Denise Mina - Resolution

Kilty went into the church. Afraid of being left alone with a load of happy strangers, Maureen, Liam and Leslie traipsed after her.

Andrew Goldfarb was a handsome man. He looked like Kilty but with darker hair and less buggy eyes. She had told them that he was a skinny, specky kid at school but had beefed himself up with an obsessive gym regime, muscle drinks and contact lenses, a process she referred to as "exorcising the Jew." He was dressed in full Highland regalia with kilt and ruffled shirt, black jacket with tails, a sporran trimmed with silver and an ornamental skean-dhu. Traditional lace-up shoes made his feet look girlish and dainty below heavy calves.

"Kay," said her mother sternly, glancing disapprovingly at her friends, "go outside and watch for Henrietta."

They stood on the gravel path and lit cigarettes to keep the midges away, feeling uncomfortable and excluded from the throng. The sun began to burn their faces and they moved into the shade of a large tree next to a path made from ancient gravestones. "Why do they all call you Kay?" asked Leslie.

"My Polish grandmother chose Kilty. Dad only agreed because he thought she was dying. She was always dying. When I was ten she finally did pop her clogs and they changed it to Kay."

"I like Kilty better," said Maureen.

"So do I," said Kilty, puffing inexpertly on her cigarette, "but it's immigrant so Mum doesn't. They're happy to socialize in the Polish Club but don't want anyone to know Dad's a Jew."

"That's a pity," said Liam, " 'cause Poles love the Jews, don't they?"

A cloud of midges moved round from the far side of the tree and chased them back into the sunshine. By the time the ushers came out to round up the guests they were cowering in the church door, hiding from gangs of increasingly narky flies. Kilty waited outside so that she could warn them when the bride arrived.

It was cold inside the chapel. The organist played long, senseless notes and people whispered greetings to latecomers filtering in through the aisles. There was a small commotion at the back of the church and they saw Kilty scuttle up to the front pew just as the organist belted out a chord that commanded attention. A hush fell over the congregation and the participants in the ceremony began their strange, stiff dance.

Maureen watched Kilty up at the front. Her face was set in a harsh reserve and her prominent eyes looked tired and worried. She seemed plain and slightly pretentious. The clasp that had looked so pretty when they picked her up now hung from her thin hair like Gene Kelly off a lamppost. She seemed to shrink when she was with her family, as if her spirit was wilting.

After the ceremony the newly expanded Goldfarb family gathered outside for the photographs and Kilty stood at the edge, just outside the tight little group. Maureen realized as she watched that Kilty was the runt of the litter too, and thought suddenly of Una. She looked at Liam, laughing at a joke Leslie had made. He'd have told her if the baby had been born. She knew he would. First babies were often late.

Kilty sat silently, looking out over the road, as they drove back down the loch to the reception. Liam asked her if she was all right and she said, yeah, yeah, she was fine, give her a fag, for Christ's sake.

The hotel was a small country house on the banks, close to a marina and a water-ski center. Much extended at the back, the building was essentially a small modern conference center with a nice front. Inside, the decor was of the shortbread school: dark tartan wallpaper and faux country trimmings. A giant stag's head hung over the ornamental fireplace. It took one and a half hours of watching other people have a nice time before they could go in and sit down. They were bored to the verge of violence by the time the prawn cocktail arrived.

Their dinner companions were three single men and a slim, plain young woman who laughed at everything the men said, as if she was afraid they would attack her and was trying to fend them off. During the meal the men didn't acknowledge any of the strangers across the table and didn't seem to know Kilty at all. They had been at school with Henrietta and hadn't seen one another since.

Eventually Kilty picked up, sitting upright and unclenching her jaw. She joined in the conversation a little and whispered to Maureen that the day was almost halfway through. It wasn't really, but Maureen said, yeah, it would be over soon enough. She was enjoying being out of Glasgow, away from the complications, playing the wedding game of drinking as much complimentary wine as quickly as possible and making it look casual. As the meal wore on, the strange school friends talked loudly, insulting one another and laughing insincerely, jostling for status.

"You're the world's biggest prick," said one and the other man laughed.

"Well, pal," he said, pointing with his fork, "you're the world's smallest prick."

They laughed, joined in descant by the nervous woman. It was getting depressing. Quite suddenly, Liam joined in the laughter, slapping the table with inappropriate vigor, and pointing at the vying men. "I think you're both pricks," he shouted.

The other side of the table refused to talk to them after that and began to whisper among themselves. Maureen watched as the laughing woman, now sulking in unison with her compatriots, ate. She gathered tiny morsels onto her fork and raised it to her open mouth, moving her head forward, pulling the fork away slowly, distastefully scratching the food off with her front teeth.

Individual strawberry cheesecakes arrived. They took two spoonfuls to eat and then the plates were whipped away and replaced with coffee. Various people gave bad speeches and a small army of waiters and waitresses came in and cleared a dance floor in front of the top table. A band clambered onto a stage at the side and set up. The doors at the far end of the hall opened and those invited to the reception only filtered in drinking second-best champagne. The first dance went without a hitch and Kilty began to relax.

"Nearly over now," said Maureen, drawling slightly.

"I think the soonest we could go home would be in about an hour," whispered Kilty.

Leslie came back from the toilet looking pale. Holding her fag between her teeth, she stood behind Kilty and adjusted the green flower in her hair.

"All right there, Leslie?" said Maureen, feeling warm and not a little pissed.

"Aye," said Leslie. "My stomach's killing me. I think I should lay off the drink for a while."

"Is it a bug?" asked Maureen.

"Dunno," said Leslie.

Kilty smiled at her watch. "Let's get some air."

It was cold outside, the air thick with the smell of cut grass and water. The setting sun was low behind the hills, casting a deep shadow over the loch basin. Kilty veered right, coming off the path, and walked down to the trees, sitting down on a grassy ridge, reckless of her dress now that the ordeal was over. Leslie, Liam and Maureen settled by her, lighting cigarettes to keep the midges at bay. Behind them the brilliant white lights from the hotel blazed into the night, spilling onto the black water. Houses and hotels were reflected around the dark perimeter of the loch. Maureen held up her cigarette in a toast to Kilty. "Well done, wee hen," she said.

"Yeah, ye got through it," said Leslie.

"Here's to ye," said Liam.

Kilty dropped her chin to her knee. "I hate it."

"It's done now," said Maureen. "You'll never have to attend a sibling's wedding again."

"I know," said Kilty. "By the time this marriage breaks down I'll be old enough to say fuck it."

"Ye should say fuck it anyway," said Leslie, master of the art of impoliteness. "I don't understand why you're so keen to humor them."

Kilty tried to explain the need for approval to Leslie, who simply didn't understand. Maureen smiled, thinking about her own family. Kilty's family weren't able to have open discussions and honest expressions of emotion. The O'Donnells could do nothing else. She looked at Liam. "Hey," she said quietly, letting Kilty and Leslie continue their conversation, "how's Una?"