I checked the fridge and found it almost bare, apart from some milk, a few tomatoes and an egg. I was almost out of bread too. . Susie and I had only picked up a few groceries and had sent out for pizza the night before.
I was also out of transport. A car can be an inconvenience in central Edinburgh, but these days not having one is a bigger inconvenience still. I had almost decided to take a taxi to Sainsbury’s, when the obvious occurred to me. I was a lad alone in the city; where else would I go?
I hadn’t seen Ali in a couple of years, but I knew he’d be there; the boy really was open all hours. His shop was a bit more than halfway down the Royal Mile, round the corner from my old loft and still no more than ten minutes’ walk from my new digs.
He was behind the counter when I walked in, his back to the door as I closed it silently. As usual he was wearing a turban; if it was meant to be white it wasn’t, so I gave him the benefit of the doubt and decided that it was cream. I don’t know what religion Ali is, and I’ve never asked. I do know that with him the turban is a fashion statement, nothing more.
‘Shop!’ I called out; he spun round, eyes widening as he saw me.
‘Hey,’ he yelled, startling an old lady who was peering into the frozen food container. ‘It’s the fuckin’ Oz man; the fuckin’ movie star. Hullawrerr, Big Man, slummin’ it the night, eh! Of all the bastards, eh!’ As well as being one of the most accessible grocers in Scotland, my old friend is also one of the most foul-mouthed.
The old lady looked at me briefly, sniffed, and went back to perusing the frozen peas. I recognised her, vaguely, from the old days in the lounge bar in the pub down the road.
‘Ah saw you wir back in town,’ Ali proclaimed. He sells newspapers, so that came as no surprise. ‘Fuckin’ big dark horse you, eh. You don’t jist dip yer wick, no’ you. You dip it in the richest bird in Glesca’. Some man, right enough. How’s the wean, onyway?’
‘My daughter is very well thank you, Ali. Eight days old and growing more lovely with every passing moment. . more than I can say for yourself.’
‘Hey there, hey there,’ he bellowed, in an almost cautionary tone. ‘Where did you get the patter? You might be a big shite now, Blackstone, but I kent you when you were just a bampot round the corner.’
I smiled at him, happily. ‘Aye, and you still are.’
He reached across and cuffed me lightly round the ear. ‘Ach, away wi’ ye.’ He looked me up and down, as he rang up a packet of Bird’s Eye fish fingers and a box of McCain’s microchips for the old lady. ‘You put on a bit o’ weight?’ he asked.
‘I’ve muscled up a bit. I work out.’
‘You onna steroids?’
‘Nah.’ I felt myself lapsing into Ali-speak. ‘All protein and weights. Speaking of protein, gimme a pound of Lorne sausage, half a dozen eggs and four rolls. I’ll take some beer as well, and a pint of milk. .’
Between us, we filled a box with enough food to keep me going for three or four days. ‘This still your only shop?’ I asked, as he gave me my change.
‘Aye, but it’s no’ my only business. I’m in partnership wi’ ma cousin Sinjit; we do outside catering.’
‘What kind?’
‘Sannies for office meetings, and curries, bahjis, pakora, that sort of stuff; we’re like everyone else around here, making a fuckin’ bomb out of this new parliament. We’re thinkin’ about goin’ after a catering concession in the new building, once it’s finished. Be as fuckin’ rich as you one day, son.’
‘In your dreams, pal. I’ll maybe give you some work though; we’ll be having fairly regular meetings in my place up at the Mound. Give me some menus and I’ll take a look at them.’
‘Thanks. Ah’ll get Sinjit to call you, if you gie’ me the number.’ As I wrote it down, his eyebrows rose. ‘Hey, how’s that fuckin’ alligator of yours doin’?’
‘Iguana, Ali. He’s an iguana; he’s with my nephews now, up in St Andrews.’
‘Naw, naw. No’ him, Ah ken what he is. Naw, Ah meant that bird of yours, that Prim. Right fuckin’ man-eater she was.’
I frowned at him; anyone else, I might have done more than that, but Ali had always been an extreme liberty-taker. ‘You are speaking, sir, of my soon to be ex-wife. I would take exception, only you’re right. . not that I knew it back then.’
‘Ah did, but; she had you by the ba’s, that’s for sure.’
‘On and off, Ali; on and off. It’s all over now, though.’
‘Jist as well. Oh by the way, another bird was asking after you. Member that lassie you went out wi’ a few years back? Alison.’
I nodded. ‘Of course I do.’
‘She was in here the other day, askin’ after you. She said she wantit tae get in touch; asked me if Ah hid yir number.’
‘Pass it on tae her then. Ah don’t mind. Shit, Ah’ll have to get out of here, or Ah’ll be talkin’ like you all fucking week. See you.’
I picked up the box, making sure that my tins of lager were packed tight, and made a sharp exit.
Chapter 12
I’ve looked all over Canada and California for anything that even approximates to the square, sliced Lorne sausage that my pal in the Royal Mile has stocked for years. I’ve never struck it lucky though; North Americans seem to go for quantity, not quality.
I had been looking forward to a good fry-up since I’d known that I was coming home to Edinburgh. There had been no chance at Susie’s, since she was watching what she ate, both for the baby’s sake and her own.
I called her, once I’d demolished my supper, and a can of Harp; the flat seemed empty without her and the baby. I pondered on the fact that here was I, back in what I regarded as my home city, shacked up in the sort of pad I’d dreamed about back in the old days, and I was bloody lonely. Not the sort of all-embracing loneliness that had engulfed me after Jan died, nor the vague sort from my twenties, when I was between steady women, but a sharp, biting feeling that I found unsettling, even when I was indulging myself with my spicy supper.
‘How’s the baby?’ I asked, as soon as she picked up the phone.
‘Perfect, as always,’ she answered, with a chuckle. ‘Don’t worry, Oz. I really can look after her, you know.’
‘I know; but I miss her.’
‘I’m sure she misses you too, but I’m not going to waken her to ask her.’
‘I miss you a bit as well, of course.’
‘Glad to hear it. Let me know when you miss me a lot. Now go on out for a Chinky or something.’
‘I don’t need to.’ I told her about my visit to Ali, and laid it on thick about the sausage.
‘Stop it!’ she said. ‘You’ve got me salivating. I love square sausage too. If it’s that good, then next time you come through, you can bring me some. Now bugger off and amuse yourself for a while. I’m in the middle of getting things ready for the nanny.’
I said goodnight, and went back to the Skinner book. The story hooked me, good and proper. Apart from cracking another can of lager, I didn’t put it down until I’d reached the explosive conclusion. By that time I’d got to know Andy Martin pretty well, and I was beginning to look forward to bringing him to life.
For the first time since I’d left the States, I began to think hard about where I was going with the movie, and how it would be different from the first two parts I’d played. Actually, there was something I’d never told Miles; it wouldn’t be the first time I had played a detective. In our middle and senior years at Waid Academy, in Anstruther, Jan and I had joined the school drama club; we’d worked our way up to the leading parts, and had got ourselves some decent reviews. . albeit only in the East Fife Mail. We were pretty used to the greasepaint by the time we left for Edinburgh, but although we threatened to join the university theatre society, other things, like study and sex, got in the way.
I had enjoyed those schoolday plays, though. I never had any inhibitions as a kid. . ‘shy’ is a word that has never been used to describe me. . and I didn’t have any trouble getting up there on stage and performing. I never had any trouble learning lines either; I was able to read the script a couple of times and my own part stuck; I could even prompt my fellow amateur thesps on the frequent occasions when they dried up.