Her face was pinched with alcohol and fatigue. There were spoiled traces of the make-up she’d applied before Martin arrived: a smudge of blue on her eyelids, a spot of pink on her cheekbones. Alison eased herself away from the place where her mother’s shoulder had her pinned, and as she did, Catherine fell sideways, in slow motion, into the arm of the settee, and started to laugh helplessly. Alison stood and walked to the door, and Martin said, ‘Ey, get back, who said you could go?’ but the challenge was half-hearted, and she didn’t even turn around as she left the room.

5

EDINBURGH,
1 NOVEMBER 2012

Dan and Katelin, Duncan and Rose-Ann: on Thursday nights, they were Show of Strength, top of the league at Gordon Fuller’s weekly pub quiz. It was Duncan who’d got them all into it. Duncan Lomax with his collector’s habits and magpie mind, filing away facts just as he filed LPs in his record shop; there was nothing he liked better than the opportunity to showcase his quizzing prowess. He absolutely needed the other three, though; he could be wrong when he was certain he was right, and Rose-Ann never let him hold the pencil, because he wouldn’t consult. He wasn’t collaborative, she said; he was a quiz autocrat.

The two couples arrived at the same time from their different directions, rushing to get through the door to beat the incipient rain. Katelin and Rose-Ann hugged as if they hadn’t just seen each other yesterday for lunch at a Victoria Street café. They’d met, originally, through the men, but had a friendship now that had a life of its own. Sisters under the skin, Rose-Ann said, but she hailed from Santa Monica so was always coming out with stuff like that. The women took their usual seats – back of the room, tucked into an alcove, a small wooden settle, just room for the two of them – and chatted while they waited for their drinks to arrive. At the bar, Dan and Duncan ordered two pints of bitter and two glasses of red. Astral Weeks was playing through the sound system, and this was one of the reasons they came to Gordon’s place; the guy had impeccable taste. Gordon didn’t care about upbeat, unless upbeat was what he wanted. He’d play only what he wished to hear, and if it was Van Morrison’s anguish, then so be it. If anyone complained at his choice, he only turned it up louder.

‘This album should be compulsory,’ Duncan said as they waited.

‘Yeah, too right, they should hand it out with the polio jab.’

‘Great idea! The government taking responsibility for every child’s musical judgement.’

Dan laughed. ‘I think we’re on to something. Astral Weeks and Abbey Road, just to be on the safe side.’