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wittier brother like clingfilm round a sandwich, and it looks like they're
enjoying each other the way . . . Oh, God, I'm so pissed off I
can't even think of a decent comparison. Or even an indecent one, which would
probably - certainly
- be more to the point.'
'Part from that; everything okay, aye?' Ash said, putting her arm round my
shoulders.
'Help me, Ashley,' I said, closing my eyes and putting my head on her
shoulder. 'What am I to do?'
'You must think of her on the toilet,' Aline said, and giggled.
'Off-white woman speak truth,' Ash said, lowering her head to rest it on mine.
'The hots rarely survive an intense course of imagining the beloved on the
cludgie.'
'No,' I sighed, opening my eyes as a series of splashes announced another
chaotic event on the spillway. 'I'd probably only develop a fetish for
coprophagy.'
'Pardon?'
'That as unpleasant as it sounds?'
'Unpleasanter.'
'Merde!'
'Yup.'
'You're a hopeless case, Prentice, so you are. Have you contemplated suicide?'
'Yeah; soon as it's finished, I'm going to throw myself off the Channel
Tunnel.'
Ashley's shoulders moved once under my head. 'Plenty of time to set your
affairs in order, then.'
'It's not my affairs I'm concerned with.'
'Ach, she wasn't your sort, anyway, Prentice.'
'What; you mean not good enough for me?'
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'No, Prentice; I mean too much taste. You never stood a chance with a woman
that choosy.'
I pulled away and looked dubiously at Ashley, who smiled sweetly. 'What is
this?' I said. 'You auditioning for the Exit chapter of the Samaritans, or
what?'
Ashley took my hands in hers. 'Ah, Prentice. Dinnae worry; maybe it's just an
infatuation;
hers, or Lewis's . . . or yours. Whatever. Maybe she'll come to her senses.
Maybe she wants to work her way through all the McHoan brothers in order of
age - '
'Or weight.'
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' - or weight. Maybe she'll get married to Lewis but have a life-long affair
with you.'
'Oh, great.'
'See? You don't know what might happen,' Ashley said happily, spreading her
hands.
'Anyway, Prentice,' Aline said in her sing-song voice. 'There are plenty more
fishes in the sea, yes?'
I looked over at Aline. 'Hey, can I quote you on that?'
Aline winked at me, tapped the side of her nose. 'The toilet,' said
conspiratorially.
I started to get up. 'It's no good,' I sighed. 'You two are cheering me up too
much and I
can't stand the excitement.' I got wearily my feet, muscles aching from the
effects of drink and walk.
'See you down the Jac tonight?' Ash said.
'Maybe,' I said. 'I keep trying to drown my sorrows but they appear to be
marginally more buoyant than expanded polystyrene.' The water cascaded down
the face of the spillway again, the noise like a million stamping feet heard
from a long way off. I shrugged. 'Fuck it, though; worth another try. Gotta
start working some time'
'That's my boy.'
'See you, gals.'
'Bye-bye, Prentice.'
'Try not to fall in love with anybody else before tonight.'
'Yo.'
*
An hour or so later I saw my mother's green Metro, just about to turn out of
the drive-way of
Hamish and Tone's house. She stopped when she saw me, wound the window down.
'Here you are,' she said.
'Here I am,' I agreed.
'I was waiting for ages there.' She glanced at her watch. 'Oh well. Getting
in?'
I got into the car; we started to reverse the fifty yards back up the drive.
Actually, my legs were so tired I was quite grateful for the lift. 'I brought
what I could find of Rory's stuff.'
Mum nodded. 'Your dad thinks there's more, but it's buried in the filing.' I
looked at the back seat, where a folder lay. 'Not that you deserve it,' she
added.
'Oh, thanks,' I said. I picked the folder up; CRII said the lettering on the
spine. It looked similar to the folder I already had, but perhaps a little
thicker. I vaguely remembered reminding mum last night that I was looking for
the rest of Uncle Rory's papers.
'Well?' she said.
I looked over, yawning. 'Well?' I repeated.
We drew to a stop outside the door of the house. 'You don't remember last
night, do you?' mum said, turning the ignition off. She was dressed in
angora'and chunky cords; new perfume. She looked slightly unamused and not a
little worried.
'Not. . . in its entirety, no,' I confessed.
She shook her head. 'God, you were drunk, Prentice.'
'Umm,' I said, weighing the folder in my hands. ' . . . Yes.' I smiled my best
'but I'm still your wee laddy' smile.
She raised those delicate brown brows. 'My God, you don't remember
embarrassing Lewis and
Verity last night, do you?'
I looked at her.
'I mean, apart from embarrassing your father and me,' she added.
I felt the blood draining from my face like somebody had opened a valve in my
ankle. Oh-oh.
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I swallowed. 'I wasn't doing my impression of the Bradford City supporter, the
King's Cross
Disaster victim and the guy from Piper Alpha meeting up in Hell, was I?'
(Requires three cigarettes; offends everybody.)
'It's not funny, Prentice; poor Verity was nearly in tears. You're lucky Lewis
didn't throttle you.'
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'Oh my God,' I said, feeling cold. 'What did I say?'
(Duck, and cover.)
'Told her - told everybody - you were madly in love with her!' she said, eyes
flashing. 'Then, having declared undying worship of the poor girl, you
proceeded to slag her off for taking up with
Lewis.' Mum shook her head angrily, tears in her eyes. 'Prentice! What were
you thinking of?'
'Oh my God,' I moaned. KYAG. I put the folder down in my lap and put my
forehead on the folder.
'Then you followed that up with some fairly off-colour remarks about Lapland,
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