A Coffin For Two

19

My flight landed in Barcelona ten minutes early, and so it was just after nine-thirty when I stepped through the blue channel and out into the concourse. The arrangement had been that I would catch the last train to Girona and take a taxi home.

But there she was, copper tan, sun-gold blonde, bright-brown-eyed. My Primavera.

All the way home I had thought of my weird weekend. My reunions, my serious conversation with my sister, and the ShaneWarne googly that Jan’s rediscovered emancipation had thrown into my comfortable, complacent life.

I was certain that I loved Prim. I was certain that I loved Jan. I was certain that sometime very soon I was going to have to make a painful choice. That was where my certainty ended.

Somewhere in there, there was something profound, something meaningful, something which gave me the answer. The big overwhelming reason leading me to the decision which I knew I had to make, a situation which I had not as much as contemplated only twenty-four hours before.

My eyes were closed for most of both return flights, apart from the occasions when I was shaken by the flight crews so that I could decline their offers of drink, token food and duty-free that I could buy cheaper in the shops in Spain. But was I asleep? Oh no. All the way back to what I had called home when I left it, my mind was racing, full of thoughts of Jan, our night together, and of the many nights in our past.

I had no idea what I was going to say to Prim, or even how I would feel when I saw her. For that matter I had no idea how I would look to her. Would the truth be written in my eyes, or betrayed by the way I spoke to her?

I still had no answers to any of it as I stepped out through the International Arrivals doorway, to find her there, in the front of the crowd. I was surprised, and in there was a tiny flash of frustration, for some little devil inside me had worked out that if she hadn’t been there I would have had an opportunity to throw a moody, to begin an undermining process, a distancing of myself from Prim and her love.

But when I saw her my smile broke out, in spite of itself. I heard myself say, ‘Hello love, I wondered if you’d be here, in spite of what we agreed.’ And my arms, burdens and all, spread out to enfold her and to return her hug.

She kissed me and whispered, ‘Welcome back. I’ve been cold these last two nights without you.’

‘Hah,’ I heard myself say. ‘Think yourself lucky. You might have been in Anstruther.’ My first tiny half-lie.

She took my arm, just like Jan had done, as I slung my bag over my shoulder. ‘What’s that?’ she asked, intrigued, pointing at the long tube, which I was carrying sloped like a rifle against my neck, as we emerged into the warm, humid, evening air and crossed the road to the car park.

‘I’ll show you when we get home. It’s too awkward to open it now, but it has to do with our commission.’

Because I had declined the aircraft booze, I was able to drive us back up the autopista to L’Escala. We sat in silence for the first part of the journey, for the ronda north through Barca is a bit of a bugger to find, and you can get seriously lost if you take the wrong option.

But eventually, we were through the city and safely on our way. ‘So how is everyone?’ asked Prim, as the Frontera’s lights cut a swathe through a bank of mist.

‘Everyone’s fine. Dad and Mary are as happy as I’ve ever seen them. My nephews are exhausting. Wallace is being spoiled rotten. Oh yes, and my sister’s got a bit on the side.’

‘What!’ Prim sat bolt upright and turned towards me in her seat, until she was caught by her seat belt. There was a huge grin on her face, as if she found the notion preposterous.

I couldn’t help but feel slightly offended, on Ellie’s behalf. ‘You heard me,’ I said. ‘What’s so funny about that?You haven’t seen my sister in going on three months. She’s quite a piece of work now, I can tell you.’

‘I’m sure she is. It’s just that I didn’t expect …’ She trailed off, and out of the corner of my eye I could see her smile. ‘I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, though. After all, you Blackstones are fast workers.’

Suddenly I was back in the loft. ‘That’s what you think,’ I muttered, almost, but not quite, to myself. I couldn’t hold it in. I was thinking of the passing of most of a lifetime, and of the confusion that had run through it.

She looked at me, puzzled, as I stared at the road ahead. ‘Oh, don’t be huffy. If Ellie’s got a new light in her life, that’s great. God knows, my own sister’s had a few torches in her time.’

‘Aye,’ I said. ‘We’re talking about the Hampden floodlights there, right enough.’

‘Oz!’ Now it was Prim’s turn to flare up. ‘Look, what’s got into you?’

There it was. My opening. My chance to spill the beans, to confess all about the night before … and maybe throw Prim’s life, and mine, down the crapper.

‘Och, I’m sorry, love,’ I said at last. ‘Two flights in a day. It’s too much for me. As a matter of fact one’s too much. Flying stresses me out, and it takes me a while to get back to normal.’

Suddenly her hand was on my sleeve, then stroking my cheek. ‘Full of surprises, aren’t you. I didn’t think anything stressed you out. Never mind, I’ll cure it once we get home.’

I flashed her a weak smile. ‘Tonight, my love, I’m a rat. Food and drink come first.’

‘My God,’ she laughed. ‘It has been a tough day.’

Casa Minana was closed up tight when we got back to St Marti, just before 11:15 p.m., but they were still serving food at the tables outside Meson del Conde. We chose a place well back from the doorway and sat down, without even taking my bag upstairs to the apartment. We ordered sardines followed by chicken and chips, and I told the waiter to keep the beer coming.

Suddenly I was hungry and thirsty at the same time. Prim watched me as I demolished my sardines, then what was left of hers, and set about my half chicken. ‘When did you last eat?’ she asked.

‘Breakfast,’ I said, without thinking.

‘Let me guess,’ she said. ‘Rolls and sliced sausage.’

‘Got it in one,’ I said, finishing my third beer. ‘From Ali’s.’

‘I thought you said you were in Anstruther?’

‘That was Saturday night.’ I don’t think I paused, or batted an eyelid. ‘Ali’s isn’t all that far from Jan’s.’

‘No,’ she said, ‘I suppose not. How is Jan, anyway?’

‘Blooming. We’re plotting our parents’ wedding.’

‘I’ll bet. And how’s Noosh?’

‘Okay. She’s advising Ellie on her separation agreement, or her firm is.’

‘Mmm. That’s good.’

‘Sure is,’ I thought. ‘I didn’t tell her a single lie there.’ ‘Not fucking much!’ an invisible wee red devil on my shoulder whispered in my ear.

‘By the way, Dawn phoned yesterday morning,’ said Prim, ‘from Los Angeles. She’s at Miles’ place. She sounded really happy. What a difference from the girl we met at Auchterarder a few months ago.’

‘I’m pleased to hear it. But don’t let’s get back to talking about sisters, eh.’

‘No, I suppose not. But the cow woke me up. They had just got in from a party. It was nine-thirty in the morning here.’

I finished my chicken and attacked my next beer. ‘How was the party you were at^? That Anglo-Catalan thing on Saturday.’

She shrugged. ‘It was okay. Quite interesting, I suppose, although I was the only person there aged under fifty, apart from someone’s son.’

‘Who was that?’ I asked.

‘A couple called Miller. He’s visiting them for a couple of weeks. His name’s Steve. He’s in the motor business, in Brighton.’

‘So what was interesting about the night? Him?’

She shot me a piercing look. ‘Don’t be silly. I made some new acquaintances. D’you remember that lady we’ve seen at the Trattoria? Very tall, slim, blonde.’ I nodded.

‘I was introduced to her. Her name’s Shirley Gash. She’s fantastic. She had this amazing little man with her. I’m not quite sure where he fits in. She announced him as a house guest. His name’s Davidoff, would you believe. Sounds like a Russian Prince. Unfortunately he looks like a Transylvanian gypsy. You might meet him. We’re invited up to Shirley’s for drinks tomorrow afternoon. Apparently she lives in a big house up on what they call Millionaires’ Row. Janice says she’s a widow.’

I did in some more beer, chasing but not killing my thirst. A refill appeared automatically, with our coffee. I was working at it, and I had almost reached the mellow stage, when the shout came from the doorway of Meson del Conde. ‘Primavera, my love!’

We both looked up together, but something made me look at Prim, rather than at the shouter. Even under the tan, I could see her flush. He came towards us between the tables, a medium sized chap, wearing a professional smile and a silk shirt with a gold Benson and Hedges pack in the breast pocket. Behind him a different couple, well old enough to have been his parents, stood by the entrance to the restaurant. I recognised them as part of the ex-pat wallpaper.

He leaned over Prim and kissed her, on the cheek, but for a little longer than politeness dictated. ‘Lovely to see you again,’ I heard him whisper. I had taken an instant dislike to him, and that just made it worse.

Primavera leaned back in her chair, back from him, and looked up at me. ‘Steve,’ she said. ‘This is Oz Blackstone, my boyfriend. He just got back from Scotland tonight. Oz, this is Steve Miller.’

I like to think that I’m a friendly guy, but on the odd occasion when someone does get up my nose, I just can’t help clearing it. I stood up, slowly. Miller held out his hand. I shook it, squeezing more powerfully than was necessary.

‘You know, Steve,’ a voice in my head said, ‘there’s nothing more annoying, even to a placid bloke like me, than some smarmy bastard coming up and slobbering all over your girlfriend, just as if you weren’t there. Now piss off before I take a pop at you.’

‘Hello, Steve,’ I said, instead. I nodded towards the two bodgers in the doorway. ‘Is that your band?’

He looked at me, bewildered.

‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘You’re no rock n’ roller, eh?’

He looked down at Prim. ‘I think I’d better go.’

‘No comment,’ I said.

Prim scowled at me. ‘Steve,’ she said. ‘I …’

‘No really, I think I should. I don’t want to cause trouble.’

‘Wise man,’ I said. He gave me what was meant to be a hostile look, then turned and made his way back towards his parents.

Prim waved goodnight as the three Millers disappeared around the corner. Then she turned to me. ‘What the hell was that about?’ She shot it at me, as soon as they were out of sight.

‘Good question,’ I said. ‘Who did he think I was? The invisible fucking man?’

She held up her hands. ‘Okay, enough. You’ve had a hard day, and you’re a bit pissed. Let’s call a truce and go home.’

I bent down and kissed her on the cheek, just where Miller had kissed her, but for a significant moment longer. Then I kissed her full on the lips. ‘Truce it is,’ I said. ‘One more beer, and it’s a deal about going home as well.’

She sighed and smiled. ‘All right. But only one.’ She made signs to the waiter, ordering another for herself in the process.

‘Oh, by the way,’ she said, ‘there was a fax coming through just as I left. I didn’t have time to look at it, though.’

‘Fair enough,’ I replied as the beers arrived, then promptly forgot about it as I made a conscious effort to bring my mind back to Spain, to Prim, and to what I had thought was my real world, until the day before.

I could see that she was still upset. I reached out a hand and ruffled her hair. ‘Hey, sweetheart. I’m sorry.’ I wasn‘t, of course. I had enjoyed seeing off Mr Miller. ‘I’m sure he’s a very nice bloke. He just caught me on the raw, that’s all.’

Pouting, as only she can, she looked at me, sideways. ‘Boys,’ she said with a sigh. ‘I don’t know.’

It was almost 1 a.m. when we climbed the stairs to the apartment. I didn’t think I was all that pissed, but somehow I managed to get Gavin Scott’s tube tangled between my legs just as we got to the front door. I sprawled forward and lay on the steps, grinning up at Prim. She shook her head, took my bag from me, stepped over me and unlocked the door.

‘I can see this is going to be my lucky night!’ she said as I stumbled in behind her, laughing, slapping her lightly across the bum with the tube.

‘D’you want to see what’s in it now?’ I asked.

‘Tomorrow. I’m off to bed.’

‘Okay. Me too.’ I followed her into the bedroom and began to undress, throwing my clothes on to the chair. I was stood there in my jockeys when the garlic from the sardines began to make its presence felt. I swallowed a couple of Breath Asure pills, then wandered through to the kitchen in search of the Normogastryls. I found them in the cupboard, and dissolved a couple as a pre-emptive strike against nocturnal heartburn.

They had been the last tablets in the tube. As I swallowed the alkaline remedy, I stepped on the pedal bin, to discard it. The kitchen light was directly overhead or I might not have noticed. The liner had been changed recently, and the bin was almost empty … save for several discarded cigarette ends, and a scattering of ash. I picked one out, and looked at it. Benson and Hedges.

I don’t know the guy who stormed through to the bedroom, brandishing the offending butt. Whoever he was, he wasn’t good old lovable, can’t be riled, takes everything in his stride Oz Blackstone. This was a steamed-up, hypocritical, petulant clown, who didn’t stop to think whether he was genuinely jealous or simply latching on to an excuse.

Prim was almost asleep when the shout came from the doorway. ‘What the fuck is this?’

She rubbed her eyes. ‘Eh?’

‘Who do we know that smokes Bensons?’

‘Oh shit.’ She sounded weary, but she pulled herself up in bed. The guy in the doorway didn’t have the wit to realise how desirable she looked, just at that moment.

‘Now listen carefully,’ she said, ‘because I’m not going to repeat this. Yesterday afternoon, a few of us who had been at the party on Saturday met up for lunch in the square. There was Shirley Gash, a lady called Tina, Steve Miller and his parents. Just as we were finishing our meals, it looked as if it might rain, so I invited them all up here for coffee. Steve and Tina both smoke. I expect that if you root about some more in the bin you’ll find some Marlboro stubs as well.

‘Is that clear,’ she shouted, suddenly. ‘Or do you want to count your bloody condoms?’

The alien in the doorway vanished, leaving me stood in his place, brandishing a fag-end and feeling very, very stupid. I dropped the stub into the waste-basket in the corner, stepped across to the bed and opened the drawer of the cabinet on my side.

I reached in and took out the Fetherlites, which had lain there since Prim had decided that she had been on the pill for long enough. I opened the pack and looked inside. ‘Funny,’ I said, in a normal Oz voice, if a bit fuzzy around the edges, ‘There’s six here. I thought I only had five.’

She reached inside my jockeys and grabbed me firmly by the balls. ‘Fine,’ she said, ‘but if you don’t stop all of this nonsense, they will be nothing but reminders of a distant past. Now say, “Sorry, Primavera.”’

I didn’t hesitate. ‘Sorry, Primavera.’

‘Apology accepted,’ she said, without slackening her grip. ‘Now come here.’

She had my undivided attention. There was nothing else I could do.