying about her.

Ringing.

I wanted nothing from her, nothing. Why couldn’t she see that? Why did I need to hear the words? My head was a mess. I knew I was in bad shape. I belched up a sliver of whisky-perfumed bile.

Voicemail.

‘Oh for fucksake … Debs, Debs … it’s me. Why are you doing this? Why? Why can’t you just speak to me? I need to hear your voice. I’m sorry for everything … everything that went wrong between us. I know you don’t want to hear it but it’s important to me to let you know I’ve moved on. I just need to know you have too … that there’s a world without Gus and Debs. Tell me, please, and I’ll stop calling … I just need to know, Debs … that’s all I need to know. We never spoke. We never talked about this. We just split. Please, Debs … tell me life goes on, eh.
Please
—’

The call timed out.

I sat the mobi on the bar.

The barman came over. ‘You okay there, mate?’ He was an Aussie, blond and buff – aren’t they all?

‘Oh, aye … give me another Grouse, eh.’

He looked unsure, put hands on the bar. ‘I think you might have had enough, mate.’

I leaned over, grabbing his shirt front. ‘Look, I’ll say when I’ve fucking well had enough, right?’

The Aussie unhooked my fingers, motioned to the door with his eyes. ‘Think you better go now.’ He pointed me out to the street.

‘I’m going nowhere until I get another fucking drink!’

For a moment we stared at each other in silence. I was ready to go to blows. He’d have flattened me into the floor, and knew it, but I was wankered, totally wrecked.

My phone buzzed on the bar top.

I picked it up. I had a text. From Debs.

My hand trembled as I opened the message. It read:
Life goes on Gus – Debs.

‘Mate, I think you should call it a night,’ said the barman.

I looked up from the mobi. ‘Yeah, yeah … all right.’

My head felt light as I walked out the door and into the dark night. A Festival crowd wandered past yakking about some comedian they’d just seen. They laughed as they recounted some of the gags, slapping each other on the back as they went.

‘Shut yer fucking faces!’ I roared. How dare they be so happy around me. They turned and laughed at me.

‘Oh, aye … laugh it fucking up.’ I was ranting. This is what I’d come to, ranting at strangers in the street. There was a time when I picked my battles – now they picked me. More and more I was at war with the world. For what? It didn’t matter.

A low screech began in my head. I could hear it, spinning around in there, mashing with the thoughts and memories. I was lost to reality. I had fallen low. I staggered down the street, feeling my way along shop fronts and walls. My legs were rubber, my feet on the end of them had no coordination, slipping and sliding all over the pavement. ‘Well … you got what you wanted, Gus,’ I told myself.

My legs suddenly buckled beneath me.

‘Be careful what you fucking wish for,’ I muttered.

Debs had contacted me. She’d broken her silence. I’d got what I wanted – why wasn’t that enough? Why hadn’t that changed everything? My thoughts mashed, all the dark imaginings subsided, but became supplanted with new, more morose musings.

‘Life goes on, Gus … that’s what she fucking said.’

I had worn her down. She wanted nothing but to be left alone and I’d forced her to give me one last out. Well, now I had it.

I’d pressed some buttons lately. My mam, who deserved to be comfortable in her retirement, had had to look at me with shame in her eyes. She’d explained herself to me as I sat before her in a state of utter deterioration. Christ, what must she have thought of me? Her son, her only remaining son, coming to her in wasted
condition looking for words of comfort. I was pathetic. Truly worthy of pity.