A Suitable Lie Read online

  ‘But what?’ I knew he was speaking about Malcolm.

  ‘Have you ever known him to have a girlfriend?’

  I shrugged. ‘Can’t say I’ve given it much thought. He puts in a shift out on the rugby pitch. Gets his round in. That’s enough for me.’

  ‘Just wondered,’ Jim said as he looked across at Malcolm as if the thought had just occurred to him. ‘Quite camp, isn’t he?’

  ‘Doesn’t make him a bad person.’

  ‘Aye. Right enough. Just so long as he’s not trying to get near my arse.’

  ‘Conceited prick. What makes you think any self-respecting gay man would fancy you?’ I laughed and he grinned in response.

  All energy used up, we were silent again, enjoying the jokes and laughter that wafted over on a fog of halitosis. Thoughts of Anna popped into my head. Anna and the wedding. Anna in a wedding dress.

  Couldn’t come soon enough.

  5

  From the foot of the stairs I watched her stepping up towards the bridal suite, swinging her stilettoes in one hand and holding her white satin train in the other. While my eyes followed, my heart thumped each time the forward thrust of a knee pulled the white sheath dress tight across the perfect swelling of her rear. I once again thanked God, my lucky stars and my fairy godmother for sending me the perfect wife.

  Number two.

  ‘Anna,’ I said, her name sounding like a prayer. Her long hair swung in a dark arc as she turned to face me.

  ‘Andy,’ she shone a smile.

  ‘What are you up to, Mrs Boyd?’

  ‘Just going up to the room, honey. To touch up my make-up.’

  ‘Don’t be daft. You’re gorgeous enough.’ She looked as if she’d just stepped from the front cover of a magazine. I looked back along the red-carpeted corridor and through the open doors of the reception suite to the throng beyond. No one appeared to notice we were both missing. Isn’t it amazing what some free booze will do? Turning my back on the babble and thrum of voices, I caught up with Anna in six easy bounds. Standing on the step below her, I was still a full head taller than her.

  I heard the rapid beat of small feet and a happy, high-pitched shout: ‘Daddy.’

  Followed by my mother’s remonstration: ‘Come on, Pat. Leave your dad alone for now.’

  So much for escaping the crowd.

  I looked back down the stairs to see my mother had my son by the hand. Mum and I exchanged glances and I was taken back to the conversation we had at the house just before the car came to take me to the church for the ceremony.

  I was standing at the front window, scanning the street for the limo, terrified I would be late.

  ‘Relax,’ she said and walked over to me. She smiled when she reached me, looked up and brushed an imaginary piece of lint from my lapel. Then she smoothed out the shape of my tie.

  ‘Mum,’ I said, noting that even in her high heels she was still a good deal shorter than me. ‘You shrinking?’

  She snorted. ‘You’re still not too big to go over my knee.’

  ‘Good luck with that.’

  ‘Look at you,’ she said, her expression soft with love. ‘My handsome big son.’

  ‘Got your waterproof mascara on?’ I asked.

  ‘I’m so happy for you, son.’ My tie again became the focus of her mothering. ‘You’re happy aren’t you?’

  ‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’ My tone was sharper than I intended, but I had an excuse: my emotions were heightened. Wedding day nerves. Besides, although she was too classy to say something, I knew she had reservations about my wife-to-be.

  She swallowed. Stepped back. Ran her hands down the front of her dress.

  ‘I made myself a wee rule. Never comment on the women my boys choose…’

  ‘But you’re about to break that rule.’ I trained my eyes down the street. When Mum decided she was to be heard there was little I could do about it. And this I was certain I didn’t want to listen to.

  ‘She’s a lovely-looking girl…’

  ‘Her name is Anna.’

  ‘Pat loves her…’

  ‘So do I.’

  ‘But she’s the first woman you’ve been with since Patricia died.’

  ‘That you know of.’

  She snorted. Gave me a look. She knew me too well. I was never the prolific dater in the family. That role went to Jim.

  ‘I’ve been a single parent, son. I know what it’s like.’ She looked away from me and out of the window as if she was looking for the strength to say what she wanted. Then her eyes searched mine. ‘Don’t marry her out of gratitude, Andy. You both deserve better than that.’

  I reached down and grabbed her hands. ‘Mum, don’t do this. Not when I’m waiting to go to the church.’

  She looked as if she was steeling herself to say something that went beyond her self-imposed behaviour. ‘I should have said something earlier. I’m sorry, son. I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Andy. Sorry, love … I just…’

  ‘Mum. Don’t.’

  I heard a short, sharp beep of a car horn. Then Jim thundering down the stairs. His shout. ‘Taxi’s here, bro.’

  Anna poked me on the shoulder and I was back on the hotel staircase.

  I sent my son a wink and turned to face my new wife. ‘I think I may have to keep the new Mrs Boyd company to make sure she’s safe.’ We reached the top stair. ‘In fact I may have to just sweep her off her feet…’

  ‘… again,’ laughed Anna.

  ‘And throw her onto the huge four poster in the bridal suite and have my wicked way.’

  ‘If you make a mess of my hair, Andy Boyd, I’ll…’ Ignoring her squeals, I picked her up and marched towards the room. In front of the door, I stopped. Something occurred to me. I put her back on her feet.

  ‘Eh, do you by any chance have the key?’

  ‘Some hero you are.’ Anna threw back her head and laughed, exposing an expanse of soft pink flesh at her throat. Which I just had to kiss. She stopped me by knocking the large key fob off the side of my head.

  ‘Ow. That hurt.’ I resisted the pain long enough to let her down gently, then rubbed at my temple.

  ‘Serves you right,’ Anna opened the door and marched in. She threw her shoes down and sat before a huge mirrored dressing table. I made sure the door had closed behind us and walked over to her. Kissed the top of her head while breathing in her perfume.

  ‘You had a nice day so far, sweetheart?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes.’ The single syllable was drawn out and pitched with a note of indecision.

  I looked into the reflection of her sad brown eyes and plump bottom lip.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I knelt down at her side feeling a stab of uncertainty. I was not sure whether she was being playful or if she was serious.

  ‘You didn’t turn round and look at me when I was walking down the aisle.’ She picked up a brush and slid it down the silk of her hair.

  Didn’t I? ‘Yes I did.’

  ‘No you didn’t.’ Lips tight and eyes focused on my face. Accusing.

  ‘Hey,’ I grabbed at her hands. ‘Maybe I didn’t. I really can’t remember … I was so nervous … all I could do was stare at the altar and thank God you’d actually turned up.’

  Her expression softened. ‘You were nervous?’ She reached out and stroked my face.

  ‘As a kitten. Never been so nervous in my life.’

  ‘Even more than the first time you got married?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ I resisted the temptation to look up at the ceiling. We had talked the first wedding to death. Or so I thought. Time to change the subject.

  ‘Give us a kiss.’ I stretched forward, lips puckered.

  She laughed, held a hand up in front of my face, a small smile of victory on her lips. ‘Don’t you be getting any ideas, Andy Boyd. You’ve a room full of guests down the stairs, including your son. Cool your jets.’

  I kissed her neck. Then moved up closer to her ear. Kiss. ‘Oh come on.’ Kiss. ‘Pat’ll be fine.
My mother has been dying to get him to herself all day. And I’ve been dying to make love to you with your wedding dress on all week. So on the Andy Boyd scale of anticipation, I win.’

  She pushed me back and tilted her head to the side. ‘You know, I’ve always wanted to have sex with a man in a kilt.’

  I stood. Held out my hand. ‘If madam would be so kind…’

  ‘Why, sir…’ she stood and took my hand. I guided her over to the oak-framed, four-poster bed. She sat down on the foot and smiled up at me.

  ‘I do declare,’ she fanned her face. ‘The temperature in this room has suddenly increased.’

  I knelt before her as if in devotion. Soaking up the view.

  She smiled. ‘You can touch as well as look, you know.’ Grin. ‘We are married.’

  I didn’t need to hear any more and, leaning forward, I pressed my lips against hers, savouring the delicious swell of soft warm skin. I nibbled at her bottom lip, then the top one and then slid my tongue into her mouth. Her tongue glided across mine and slowly circled it. I could feel the rough tip and then the soft under-side. Pleasure rumbled deep in my throat as her touch sparked darts of pleasure in my groin. I pressed against her.

  ‘Don’t mess my hair,’ she muttered.

  ‘Your hair’s perfect. There’s so much hairspray there I couldn’t mess it up with a pitchfork.’

  ‘You cheeky…’ she punched my shoulder.

  Laughing, I ignored her, picked her up and placed her seven-stone frame on the bed. I kneeled before her. At the sight of her, my breath momentarily stuck in my throat.

  ‘God, I love you.’

  ‘You do?’ She made a face.

  ‘Even now you question me?’ I asked leaning back on my heels.

  ‘You’ll always love me?’

  I nodded.

  ‘For ever and ever?’ She made a mock sad face.

  ‘Till Coronation Street do us part.’

  ‘Who you kidding, mate? You love Corrie as much as I do.’

  I grinned. ‘Okay, I watch the catch-up shows now and again.’

  She giggled. Grew serious. ‘Anyway, what about your mum and Jim. You think they’ll ever fall in love with me?’

  I leaned forward and grabbed her hands. Anna had never been this needy. I put it down to wedding-day nerves.

  ‘They’ll just have to deal with it, honey. If anybody’s got a problem with you, they’ve got a problem with me.’

  I reached for her again, but a panicked knocking at the door disturbed my movement.

  ‘Andy. Andy.’ It was Jim.

  ‘Oh for…’ I stood up and pushing down on my sporran, I went to the door and opened it slightly. Jim’s smiling face appeared in the space.

  ‘You’ll need to keep it under your kilt for a wee while longer, bro. The band’s signalling that it’s time for the first dance.’

  We danced plenty that night. In fact Anna and I were pleased that not only were we the first people on the dance floor, we were also the last to leave it.

  ‘Why spend all this money for a party and leave early?’ Anna asked as she sipped at a vodka and coke, just as Jim held out his hand and invited her on to the dance floor when the band picked their way into a Bon Jovi tune.

  I watched them dance, pleased that Jim was making an effort. At one point Anna threw her head back in laughter at something Jim said. I sent him a silent, ‘good work, brother’.

  Too soon, the band were going through the last bars of ‘Three Times a Lady’ and our evening was over. Anna and I herded those guests that were left to their taxis and then wearily made our way up to the bridal suite.

  Once inside, Anna climbed out of her wedding dress and wearing only her white lacy underwear, turned to me and gave me that look.

  A look that sent blood surging to my groin.

  ‘Anyway. Where were we?’ she asked with a grin. ‘It’s about time we consummated this marriage, Mr Boyd.’

  ‘Don’t mind if I do, Mrs Boyd.’ I replied and pushed my sporran to the side.

  All the dancing, booze and lovemaking took its toll, and when we finished I rolled over on to my back, exhausted but feeling happier than any man has a right to be.

  ‘I’m done in,’ I said. ‘Not sure I can keep my eyes open a second longer.’

  Anna turned away from me on to her side. Gave a little snort of laughter. ‘How’s that for romance? Hope you’re not needing cuddles after, Mr Boyd?’ She reached for the lamp on the bedside cabinet. Flicked it off. ‘Night, honey.’

  ‘Night.’ I mumbled, giving in to my body’s demand that I shut my eyes. ‘Best day ever.’

  ‘Best day ever,’ Anna repeated and reached back with her right hand. Patted me on the hip. ‘Now, ssh, Andy. I’m totally done in. Sleep.’

  It may have been minutes or perhaps hours later when something woke me.

  I was on my back in the same position as when I closed my eyes. Which was unusual for me, I usually adopted the foetal position for sleep. I must have just conked out, I thought with a smile.

  The room was still in darkness, so I judged it was still the middle of the night.

  Anna shifted in the bed at my side and I felt another surge of joy that this beautiful woman had chosen me. She mumbled in her sleep. I couldn’t make out the words.

  She twitched and spoke louder, her voice like a low growl, but her words still difficult to decipher. I turned and placed my hand on the naked curve of her shoulder. Her skin felt hot and clammy.

  ‘Anna,’ I said just above a whisper.

  She twitched and spoke louder. It was almost a growl. I still couldn’t work out what she said.

  I turned and lightly touched the curve of her shoulder. ‘Anna?’

  She made an animalistic noise – something like a bark. She sounded distressed; almost feverish. Her feet kicked at the quilt.

  I propped myself up on my elbows. ‘Anna, honey. You’re talking in your sleep. You okay?’

  ‘Didn’t turn to look, you bastard.’

  She turned. Brought her arm up and around.

  Hard and fast.

  Her elbow smashed against the bridge of my nose.

  I screamed.

  6

  The hotel staff were incredulous, Anna was abject in her apologies and the doctor on call at Accident and Emergency was hugely sympathetic.

  ‘What rotten luck, to break your nose on your wedding night … Dear me … How did it happen again?’ He reached up and stroked his own nose as if to check it was still in one piece.

  By now we had become expert at telling everyone how I had got up in the middle of the night to go to the toilet, tripped on her train and flew head first into one of the bedposts.

  ‘Dear me.’ The doctor tutted as he examined my nose up close. At least he hadn’t sniggered like the rest of his nursing staff. There was a fire in my face that licked across my checks and up my forehead with every beat of my pulse.

  Anna sat by the bed, squeezing my huge mitts between her slim and delicate hands. Regret was clear in the furrows of her forehead, the rise of her eyebrows and the downturn of her mouth. She looked so sorry I couldn’t feel any resentment towards her. After all, it was a strange accident.

  ‘Now you just rest here for a moment.’ The doctor smiled. He pulled back the curtain and exited the hospital cubicle that had become our honeymoon suite.

  Once his footsteps had faded down the corridor Anna spoke.

  ‘Andy, I am so, so sorry.’

  ‘It’s okay, babe.’ My voice was muffled with pain.

  ‘No it’s not. I can’t believe I was so … I mean, who’s ever heard of someone hitting someone in their sleep?’

  ‘Honestly, it’s okay.’ I lifted a hand to my face in a weak attempt to still the pain. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

  My gentle tone brought tears to her eyes. She leaned forward and, resting her head on my lap, let them flow.

  Just then heavy footsteps thumped down the corridor and the sound of metal on metal sang out as the curtain
in the very next cubicle was pulled back.

  ‘Oh fuck. It’s the polis.’ slurred a voice.

  ‘Aye. There’s no pulling the wool over your eyes, Mr Craven. What have you been up to now?’

  ‘Just had wan too many, officer.’ The voice was too loud, in the manner of drunks who lose the power to regulate their volume.

  ‘And you just slipped and the knife just happened to cut across your wrists.’

  ‘Aye. Lucky white heather, eh?’

  ‘What about the black eye?’

  ‘Oh that? I’d forgot all about that. Ma lodger took exception to being asked for the rent. On account he was shaggin’ ma wife. Thinks he should have got a hundred per cent discount.’

  ‘Did he give you the bruise on the other side of your face?’

  ‘That … that was nuthin’.’ The voice was much quieter now.

  ‘Doesn’t look like nothing to me, Craven.’

  ‘It was just a wee disagreement with the wife. I’m tellin’ ye, it was nothin’. I asked her if she was fuckin’ the lodger and she took a wee swing at me with her handbag. There was a half-brick in it at the time.’

  The casual, almost accepting tone of his voice as he mentioned the first acts of violence disturbed me. I was almost beginning to feel sorry for him until he mentioned the beating he took from his wife. At that point my sympathy changed. The situation seemed almost laughable.

  Anna squeezed my hand again and brought me back to my own life and my own troubles, such as they were. It had been a wonderful day. Standing at the altar waiting for my new bride to arrive, I had looked up at the crucifix suspended from the ceiling and thanked God for this new blessing.

  What a difference from my last visit to this church. A day I would never forget. A day I would never allow myself to forget: my first wife’s funeral.

  The midwife said it was unusual, what with medical advances. She said she was sorry for my loss. She said she didn’t know what to say as she knotted her fingers. Her pale lips mouthed the words as her eyes shrunk in anticipation of my reaction. I simply stood in front of her, my hands hanging limp by my side, mind suspended in a cotton-wool numbness.