Alex Gray - Glasgow Kiss

He pushed open the door, hearing the sound of a guitar and childish voices chanting a familiar song, I can sing a rainbow, sing a rainbow . .

‘Hello!’ Jim’s eyebrows raised as he caught sight of him with the unspoken question, What are you doing here at this time of day?

Eric tried to smile and waved a hand towards the crowd of small children and their parents surrounding the man with the guitar.

Perhaps something in his expression told Jim that here was a friend in need, for he stood up, put the instrument aside and clapped his hands.

‘Right, everyone, it’s time for juice and fruit. Linda’s in charge today. I’ll be back in about fifteen minutes.’ The group dispersed to the far side of the room where tables and small chairs had been set out, the older children whooping and running, their feet stamping noisily on the wooden floor.

Jim led Eric back out into the reception hall, one hand on his friend’s elbow.

‘Something’s up,’ he said quietly. ‘You look terrible.’

Now that he was here, the enormity of what was happening overwhelmed him and sudden tears sprang into his eyes. For a moment he couldn’t speak, terrified that he was going to weep, and simply shook his head.

‘It’s okay. Nothing’s so bad that it can’t be taken to the Lord,’ Jim told him.

‘I know,’ Eric whispered. ‘It’s just. . a shock, I suppose.’

‘And you want to talk to me about it, right?’

Eric nodded, took a deep breath and relayed all that had happened since the start of term.

‘But why would she tell such a lie? I mean, we were friends. She knew she could come and talk to me, confide things in me. And she did.’ He looked at Jim with puzzled eyes. ‘She was so happy at camp, always the first to be involved, singing her heart out whenever we had chorus times. What did I do to make her hate me?’

The Reverend Jim Bowyer looked into his friend’s eyes; he’d never seen the man like this before, hurt and bewildered. Eric Chalmers was the most upbeat person he knew.

‘You didn’t do anything, pal, that was the trouble.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Ach, I’ve seen it before. Young love. A lassie has a crush on you and thinks you should behave as if you were her boyfriend — hold hands, give her a kiss when no one’s looking.’

‘But I’m a married man! How could she expect me to do things like that!’ Eric protested.

Jim smiled sadly. ‘Teenage girls don’t think straight. Surely you should know that by now. You’ve worked with them long enough. Raging hormones,’ he added, raising his hands in a hellfire-and-brimstone-preacher style.

Eric laughed, in spite of himself.

‘That’s better,’ Jim said, clapping him on the back. ‘I’m sorry you have to go through all this nonsense, but it’ll all blow over. This girl-’

‘Julie,’ Eric supplied.

‘Julie. She’ll come to her senses eventually. The school will probably give her a hard time when they find out she’s been making it all up.’

Eric shook his head, staring at a spot on the floor. ‘I can’t believe that her parents actually want to bring charges against me,’ he said. ‘That’s one of the things that hurts the most, to have lost their trust.’

‘And you’ll regain that trust,’ Jim assured him. ‘Any doubts they have now will be swept away once the girl tells the truth.’

‘Maybe, but mud sticks,’ muttered Eric.

‘Ach, man, can you not remember what the scriptures tell us?’ Jim admonished him gently. ‘“The world will make you suffer. But be brave! I have defeated the world!” Has God ever let you down?’

Eric’s shake of the head made his friend clap him on the shoulder once more. ‘Well, then, go home and see Ruth. She’ll stand by you, you know that.’

‘Thanks, Jim. I knew you’d say the right things. You always do.’

Outside the air seemed fresher and Eric took large gulps, steadying himself before he headed back across the city. He’d dipped into a Slough of Despond, Jim had told him, using the image from The Pilgrim’s Progress . But now he had been rescued and the way was ever upwards. Raising his eyes to the clouds scudding past the church spire, Eric wanted to put up a prayer, to thank God for Jim’s friendship. But his stomach was knotted with gnawing acid, making his mouth twist suddenly. Everything had been so perfect; why did she have to go and spoil it all for him now?

Raging hormones, Jim had said. Eric smiled ruefully. Were they so terribly sinful? And wasn’t Julie just a misunderstood teenager who needed a bit of comforting?

‘That’s right, Chalmers. C-H-A-L-M-E-R-S. Fine. No bother.’

The journalist put down her telephone, aware that the voice on the other end of the line had sounded almost cheerful. She sensed another story at Muirpark Secondary, some political friction between members of staff. Well, it would still be there if ever she wanted to dig a bit deeper. This fellow hated the RE teacher’s guts, that was for sure. Barbara Cassidy rubbed her hands gleefully. Another swipe at the religious establishment would go down well in the Gazette . The public’s mood was ripe for outrage against the Church. That recent coverage of a priest and several small boys had provoked a fair ding-dong of correspondence on the letters page, just what the editorial team demanded. A few more phone calls and maybe even an interview with this guy, Chalmers, and she would have a cracker of a story.

‘It’s not all right,’ Lorimer barked into the phone. ‘It’s not all right at all. A daily bulletin is simply going to cause more misery for the mother.’

As he listened to Davie Mearns, the Police Press Officer, the DCI tapped the edge of his desk with an impatient finger. Nancy Fraser was a missing person, not a tasty morsel to be fought over by the nation’s newshounds. Okay, they would be holding a press conference, but that was all he was willing to concede at the moment. In the wake of the Madeleine McCann case, every British police officer was at pains to show just how efficient their system was. No stone would be left unturned: Lorimer could trot out that familiar clichй with the best of them. Public confidence counted for a hell of a lot in this job, especially where small children were concerned. Davie had recently been promoted to Chief Police Press Officer and was a little over zealous at his job, in Lorimer’s opinion. Wanting a daily report on Nancy Fraser was just not on, at least at this early stage, he told himself. Yet the man had a point: What they don’t know they’ll simply make up, he’d told the SIO. Well, that was a chance Lorimer was willing to take. Once the mother had faced the newspaper people maybe that would satisfy them for a while, then they could let Lorimer’s team get on with the job of finding the child.

‘Did you hear about Eric Chalmers?’ The woman smirked over her coffee mug as Maggie rummaged in her pigeonhole for any notes that might have been left in the staffroom during the day.

‘Oh, yes, he’s got a wee girl now. Ashleigh, they’ve decided to call her,’ Maggie replied. Why on earth was Myra Claythorn taking an interest in Eric? As a self-promoting disbeliever in anything other than her own importance, Myra regularly disparaged anything that smacked of religion, particularly Christianity, and was always ready to rubbish any of Eric’s innovations at school, like his Scripture Union Club.

‘Not that ,’ the other teacher told her, a gleam of triumph in her eyes as she realised Maggie was oblivious to this latest piece of news. ‘Your precious friend’s been having it off with one of his own pupils at that summer camp of his! Been suspended!’ Myra’s smile gloated over Maggie as the full horror of the woman’s words hit home.