Poor girl. How she had longed for him to do that all those years ago when she had sat there in the chemistry class at Morrison’s Academy and stared at him in utter longing (along with nine other girls – all the girls, in fact, except one, and Bruce knew the reason why she was cool towards him. Oh yes, he did. With her short hair and her lack of interest in him. It stuck out a mile).
He shook hands with George. “So you and Sharon are an item! You kept that pretty secret!”
George smiled proudly. “Actually, Bruce, you’re going to be one of the first to know. Sharon and I are getting engaged.”
He looked fondly in Sharon’s direction and gave her hand an 254 Bruce Gets What He Deserves
affectionate squeeze. “We decided yesterday, didn’t we, Shaz?”
Shaz! thought Bruce. Shaz! And what would she call him?
You couldn’t do much with George’s name.
“But that’s really great!” Bruce said. “Engaged. And . . .”
“And we’re going to get married in March,” George went on. “In Crieff.”
“In Crieff !” said Bruce. “That’s great. You’ll be able to have all the old crowd there.”
“With a reception at the Hydro,” said George.
“A good choice,” said Bruce, and thought: I suppose I’ll have to go. He is my business partner, after all, and I’ll be expected to be there.
He turned to Sharon. “Where are you living these days, Sharon?”
Sharon, who had been looking at George, now turned to Bruce. She looked him up and down in a way which he thought was a bit forward on her part. Who was she to look at him in that way, as if passing silent comment on his appearance?
“Crieff,” she said. “I’ve been working in Perth, but I’ve been staying with my folks. They’re getting on a bit these days.”
There was something in her tone which discomforted Bruce.
It was as if she was challenging him in some way – challenging him to say that there was something wrong with continuing to live in Crieff.
“And what do you do in Perth?” he asked. “I’m a bit out of touch. You went off to uni in Dundee, didn’t you?”
Sharon nodded, fixing Bruce with a stare which suggested that again she was challenging him to say something disparaging about Dundee.
“I did law,” she said. “Now I’m a lawyer. I’m working for one of the Perth firms. I do a lot of court work.”
“Sharon goes to court virtually every day,” George said proudly. “The sheriff said the other day that she had argued a case very well. He said that in court.”
“He’s a very nice man,” said Sharon. “He always listens very carefully to what you have to say.”
Bruce Gets What He Deserves
255
“Great,” said Bruce. He looked at George. “Now, I must show you the ropes round here. I’ve spent the day putting in stock.
See. It took me hours. And see that section over there, Sharon, Wine for Her. See it?”
Sharon glanced at the four shelves pointed out by Bruce.
Then she turned round and glared at him. “Why have you put Wine for Her?” she asked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that these are wines that women are more likely to enjoy,” said Bruce.
Sharon glanced quickly at George, who shifted slightly on his feet. Then she turned back to face Bruce. “And why do you think women would want different wines from men? Have they got different taste buds?”
Bruce met her stare. He was not going to have this haggis talking to him like that. And he knew what sort of wine she would like: Blue Nun! Perhaps he would give her a bottle of it as an engagement present.
“Yes,” he said. “Women like sweeter wine. And they like wine bottles with more feminine labels. Everybody knows that.” He paused. This was a waste of time talking to Sharon.
He needed to talk to George about business. “Anyway, George, 256 Old Business
we have to talk about this place. I’ve spent a bit of money on the stock, so that if we could talk about that side of things for a mo . . .”
Sharon said: “George has changed his mind, Bruce. Sorry.
Now that we’re getting married. We’re going to buy a house in Stirling. We’ll need the money for that. Sorry, Bruce.”
Bruce said nothing for a moment. At the door, the faintest stirring of air, a slight shift of light, was all there was to indicate a triumphant Nemesis returning in satisfaction to the street outside.
78. Old Business
“You gave me your word,” said Bruce, chiselling out the sentence. “You gave me your word, George. You told me that you would come in on this business with me. It was in the Cumberland Bar.”
The words the Cumberland Bar were uttered with all the solemnity with which one might invoke the name of a place in which commercial promises are scrupulously observed – the words the floor at Lloyds, for example, might be spoken in the same tone. But on this occasion, even the mention of the locus of the conversation failed to have the desired effect.
“Actually, Bruce,” said George, “actually, I didn’t promise. I said that I was interested, but we didn’t make any firm arrangements, did we? We agreed that we would draw up a partnership agreement, but you never showed that to me and I never signed it. We were talking about the prospect of going into business, not the actual mechanics. We didn’t do a proper deal, you know.”
“There’s no proper deal,” chipped in Sharon. “No contract.
No deal.”
Bruce turned round and glared at her. “Do you mind keeping out of things that don’t concern you? This is between me and my friend, George. So please don’t interfere.”
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257
“Oh!” exclaimed Sharon. “So what my fiancé does is no business of mine? Is that what you’re saying? Well, I’ve got news for you: it’s very much my business!”
Bruce bit his lip. He looked at George, but George was looking down at the floor, staring at his shoes. It was typical. A woman came in and tried to take over. And now this ghastly girl had taken control of this useless man and was twisting him around her pudgy little finger.
Bruce looked at her. “So you’re calling the shots now,” he said. “Little Sharon McClung has at last got hold of a man and is calling the shots big time! Pleased with yourself, Sharon? Pity you couldn’t do any better.”
George looked up from his shoes. “What do you mean by that, Bruce?” he asked. His voice was strained and his eyes were misty, as if he was about to cry.
Bruce sighed. “No criticism of you, George,” he said. “It’s just that you’re letting Sharon push you around a bit, aren’t you?”
“But you said: ‘It’s a pity you couldn’t do any better,’” George insisted. “What did you mean by that, Bruce? What did you mean?”
“Yes,” said Sharon. “What exactly did you mean by that, Bruce? Did you mean that George isn’t much of a catch? Well, if you did, I can tell you what I think of that. I think that he’s ten times, twenty times nicer than you. Nobody – nobody in her right mind – would look at you, you know. You do know that, don’t you?”
Bruce sneered. “Don’t make me laugh,” he said. “Just don’t make me laugh. You were happy enough to look at me back then in Crieff. Oh yes, don’t think that I didn’t notice you sitting there staring at me, along with all the other girls, mentally undressing me. I noticed those things, you know.”
Sharon shrieked with indignation. “What? What did you say?
Mentally undressing you? Are you mad?”
“Listen,” said George mildly. “I don’t think there’s much point in talking like this . . .”
“Yes, there is,” snapped Sharon. “I’m not going to stand here 258 Old Business
and listen to this self-satisfied creep saying things like that. I’ve got some more news for you, Bruce. The girls back in Crieff hated you, you know. They hated you. They really did. You should have heard the sort of things they said about you! You would have died of embarrassment if you had heard half of them.