Aftershock

Nine

‘Do you think I’m a hypocrite?’

She looked up at him, unable to contain her surprise. ‘Do I what?’ she gasped, spluttering as she failed to suppress her laughter.

‘You heard. Do you think I’m a hypocrite?’

‘And why the hell should I think that?’

Bob Skinner gazed at her.

A new Bob Skinner, she thought, yet again. He was sun-bronzed, and his blue eyes sparkled. He was ten years older than her, nearer fifty than forty, yet he seemed to have grown younger in the time they had been together. The network of care lines around his eyes had faded until they were barely noticeable. He was slimmer in the waist, thicker in the chest, and the tension that had emanated from him in waves a few months before had gone, replaced by an air of easy relaxation. She thought back to the man he had been in the depths of winter and marvelled at the change in him. And yet, for all that, he looked sombre.

His right hand lay on the restaurant table, his fingers toying with the stem of his wine glass, the big vein that ran down his bicep from beneath the sleeve of his short-sleeved shirt twitching with the movement. ‘Because I do,’ he murmured.

Aileen de Marco chuckled. ‘You’ll need to run that one past me again, love,’ she said, in her soft Scots tone. ‘You are a very complicated guy, sure, but strip all that away, and you’re also the straightest, most honest man I’ve ever met. You’ve done some serious things in your life, but I’ll bet you’ve never done anything that you didn’t believe was right. You and hypocrisy don’t belong in the same bed. . unlike you and me,’ she added. ‘Knowing how you feel about the double standards of politics, there are still times when I wonder how you and I got together.’

He grinned. ‘Fishing for them, are you? Aileen, my darling, you are the one politician I know who confounds all the stereotypes, and you’re the only one I’ve ever admired, apart, maybe, from Bill Clinton and Barack Obama. You do not have a duplicitous bone in your body.’

‘Well, if you have,’ she retorted, ‘I’ve never found it. . and I’ve been over all the territory by now. Come on, where’s this nonsense coming from?’

‘That reminds me of a joke I heard in Canada at Easter,’ he said, as he picked up his glass and drained the last of the Raimat Clamor, his regular choice from the wine list of Trattoria La Clota. ‘There’s this Saskatchewan girl, on a plane out of Toronto, sat next to a power-dressed big-city woman. Once they’ve taken off, the Saskatchewan girl, being friendly and all, says to her neighbour, “Where you from?” The power lady replies, “From a place where they know not to end a sentence with a preposition.” The Saskatchewan girl thinks about this for a few seconds and then she says, as friendly as before, “Where you from, bitch?” ’

Aileen’s laugh caused the heads of the couple at the next table to turn in their direction. She waited until they had returned to their own conversation, then moved closer to him. ‘Very funny,’ she murmured, ‘but now you’ve come out with that bolt from the blue, don’t think you can kick my question under the table. Explain yourself, Deputy Chief Constable Skinner. That’s an order from the First Minister.’

‘Hey,’ he exclaimed. ‘We’ve been through that one. The First Minister can’t give coppers direct orders.’ He paused. ‘On the other hand, my partner. . I suppose that’s a different story.’

She blinked. ‘You’ve never called me that before.’

‘You don’t like the term?’

‘No. I mean, yes. I mean, I’ve got nothing against it.’ Her eyes met his. ‘Sounds more official than girlfriend; more dignified, too, more suited to our age and station.’

‘Wouldn’t you prefer “wife”?’ he asked her.

They looked at each other for a long, lingering moment, locked in the kind of silence that brooks no interruption. John, the proprietor, read the sign, and his move towards their table was aborted in mid-stride. ‘Was that a proposal?’ Aileen whispered eventually.

‘I suppose it was. Not the most gracious one I’ve ever made, I’m afraid. I’m sorry, it wasn’t planned. It just slipped out.’

‘Then slip it back in again,’ she said. ‘I am very happy as we are, love. We’ve been together for little over half a year: there’s no need to rush fences. Let’s just enjoy being together and let things take their course.’

‘I’ll take that as a “no”, then.’

‘Take it as a “not yet”. Take it as a “maybe”. Take it as “You’re the man I love, we’re a couple, and that’s all I’ve ever hoped for.” Besides, you’re still coming down off your sabbatical. Wait till you get back to work; you’ll be too busy to think about things like that.’

‘You’re supposed to be pro-marriage,’ he challenged, smiling broadly as if to reassure her that he had not been wounded by her rejection. ‘Isn’t that the party line?’

‘The party line is toleration of all sorts of permanent relationships: formal, informal, straight, gay …’

‘Sheep, chickens. .?’

Her giggle was girlish, unlike her; in that instant he felt privileged, knowing that he was seeing her as no-one else ever did. ‘We’re not that modern,’ she replied.

‘So are you saying that I’d be a high-risk husband?’

‘No!’ she protested. ‘I wasn’t saying that at all.’

‘If you were, you’d be right. Look at my track record. On that evidence, I’m terrible at husbanding. That’s where I fear my hypocrisy lies.’

‘Explain.’

Bob leaned forward, until they were only a matter of inches apart. They were sitting at right angles to each other at the small square table so that each could have a view across L’Escala’s moonlit marina. The night was hot and the air was heavy; he swatted a buzzing fly away from his face as he gazed at the throng of boats, side by side on their moorings.

‘I’ve been married twice,’ he began. ‘If I say that Myra, my first wife, played around, I’d be understating things. She was international class, as I discovered years after her death. Yet in truth, even if I’d known the whole story, everything, as it was happening, I’d have forgiven her. Why? Because I worshipped the damn ground she walked on, that’s why. There was one blip, when we were engaged and very young, but I was faithful to her all through our marriage and, in truth, for quite a while after she was dead. I was never there for her, though: I was too busy career-building. Don’t let anyone tell you that success came my way by accident. I had my eyes fixed on command rank from the day I joined the force, and I worked my arse off getting there. Myra suffered for it, Alex suffered. .’

‘That’s not what she says.’

‘Uh?’ The trademark eyebrow rose.

‘Your daughter told me that you were the best single parent she’s ever encountered. She says that she never once felt excluded, or starved of your time and your love, and she never once felt that she was any sort of a burden to you.’

‘Alex is loyal.’

‘Alexis Skinner is a straight-shooter, just like her dad.’

‘When did she tell you this?’

‘About three months ago, one day we had lunch together.’

‘You and my kid do lunches? I never knew that.’

‘As often as we can. I didn’t bring the subject up either, she did. She said that I shouldn’t be surprised to find you missing the kids while they’re with their mother in America, even though they’re with you all the rest of the year. She said that’s the kind of dad you are. So Alex didn’t suffer at all; that’s not a stick for your back. As for Myra, from what you’ve told me, and from what Alex has let slip, she was a danger junkie.’

‘That’s true,’ Bob conceded, ‘but it’s beside the point. If I’d known I’d have lived with it.’

‘If you’d known, you’d probably have scared off any potential partners. No, delete “probably”.’

He let out a wry snort. ‘You’d be amazed at the courage that a hard-on can give a normally timid bloke.’

She laughed. ‘No, I wouldn’t, but there’s courage and then there’s a death-wish.’

‘Be that as it may, I’d still have stuck with her; I chose her over Louise Bankier, for Christ’s sake.’

‘What? Neil McIlhenney’s wife?’

‘Yes, but long, long ago. Lou was my blip, at university. It taught me that Myra and I were joined at the heart. From that point on, I never contemplated life without her.’

He shook his head. ‘I should never have married Sarah, though. I never treated her as I did Myra; I never even thought of her that way. I drove the wedge between us; when she had her flings, I should have been able to live through them too, but I couldn’t. Not that I was the only wronged half of that marriage. I’ve told you, I strayed a couple of times too, once very indiscreetly. That must have humiliated her when it all got out, yet, do you know, I don’t recall ever telling her that I was sorry? No, Aileen, I should never have married her. . and here I am having the bloody nerve to threaten you with the same. I apologise, that was hugely presumptuous of me. No, it was downright bloody cruel!’

He paused, but only for a second or so. ‘Now do you see why I feel like a hypocrite? The way I treated Sarah, it was unforgivable.’

Aileen put a hand on his. ‘Can I stop you there, just for a moment? The way I understand it, again from Alex, because I promise I haven’t been checking up on you, there was someone in Sarah’s student life too, someone she was in love with. For whatever reason, they broke up, and then, years later, they met up again in America, and she found that maybe she still was. But then he died.’

‘Yes,’ he agreed, ‘that pretty much sums it up. But through it all, I showed her no understanding, I showed her no compassion. I wouldn’t even let her go to his funeral. Do you see what I’m saying now?’

‘I understand it, but I don’t agree with your self-analysis. If you really want to know, I’d say that there was a lack of compassion on both sides. Maybe the two of you shouldn’t have married, but that’s not how you saw it at the time, and you’ve got three fine kids to show that there was some purpose to it.’ She drew his eyes to hers once more. ‘Now, do you feel better for getting all that off your chest, DCC Skinner?’

‘I suppose so.’

‘In that case, will you please promise that you’ll stop beating yourself over the head with it?’

He grinned, reproved. ‘I’ll do my best. But you do see what a lousy risk I am, don’t you?’

Aileen’s expression grew serious. ‘Why do you love me?’ she asked. ‘I warn you, though, if you say it’s because I remind you of Myra, I’ll knock you backwards out of that chair, big and all as you are.’

‘I believe you. It won’t stop me saying, though, that there’s a facial resemblance, in profile, no more. But that’s not the answer. I love you because you’re different, you’re special, beautiful, all that stuff. And there’s more: I love what’s on the inside, your goodness, your commitment, your courage. And here’s the clincher: every time I’ve been with a woman since Myra died, she’s been there with us. But not with you: when we’re together we’re unaccompanied. There’s nobody else in the room, or in the bed. You haven’t made me forget her, but with you, I’m finally able to put her behind me, and get on with the rest of my life. How’s that?’

‘It’s what I wanted to hear.’

‘I don’t scare you?’

She showed him a mock frown. ‘I don’t scare; when I have to I scare other people. And that’s just one of the many qualities that you and I have in common. You do know we could take over the world if we wanted, don’t you?’

‘Yeah. Just as well we’re happy with what we’ve got. You are happy, aren’t you?’ he asked her earnestly. ‘This isn’t just an interlude, is it?’

‘No, my big awkward love, it’s for keeps, I promise. You may think you’re hard to handle, but you’re in the process of learning otherwise.’

‘In that case,’ he murmured, ‘let’s ask John for la cuenta and get out of here. It may be time for my next lesson. Going back to something I said earlier, suddenly I’m feeling tremendously courageous.’