A Spot Of Bother

106

Jean seldom saw Douglas and Maureen. Partly because they lived in Dundee. And partly because…well, to be frank, because Douglas was a bit like Ray. Only more so. He ran a haulage company for starters. One of those large men who are excessively proud of having no airs and graces.

Her opinion of people like Ray, however, had shifted over the preceding twenty-four hours, and she was rather enjoying Douglas ’s company tonight.

She’d already had a couple of glasses of wine when Maureen asked what was wrong with George, so she thought To hell with it and told them he was suffering from stress.

To which Maureen replied, “Doug went through that a couple of years ago.”

Douglas finished his prawn cocktail and lit a cigarette and put his arm round Maureen and let her talk for him.

“Had a blackout driving the transit just north of Edinburgh. Came round scraping down the crash barrier on the central reservation doing seventy. Brain scans. Blood tests. Doctor said it was tension.”

“So we sold one of the artics and buggered off to Portugal for three weeks,” said Douglas. “Left Simon to run the office. Knowing when to let go of the reins. That’s the thing.”

Jean was going to say, “I didn’t know.” But they knew she didn’t know. And they all knew why. Because she’d never been interested. And she felt bad about this. She said, “I’m really sorry. I should have asked you to stay at the house.”

“With Eileen?” asked Maureen, raising her eyebrows.

“Instead,” said Jean.

“I hope she’s not bringing that bloody dog to the wedding,” said Douglas, and they all laughed.

And Jean wondered briefly whether she could tell them about the scissors, before deciding that was taking things a bit far.