Alex Gray - Glasgow Kiss

Julie sat stirring her coffee, watching the froth swirl close to the lip of the cup. It wouldn’t do to let it spill over the edge. That would look so uncool. Besides, someone might be watching her, seeing her for the truant schoolgirl she really was, not the young woman she was pretending to be. Mary had told her to go into school as normal, face up to whatever was waiting for her there, but she’d bottled it at the last minute. Instead of joining the usual crowd of Muirpark kids at the bus stop, Julie had turned and headed towards town, stuffing her tie into the bottom of her bag. Now she was sitting outside Tinderbox, her favourite coffee bar, the sun making dimples of light on the silver-topped tables. She’d ordered her coffee, trying to make eye contact with that sexy barista, the dark-skinned guy with eyes like treacle toffee, but he’d hardly registered her presence. Fine, Julie had told herself, she wasn’t bothered anyway, but as she’d carried her brimming cup outside, she’d scowled, the barista’s lack of interest rankling.

There weren’t many people about yet; through the open doorway she could see a couple of youngish blokes with their laptops open in front of them — too well dressed to be students — and to one side there was a woman reading the Gazette . Closing her eyes, she thought about what would be going on at school right now. Registration would be well over and they’d have begun classes. Nobody would really be missing her, would they? Except Sam, a wee voice reminded her; Sam, who had cried against Julie’s shoulder after her dad had walked out on her mum.

Julie opened her eyes and sneaked a look at the Gazette ’s front page, scanning the first few lines. They hadn’t found that wee girl yet, then. She sighed deeply, the news making her feel even worse. Julie swallowed hard. She couldn’t let her emotions show in such a public place. Here she was thinking about real tragedies that made her own situation seem tawdry by comparison. Taking a sip of the hot coffee steadied her and she leaned back, wondering how the people round about her could just go on with their daily business as if nothing really mattered. Maybe that was the secret of being grown up: looking cool and pretending not to feel anything at all.

She saw herself reflected in the plate-glass window, a slim figure in black, newly washed hair gleaming in the morning sunshine. Nobody would take her for a school kid. Would they? Her black skirt and high-heeled shoes could just as easily be the garb of any of the students working in the last weeks of their summer holidays. Maybe she could be mistaken for a new student looking for a place to stay? Her mind took her to the tobacconist’s shop further down Byres Road where a mosaic of postcards gave out details of rooms to let, flats to share. If only she could be that person, eager to begin afresh, away from the restrictions of school and home. .

She looked at the bottom of the cup in surprise, realising she’d hardly tasted any of it. Too late now, and she wasn’t going to be like one of these naff women who scraped the dregs of their cappuccinos with the metal teaspoon. With no plan as to where she was going next, the girl rose from the table, knocking against it and making the cup clatter in its saucer. Awoken from her reverie by her own childish gaucheness, Julie turned abruptly towards the corner, seeing with some relief that the light had just changed to green.

As she fled across the junction she took no notice of the other pedestrians who came in her wake, nor was she aware of one particular man whose eyes followed her along the street all the way to Hillhead Underground station.

He had seen her coming, bright as a summer angel, and known at once that she was the one. It was as simple as that and he’d smiled to himself as his feet took him after her, watching her progress along the street. When she’d finally stopped at the coffee bar he had waited patiently, reading a paper just inside the doorway, out of her line of vision. The moment she had crossed the street he had ambled after her, his long legs easily keeping pace a few yards behind. Even the Underground had posed no particular problems. They had waited together among the other people standing silently on the platform. She was so close that he might have reached out and touched the back of her thin white blouse. His fingertips tingled at the thought.

The sooty smell from the tunnel and the whoosh of air as the train approached caused a fluttering in his stomach and he remembered what it was like to be a small child again, full of anticipation for a treat to come. The carriage was half-empty so he let her sit down before selecting a place several seats away; she could see him only if she turned around and stared at all the other passengers. But instinctively he knew she was too sophisticated to do that; she would be like everyone else and keep herself closed and contained, wrapped in a mystery.

The train rocked back and forth as it sped through the darkened tunnel, his lip curling in distaste at the nearness of all those other bodies crammed up next to him. Making human contact was an avoidable transgression if you could sway with the motion.

The train slowed down at Kelvinbridge and he watched to see if she’d stand up and get out, but when she remained seated he guessed she would be going all the way into town. Buchanan Street, probably; three more stops. As he let his eyes gloat over her, he noticed her fingers rummaging in that black leather shoulder bag, then saw a small movement across her lips as she drew out the mobile phone. Sitting back as the train began gathering momentum on its shrieking journey, she fiddled with it, an expression of concentration on her soft, young features. Texting, he realised. It was far too noisy to try to actually talk to anyone. Biting his lip, he thought about this. He should have reckoned on a mobile phone. They were like bodily appendages on the young; well, he would just have to perform some delicate type of surgery to remove it from her. Smiling at the metaphor he set his mind to the task ahead .

Julie looked at her watch, trying to remember what class she would have been in. It was still too early in the term to have memorised her timetable and it was past morning interval so she’d missed a chance to speak to Sam. She’d just have to text her instead, reassure her that she was fine and just dogging it for a laugh. They’d gone up to Buchanan Galleries loads of times during the holidays, dawdling at all the clothes shops, trying stuff on and screaming with laughter whenever they’d found something utterly bizarre. That was their current catchphrase, utterly bizarre , and they spoke it in a pseudo-posh voice, collapsing into helpless giggles and clutching one another. Julie’s mouth twitched into a tiny smile at the memory. Even when Sam had been in a mood, they’d still gone into town, mooching around the stores from Buchanan Street down to Argyle Street and the St Enoch Centre. Sam liked to sit in Princes Square, watching all the people, whereas Julie was always itching to be on the move, to see what was in the shops, coaxing Sam to try things on.

In town, she texted Sam, c u later. XXX. That would do for now, she thought, snapping the mobile shut and slipping it back into the wee pocket inside her bag. She’d call her at lunchbreak. Julie frowned suddenly. Was this the one day of the week when Sam had a different break from her? Muirpark had such a huge pupil population that there was a staggered lunchtime, half of the pupils timetabled for an earlier lunch. It had been okay last year but now they were in Fourth Year it didn’t always work out. Was this the day? Julie simply couldn’t remember. She’d try anyway and hope to catch Sam between classes if necessary. Now she would sit and anticipate a stroll around the town.