Scratch (21 page)

‘He wasn’t too bad,’ I said. ‘We bonded over Bruce.’

‘God help you.’ The taxi pulled up outside Stube.

‘I take it we’re going for a drink?’ I said.

Paula paused as she handed the driver a fiver, then shook her head and smiled. ‘How come I have no bother telling you when you’re a wanker, but you never point it out when I’m being a presumptuous cow?’

‘I suppose I’m more polite than you are,’ I said as we got out of the Hackney. ‘But it’s definitely your round.’

‘It is that.’

***

‘Anyway, cheers,’ Paula said when we had acquired drinks and seats.

‘Up
yer
bum,’ I responded, raising my pint.

Paula laughed as she took a mouthful of her beer. ‘You always were a smooth talker.’

‘It is one of my finer attributes, I feel.’

‘That and your clarity of purpose.’

‘Oh yes, I pride myself on my focused approach to all aspects of life,’ I said, trying to keep my face straight.

‘As evidenced by your enviable career trajectory, of course.’

‘Of course. Though I don’t feel comfortable discussing my own successes given your current, less than ideal, circumstances; I’d hate you to feel inferior.’

‘That’s very big of you.’

‘Like I said, I’m polite.’

‘What are you on an hour, again?’

‘Piss off.’

‘Sammy says you’re doing well, under the circumstances.’

‘What circumstances?’

‘That you’re old, out of practice, losing your hair, not very bright, that sort of thing.’

‘Oh, in that case, tell him thanks.’

‘Tell him yourself, you’ll see him more than I do,’ Paula said.

‘I’ve only seen him once since I started. He obviously doesn’t do many day shifts.’

‘The old skiver,’ Paula said, eyebrows rising. ‘He doesn’t do many night shifts either, I promise you.’

‘Ah, so he’s fully embracing the management experience, then.’

‘To be fair, he’s been working his arse off for years. This must be like a wee holiday for him, being back there. Makes you wonder what he’s doing with his time, right enough. I’m sensing there might be a new man on his horizon.’

‘Or up his—’

‘Behave yourself, you.’

‘Sorry.’

I grinned at the same time Paula did. She took a drink at the same time I did. My eyes dropped slightly just as hers did. I tried not to think about what a TV programme about body language I’d watched recently had to say about
mirroring
.

But, damn it, for a few minutes there we were talking as easily and as naturally as we had when we were together. We were making each other laugh, finishing thoughts, setting-up jokes.

She needs her friends, but that’s
all
she needs
. Joe’s words appeared front-and-centre in my brain, and he was right. This girl - this
woman
- was all grown up and married. ‘We’ no longer existed, and I would do myself no favours pretending otherwise. The simple fact was that Paula apparently wanted, perhaps even needed in some way, me to be her friend. That was great, that was brilliant, and that was more than I could have hoped for only a couple of months ago; but that was
all
.

‘Another drink?’ I asked, not in any way awkwardly.

‘Definitely.
D’you
fancy getting a short as well?’

This was a surprise, albeit a pleasant one. ‘Yeah, sure. What’s the favourite shooter in
Germany
, then?’

‘Feck knows, but I want freezing vodka.’

‘
Absolut–
ly
.’ I was quite proud of that one, even though she didn’t notice it.

I returned to the table, having used the couple of minutes at the bar to give myself a slap (not literally, that would have been weird).
Friend
, I kept repeating to myself.
Friend
. Be her
friend
. She needs a
friend.
That’s all she needs, a
friend
.

‘There you go, friend,’ I said.
Bollocks!

‘Yeah, thanks … mate,’ Paula said.

‘Eh, you’re
Absolut
-
ly
welcome,’ I said, trying to cover my tracks while at the same time hoping she’d get the joke this time. She didn’t.

‘O-
kay
. I’m going to down this now, are you game?’ Paula said.

‘
Absolut
-
ly
!’ Nope, nothing. ‘Up
yer
bum,’ I said.

‘Get it down ye’ or get it up ye’,’ Paula replied, and we downed our vodka.

We did the requisite tightening of neck muscles and grimacing for a second or two.

‘
Grhmm
, that’s nice,’ Paula said, shaking her head. ‘What was it, Smirnoff?’ She couldn’t suppress her grin.

‘Rearrange these words into a well-known phrase or saying, Miss Fraser,
off
and—’

‘Mrs Neumann,’ Paula said.

It took me a moment. ‘Oh, right. Sorry.’

‘Christ, don’t worry about it. It still sounds weird to me.’

‘Really, after five years?’

‘You men don’t realise how hard it is, being a woman.’

‘You’re being a bit melodramatic now, I feel.’

Paula laughed. ‘You are
Absolut
-
ly
correct, I apologise. It is bizarre, though. Who decided it was
us
who had to change our name? Some fecking man, no doubt.’

‘I think it might have been God, but I could be wrong,’ I said. ‘I’m not as au
fait
as I could be on the nuptial thing.’

‘Count yourself lucky.’

That was a strange, yet strangely encouraging, thing for Paula to say.

‘I mean,’ she went on, ‘can you imagine your name changing overnight, just because you decided to make a commitment to someone else?’

‘I don’t suppose I can,’ I said. ‘Though until I was about thirteen I really wanted people to call me
Iron Fist
. Does that count?’

‘Were you confused, sexually?’

‘What? No! I leave that to Terry.’

‘What
d’you
mean?’

‘Let’s just say he hasn’t figured out why he likes Captain Jack more than The Doctor yet.’

‘Seriously? Poor bastard,’ Paula said.

‘I know. Anyway,
Iron Fist
was a comic character. Best martial artist on the planet. He wasn’t gay at all.’

‘Like Bruce Lee, then?’

‘No, he wasn’t Oriental, he was white.’

‘Ah, right. So it wasn’t homophobic, it was racist?’

‘No! His best mate was Luke Cage, Power Man, he was black. They were the
Heroes for Hire
.’

‘Right, so it wasn’t racist, it was capitalist?’

‘No! Okay, maybe a little bit. But they were goodies.’

‘I believe you.’ Paula gave me that look women give men when we try to explain why we like the things we like.

‘Do you like Nicholas Cage?’ I asked.

‘Sometimes,’ Paula admitted.

‘He chose the name Cage because his favourite comic character is
Luke Cage
. What do you think of that, then?’

‘I think he should have spent as much time reading the
Ghost Rider
script as he did choosing his stage name.’

‘That’s my point! I won’t defend
Ghost Rider
, it was
pish
, a wasted opportunity if ever there was one. I will admit to being impressed you’ve heard of it though, you have my admiration for that. Still, it proves even
Hollywood
royalty hold comics close to their heart and—’

‘Jim, please stop talking.’ There was that look again.

‘
Eastenders
!
’ I decided to shout for no clear reason.

‘Sorry?’ Paula said.

‘You know,
Eastenders
and that. You women like all that crap. You’re just as bad.’

‘So, was that your first short of the night there, or was my daddy feeding you his Jameson’s while I was at the pictures?’

I took a breath and calmed down a little. ‘He offered me nothing but passive-aggression and coffee, I assure you.’

Paula leaned over the table towards me and smiled. ‘I believe you, you never could lie well. I reckon we need more vodka, back shortly.’ She headed for the bar.

Why
the fuck
was I talking about Nicholas Cage? No offence,
Nic
, but get out of my head! I was getting to spend time with Paula Fraser and was wasting it talking about fucking comics and Nicholas Cage. I didn’t know if I was disguising my nervousness with immaturity or vice-versa, but it had to stop, either way.

Paula returned, vodka-rich.

‘
Nic
Cage almost played Superman, you know,’ I said as she sat down.
Shut the fuck up!
I thought.

‘Shut the feck up, Jim,’ Paula said. ‘Drink your vodka.’

We drank our vodka.

We smiled at one another.

Then we laughed at one another.

Then we laughed with one another. Together.

Then we realised what we were doing and got embarrassed, and switched to laughing at ourselves.

Then I said the stupidest thing I’d ever said in my life.

‘I love you, Paula.’

Chapter 16

Fuckwit, fuckwit, you’re a fucking fuckwit.

Thoughts move at an incredibly fast rate, and I had already turned this into the chorus of what could undoubtedly be a very successful song. I had even started work on the first verse. It would go something like –
you try to act cool, you end up a fool; you put up a front, you end up a—

‘I love you, too.’

What?
‘What?’

‘I love you, too.’ Paula was looking directly at me, so I could only assume she
was
actually talking to me.

‘What?’

‘I’ve said it twice, that’s all you get.’

‘What?’

‘I know, sorry.’

‘What?’

‘Pick another word.’

‘
Pfhwaa
.’