Celia’s considering her options: she’s down to some lobster thing or oysters. The restaurant isn’t posh posh but it isn’t Fairwater Fish Bar; put it like this – I’m the only one wearing white socks.
The old girl nearly wet herself when I suggested a holiday.
Yeah, before this cancer thing – before they starts cutting lumps out of you.
Just a minor operation, Marc, nothing for you to worry about.
Who said I was fucking worried, Celia?
Mind your language, Marc. My house, my rules. Where should we go?
I was thinking about Switzerland –
Switzerland? Why?
But maybe somewhere warmer might be better.
I was hating it – I particularly hate sand. And with Marbella being on the coast there’s no getting away from the sand. At least Celia was paying.
As Celia considers the menu, it strikes me that she couldn’t have sanctioned Bunce’s men beating the shit out of the old man – I’ve learnt she hates any type of violence. Except to shellfish, obviously.
I could see Celia was in the mood to share – and I’m not talking tapas.
Tell me, Marc.
Tell you what, Celia?
Anything you like, love. I’ve got three years of Marc to catch up on.
When you and the old man split up I didn’t understand it – first thing I thought was, could I have stopped them? After a while I thought everything was your fault. Now, I can see things are more grey than black and white.
I told her about drug dealing, living in Fairwater, about Oggy, about the cops turning up to a house in Fairwater to find him dead with his cock out and half a pool cue shoved up his arse.
I shared with her the scene after Lisa had stabbed Oggy – of the holdall I packed for her, the warm cash in fifty-quid notes I placed in the side-zipped pocket along with a Dove deodorant and a bar of soap (at that moment I remember thinking how refreshing it was that Lisa used soap and not shower gel), the frantic phone call to Stannie:
I needs a big favour, Stannie, one you’ll actually have to get out the house for.
I told her about Lisa, in a stupor, being led out the door, of her getting into a Vauxhall Astra.
When it was her turn, Celia shared a story of when her and the old man had sex in a hedge. I know.
The waitress walks towards our table and I can see that she does look good in anything and I remember having that very same thought at Cantonian High School, even though she sat behind me.
Hi, my name is Wendy, you ready to order?
I’ll have the lobster linguine and a glass of Rioja and my son will have…
Curly fries and a pint of cava.
Lisa laughs.
I laugh.
Celia gives an embarrassed shake of her head as Lisa returns to the bar.
I can see the sea from where we’re sat. It looks fantastic.
I sit there, waiting for my fizzy wine, glad that I’m not on my own, concentrating on the waves as they gently wash away what’s gone before.
In the surf I see a head bobbing along. Not the head of a swimmer but… it’s Billy. Of course it fucking is. He lies on his back, flippers in the air, basking in the sun. He lifts his flipper and gives me a little wave before disappearing, diving deeper into the sea.
The End.