say that anyway.
Do they?
So I’m being stupid . . .
Ye’re not being stupid it’s just there’s no such thing as a hassle-free bar. There isnt. Ye’re wrong if ye think there is. Ye’re wrong. Ye are.
Well . . .
What?
Sorry, it’s just the usual like I mean if ye’re young and good looking yeah, people – guys – guys will talk to ye and whatever I mean surely?
If I was an old woman I wouldnt get bothered by men?
No what I mean
I think I know what ye mean Andy, so about tonight of course I was with a pal. I wouldnt go into a bar on my own unless I was meeting people. I mean any bar, unless it was same-sex; gay, lesbian.
Andy turned from her and lay on his back, he clasped his hands behind his head. I know that’s most pubs but I didnt know this one as well. Sorry.
Sorry?
Yeah.
Why are you sorry?
No, just . . . I was just I mean it’s supposed to have a good reputation for that I mean like just a place where women dont get hassle.
Is that a fact . . . !
. . .
Fiona said, I see ye smiling.
No ye dont.
I do.
Andy kept his hands clasped behind his head but turned a fraction towards her. Fiona had raised herself up on her shoulder, enough to be looking down on him. The light’s on yer face, she said.
I was only smiling because of yer cheek: the way ye said, Is that a fact. It’s funny. Sarcastic but funny. I’m not being critical. I know I had a few beers tonight.
More than a few.
He smiled.
Honestly.
Well I wasnay that bad!
I didnt think they were going to serve ye. Then yer pal too eyeing me up. Like trying to get off with anybody in that state – God! Come on back to our place we’re having a party!
Andy looked at her,
That was what he said, as soon as ye went to the toilet.
Tony?
Him with the ponytail.
Andy shook his head. Sorry.
There’s no need you saying sorry. It was him. He wanted me to go outside for a smoke with him.
Huh!
It was like hash he was talking about wasnt it? Was it?
Maybe, I suppose.
Fiona was silent for a time. She had watched for his reaction, then she smiled. That made him smile. It was a certain kind of smile and reminded him of somebody – an old-time film star maybe, whoever that was. But interesting, an interesting smile. Smiles can be interesting. Some anyway. Hers was. People seeing ye in a certain way. That was her, like she knew him. Or thought she did. Really. Kind of comical. His bad points too, as though she knew them and wasnay caring about them either. She had no idea.
Christ. He touched her shoulder and she moved slightly, but away from him, as a reaction, she wasnt stopping him. He traced a line along her upper arm; the outline of her right breast, shadowed. He could have touched it but couldnt. He could have touched as within easy distance easy easy distance, but he couldnt.
Really, she had no idea. If she thought she knew him! What a laugh. Fiona. Christ – but really, she didnt know anything, not a single damn thing.
That bastard Tony. It made ye laugh. A pal? Some pal. As soon as yer back was turned. He was known for it. Guys laughed. Except when it happened to you. A fucking sleaze-bag more like.
What is it? Fiona asked.
Nothing. But he had taken his hand from her shoulder. When? he couldnt remember, the thought of Tony, just so bloody stupid, but dangerous. Tony was a dangerous guy, dangerous because of how he made ye feel, like fucking battering him! Doing time for a guy like that, ye could, it was just stupid. The arrogance! Then how he saw you. That was the thing too, it was like you were a total fool and didnt see what was happening! Jesus christ!
Yer head’s twitching away! said Fiona.
Sorry.
Ye’re away thinking.
Yeah. He put his hand to her shoulder again, massaging, gently, then stroking, stroking lightly, was aware of his breathing, now lying on his side in to her: she had turned her back to him but was not resisting his touch and he was aware too of her body, just her bum, the curve of her, the heat! coming from him too, and if he had closed in to her, only centimetres, god. He swallowed saliva.
Fiona murmured, You’re thinking about the blonde woman.
What? No I’m not . . . He had stopped stroking but kept his hand on her shoulder. I’m not, he whispered.
It was her you were looking at.
Andy kept his eyes shut. He needed not to be as hard, not to be as hard as this. He put his hand to her shoulder again. I’m not thinking of her at all.
Ye were looking at her. Ye were.
Well
I knew ye were.
I’ve known her a long time.
I know. Barbara Peters.
Barbara Morrison. Peters is her married name . . . Andy shifted onto his back now but returned his hand onto her shoulder.
Fiona said: I knew the way she asked ye and ye said no, when she asked ye to play, I knew ye knew her, the two of ye, ye knew each other . . . Fiona was still lying on her side facing away from him, but lying very still. Ye dont get many Barbaras nowadays; it’s an older name. I had an aunt called it; she was actually my mum’s aunt.
Andy’s hand rested on her shoulder. She made no attempt to shrug it off. He was not sure what to do but it was uncomfortable lying like this and he shifted back onto his side again and very gently massaged her shoulder.
He couldnt see her face but she could see his. He closed his eyes. After a moment he chuckled.
What? she said.
Sorry, I’m making myself laugh.
What? she said again, and she chuckled.
The way ye said ‘the blonde woman’, it was like how my granny would have said it. In a very disapproving voice, the blonde woman, as though
