Hayley’s suggestion that I drop in on Nathan when passing his house and say, ‘I thought I’d stop by just to make sure you’re okay,’ probably wouldn’t be believed any better than my hospital excuse of, ‘I just thought I’d say hello.’
I couldn’t be sure how Nathan would react to me turning up on his doorstep but once I decided to act on something I just kind of did it. The next evening, I decided to carry out my plan and had illogically become a little pissed off with him as I hadn’t realised he lived in such a dodgy area, which I’d have had little excuse to be driving through otherwise. To top it off, the rain had been hammering down for most of the evening.
You’re going to get soaked on this fool’s errand, my inner self warned.
‘Thanks for that, and what’s a fool’s errand when it’s at home exactly?’
Something from Shakespeare probably, but you’re going to get wet; you shouldn’t have come.
‘But Hayley said to “strike while the iron is hot”.’
She’s not out here risking rape and death in the rain, though, is she?
‘Can you see a parking place anywhere?’
No, too many double yellows. Maybe you should just go home.
‘Not now that I’ve come this far.’
It’s only a few miles.
‘Yeah, mentally, not the actual distance, you numpty.’
Don’t call me a numpty. Look, there’s someone leaving; quick, get the space.
‘I see it.’
Hurry up, you silly cow; someone else will get it.
‘Don’t call me a cow.’
I won’t call you a cow if you don’t call me a numpty.
‘Deal. You need to shut up now – I’m going in.’
Good luck.
‘Thanks, I think.’
I got out of my black car (what other colour would I have?), grabbed my bags and coat and squinted at the intercom on the wall outside the door. It had grown very dark and water had started to drip down the back of my neck, making me shiver. I pressed the button beside his name and waited. No response. Maybe he’d gone out, which would be bloody typical after all the effort I’d gone to. I pressed again, keeping my finger on the buzzer. Eventually a voice said, ‘Hello?’
About bloody time. ‘Hi, Nathan, it’s Kat, can I come up?’
Surprisingly he didn’t say a word and pressed the buzzer to open the door. I trudged up the stairs leaving wet footprints all the way. He opened the front door and I bustled in, not waiting for an invitation. I felt annoyed at being soaked so I shook some rain from my hair.
‘Jeez, it’s pissing down. I wouldn’t have come if I’d known it was going to rain like that. Also, I didn’t realise you lived in Dumbiedykes.’ I dumped the three full Sainsbury’s plastic carrier bags onto the floor as the plastic handles were digging into my skin.
‘I didn’t know you were coming, and actually I don’t think I ever said where I lived. Finally, I don’t live in Dumbiedykes, I live in Holyrood.’
I shrugged off my black coat and looked for somewhere to hang it. There were no pegs or cupboards or anywhere obviously designated for coats, so I folded it over once and dropped it in a neat pile on the floor.
I noticed Nathan staring at it, probably wondering what it would do to the carpet, but that was what he got for not having any hooks.
‘Holyrood? Nah, don’t think so – if it quacks like a duck, walks like a duck and tastes great with plum sauce, it’s a bloody duck.’ I had to admit most of our conversations so far had been a little strange, but then much of my life felt like that.
‘It’s definitely not Dumbiedykes, Kat.’
‘Yeah, well, we’ll need to agree to differ on that. I didn’t want to park my car outside in case it got stolen.’
‘What did you do, then?’
‘Well, in the end I had to bloody park it outside your block, didn’t I? Besides, I couldn’t lug these bags about. They’re too heavy.’
I watched as he rubbed his hand across his face. He asked, quite reasonably, ‘What are you doing here?’
I looked carefully at him. ‘You’re tired.’
‘I just woke up.’
‘If you’ve just woken up you shouldn’t look tired. I think maybe you left hospital too soon. Also the issues with your wife and kids are probably taking their toll on you.’
‘I didn’t know you were a doctor and a psychiatrist. Anyway, I’ve been out of hospital for ages now.’
‘I’ve had enough medical training to know you should have stayed recuperating for longer and any stress will make it worse, regardless of how long you’ve been home.’
‘Do you need medical training to work with dead people?’
‘You do actually, but I didn’t start out in the morgue. I trained as a nurse.’
‘What happened?’
I didn’t want to have that conversation right now. I picked the bags up. ‘I’ll tell you later. Where’s your kitchen?’
He pointed to a closed door opposite where we were standing. I staggered down the hall, noticing he didn’t offer to help. I pushed the kitchen door open with my hip. Pleasantly surprised to find a large and modern kitchen, I tipped out the bags onto a worktop and opened the fridge. It was filthy.
‘Your fridge needs cleaning. It’s really dirty.’
‘I’m only at number fourteen on my list. Cleaning the fridge is number twenty-four. I kind of hoped I’d get to it by next week.’
I didn’t understand what he’d said so I popped my head around the kitchen door and noticed he hadn’t moved from the front door. Would he just stand there all night? ‘What did you say?’
‘Nothing important, I just haven’t had a chance to go to the supermarket and, to be honest, I’ve been a bit nervous about going to Tesco.’
‘Why Tesco?’
‘Well, I’d been going there when … my accident happened.’
‘Is it just Tesco supermarkets you’ve got a phobia about?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Well, if you’re going to pick one I’d suggest Waitrose. It’s expensive and full of posh folk. The one near me has even got a security guard on the fruit and veg.’
‘Is the stuff that good?’
‘Nah, it’s just that across the road is a mental health day unit and some of the patients like to wander in and lick the tomatoes.’
‘Why?’
‘How would I know?’
‘Anyway, I think it’s just Tesco.’
‘Good, as all the stuff I brought is from Sainsbury’s. Go and sit down before you fall down, and I’ll bring you a drink.’ I knew he’d be wondering why I’d turned up and probably how I’d acquired his address. The former I couldn’t be sure about myself, the latter I’d pulled from the computer. I tipped a large bag of crisps into a salad bowl and poured two glasses of wine and carried the whole lot into the living room. Nathan flipped off the TV just as I entered. I dumped the crisps onto a small side table.
‘What were you watching?’
‘Nothing, I just had it on for company.’
‘That’s sad.’ I handed him a glass. ‘Well, now you’ve got me for company, so we can talk.’
‘We’re not very good at that, or at least we weren’t in the hospital.’
I took a huge gulp of wine and relaxed. I waited for him to do the same. ‘That’s better.’ I put my glass down on the table. ‘Now we can have a proper chat.’
‘Okay, I’ll start. Why are you here?’
‘You need some company …’ I nodded at the now blank TV screen ‘… and my BFFF Hayley suggested I come and see you.’
‘BFFF?’
‘Best Female Friend Forever.’
‘Oh, right, well, that’s nice of her. I’d fallen asleep.’
‘She said you’d be lonely.’
‘Is your friend psychic?’
‘I don’t think so. She used to be very fat, now she’s very beautiful. I always thought she was beautiful even when she was a size gazillion. She pretty much lives on wine and rice now.’
‘That sounds like a fun diet.’
‘I was exaggerating.’
‘I did get that.’
‘Oh … okay. Anyway, she’s right; you are lonely.’
‘Am I?’
‘Absolutely. Lonely people sleep a lot. So do teenagers and cats.’
‘What about lonely cats?’
I ignored his comment. ‘When’s your wife due back?’ I quickly scanned the flat in case she happened to be lurking in another room. I really should have checked before turning up unannounced.
‘Not today anyway – Sunday maybe – why?’
Phew, thank God for that. ‘Just wondering; I don’t want her getting the wrong idea about us.’
‘Us?’
‘We’re not a couple.’
‘I never thought we were.’
‘I’m not a lesbian either.’
‘I never said you were.’
‘Did you think it, when I talked about my friend being beautiful?’
‘Err, no, I can honestly say your sexuality hadn’t crossed my mind.’
‘My sexual orientation, not my sexuality. Because I dress differently some people naturally assume I’m a lesbian.’
‘I don’t know much about lesbians.’
‘Neither do I, so that’s something we’ve got in common already. Another thing – you should have stayed longer at the hospital today, then I wouldn’t have had to come out here in the rain, risk getting raped, and wouldn’t have had to spend sixty quid in Sainsbury’s.’
‘I’ll give you the money—’
‘I didn’t ask for any money.’
Nathan sighed. ‘Okay, I won’t give you any.’
I refilled my glass and munched some crisps. ‘I feel a bit drunk now, but that’s okay. I trust you not to take advantage of me now that you know I’m not a lesbian.’
‘That’s nice, I think.’
‘Now, why don’t you tell me why you’re so lonely?’
‘My wife and kids are in London.’
‘That’s not what I mean. Even if they were all here you’d still be lonely.’
‘Would I? I’m usually quite happy with my own company.’
‘That’s what lonely people say.’
‘Is it?’
‘Yep, all the time. What happened with you and your wife?’
Nathan laughed; it lit up his face. ‘Where do you want me to start?’
‘How old are you?’
He frowned.
‘Don’t frown. It makes you look old.’
‘I’m thirty-five.’
‘Oh, you are old. What music do you have on your … phone or … maybe iPod?’
‘I don’t have an iPod, and my phone I only really use for calls.’
‘Oh, dear, that’s positively dinosauric. How do you listen to music, then?’
‘Dinosauric?’
‘Yeah, as in “being a dinosaur”.’
‘Oh, right, well, I’ve got some CDs I play in the car and I’ve got some music files on my laptop.’
‘What was the last CD or song you bought?’
‘Err, I can’t remember … maybe something by One Direction.’
‘Jesus. Are you a fifteen-year-old girl in disguise?’
‘I don’t think so. I guess that’s not very cool, is it? What should I be listening to? What do you like?’
‘I’m not really into all the dark music Goths normally like – it’s too depressing. I recently downloaded some tropical house.’
‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what that is. It sounds like something you might find at the Botanic Gardens.’
‘You’re hopeless.’
‘Obviously I’m too uncool for all that. How old are you, Kat?’
‘You shouldn’t ever ask a girl her age.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s rude, but if you must know I’m twenty-nine, thirty this year on the twelfth of November if you want to get me a birthday present.’
‘What would you like?’
‘You can surprise me.’
‘This is another strange conversation.’
‘That’s because we don’t know each other very well. Let’s change that – tell me what happened with your wife.’
He frowned again, noticed me watching and put on a pretend smile instead. ‘I don’t really know.’
‘People that say, “I don’t really know” always know. So, come on, tell me; I’m a good listener.’
‘We started out okay. We used to party a lot and—’
‘Why did you ask her out?’
‘Err, I fancied her, I think.’
‘You think? Has your accident affected your memory?’
‘Not that I know of.’
‘How old were you?’
‘Twenty-three, nearly twenty-four. Laura had just turned nineteen.’
‘What did she see in you?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Yeah, I didn’t phrase that well – I meant did she fancy you too?’
Nathan laughed, which made me smile. ‘I think so, I assume so, we were all over each other all the time we—’
‘Spare me the details – I get the picture. Where did you meet?’
‘At a party in a friend’s flat in London. This gorgeous girl kept making eye contact with me and I couldn’t believe she liked me. I suppose you’d describe it as a whirlwind romance. We started going out and saw each other every day – it was really intense. The first time I met her parents I had to tell them their darling daughter was three months pregnant and we were going to get married.’
‘I bet that went down well.’
‘Yeah, you can imagine. She had to drop out of university, the only reason she’d moved to London in the first place. Her parents had struggled to fund her education and their first reaction with me in the room was, “Laura, you have to have an abortion. You can’t throw your life away on a loser like this.”’
‘You made a good impression, then?’
I watched him shake with laughter. ‘Yeah, and it didn’t improve much over the years. She didn’t listen to them anyway and moved into my tiny flat.’
‘What did you do for a living?’
‘At the time I worked in an office.’
‘Doing what?’
‘Advertising executive – a rather grand title for what I did.’
‘Sounds exciting.’
‘Mm, it had its moments, I suppose. Most of the time I’d describe it as organised chaos. Imagine a room full of creative types … no, don’t. Imagine a home for emotionally immature adults who spend most of their days playing with computer games, making up friends on Facebook, taking turns to run to Starbucks or if the boss, Woody, happened to be off sick – which happened a lot – surfing porn.’
‘Did you work in an office full of men?’
‘Mainly but not exclusively.’
‘With a boss called Woody?’
‘Yeah, he resembled a woodpecker with a sharp beaky nose, protruding eyes, and he waddled rather than walked. He wasn’t really the boss. “Vaguely in charge” would be the best description, I think. He’d been a senior partner who’d suffered burnout and so they gave him the task of overseeing the office. He spent most of his days, when he turned up at all, wandering about making unhelpful suggestions.’
‘And you got paid for that?’
Nathan laughed. ‘Yeah, crazy, but London is full of places like that – advertising agencies, PR firms, IT contractors – where people can get away with pissing about all day in the name of creativity.’
‘What do you do now?’
‘The same thing except now I’m freelance.’
‘So, you work for yourself?’
‘Kind of. I have a few firms that pass me some regular stuff. They get a contract and then hire out the work. It doesn’t pay that well and Scotland has very few ad agencies. My mate Graham runs one of the London spin-offs based in Glasgow and he uses me whenever he can get away with it.’
‘Have you done anything I’d have heard of?’
‘I suppose Simpson’s Sheets would be one of my most memorable. If you can remember the series of adverts a few years ago: “If crinkled beddin’ does your head in – buy some Simpson’s Sheets”.’
‘I do remember that. They did a whole series of TV ads with all sorts of people having problems with their lives that were miraculously solved when they bought new bedding and didn’t have to straighten and iron their sheets.’
‘Yeah, a bit over the top but it kept me busy for the best part of a year.’
‘I bought some.’
‘Did you? That shows you the power of advertising, then. I suppose the thing I like about working the way I do now is that I can do it from here most of the time. Sometimes I need to go and meet people and one or two days a week I might work from Graham’s office in Glasgow if there’s something I need to collaborate on. The rest of the time a few phone calls and emails are enough. I also don’t have to deal with all the nonsense that comes from being part of a “team”.’
‘I’m bored with your job chat. Tell me about the pregnant teen.’
‘Oh, right, well, the baby was due in November. We’d initially planned to get married first but getting ready for a baby turned out to be more expensive and stressful than we’d expected.’
‘When did you get married?’
He smiled, happy memories obviously. ‘Three years later, when Laura fell pregnant with Chloe. We had a little more money, Millie got to be a flower girl, so cute and—’
‘I take it Laura felt vulnerable being pregnant again?’
‘Maybe, but we’d talked about it loads before then—’
‘Insecurity is a terrible reason to get married.’
‘We were in love.’
‘Had her parents forgiven you?’
‘Eventually … well, her mum did, anyway.’
‘What about her dad?’
‘He died.’
‘When?’
‘The year before we got married.’
‘Poor girl. Pregnant, grieving and planning a wedding that her dad would never see. I’m surprised she didn’t crack up.’
‘No, she decided to save that until later.’