Strange Loyalties Read Free Page A

side pocket. St George was ready.
    So was Brian. We sat at the table by the window and had breakfast. It looked a nice day. I hadn’t packed a raincoat.
    â€˜This toast’s exhausting,’ Brian said. ‘The kind of stuff you should eat in groups. Too much for one person. Team chewing.’
    â€˜I like it. Makes you appreciate food. You don’t just pop this in your mouth and swallow it. It demands your attention.’
    But I knew the vaudeville couldn’t last. The serious act was waiting in the wings.
    â€˜Jack. What do you hope to prove doing what you’re doing?’
    â€˜Whatever I prove.’
    â€˜That’s very good. Come on, Jack. Scott’s dead. He just got knocked down. He was drunk. You blame the driver?’
    â€˜I don’t blame the driver, Brian, be your age. Why would I blame the driver?’
    â€˜So what’s the score? Are you going to indict the traffic system?’
    â€˜It’s just something I want to work out. I’m doing it in my own time. Who am I harming?’
    â€˜Yourself. I would think.’
    â€˜Anyway, what’ll you be up to?’ I said, changing tack.
    â€˜Working with Bob Lilley. His neighbour’s off work as well just now. But not for reasons of insanity.’
    â€˜Uh-huh. Anything on?’
    â€˜There’s a body been found near the river. Across from the Rotunda. Not identified yet. Wearing a rope cravat.’
    The Rotunda was an old building that had been turned into a trendy eating-place, symbol of the regenerating Glasgow.Across the Clyde were some of the derelict sites where industry died. I thought of people eating and drinking in the high brightness while, in the darkness across the water where the light didn’t reach, a dead man lay abandoned. Maybe it was just my mood but the conjunction of those two images came to me like a coat-of-arms for the times, motto: live high on the hog and don’t give a shit about other people.
    â€˜Advance word is he was an addict. Bob’s got the report. His arm had been broken recently. And they seem to have given him a sore time before they killed him. Like breaking his fingers one by one.’
    â€˜I think my egg just addled,’ I said. ‘My compliments to the chef. If you would just ask him not to talk during the meal next time.’
    We cleared up the debris of the meal and, at Brian’s insistence, washed the dishes.
    â€˜This place is depressing enough to come back to,’ he said. ‘Come back to dirty dishes into the bargain, and the first stop could be your head in the oven.’
    â€˜It’s electric.’
    â€˜So you could cook yourself to death.’
    â€˜I didn’t realise the time,’ I said as I hung up the dish-towel. I would have to wash it some time soon. It was beginning to make the dishes dirtier. ‘I got up later than I thought. Jan should be here soon.’
    â€˜Jan coming?’
    â€˜We thought we would go to the Lock. Have some lunch there. Then she would run me to the station.’
    â€˜Which station?’
    â€˜Central.’
    Brian held up his hand.
    â€˜Tell me no more,’ he said. He held his hand to his chin like Sherlock in an old print, pointed his finger at me. ‘Graithnock.’
    â€˜Jeez, you’re good,’ I said. ‘It’s only where Scott lived.’
    â€˜Revisiting the scene of the crime. Except that there is no crime.’ He was kind to my silence, covered it with words. ‘So Jan’s coming.’
    â€˜That’s the idea. A farewell lunch before I venture into the outback.’
    â€˜What’s going to happen with you two?’
    â€˜Ah she’s great,’ I said. ‘What a marvellous woman.’
    â€˜That’s not what I asked.’
    â€˜Brian. I’m in enough shit to fertilise Russia. How do I know what I’m going to do? I know I love her. Whatever that means. But what I do with that, I’ll have to