Dead Air Read Free Page B

ha,’ Kul said.
    ‘Yeah, don’t let it happen again,’ the suit repeated, heading for the front door. ‘Na; it was great. Great. Thanks. Thanks for the invite. Been brilliant. Hope you’re both very happy.’
    ‘Thanks for coming. Take care,’ Kul told him.
    ‘Yeah, thanks. Thanks.’ The suit bumped into somebody, spilling a drink. ‘Sorry, sorry.’ He lurched round to wave to Kul, who had already turned away and was headed for the loft’s main space. I poured myself some more Glen Generic then saw that somebody had brought a bottle of cask-strength Laphroaig, so abandoned my first glass and poured another of the Leapfrog and went to the fridge for some water.
    ‘Hey, Ken.’
    I closed the fridge door and saw Craig, official best pal (Scottish). Usual faintly diffident grin and sloppy-looking, thrown-on clothes; wee round glasses beneath a shaven head. When Craig still had visible hair it was black like mine; maybe a little curlier. We’ve both always had the same medium-slim build and since third year in High School I’ve been a couple of inches taller. We used to get mistaken for brothers, which both of us thought unfairly flattered the other. Our eyes are different; his are brown and mine are blue. Alongside Craig was his daughter Nikki, balanced on a pair of crutches. A few seconds were required to take in this vision.
    I hadn’t seen Nikki for over a year, when she was still at school, all gawky, awkward and blushing. Now she was as tall as her father and as beautiful as her mother. She had long glossy auburn hair half hiding a slim, pale face that just shone with youth and health.
    ‘Craig! Nikki!’ I said. ‘Kid, you look fabulous.’ I looked down at the freshly plastered leg hanging at an angle from her boot-legged jeans. ‘But you’ve broken your leg.’
    ‘Football,’ she said, shrugging as best she could. Craig and I hugged and slapped backs in full-on hail-fellow-Caledonian-well-met style. I embraced Nikki rather more tentatively. She sort of leaned into the cuddle and nodded against my cheek. She smelled of the open air, of somewhere fresh and perfect a long way from London.
    ‘Heard you’re about to start at Oxford, yeah?’ I said, shaking my head as I looked at her. She was nodding.
    ‘Uh-huh,’ she said, then, ‘Yeah, just a water or something,’ to her dad.
    ‘Chinese, wasn’t it?’ I asked.
    ‘Yup.’ She nodded.
    ‘Brilliant. Good for you. You can teach me how to swear in Mandarin.’
    She giggled, suddenly, briefly a child again. ‘Only if you promise to do it on air. Uncle.’
    I sucked air through my teeth. ‘Favour; don’t call me Uncle, okay? Make an old man happy while we’re together and pretend you just might be a trophy waif I’ve picked up.’
    ‘ Ken! ’ She kicked out at me with one crutch.
    ‘Hey,’ I said, rubbing my shin. ‘I’ve a reputation to keep up. Or down-hold. Whatever.’
    ‘You’re terrible !’
    ‘Come on,’ I said, offering my arm. ‘Let’s get you a seat. Craig; we’re through here,’ I told him. He waved. Nikki nodded me to go ahead of her. ‘Hobble this way,’ I said and pushed through the pack of people towards the main space while Nikki clumped after me. I looked at her again as we got clear of the kitchen crowd, and sighed. ‘Oh dear, Nikki.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘You are going to break so many hearts at Oxford, youngster. ’
    ‘Organs, rather than bones. Good idea.’
    ‘Mm-hmm. Football, you said?’
    ‘Girls do play it nowadays, you know.’
    ‘Golly, you don’t say. Don’t you find the long skirts get in the way? Ow! Will you stop doing that?’
    ‘Well …’
    ‘What position?’
    ‘Striker; I was scythed down in the penalty box. On a hat-trick, too.’
    ‘Disgraceful.’
    ‘Nikki, Nikki; here. Oh, Nikki!’ Emma had jumped up. She hugged her daughter tightly, eyes closed. I hovered for a bit, but there was no room on the sofa once they’d got settled, and Emma seemed to be deliberately ignoring me. I