That Was a Shiver, and Other Stories Read online

  Exactly.

  He sounds like a busker.

  Huh! Joe Wylie! Probably he has busked anyway. He’s done just about everything else. Some buskers are good ye know.

  Have you ever?

  What?

  Been a busker or been busking? however ye say it, have ye? Have you ever done it?

  What?

  Been a busker on the street?

  Yeah, well.

  Have ye!

  Once or twice.

  Did ye make any money?

  Eh . . .

  Ye would if it was New York or Paris or someplace. London, there’s buskers play down the tube. Imagine it happened here! Fiona chuckled.

  It couldnt.

  Of course it could.

  No it couldnt, not down the subway, they’d get like arrested. The cops would move in. Music’s barred in this town.

  Dont be silly.

  I’m not being silly. It’s only in controlled areas. Like everything else. Subways are for going to work and other places of confinement. Everything’s controlled. The cops and politicians have it sewn up. Just like the rest of society.

  But that’s everywhere!

  I know it’s everywhere that’s what I’m saying, society, the whole of bloody society, that’s Scotland, it’s just like . . .

  Dont get angry.

  I’m no getting angry. We dont have to like it but because it’s the same everywhere. I mean god sake.

  Dont get so upset.

  I’m not.

  Yes ye are. I think ye worry too much.

  . . .

  Ye shouldnt, she said.

  I dont. I just . . . He sighed again. Ye know the song, ‘Go Lie Down’?

  No.

  Andy sang:

  If you dont get angry lie down

  go lie down

  go lie down

  If you dont get angry lie down

  yeah just lie down, lie down

  you better lie down,

  you dont get angry, you lie down

  That’s nice.

  Yeah.

  What it means is go away and die. Lying down is the same as dying. If ye dont get angry ye would be as well dead. Least that’s how I see it.

  You wrote it?

  No, god. It’s an old blues, a great kind of . . . He paused.

  I wish ye had played tonight. Why didnt ye? Eh? They were waiting to see. I saw them. They thought ye were going to. When she asked ye, the blonde woman, they were looking to see, him with the ponytail.

  Andy was silent. Eventually he said, Look it’s not a big deal. I just didnt want to play, I wasnay like . . . He paused. I just didnt want to.

  You write songs as well dont ye?

  He shrugged.

  So are they all musicians? Your friends? The ones that were there last night? Ye seemed to know them all.

  Well not them all.

  I just thought it was a bit strange. It looked like ye were going to play and then ye didnt.

  He had his eyes open and could see by the shapes that she was looking towards him although she lay on her back. It was too dark to gauge the expression on her face.

  I wasnt watching ye, she said, I was at the next table remember. I couldnt help seeing ye.

  He shifted side on to her now, raised himself up to rest on his left elbow. I did notice ye, he said.

  Eventually.

  His chin was resting on his left hand now, he was gazing down at her. Ye were squeezed in at the side – you and yer pal.

  Well I wouldnt have gone in by myself. She turned to him. I wouldnt have gone in myself.

  Why because ye’re a woman?

  Of course.

  Ye dont get hassle in there but surely?

  Dont be silly.

  Seriously?

  Women always get hassle.

  Yeah but no the Scotia I mean I didnay think in there, it’s got the reputation for being good like I mean a place where women can go.

  Huh.

  People say that anyway.

  Do they?

  So I’m being stupid . . .

  Ye’re not being stupid it’s just there’s no such thing as a hassle-free bar. There isnt. Ye’re wrong if ye think there is. Ye’re wrong. Ye are.

  Well . . .

  What?

  Sorry, it’s just the usual like I mean if ye’re young and good looking yeah, people – guys – guys will talk to ye and whatever I mean surely?

  If I was an old woman I wouldnt get bothered by men?

  No what I mean

  I think I know what ye mean Andy, so about tonight of course I was with a pal. I wouldnt go into a bar on my own unless I was meeting people. I mean any bar, unless it was same-sex; gay, lesbian.

  Andy turned from her and lay on his back, he clasped his hands behind his head. I know that’s most pubs but I didnt know this one as well. Sorry.

  Sorry?

  Yeah.

  Why are you sorry?

  No, just . . . I was just I mean it’s supposed to have a good reputation for that I mean like just a place where women dont get hassle.

  Is that a fact . . . !

  . . .

  Fiona said, I see ye smiling.

  No ye dont.

  I do.

  Andy kept his hands clasped behind his head but turned a fraction towards her. Fiona had raised herself up on her shoulder, enough to be looking down on him. The light’s on yer face, she said.

  I was only smiling because of yer cheek: the way ye said, Is that a fact. It’s funny. Sarcastic but funny. I’m not being critical. I know I had a few beers tonight.

  More than a few.

  He smiled.

  Honestly.

  Well I wasnay that bad!

  I didnt think they were going to serve ye. Then yer pal too eyeing me up. Like trying to get off with anybody in that state – God! Come on back to our place we’re having a party!

  Andy looked at her,

  That was what he said, as soon as ye went to the toilet.

  Tony?

  Him with the ponytail.

  Andy shook his head. Sorry.

  There’s no need you saying sorry. It was him. He wanted me to go outside for a smoke with him.

  Huh!

  It was like hash he was talking about wasnt it? Was it?

  Maybe, I suppose.

  Fiona was silent for a time. She had watched for his reaction, then she smiled. That made him smile. It was a certain kind of smile and reminded him of somebody – an old-time film star maybe, whoever that was. But interesting, an interesting smile. Smiles can be interesting. Some anyway. Hers was. People seeing ye in a certain way. That was her, like she knew him. Or thought she did. Really. Kind of comical. His bad points too, as though she knew them and wasnay caring about them either. She had no idea.

  Christ. He touched her shoulder and she moved slightly, but away from him, as a reaction, she wasnt stopping him. He traced a line along her upper arm; the outline of her right breast, shadowed. He could have touched it but couldnt. He could have touched as within easy distance easy easy distance, but he couldnt.

  Really, she had no idea. If she thought she knew him! What a laugh. Fiona. Christ – but really, she didnt know anything, not a single damn thing.

  That bastard Tony. It made ye laugh. A pal? Some pal. As soon as yer back was turned. He was known for it. Guys laughed. Except when it happened to you. A fucking sleaze-bag more like.

  What is it? Fiona asked.

  Nothing. But he had taken his hand from her shoulder. When? he couldnt remember, the thought of Tony, just so bloody stupid, but dangerous. Tony was a dangerous guy, dangerous because of how he made ye feel, like fucking battering him! Doing time for a guy like that, ye could, it was just stupid. The arrogance! Then how he saw you. That was the thing too, it was like you were a total fool and didnt see what was happening! Jesus christ!

  Yer head’s twitching away! said Fiona.

  Sorry.

  Ye’re away thinking.

  Yeah.
He put his hand to her shoulder again, massaging, gently, then stroking, stroking lightly, was aware of his breathing, now lying on his side in to her: she had turned her back to him but was not resisting his touch and he was aware too of her body, just her bum, the curve of her, the heat! coming from him too, and if he had closed in to her, only centimetres, god. He swallowed saliva.

  Fiona murmured, You’re thinking about the blonde woman.

  What? No I’m not . . . He had stopped stroking but kept his hand on her shoulder. I’m not, he whispered.

  It was her you were looking at.

  Andy kept his eyes shut. He needed not to be as hard, not to be as hard as this. He put his hand to her shoulder again. I’m not thinking of her at all.

  Ye were looking at her. Ye were.

  Well

  I knew ye were.

  I’ve known her a long time.

  I know. Barbara Peters.

  Barbara Morrison. Peters is her married name . . . Andy shifted onto his back now but returned his hand onto her shoulder.

  Fiona said: I knew the way she asked ye and ye said no, when she asked ye to play, I knew ye knew her, the two of ye, ye knew each other . . . Fiona was still lying on her side facing away from him, but lying very still. Ye dont get many Barbaras nowadays; it’s an older name. I had an aunt called it; she was actually my mum’s aunt.

  Andy’s hand rested on her shoulder. She made no attempt to shrug it off. He was not sure what to do but it was uncomfortable lying like this and he shifted back onto his side again and very gently massaged her shoulder.

  He couldnt see her face but she could see his. He closed his eyes. After a moment he chuckled.

  What? she said.

  Sorry, I’m making myself laugh.

  What? she said again, and she chuckled.

  The way ye said ‘the blonde woman’, it was like how my granny would have said it. In a very disapproving voice, the blonde woman, as though being blonde was grounds for suspicion.

  So I sound like yer granny?

  Not at all, I dont mean that.

  If ye think I sound like yer granny!

  I dont. Of course I dont. It’s just like how she used to say things, like how she injected meaning into ordinary words: The blonde woman – dan, di ran dan, my granny would have made it sound like the title of a haunted house horror story. Andy grinned, massaging gently.

  Fiona was silent for a while, and she said, I just noticed ye were looking at her.

  Well I might have been, I might have been, but I can assure ye of one thing anyway, one thing about Barbara

  Dont, dont assure me of anything.

  No but

  No.

  Yeah but

  Dont; there’s no need.

  No I was just

  Honestly, I would prefer ye didnt. Really. I dont care. It was only a thing I noticed. Fiona now shifted onto her back, and turned her head to look up at him: Who was it she came with? Him with the ponytail?

  No.

  Did she come with somebody?

  Eh . . .

  See!

  See what? What do ye mean?

  Ye dont even know who she came with!

  Who Barbara came with – Ronnie probably. Ronnie was there. Ronnie Craig. Keyboard.

  That’s what I mean, she comes with a guy but nobody cares.

  She’s a singer but Fiona.

  She wasnt singing when you were watching her.

  I’ve known her a long time.

  That was obvious.

  But the same with most of the ones there. They’re good acquaintances.

  Acquaintances and not friends?

  Andy sighed. He was now lying on his back, he clasped his hands behind his head. Some are friends, he said, some arent.

  She grunted, amused. He glanced at her. She said: You are so predictable, if ye dont mind me saying.

  Thanks.

  It’s because ye’re predictable we find ye so funny, so stupid. She raised her hand and patted him on the chest. How many times have ye noticed me? How many times? I’m serious.

  What?

  How many times have you noticed me? Fiona was staring down at him but he still could not distinguish her face. Maybe she was smiling, he couldnt tell. Her hand was on his chest. He closed his eyes, hardly breathing. She sighed.

  Sorry, he said.

  You are way out. You really are. Way way out. You think we’ve only met this one time but ye’re wrong. You remember my name, but how long did that take ye?

  Her hair was sticking up next to her ear. He wanted to smooth it down, he unclasped his hands and reached to do it, and she allowed it.

  How long did it take ye? she said. To remember? Fiona chuckled. She patted him again, her fingers in the hair there on his chest. She continued to look down at him, then turned onto her side facing out, but did not move away. Was she going to sleep? She made some sort of noise in her throat but it was peaceful sounding. Maybe she was going to sleep. Fine if she did. He had his work to go to!

  His work.

  Strange strange life. He touched her shoulder again then he moved to her and kissed very very slightly the side of her neck almost just like his lips nudging her skin. And she stayed so still he wasnt sure if she had noticed. He edged himself back a little. There was no movement from her but he couldnt stop it now and moved forwards onto her, settling against her, her pants, tight smooth, his cock upright: no, and he parted from her again, his right arm round her, brushing her right nipple with his fingers, through the bra material, he felt it, that kind of beautiful just how . . . christ. He tightened his arm round her, kissed the nape of her neck.

  Nothing came from her; not in response. He waited moments. Nothing. He returned onto his back; and one of these trapped situations, having to unfankle the boxers and free his bolls, and that summed it up. That summed his life up. In a way it did. He figured she was angry.

  So was he!

  Well he wasnt.

  But nearly! He nearly was. How come? Yet he felt it. Was he clenching his fists! Maybe he was. He pushed down with his arms, straining, feeling it in his upper arm muscles. He turned onto his side again, facing into her back, just the damn erection. Mind and body, just so so stupid. What happens to the flesh? Flesh is not weak, it just operates at a different remove. Cocks dont relate to minds but to flesh, and it doesnt matter whose. It was like the comedian giving his routine about ordering his dick to lie down. It just doesnt happen. Fiona with her bra and her pants. Yet he was glad, he was glad. So much worse if he had been nude. How the hell would he have coped! Never! Bloody never. She would have been the boss. The total boss! Nude hardons reduced to nothing, fuck all. That wasnay a nightmare, that was like an amazing control game. Thinking ‘facial muscles’, oh I can feel you smiling. Can ye not feel the hardon then? No. Oh well, strange. Not think so? Not think it is strange? Even just a wee bit! Jesus christ, all he wanted was a sleep, then to get up and go to work.

  You are way out, she said, you really are. She waited for him to reply but he was not sure what she was meaning, being way out, but what about, way out about what?

  Fiona said, You were surprised I came home with ye. When ye asked me and I said yes, ye were surprised.

  Ye didnt say yes. Ye didnt say yes. Andy turned onto his side, and repeated it: Ye didnt say yes.

  I said alright.

  That’s different from yes.

  The thing is ye were surprised. You think we’ve only met this one time but ye’re way out; you are way way out. Fiona turned onto her back now and her head inclined towards him. You remembered my name, but how long did it take ye?

  What d’ye mean?

  Ye didnt remember my name, at first. At first ye didnt.

  Well

  We met before but ye didnt remember. Ye dont remember now. She chuckled, then added, Ye’re better not telling lies.

  Telling lies? What about? Why was she saying that. What the hell was she talking about? He didnt know. He truly truly did not know what the hell she was
talking about. He said nothing. Because there was nothing to say. He didnt have anything to say. He was not telling any lies. What about? What would he have lied about? There was nothing to lie about so why would he have lied? It was nonsense. This was bloody nonsense. Proverbial stuff, gender stuff, men and women, women and men, christ almighty, just bloody gender and he was sick of it, sometimes, really, he really really was, just go to bed and go to sleep and go to yer fucking work, that was all he wanted, nothing more, nothing nothing more.

  Bloody blues, he could sing blues alright, fuck that! It could even make ye smile. Coming to bed in her bra and pants, why not a coat and a pair of shoes, it was just bloody stupid. But thank god he wasnay nude, just thinking about that, if he had been, christ!

  Andy shook his head and settled on his back again. Just because ye get sick of it. Ye think of Barbara too, how Barbara used to just like how she played people. It was Fiona too.

  Ye were just fucking laughable. Mind and body! Yer body isnt even yours. Stand at attention. She touches you and that is that. You tell yer body, Dont move at all costs! Just stupid. A-ten-shun! Flesh flesh flesh.

  Lies! Why did she say that.

  That is women. That for him was women. He had no idea. All the stuff behind him – he hadnt told her about that – his life, all the previous crap. He hadnt told her about a damn thing. Nothing. For all she knew he had a score weans and five bloody ex-wives. And why should he have told her? They had only just met for christ sake.

  He listened for her breathing. Obviously she was awake.

  I’m not telling any lies, he said. He swallowed saliva. Not because he was lying; he wasnt. It is simply that is what he was doing, swallowing saliva. He didnt have to justify himself. He stared at the hair at the back of her neck, his head now balanced on the palm of his left hand and he raised his other hand, lifted the hair free from her shoulder. But she edged away: only a little but enough, enough.

  He lay on his back again. That was him now, that was him now for sure. No more no more, no more McCrimmon. No he didnt play for Barbara, of course he didnt play for Barbara. They could all go and fuck themself. It was the superficiality, he hated that above all. Ye wanted to be honest and straight with people and it didnt work. That bastard Tony who was his pal, supposed to be.

  What did it matter, women or whoever? He was out of bed, had swung his legs out and over the edge without thinking, and he stood. It was quite cold and he shoved on his T-shirt. Fiona raised herself up on the bed. A cup of tea, he said, ye fancy?