44 Scotland Street Read Free Page B

wonder whether we can actually blame them for it. What do you think?”
    Pat hesitated. “They could try a bit harder not to cheat.”
    The woman shook her head. “Not easy,” she said. “I believe that we have much less free will than we think. Quite frankly, we delude ourselves if we think that we are completely free. We aren’t. And that means if dear Bruce must have rather a lot of girlfriends, then there’s not very much he can do about it.”
    Pat said nothing. Bruce had said nothing about the neighbours, and perhaps this was the reason.
    “But this is very rude of me,” the woman said. “I’ve been talking away without introducing myself. And you’ll be wondering: Who is this deterministic person ? Well, I’m Domenica Macdonald, and I live in the flat opposite Bruce and his friends. That’s who I am.”
    Pat gave the woman her name and they shook hands. Her explanation that she had just agreed to take the spare room in Bruce’s flat brought a broad smile to Domenica’s face.
    “I’m very pleased to hear that,” she said. “That last girl – the girl whose room you’ll be taking …” She shook her head. “Genetically programmed to have lots of boyfriends, I think.”
    “A slut? That’s what Bruce called her to me.”
    This surprised the woman. “Male double standards,” said Domenica sharply, adding: “Of course, Edinburgh’s full of double standards, isn’t it? Hypocrisy is built into the stonework here.”
    “I’m not sure,” ventured Pat. Edinburgh seemed much like anywhere else to her. Why should there be more hypocrisy in Edinburgh than anywhere else?
    “Oh, you’ll find out,” said Domenica. “You’ll find out.”

     

 
     
    3. We See a Bit More of Bruce
     
    “Terrific!” said Bruce, unbuttoning his Triple Crown rugby shirt. “That looks just terrific!”
    He was standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom, waiting for the bath to fill. It was a favourite mirror of his, full-length – unlike most bathroom mirrors – which made it possible to inspect at close quarters the benefits of his thriceweekly sessions in the gym. And the benefits were very evident, in whatever light they were viewed.
    He pulled the shirt up over his head and flung it down on the top of the wicker laundry basket. Flexing his biceps, he stared back at the mirror and liked what he saw. Next, by crouching slightly, as if poised to leap forward, the muscles that ran down the side of his trunk – he had no idea what they were called, but could look them up in the chart his personal trainer had given him – these muscles tensed like a series of small skiing moguls. Moguls, in fact, might be a good word for them, he thought. Biceps, pecs, moguls .
    He removed the rest of his clothes and looked again in the mirror. Very satisfactory, he thought – very satisfactory. Reaching up, he ran his fingers lightly across the top of his en brosse haircut. Perhaps a little off round the sides next week, or, again, perhaps not. He might ask his new flatmate what she thought. Would I look better with longer hair? What do you think, Pat?
    He was not sure about this new girl. She was not going to be any trouble – she could pay the rent and he knew that she would keep the place clean. He had seen her look of concern over the state of the room, and that had been a good sign. But she was a bit young, and that might be problematic. The four years that separated them were crucial ones, in Bruce’s mind. It was not that he had no time for twenty-year-olds, it was just that they talked about different things and listened to different music. He had often had to hammer on Anna’s door late at night when he was being kept awake by the constant thump thump of her music. She played the same music all the time, day-in day-out, and when he had suggested that she might get something different, she had looked at him with what was meant to be a patient expression, as one might look at somebody who simply did not