“So why send me back among the heathens then?”
Judith was delighted to learn that Gairloch would remain her home for the foreseeable future. Also, she felt she could carry on living under Danny’s roof without any guilt about broken families, having argued Ingrid and little Lawrence’s case. But this happy state was to be very short lived. Within the hour another ghost from Danny’s past would stroll into the kitchen, through the open front door.
CHAPTER: 14
Bob Fitzgerald had been hunting Ingrid since being released from prison, but he was always one step behind and had seen nothing of her since his arrest, over two years previously. When he’d arrived in Oxfordshire, her parents had directed him to Paris on a wild goose chase and it was another year before he’d discovered her London address. Even then, fate conspired against him, with Ingrid returning home just as he was knocking on her front door. Having driven past unnoticed, she’d hidden at a friend’s for several days until he’d gone back to Glasgow.
They say that once you stop searching for something, invariably that’s when you’ll find it. This is exactly what happened to Bob the afternoon before the night in question. He’d been driving along Great Western Road towards Glasgow city centre, when Ingrid’s Range Rover went by in the opposite direction. U-turning his battered, nineteen eighties Datsun in the face of oncoming traffic, he’d gone after her, forgetting to check his fuel gauge and breaking down just outside Fort William with no money. Having guessed her destination, he’d waited until nightfall before skulking around the little town and siphoning enough fuel to reach Gairloch. And here he was, shaven headed and looking the worse for wear in a blue Adidas tracksuit.
Without even acknowledging the woman beater, Judith went to her room and pushed a set of draws against the door for some security. Then, she lay on her bed in the heat, listening to Hamish’s snoring next door and raised voices downstairs. Danny had evidently revealed the existence of Little Lawrence, as Bob was screaming.
“You told me that you’d merely consoled her! It was evidently more than that…she’s got your kid for Christ’s sake!”
“Yes, I lied and I’m sorry. I just didn’t want the truth to be misconstrued as triumphalism, that’s all.”
The news had obviously hit Bob like a sledgehammer and a long period of silence followed. When he spoke again, his voice was much quieter, so that Judith struggled to hear.
“You know Dan, I’ve always wanted to see you fall because your principles make me feel hollow. I thought I’d finally got you when you blackmailed me… thought you were, at last, motivated by money. But you’ve suckered me. I was watching the kids lying on the grass before I came in, all laughing and joking, and what I saw there were all the things I’ve never been able to acquire: community…association.”
“Surely the band provided that?”
“No. Even the band was all about competition and making sure everything revolved around me.”
“Well, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you want. You’d enjoy it. We’ve got some real talent emerging. For example, young Ryan Kearney’s about to sign a book deal, just as soon as he sends the finished article off to the publishers next week. I’m dead proud of him.”
“No. The more I see how happy those kids are, the more bitter I’ll become, and then I’ll be a danger to them.”
“But it doesn’t have to be like that!”
“Well it is! Ok? You’ve won! By your principles you’ve created joy. You took that money, split it twenty odd ways and now you’re happy as part of a community, I can see that. But I’m a misfit and the only way I’ll ever enjoy equality is when I can see that everybody is as miserable as me. That’s why I stole Ingrid from you, screwed whores like Carina Curran and tantalised homeless Dickens with wealth. So you see Danny, we’re both egalitarians in our own funny ways.” Bob started laughing manically. “To think I’ve wasted the last two years hunting for Ingrid to spite you, because I thought you still loved her. Well, now I know you don’t I can call the search off and concentrate on salvaging something from my sad little existence.”
“Why do you hate me so much Bob?”
“I hate the fact that you command attention simply by being yourself.”
“What?”
“When I released my first album, I was on TV, radio, front covers of magazines, but whenever we went anywhere together, it was you, an unemployed wastrel that everyone knew. Even the street cleaners when we were making our way home at seven in the morning knew you by name…I’m still amazed at how you used to stay out all night on orange juice! But back to the point, you even managed to befriend me, an absolute loner.”
“You’re talking rubbish. You enjoyed plenty of attention during The Squeaky Kirk’s heyday.”
“That was only among the sycophants in the art world. Outside of that, in normal pubs or everyday situations, no-one even recognised me — not until I got with Ingrid anyway. But they were queuing to speak with you, while I just hung about in the background like a spare prick. They obviously didn’t want you for your money…you weren’t fashionable or good looking or talented in any way. I mean, I’m sorry, but your paintings were at best mediocre. No, they just loved you for being Danny White, straight as a dye and true to your cause. You can’t manufacture that sort of popularity. Believe me, I’ve tried.”
“And you resented me for that…simply because I got along with people?”
“Yes. Despite being brought up to believe I was special, I’d been crippled by social inadequacy my whole life. I was full of ambitions but incapable of going among people to realize them. You, on the other hand, wanted nothing from anyone, yet could get along with everyone. That always seemed unjust to me. In the end, being in your company became insufferable. You seemed to be flaunting your popularity in my face, reminding me that, without you having introduced me to your friends, I’d have been nothing.”
“So, because of some imagined slight, you stole my girlfriend?”
“Yes. But there was more to it than that.”
“Well? How did this poor, socially awkward outsider manage to seduce a girl like Ingrid then?”
“It was when your mother fell ill and you’d stopped hanging around on the scene. I’d carried on visiting the usual haunts, though why, I don’t know. I was having a miserable time, standing in the corner of bars on my own, waiting for people to lavish attention on me simply because I sang in a band. But it never came. Of course, I knew most of the people in these places through you, but didn’t have the charisma to engage any of them in conversation beyond the basic pleasantries. Anyway, the night after BBC Scotland screened a documentary about the Squeaky Kirk, Ingrid wandered in alone. She was living with you at the time and reckoned she’d just stormed out half-way through an argument. I found this difficult to believe, though, because she’d really dolled herself up. I bought her a drink and she started moaning out about how terrible things had become since your mother’s stroke. Sticking by your side, she’d felt as if under house arrest…said she hadn’t been out anywhere in months — not easy for a beautiful, nineteen-year-old girl. She claimed that you were venting all your stress through her…flying into rages if she dared to contradict your political point of view, usually during conversations around the TV at news time. Of course, you’d expect a mate to make excuses for you and emphasise your good points, but I didn’t. Selfish to the last, I used the opportunity to spew out all my own misgivings about you, confirming Ingrid’s doubts in the process. I was enjoying the slag-fest so much, I invited her back to mine at closing time, to do some more. From the gasps of approval on seeing my apartment, I knew straight away that good living was her Achilles heel. From there on, bagging her was a breeze. To be honest, beautiful though she was, I had no sexual inclination towards Ingrid and spiting you wasn’t actually my primary objective. All I really wanted her for was reflected glory. Simply by being in her company that evening I’d attracted more attention than I’d ever done with the band - from both sexes.”