Anywhere's Better Than Here (5 page)

‘‘We've got crucifixes.''

‘‘Oh no, I don't think he's religious.''

‘‘Models of motorbikes?''

‘‘Oh no, he wouldn't be able to drive.''

The woman frowned, realising perhaps that Laurie didn't have the first idea what to get this Gerry character.

‘‘Well, what about something like cufflinks?''

Laurie shook her head. He didn't seem like the cufflinks type.

‘‘Sorry. I'm not being much help am I?'' said Laurie, looking down at the ground.

‘‘Not at all. Sometimes it's hard to think of a gift for a man. They always seem to have everything they need, don't they?''

Laurie nodded.

‘‘What about music? Does he like music?''

‘‘Yes, he definitely does. He's a DJ.''

‘‘Great, now we're getting somewhere.'' The woman beamed at her. She pointed to a small display case on the cash desk. ‘‘Have a look at these.'' It was all rock and roll paraphernalia. It was a bit naff, but was definitely the best stuff in the section for Gerry.

The woman opened the cabinet and took out an Elvis lighter. It was a Zippo type thing that had a silhouette of Elvis outlined on it in black on one side and ‘‘Taking Care of Business'' engraved on the other.

‘‘Perfect. I'll take it.'' Suddenly she felt giddy. She gave the woman a little hug. The woman laughed too, delighted she'd helped.

‘‘Wait 'til he gets a load of this! He'll love it.''

And she knew he really would. She paid, left the shopping centre and made for the bar from last night, certain she'd see him there.

***

Of course, he wasn't there. It seemed to be the same crew of old blokes from the night before. But then, she realised, looking at the clock over the bar, it was much earlier, barely tea time. She sat down and took off her coat. Then she stood up again and walked over to the bar. As she passed the old guys she winked at them. She was some wise cracking dame in a 50s movie. How different she was to the timid girl from the night before. She smiled, thinking how funny it was that a move towards making a decision could have such a marked effect on a person. The battle axe barmaid stared at her. Laurie wavered slightly, but, pulling her spine straighter, she carried on to the bar.

‘‘Good afternoon,'' she used her politest voice.

‘‘Aye?''

Clearly, Laurie's formality had no discernible effect on the old boot.

‘‘I would like a whisky and also half a pint of lager. Please.''

Without a word, the woman (what was her name again – Mags?) turned from her and got the drinks. Laurie didn't notice that she slammed the glasses down with any less ire this evening. Laurie handed over a fiver.

‘‘Keep the change.''

The woman regarded her suspiciously.

‘‘I was wondering if you might know when Gerry would be in.''

‘‘Gerry?''

So it was going to be like that. The woman was going to make her work for it.

Laurie smiled. ‘‘Yes, Gerry. The guy that was in here last night?''

The woman's blank face was slappable.

‘‘Youngish, beard, tall.''

Nothing.

‘‘Nice accent. He bought me drinks.''

‘‘That's nice for you.''

‘‘Right. I see.''

Laurie knocked the whisky back, blinking away tears. She looked steadily at the barmaid as she glugged the lager as quickly as she could. She put the glass down firmly on the bar.

‘‘Enjoy your evening, madam,'' she pronounced clearly and stalked out of the bar.

As soon as she was outside in the damp twilight she realised that she'd left behind her coat.

‘‘Fuck it!'' she shouted and kicked weakly at a lamppost.

Never mind, she'd get another one. She had her purse and keys in her pocket and it was better to travel light anyhow. She remembered dimly that Gerry worked the midnight shift and as she had no idea where he lived, she decided to go to the hospital. She knew from personal experience that although time in hospitals passed twice as slowly as time outside, they were warm places where people didn't look at you too closely. It was certainly a better location to hang about than the bus station or the park. She did have the option to go home of course, but she had no desire to see Ed. He wouldn't ask her how her day had been, or notice that she was late, or that she was not wearing a coat. His stunning lack of interest would drive her to confess her wanderings in an effort to annoy him and she'd have nowhere to go from there.

She needed to have a clue about what she was doing with herself before she involved anyone else. She pictured telling her father that she'd left work. He'd make a few noises about paying the rent, having a plan for her life – some such nonsense – but as long as she didn't approach him for money, he wouldn't bother himself too much. He'd have more to say about the situation if it was her brother, Danny, who'd packed everything in on a whim, with no idea of what next. Laurie knew her father was waiting for her to get married to someone with a decent job, prospects, a plan. He didn't have time for Ed. He was polite enough on the rare occasions that they visited her father, but it was plain that he saw Ed as a stop-gap, a practice boyfriend. She'd been vague about her and Ed's living arrangements, letting it seem as if there were other flatmates. At the time she'd told Ed it was to avoid confrontation. She said she was worried about her father's health in light of recent events and that it didn't really matter anyway.

Ed, of course, had mutely accepted her explanation. At the time she'd been irritated by Ed's mute acceptance. His mother knew they lived together and although, not happy about it, she'd made an effort at first to help them. Even arriving one day with a box of kitchen utensils.

‘‘I thought these might come in handy.'' She'd said, holding the box out to Laurie.

Laurie had looked into it, dismissing the contents immediately as the tat that her sort-of mother-in-law had no need for. So Laurie and Ed had become a kind of living charity shop. She'd smiled at the older woman and thanked her profusely.

‘‘That's great Sandy, really great.''

They stood facing each other in the dingy little kitchen for a moment. Laurie could feel Ed's mother resisting the temptation to tidy up, that was the thing about Laurie's sort of mother-in-law. But Laurie ushered Sandy into the living room while she made the tea. She stood in the kitchen and looked at the shittiness that surrounded her. It was pure 70s crap; beige everywhere; tile-effect wallpaper with a field mouse on wheat motif; off white plastic handles on the cupboards; muddy brown carpet tiles on the floor. It would take more than a lick of paint to jazz the place up. The whole flat was like that – clean, serviceable, but dull and tired. She made the tea and put it on a tray. They had no biscuits, but she found two Kit-Kats and a Twix in the fridge.

‘‘Here we go,'' she said as she came into the living room. Ed and Sandy were sitting on the sofa staring into space. Laurie put the tray down on the tile-topped coffee table.

‘‘Sandy, would you like a cup of tea?''

Of course she would. All she ever did was drink tea.

‘‘Yes, I think I will please.'' She smiled up weakly at Laurie.

Laurie poured.

She was always amazed at how Sandy could appear to have all the strength of a gnat and still control another human being so effectively. Ed sat beside his mother mutely. He was looking toward the window with an expression of neutrality that enraged Laurie. He didn't like to rock the boat ever. Particularly not with his mother. She could understand why. She was still giving him handouts and he was the only child, after all. His dad hadn't been around for years and Laurie understood that they'd developed one of those us-against-the-world relationships. But still, it grated. At some point Sandy was going to have to make a life for herself. Scuppering Ed's independence wouldn't last forever.

Or would it? Laurie could see Ed and Sandy knocking about the bungalow together in their old ages. Ed's aging would catch up with his mother's and they'd dress similarly and finish each other's sentences. People would see them around and think them spinster brother and sister.

However, the days of that sort of arrangement were long gone. Nowadays people would probably assume there was some weird sexual element to it and throw stones through their windows and point at them down at the shops.

Laurie poured the milk in first, just as Sandy and Ed liked it. They both liked lots and lots of it; full fat if possible. There was a particular shade of beige Sandy was after and Laurie could never quite get it right.

‘‘That'll do, that's fine,'' said Sandy, reaching out towards her cup.

‘‘But it's only half full,'' said Laurie.

‘‘It looks plenty strong enough though.'' She raised the cup to her mouth and took a sip. ‘‘Lovely, just the thing.'' Her smile was unconvincing.

Laurie held out the plate with chocolate bars on.

Sandy thought for a moment, her hand hovering over the Twix.

‘‘No, no. I'd better not.''

‘‘Why? Have you got a special occasion coming up?''

‘‘No!'' Sandy pinked up then brought her voice back under control. ‘‘No, nothing like that. It just doesn't hurt to look after yourself.''

What was that supposed to mean? Although, Laurie seemed to have struck a nerve.

‘‘Lovely day, isn't it?'' Ed had come over all cheery.

‘‘Yes,'' Sandy and Laurie said simultaneously.

‘‘When we've had this, why don't we go for a walk in the park?''

Sandy and Laurie both stared at Ed. The park? Outdoors?

‘‘Oh, I don't think so Ed, not today,'' said Sandy.

Laurie was thankful. The last thing she felt like doing was taking a promenade amongst the dog shit and sweetie wrappers.

‘‘Cool,'' said Ed, holding his hands up in front of him, as if stopping traffic.

Laurie tore open a Kit-Kat. Hey ho, she thought, this is the life, as she took the biggest bite she could manage without choking.

Since then, Sandy hadn't been back but she phoned every other day. It was always at annoying times like when the takeaway had arrived or when Ed looked like he might be considering washing the dishes. She never seemed to phone for anything of any pressing urgency yet the calls could often last for thirty or forty minutes. Ed said virtually nothing. She'd once taken the receiver from Ed's limp hand to hear for herself what Sandy was going on about, but there was silence on the other end of the line. At first Laurie assumed that Sandy had realised that Ed was no longer on the line, but the silence carried on until it was broken by the faint clack of snooker balls followed by a polite round of applause.

‘‘That was a lovely shot, Ed,'' said Sandy.

Laurie handed the phone back to Ed, promising herself that she needed a plan B and sharpish.

This plan B still hadn't shown itself as she stood outside Ninewells hospital. It was a modern-ish building, like a huge, ugly office block. As usual, smokers – some with pyjamas on – clustered around the entrance. She'd been in the hospital on numerous occasions over the last few years but only ever to one department. She'd never wandered the hospital in all her time hanging about there, just in case she'd been needed. She'd followed the same route every time, attaching some superstitious notion to her journey about keeping everything the same to stave off bad news. Of course it hadn't worked and she'd sworn to herself that she wouldn't go back to the hospital ever again. But, as she walked through the door, she felt comfortable in the familiar surroundings and noted that nothing seemed to have changed in the intervening months since she'd last walked out of the automatic doors.

She went over to the notice board but couldn't find a listing for hospital radio. She started to wonder if Gerry had lied about the radio station. She hoped not, she was really looking forward to seeing him. The big digital clock next to the reception area read 9.02. Where had the day gone? She was amazed she wasn't hungry, but then the whisky and lager would have taken the edge off. She had hours to kill before Gerry was due to start work. She didn't even have a book with her. She set off for a wander.

The main concourse was empty, save for a couple of porters standing chatting by a wheelchair and a row of four women sitting on office chairs outside a shut door. All the women sat silently, facing forward with their handbags in their laps. A sign stuck to the outside of the door read, ‘‘cleaning interviews'' in neat blue felt tip. As Laurie stood watching, the door opened revealing two women. One was dressed in a mint green coverall and the other was wearing what appeared to be a suit made of stone washed denim.

‘‘Right thanks Maureen, we'll be in touch,'' said the one holding a clip board.

Maureen nodded and walked out of the hospital.

‘‘Right. Who's next?'' She consulted the clip board. ‘‘Janelle Anderson?''

A faded looking woman stood up and followed the interviewer into the office. As the door closed, the remaining three moved along. Laurie walked over to the seats and sat down. The seat was still warm. Now she could pass a bit of time without seeming too conspicuous if security noticed her.

The lady next to her smelled strongly of perfume. It wasn't an unpleasant smell; it was the sort Laurie would expect an older woman to wear. She tried to work out how old this woman was but it was difficult to look at her without making it obvious that she was staring.

‘‘Fuck this for a game of soldiers!'' muttered the girl at the head of the queue, standing up. ‘‘Ah've been waiting here for an hour now. I've got things to dae!''

‘‘It won't be long now. You're next, aren't you?'' said the girl next to her, without taking her eyes off her handbag. Laurie realised that she was actually texting on a tiny mobile phone.