Iain Banks - The Crow Road

"Or weight."

" — or weight. Maybe she'll get married to Lewis but have a life-long affair with you."

"Oh, great."

"See? You don't know what might happen," Ashley said happily, spreading her hands.

"Anyway, Prentice," Aline said in her sing-song voice. "There are plenty more fishes in the sea, yes?"

I looked over at Aline. "Hey, can I quote you on that?"

Aline winked at me, tapped the side of her nose. "The toilet," said conspiratorially.

I started to get up. "It's no good," I sighed. "You two are cheering me up too much and I can't stand the excitement." I got wearily my feet, muscles aching from the effects of drink and walk.

"See you down the Jac tonight?" Ash said.

"Maybe," I said. "I keep trying to drown my sorrows but they appear to be marginally more buoyant than expanded polystyrene." The water cascaded down the face of the spillway again, the noise like a million stamping feet heard from a long way off. I shrugged. "Fuck it, though; worth another try. Gotta start working some time"

"That's my boy."

"See you, gals."

"Bye-bye, Prentice."

"Try not to fall in love with anybody else before tonight."

"Yo."

An hour or so later I saw my mother's green Metro, just about to turn out of the drive-way of Hamish and Tone's house. She stopped when she saw me, wound the window down. "Here you are," she said.

"Here I am," I agreed.

"I was waiting for ages there." She glanced at her watch. "Oh well. Getting in?"

I got into the car; we started to reverse the fifty yards back up the drive. Actually, my legs were so tired I was quite grateful for the lift. "I brought what I could find of Rory's stuff." Mum nodded. "Your dad thinks there's more, but it's buried in the filing." I looked at the back seat, where a folder lay. "Not that you deserve it," she added.

"Oh, thanks," I said. I picked the folder up; CRII said the lettering on the spine. It looked similar to the folder I already had, but perhaps a little thicker. I vaguely remembered reminding mum last night that I was looking for the rest of Uncle Rory's papers.

"Well?" she said.

I looked over, yawning. "Well?" I repeated.

We drew to a stop outside the door of the house. "You don't remember last night, do you?" mum said, turning the ignition off. She was dressed in angora'and chunky cords; new perfume. She looked slightly unamused and not a little worried.

"Not… in its entirety, no," I confessed.

She shook her head. "God, you were drunk, Prentice."

"Umm," I said, weighing the folder in my hands."… Yes." I smiled my best "but I'm still your wee laddy" smile.

She raised those delicate brown brows. "My God, you don't remember embarrassing Lewis and Verity last night, do you?"

I looked at her.

"I mean, apart from embarrassing your father and me," she added.

I felt the blood draining from my face like somebody had opened a valve in my ankle. Oh-oh.

I swallowed. "I wasn't doing my impression of the Bradford City supporter, the King's Cross Disaster victim and the guy from Piper Alpha meeting up in Hell, was I?" (Requires three cigarettes; offends everybody.)

"It's not funny, Prentice; poor Verity was nearly in tears. You're lucky Lewis didn't throttle you."

"Oh my God," I said, feeling cold. "What did I say?"

(Duck, and cover.)

"Told her — told everybody — you were madly in love with her!" she said, eyes flashing. "Then, having declared undying worship of the poor girl, you proceeded to slag her off for taking up with Lewis." Mum shook her head angrily, tears in her eyes. "Prentice! What were you thinking of?"

"Oh my God," I moaned. KYAG. I put the folder down in my lap and put my forehead on the folder.

"Then you followed that up with some fairly off-colour remarks about Lapland, and what you referred to, I believe, as 'the old earth-moving equipment'."

"Oh my God."

"And I think we all successfully worked out what 'doing the Delta Foxtrot' was, as well, before you became totally incoherent."

"Oh my God!"

"I don't think saying 'Oh my God' will make it any better, Prentice. I think you should apologise to Verity and Lewis as soon as you can. They're up at the castle." My mother brought her voice under control with an effort. Though you might also think about saying sorry to Hamish and Antonia, too, as you were their guest and it was their party you brought grinding to an embarrassing halt. Just as well you agreed to go quietly when Kenneth suggested it was time you went to bed; though apparently he and Hamish practically had to carry you upstairs, and the whole way up you were muttering something vile about Lewis being thrown naked into a tub of starving Elephant Leeches."

And dad put me to bed! Oh no! Dad and the Tree! The shame of it!

"Mum, I want to die," I mumbled into the folder.

"Just at the moment, Prentice, I don't think there'd be any shortage of volunteers to help you on your way, if you were serious."

"I am."

"Stop being melodramatic, Prentice; it doesn't suit you. Sarcasm's more your forte."

"Oh my God."

"Prentice," mum said, putting her hand on my head and running her fingers through my hair. "Prentice…»

I looked up, straightened. Mum's eyes looked red. She shook her head. "Prentice, why are you so stupid with your cleverness sometimes?"

I took a deep breath. "Wish I knew, mum," I said, and sniffed, eyes smarting. Best not to say anything about it running in the family.

She took me in her arms, hugged me. I was surprised, as I always was at such moments, how slim and small she felt.

After a bit we let go of each other. She glanced in the mirror and declared I had wrecked her eyes for the rest of the day. Then we went in to Hamish and Tone's for tea and apologies, and later drove to the castle for what would have been the most excruciating interval of my life if Verity and Lewis had still been there, but they weren't; they had taken off in the car to visit some friends of Verity's who lived in Ardnamurchan, and wouldn't be back until late tomorrow at the earliest.

Mum took me back chez Hamish and Tone; she agreed to pass on my expressions of contrition to my father. She'd wanted me to come to Lochgair and say sorry to him there, but I had begged for mercy, and — rather to my surprise — been granted it.

I had already decided that tomorrow I would take the train back to what was now your official European City of Culture for the following twelve months. In theory, Verity and Lewis were meant to be giving me a lift in four days time, but that was obviously out, now.

I had to promise mum I'd write to each of them, and apologise in person at the first possible opportunity, and also that I'd stop off at Lochgair before I returned to Glasgow, to see dad.

Ashley met me in the Jac that night, listened to my woes, bought me drink when I ran out of money (I'm sure I was short-changed at the bar) even though she probably had less dosh than I did, and listened to my woes all over again when we went back to her mum's and sat up till God knows when, talking low so we wouldn't wake Dean in the next room. She made me coffee, gave me hugs, and at one point I fell asleep, and was at peace for a while, and woke up sprawled on the floor, my head on her lap, one gentle hand stroking my head. "Ash," I croaked, "you're a saint."

She just smiled.

A last cup of coffee and I left; back to H and T's in time for a few hours" fitful sleep; then up and away, run to the station by Aunt Antonia. I only just caught the train, and when, a quarter of an hour later, we pulled in to Lochgair, and I should have got my bag and quit the Sprinter and walked to the house and finally have talked — sober, and not in the context of a game of Alternative Charades — to my father, and apologised, and spent the three hours until the next Glasgow train with my mother and father in some longed-for spirit of reconciliation, I did nothing of the sort.