Ecstasy (28 page)

Moll smiles at this and Hugh looks edgy. – Darling, I don’t really think Bill and Moll want to hear us arguing about football … besides, you’ve never really taken an interest in the game before … what’s all this about?

What’s all this about?

– Oh, nothing … I wearily concede.

That has done it. A man who changes his women you can forgive, but a man who changes his teams … that shows a lack of character. That’s a man who has lost all sight of things that are important in life. I couldn’t ever be with someone like that.

– And Moll’s made a great spread! This lovely garlic dip!

– It was no trouble, Moll says.

– I’m really sorry, Moll, I’ve just no appetite, I say, nibbling at a piece of shortbread. I almost jump out of my body as Bill flies across towards me and sticks a plate on top of my tits.

– Whoops! Crumb police! Bill says, forcing a smile on his worried face.

– New carpet, Moll says apologetically.

– Yes, it’s such a worry, I hear myself saying.

– Let’s take a look at that office, Bill, Hugh says jumping with excitement.

It’s time to go.

After a night where I died a thousand deaths, Bill says, – Hugh, I don’t think Heather’s too well. She’s sweating and shaking.

– Have you got a touch of the flu, Heather? Moll asks.

– Yeah, Honey, I think we’d better get you off, Hugh nods.

When we get home I start to pack. Hugh doesn’t even notice. We go to bed and I tell him I’ve got a headache.

– Oh, he says, then drifts off to sleep.

I’m still waking up when he’s ready to go to work. He’s in his suit and he’s standing over me and I’m groggy and he’s saying: – You should get ready for work, Heather. You’re going to be late. C’mon, Honey, shake a leg. I’m counting on you!

With that, he departed.

So did I.

I left a note:

Dear Hugh,

Things haven’t been right between us for a while. This is my fault, I put up with changes in you and our life over the years. These were incremental so I was a bit like the ‘boiled frog’ you talk about in your business management seminars. The environment changes so gradually, you put up with it unawares that it’s all slipped away from you.

No blaming, no regrets, it’s just over. Take all the money, the house, goods, etc. I don’t want to keep in touch with you as we’ve nothing in common so nothing but falseness or nastiness would be served by that, but no hard feelings on my part.

Heather

I suddenly feel a liberating surge of anger and write: PS: when we fucked over the last four years it was like rape for me; then I look at it and tear that bit off in a strip. I don’t want to get into that. I just want it ended.

I took a taxi to the station and got a train to Haymarket and another taxi to Marie’s in Gorgie. I’m thinking of records, books, clubs, drugs and fresh paint on canvas. I suppose boys as well. Boys. Not men. I’ve had enough of men. They are the biggest boys of all.

18 Lloyd

Ally isnae amused and Woodsy’s the source of his irritation. – That cunt, man, thinks eh kin jist swan in here like the pre-heart-attack Graeme Souness oan high-grade cocaine spoutin the contents ay
Mixmag
like we used tae dae wi the
NME
when we were younger, and every cunt’s meant tae say: Wow Woodsy, man, right on, ya cunt, wow man, and queue up tae suck oan his cheesy wee helmet. That. Will. Be. Fuckin. Right.

– He’s bad enough now, wait till ye see the cunt once he actually gets his hole, Monts smirked.

– Thankfully, there isnae much chance ay that, man, Ally smiles, – that’s what it’s aboot, man, this arrogance. It’s just defiance. He’s no hud his fuckin hole in yonks. That fucks up any cunt’s self-esteem. This ego-projection, man, is just the cunt’s wey ay copin. Once he gets his hole, he’ll actually calm doon. That’s what aw this religion shite’s aboot.

– Well ah hope eh does. Either that or ah hope he just gits so fuckin arrogant that he willnae even talk tae the likes ay us. Then it would be problem solved, Monts decides.

– Ah’d get a whip-round, man, thegither n pey fir a hoor tae dae the business oan the cunt, if it helped tae sort his heid oot, Ally said.

– Woodsy’s awright, ah said. Ah was daein a gig wi him the morn so that obliged ays tae back the cunt up. – Ah mean, ah dinnae mind aw the referencing ay DJs n clubs aw the time. That’s cool, save me buying
Mixmag
and
DJ
hearin that cunt recitin it tae ye. It’s the religion shite ah cannae really git tae grips wi. Tell ye what though, man, ah respect the cunt for it.

– Fuck off, Lloyd, Ally says dismissively.

– Naw, ah thought it was a fad. Then ah read that book by that
cunt
that writes aboot E whae wis sayin that he kens monks and rabbis that take it tae get in touch wi thir spirituality.

– Lick on, dug’s baws, Ally grins, – so man, you’re tryin tae tell ays that eh talked tae God at Rezurrection?

– Naw, what ah’m sayin is that the cunt thinks eh does, and eh thinks it in good faith. So for him it’s the same as it huvin happened. Personally ah jist think that he wis pure cunted and went intae the auld white room and had a hallucination, but he thinks it wis mair thin that. Neither ay us kin prove the other cunt wrong so ah huv tae accept that what the cunt says is real
fir him
.

– Shite. By that fuckin logic, man, some community-care cunt could tell ye he believes that he’s fuckin Hitler or Napoleon, and you believe that?

– Naw … ah say, – it’s no a question ay
believin
some cunt’s reality as they see it, it’s a question ay
respectin
some cunt’s reality as they see it. Of course, that’s as long as they dinnae hurt any other cunt.

– Declare a fuckin interest here but, Lloyd ya cunt: you’re jist backin the cunt cause ay the gig yir daein fir the guy, man. The Rectangle. Pilton. A Tuesday eftirnoon! It’ll be pony, Ally laughs.

– Sounds a wee bit dodgy right enough but, Lloyd, Monts laughs.

This bullshit is getting ays well nervy and hyper aboot this fuckin gig.

19 Heather

We meet in the tea-room at the Carlton Hotel. My mother has that you’ve-been-a-big-disappointment-to-us-all expression on her face. Strange how I used to let it snap me right back into line. It still produces a strange, uncomfortable feeling in my chest and stomach: that framed, lined face with those strained, slightly terrorised eyes. Normally enough to put me back in my old place, but not now. I’m aware of the discomfort. Awareness is seventy per cent of the solution.

– Hugh came round last night, she says accusingly, leaving a long silence.

I almost start to speak. But no. Remember: do not be manipulated by other people’s use of silences. Resist the temptation to fill in the gaps. Choose your words. Be assertive!

– He was broken-hearted, my mother goes on, – You work hard, he said. You give them everything. What do they want? What do they want? I just said, I’m damned if I know, Hugh. She’s had everything, I told him. That’s what’s been the problem with you, you’ve had it all on a plate, young lady. Perhaps it’s been our fault. We just wanted you to have all the things that we never had …

My mother’s voice has become low and even. The effect is surprisingly soothing and transcendental. I feel myself floating off, to all the places I wanted to go to, to all the things I wanted to see … maybe there will be something for me … good times … love …

– … because we always felt that no sacrifice was too much. When you have children of your own you’ll understand, Heather … Heather, you’re not even listening to me!

– I’ve heard it all before.

– I beg your pardon?

– I’ve heard all this. All my life. It means nothing. It’s just a sad exercise in self-justification. You don’t need to justify your lives to me; it’s your affair. I’m not happy. Hugh, the life we have together, it’s not what I want. That’s not your fault … it’s not his …

– I think you’re being so selfish …

– Yeah, I suppose I am, if it means that I’m thinking about my own needs for the first time in my life …

– But we’ve always put your needs first!

– As you saw them, and I thank you and love you for that. I want an opportunity to stand on my own feet, without you or Dad or Hugh doing everything for me. It’s not your fault, it’s mine. I’ve capitulated for too long. I know I’ve hurt everyone and I’m sorry for that.

– You’ve become so hard, Heather … I don’t know what’s happened to you. If you knew how upset your father is …

She left shortly after this and I went back to the flat and cried. Then something happened to change everything. My dad called me up.

– Listen, I said, – if you’re phoning to moan …

– No, not all, he said – I agree with what you’re doing and I salute your courage. If you’re not happy, there’s no point in sticking around. You’re still young enough to do what you want without getting yourself tied down. So many people just keep going, even when they’re in a rut. You only get one life, you go ahead and lead it the way you want to. You’ll always have our love and our support, I hope you know that. Your mum’s upset, but she’ll come round. Hugh’s big enough to look after himself …

– Dad … you don’t how much this means to me …

– Don’t be daft. Just get on with your life. If you need anything … if you’re short of cash …

– No … I’m fine …

– Well, if you need anything, you know where we are. All I ask is that you stay in touch.

– Of course I will … and thanks, Dad …

– Okay, darlin. You take care now.

I started to cry even more, because I realised that it had all been me. I had anticipated a reaction from the world which was nothing
like
the way it really responded. It wasn’t going to condemn. It just didn’t give a fuck.

That night I lay alone in bed in the flat and thought about sex.

Twenty-six years old.

Four previous lovers, before Hugh that is, but Hugh is now also previous, so it’s five previous lovers before my current state of between lovers.

No. 1. Johnny Bishop

Tough, surly, sixteen. Another boy with nice looks playing at being James Dean. I remembered thinking that there was hidden tenderness in him that I could bring out. All the silly little macho arsehole did was to fuck too quickly and unimaginatively and pull out and leave me like I was the scene of a crime. He screwed me like he screwed the local shops; get in quickly with the minimum of fuss, then withdraw from the scene of the crime a.s.a.p.

No. 2. Alan Raeburn

Shy, reliable, dull. Johnny’s antithesis. A cock so big it hurt, too much of a gentleman not to make it hurt just a little bit more. Left him when I went to St Andrew’s University.

No. 3. Mark Duncan

A student wanker. Second year, a fuck-a-fresher exponent. A crap shag, or more like I was too pissed at the time to know the difference.

No. 4. Brian Liddell

Wonderful. It was all there. Sexually. I was still slightly worried about actually enjoying sex, about being seen to be such an easy lay, and I wouldn’t let him go down on me for a long time. Once he did, he couldn’t get his head out of my hands. Any boy who fucks that well at that age won’t be just fucking one girl though, and he wasn’t and I had my pride.

Then Hugh. Hugh Thomson. My Number Five. Did I love him? Yes. I can see him in the students’ union bar, destroying reactionary arguments, destroying pints of lager. Everything always done with certainty. He made me feel safe with his certainties, until they changed to other certainties. Then I didn’t feel safe with certainties any more. I just felt trapped by bullshit.

Now this.

Nothing.

Suspended animation. Suspended lack of animation.

So now I’ve done several things within four weeks which has radically changed my life. The first one was that I left Hugh and moved in with Marie: to my own room in her place in Gorgie. It was a cliché, but in order to find myself, I had to leave the thesis for the antithesis.

The second thing I did was to leave my job and apply to do a teacher-training course. I realised that I had £6,500 in the building society – not Hugh’s, mine: my one little bastion of independence during our marriage. I had nothing to spend money on, as Hugh provided cash for everything. I was going to sign on the dole, but
Marie
told me that there was little point as they would check that I had left of my own accord and I wouldn’t get any benefit anyway. I was accepted on a course at Moray House; I didn’t want to be a teacher but I did want to do
something
, and it was all I could think of.

The other thing I did which changed my life was to go to that club and take that Ecstasy. I’d do it again, but I had a lot to sort out in my head first.

Marie and I went to Ibiza for a fortnight. Marie shagged four guys while we were there. I shagged loads and took lots of Ecstasy … no I didn’t. I stayed in the hotel and cried my eyes out. I was depressed as fuck and terrified. There was no liberation for me. Marie swanned around the clubs and bars in San Antonio like she owned the place, a different young hunk with her every day. She lived nocturnally, coming back to our hotel room late in the morning looking really strange: not drunk, but tired, lucid, excited and positive. She listened a lot to me, let me talk about Hugh, about how I had loved him, about all our hopes and dreams and my aches inside. I left her and got an early flight back from Ibiza. She wanted to come back, but I told her no, I probably needed time alone to think. I’d fucked up enough of her break as it was.

– Don’t worry, she said at the airport, – it was just a bit too much, too soon. The next time you’ll enjoy it.

I went home, back to the flat in Gorgie. I kept up my reading. I would go to Thin’s and Waterstone’s during the day and read more. I sat in cafés. I hoped that the summer would end – anything to get me onto that course, to get me doing something to take my mind off Hugh. The thing was, I knew I would have to go through it. I knew that there was no turning back for me. This pain, this blockage, like a physical thing, it just wouldn’t leave my chest. But there could be no going back. It just wasn’t an option.