Alex Gray - Glasgow Kiss

‘So, why are you dogging it? They’re all saying it’s cos you cannae face Manson after what you said about Mr Chalmers.’ The words were out before Kyle realised.

Julie gazed at him, her mouth opening to protest.

‘Ah cannae see it myself. Chalmers always struck me as a right decent guy, y’know,’ Kyle ploughed on.

‘That’s all you know!’ Julie bristled, her shoulders suddenly squared. ‘My father’s making an official complaint. Chalmers better watch out!’

‘Ooh!’ Kyle grinned at her, his voice deliberately high and girlish. ‘Fourth Year lassie tells tales.’ He gave Julie a playful punch on her arm. ‘Come on, Jules, you can do better than that. Why not admit you’re on another of these fantasy trips, eh?’ Kyle asked, his tone more serious.

‘Kyle Kerrigan, you know absolutely nothing about this! And if you did, you wouldn’t talk to me like that!’ Julie stood up suddenly and lunged at the boy but, caught off-balance, she tripped and landed heavily against him.

It was an automatic reflex, Kyle realised afterwards. His hands flew to her arms and grasped them tightly, taking her away from him.

‘Ow! That hurt! You’re just as bad as all the rest of them, Kerrigan. Bloody wee ned!’ The girl wrenched free from his grasp and swung her bag at him, narrowly missing his right eye. Kyle recoiled but the dark expression on his face made Julie retreat down the steps, still yelling at him. Fists bunched by his sides, the boy watched as she crossed the square, clip-clopping on these silly high heels. Ach, she wasn’t worth bothering about, Kyle decided, his mouth turning up in disgust. Behind him he heard an exhalation of breath as someone came out of the bookshop, someone who’d obviously witnessed that little scene. Kyle moved aside, catching a glimpse of a tall woman who shot him a look of disapproval before walking down the steps. His face flaming now, the boy turned away, stumbling back into Borders and the sanctuary of the crowded bookshop.

But the woman was not the only one to have taken in the fracas between them; up above the classical pediment and the fluted pillars of the building, a CCTV device had its grey head turned on the very spot where the argument had taken place, Kyle’s mask of fury immortalised on camera for anyone who wanted to see.

It was almost too easy. Of course he hadn’t expected to see her with the boy. But the way things had turned out had worked to his advantage.

‘Mind if I sit here?’ he asked, looking at all the tables around them in the cafe’s forecourt, deliberately adopting an air of exasperation.

The girl looked up, a mixture of doubt and surprise in her expression. A swift turn of her head to see the lad was nowhere in sight seemed to reassure her. ‘No problem,’ she told him, a hint of a smile softening her face. ‘It’s so crowded here today.’ She broke off and he grinned at her, pulling out the metal chair.

‘What’ll you have?’ A dark-haired waitress appeared, her tiny frilled apron tied tightly round the tiniest of miniskirts, long black-clad legs ending in clumpy shoes. A student waiting on tables for the holidays, he surmised, someone who would be here today and gone tomorrow, never remembering the man and girl sitting outside in the afternoon sunshine.

He gestured for the blonde to order first then, ‘Double espresso, please,’ he replied then, when the waitress had gone off, ‘My treat,’ he whispered conspiratorially. ‘I’ve just slipped away from the studios for an hour or so. Don’t tell.’ He placed a finger against his lips and winked at her.

‘Oh.’ Julie seemed taken aback. ‘I can’t let you-’

‘Least I can do since you let me sit at your table.’ He smiled at her. ‘You’re not keeping it for anyone?’

‘No.’ Julie hoped the warmth on her face and neck was not a huge big reddie. How uncool would that be? This guy was nice — a bit old, maybe — but nice. Tall and angular with a good head of thick fair hair, he reminded Julie of someone off the telly. He had a good voice, too, like he was maybe an actor or something. A frisson of excitement ran up her spine. That was probably it! Why else would a good-looking man like that be in Glasgow at this time of the day? Away from the studios, he’d said.

‘Enjoying the summer vacation?’ he asked, pulling a packet of Marlboros from his pocket, taking one and placing it between his lips. He had nice white teeth, Julie saw.

‘Sorry, how rude of me. Do you. .?’ The man offered the packet across the table and Julie took one without hesitation.

‘Thanks,’ she said, then bent forwards as he cupped a hand around the flame from his match, his fingers just brushing her own. As the nicotine rush left her lungs like a great sigh of relief, Julie sat back, crossed her legs and regarded this man in what she hoped was a sophisticated appraisal.

‘Yes, just doing a bit of shopping before I go back to uni,’ she lied, swinging her leg up and down. He smiled again and nodded, flicking ash from his cigarette and taking another drag, his eyes hazy and warm as the smoke drifted upwards.

‘One latte, one double espresso.’ The dark-haired waitress was there and gone in seconds, rushing to take orders from yet another table.

‘Cheers.’ The man held up his little coffee cup and bent his head to one side. ‘To all the pretty students who wish they were as lovely as you.’ He kept looking at Julie as he drank his coffee and this time she simply couldn’t control the blush that seemed to spread tingling right into the roots of her hair. Just then her mobile sounded and she dipped into her bag, lifting it out. But before she could do another thing, his hand had covered hers, enclosing the phone.

‘Switch it off,’ he said, another twinkling smile making his dimples deepen. ‘Don’t let’s spoil the moment. It won’t last, after all.’

Julie felt the warmth of his hand for just a moment, then it was gone. Obediently she pressed the red button and dropped the mobile back in her bag. Of course, it was bad manners to use phones in company. That was what Mary was always going on about. She’d call Sam back later. And she’d have something interesting to tell her, Julie thought, tossing her hair back and smiling conspiratorially at the man.

‘What’s your name?’ he asked suddenly. ‘No, don’t tell me, let me guess. Must be something special. No parents could have looked at such a baby and given her an ordinary name. Francesca, Susannah. . Angelica. Yes. That must be it: Angelica. Tell me I’m right,’ his voice pleaded even while his grin told her he was teasing.

Julie suppressed a giggle, shaking her head. Was he in films then? All these names were redolent of fame and this man looked as if he did indeed spend time with such female goddesses. Suddenly plain old Julie Donaldson seemed a bit of a let-down, so horribly dull.

‘Juliet,’ she replied. ‘Juliet Carr,’ she improvised swiftly, a silver BMW suddenly in her line of vision as it swept along Queen Street only yards from their table.

‘Well, Juliet Carr,’ he began, his tongue fondling the name as if it were something he could actually taste in his mouth, ‘how would you like to give up university and do something much more exciting?’

‘Darling, I’ll get her. Just you relax.’

Ruth tried to let her body sink into the squashy cushions of the settee, her hands clasping over the place where Ashleigh had been. It was an automatic gesture, but now instead of the rounded bump she felt only a roll of post-baby fat. Tears of self-pity sprang to Ruth’s eyes. She’d had such a nice figure when they’d married and now it would be ages before she’d be her old slim self again. Closing her eyes, Ruth felt her whole body stiffen as Ashleigh’s cries became ever more distressed. Each time the baby woke, screaming, it was as if a reflex action occurred, galvanising Ruth into action, some instinct telling her to pick up the baby, shush her gently and see what she could do to placate the little scrap of humanity that had turned their world upside down. She’d fed and changed her less than half an hour ago, so what was wrong this time?