‘Hey, I was entitled to do that. The guy is clearly trying to use me to get his leg over. . or keep it over. No, I meant it: we need to take professional advice on how we should manage our money, and probably inheritance tax advice as well. His firm’s called Clark Gow: they’re a multinational, and I happen to know that they have a very big reputation in the entertainment business.’
‘So have the Mafia.’
We left the airport, with a wave to Mr Potter in the taxi queue, and headed back home.
The three months of family bonding that stretched out before me was a pleasing prospect. Actually, I had more to do in that department than fuss over my kids. There was the matter of my father, as well.
For all of my adult life I had thought of Macintosh Blackstone as best friend as well as parent. And then he had done something extremely stupid, something that had led those who loved him most into serious, life-threatening trouble. I had seen it off, but the rift between us had been immediate and, on my part, long-lasting.
I had barely seen him since then: when wee Jonathan was born Susie and I had taken him across to Anstruther to show him off to Mary, my stepmother, rather than to his grandfather. I can be a ruthless, unforgiving bastard when I have to be, but also, I had begun to concede to myself, when I don’t. For some time, my dad had been on my mind. I was still angry whenever I thought of him and of what he had done, but gradually, I began to wonder whether some of that anger had been directed at myself, for the way in which I had reacted, for the harshness of my judgement of him, and for the sentence of isolation that I had passed.
There was something else too: I missed him. He has always been my sounding-board, and I was honest enough with myself to recognise that a lot of my evolving discontent with fame could have been rationalised by some of his shrewd advice. Susie knew all this, of course, but she also knows me well enough to let me work it out for myself. She didn’t know what had caused the breach, and she never asked. Just as well, for I couldn’t have brought myself to tell her the truth.
Anyway … there I go again … the day after Roscoe’s visit, I loaded my golf clubs into one of our executive toys, Susie’s new Porsche Cayenne (she calls it our ‘family mover’) and told her I would be away for a while. There’s a telepathy between us now: she knew what I was up to.
It was a Friday, so I knew that he’d finish work at lunchtime. For years it’s been his custom to hold a Saturday-morning surgery, to encourage as many people as possible to come for routine dental check-ups. The waiting room was empty when I got there, but I could hear the drill, so I took a seat. Daisy, the nurse-receptionist, heard the doorbell and came through to see who the late and unbooked patient was. Her jaw dropped slightly when she saw me sitting there, picking up a nine-month-old copy of Golf World, but I put a finger to my lips and she got the message.
I waited until the sufferer in the chair had gone, and until I could hear the sounds of clearing up. Then the surgery door opened again, and I caught a glimpse of Daisy’s white coat heading somewhere, anywhere, to leave us alone. I stood up and walked through. Mac the Dentist was facing me, unbuttoning his tunic, as I stepped into the big room. He looked at me, and I looked at him. Then I stepped forward and gave him a quick, strong hug. He nodded as I released him, and that was it.
‘So how are you doing?’ he asked me quietly.
‘Don’t you read the tabloids? Haven’t you heard? I’m doing great; I’m the next big thing. Five years in the business and I’m an overnight success.’
‘Yeah, but how the fuck are you?’
‘I’m okay, Dad.’
‘No bad dreams?’
I wondered what made him ask that. ‘Just the one,’ I told him, ‘when wee Jonathan lets me sleep long enough: Jan’s in it, but she isn’t dead, just away visiting her mother.’
‘What’s the bad part?’
‘When I wake up, and she’s still dead. Don’t get me wrong, though. I love Susie like crazy, and the kids too. But it’s still there.’
‘It always will be; I have the same dream about your mother. I don’t think of it as bad, though, and I don’t feel guilty about it, if that’s worrying you. In fact I look forward to it: it’s only the thought of it stopping that worries me.’
See? I’d been with him for less than a minute and he’d put my mind at rest already. ‘So how the fuck are you?’ I shot back at him.
‘How do I look?’
‘Slightly crumpled, a bit of a curmudgeon, reasonably benign for a dentist, could do with a haircut.’
‘Ah, that’s good. I haven’t changed, then?’
‘Not a bit.’
‘I have on the inside.’ He shot me a strange, apprehensive look. ‘Oz, there’s something I have to ask you, straight out. Those people: what happened to them had nothing to do with you, did it?’
‘Not at all, I promise,’ I replied, then saw the relief surge through him.
‘Thank God for that. I’ve been afraid that was the real reason why you’ve been avoiding me.’
‘No, Dad. I just thought we needed some space, that’s all.’ I’d told him the truth, but not the whole truth. He couldn’t imagine that: I’m pretty sure it would kill him. ‘You up for some golf?’ I went on quickly. ‘Or have you got something lined up already?’
‘Nothing involving anyone else. I was planning to hit a few balls, that’s all.’
‘Okay, hit them with me.’
I had booked an afternoon time at the reasonably new Kingsbarns course. I’d thought about taking my nephews too, but I couldn’t be sure in advance how my dad and I would get along. Besides, while he’s a very tidy golfer, and could turn out to be the best of all of us, Colin’s still only eleven, and the starter might have been a bit dubious about letting him on the course.
We had lunch in the clubhouse before we played. For all that he lived only three or four miles away, my father had never been there before. On the other hand, I’d taken part in a celebrity pro-am there about nine months past.
Until I was thirty, most of my golf was played with my dad. It wasn’t until I started to mix it more that I realised how competitive I really am. My handicap’s come down too, thanks to the practice holes I’ve laid out in the grounds of the Loch Lomond place, but if I’d expected Mac the Dentist to be a pushover I was in for a shock. His game looked better than it had in years, and he took care of me by a tidy three and two.
He was still grinning when we walked out of the changing room and into the bar. ‘Okay,’ I asked at last, as the waiter brought his Belhaven and my diet vanilla Coke, ‘what have you been up to?’
‘I’ve been playing with my grandsons. Jonny’s down to a nine handicap now, and wee Colin’s improving by a shot every couple of months, I’d say. They’ve helped me sharpen up my game. I can’t have them taking the piss out of me, can I?’
‘Mmm. I must get back to taking them out more often myself.’
‘You might find it difficult to get into their diaries. Their mother’s new flame’s been showing an interest in them too.’
‘Mr January, QC,’ I murmured. ‘What do you think of him?’
‘Between you and me, and not to go back to your sister?’
‘Of course.’
‘I’m not sure about him yet. It’s nothing I can put my finger on, just. . ach, I don’t know. I preferred that big pal of yours, Darius, whom she saw occasionally, although I knew it wasn’t going anywhere. Maybe I’m being hard on this new guy. It’s just that after Alan Sinclair, I don’t want her to make another mistake. He’s so fucking strait-laced, that’s what worries me: he even calls me Macintosh.’
That was rich: half of Anstruther thought that my dad’s first name was just plain Mac.
I laughed. ‘When I met him he asked me straight out what Oz stood for.’
It was his turn to chuckle. ‘Did you tell him?’
‘I told him that I didn’t stand for being called anything but Oz, except by my father, my sister and my wife. What do you call him? Son?’