Chapter 3

After getting the dirty ironing washed again, Andrew saw an altogether different life metaphor. Yes, things had got in a mess but he was now sorting them out. When he saw Dr Granwell on Thursday, he'd be requesting a referral for alcohol counselling.

The day after that Andrew hoped to be starting some family therapy in Scotland. His relatives and the distance from Holmesbridge would give him some perspective on the problems. Or perhaps Andrew's folks would prefer him not to bring those home. Didn't they have more than enough to deal with there already?

.

His mother had still been grieving for her second husband Donny when Robbie died. Now she'd be hearing horrible echoes of her first marriage all over again.

"Mum, I'm so sorry for putting you through this again," Andrew almost sobbed down the phone. "Mikey's right - crap job I've done of trying to make sure I don't take after my father!"

"Sweetheart, it's been a stress reaction," Colette reassured him gently. "You've had so much to deal with this past year. And it isn't a copycat thing - it's genetically inherited. Your dad needed alcohol to help him unwind, just like his own father did. But he made sure not to set an example of that in front of yous two."

Grandad Malkie didn't with his own kids, though. So had Dad really stood any chance of learning to deal with things any other way? Andrew wondered. The thought kept churning round his head like the pain around his stomach. For some reason it was protesting a lot more than usual against the flood of alcohol.

Still, the day had been dreadful and this was even worse. Telling his most loved ones the fermented apple hadn't fallen far from the tree like Mikey said.

"No - Mikey's the one behaving like Dad by not being there when you need him!" Even down a faraway phone line, Andrew could see the outrage on Kirsty's face. He could feel the shame of seeing his own features almost mirror imaged in it.

"And don't go making excuses for Dad - he was around plenty of people who set a good example!" Kirsty went on. "What did he admit after Grandad Malkie died? That it wasnae really a loss because he always preferred his cousins' and friends' dads to his own."

"Perhaps part of the reason he resented his dad was inheriting his drink problem," said Andrew. "Perhaps he and Malkie couldnae stay off the booze however hard they tried!"

"They weren't alcoholics - they were selfish good time boys who didnae want to grow up!" said Kirsty. "And yes, Dad did keep his binges away from the family but as much for himself. It justified him being out of the house to get pissed with his mates! Never mind it pissed away half the money for his bairns' futures! Or that it made his wife a single parent during her marriage as well as after!"

"Dad only worked away because Callender's closed and the local jobs were scarce," defended Andrew. Callender's was the construction company Lawrie had worked for until mid October 1997. About a fortnight before Andrew's sixth birthday, which was why the date stuck in his mind. "He did need something better paid with the costs of Christmas and lost earnings to cover."

"Not for nearly eighteen months and a sight longer if he'd had his way!" said Kirsty. "He'd made up the money within three or four! He wouldnae have been expected to stay on the road many more with having a family! There were plenty of other building jobs that came up, too! I can see those blue streaked ads for them now!"

Every Thursday night Andrew had religiously highlighted these in The Finsmuir Follower. As soon as Friday tea was finished, he'd show them to Lawrie. Hopefully this week would be the one where Dad took the hint and work on his doorstep.

Dad just used to say he'd look at the paper when Andrew and Kirsty were in bed. After all, spending time with them first was more important.

"I'm amazed he could get off that sofa to play with us," recalled Andrew bitterly. "Those brass balls must have weighed a flaming ton."

"No, it would have been the pants on fire that were flaming," said Kirsty.

In fairness to Lawrie he did always look at The Follower for its news - particularly on Finsmuir's most popular unofficial sport. Spot the latest pub where Tam Proctor had been arrested for a D and D.

Things finally came to a head on a Saturday lunchtime in June 1999. Lawrie came in from gardening with an exclusive by one of his "Barrel Buddies". Mervyn Mayhew was passing the Millens' on the way to his own house. Or rather taking the route which would allow maximum broadcasting coverage.

"Local history has been made!" Lawrie announced excitedly. "Ray Jardine's finally banned Tam Proctor from The Beer Barrel! Of course most landlords wouldnae have waited for a pool night punch up - "

"Lawrie - I don't want to hear it and I don't want the bairns to, either!" said Colette firmly.

"I'm just saying - Ray's put up with far too much!" Lawrie's petulant self justification seemed childish even to five year old Kirsty. "I really like the guy and you know it! But he's way too nice for his own good!"

Andrew exploded, saying at least Ray was nice. He then explained exactly what he meant when asked by an indignant Lawrie.

"Ray helps his wife around the house! He wants to spend time with his children and they're grown up now! You say you're home for the weekend and then you're off out with your friends!"

The doorbell rang, signalling the arrival of Colette's brother in law Bill. He was driving Andrew and Kirsty to a birthday party round the corner from him. His own children Robbie and Teresa were walking to it with their mum, Colette's older sister Bridie.

"Uncle Bill's always pleased to see me and Kirsty," Andrew told Lawrie. Both children walked hand in hand with Bill to his car, surprising all three adults.

Kirsty quite openly displayed physical affection but not Andrew. He tended to let everyday interactions speak louder than grand words or gestures. But then perhaps this was a statement of who he felt his real father figure to be.

When Andrew and Kirsty got back, Lawrie told them he'd an interview tomorrow. He was seeing Pat Tennant about a job building new houses on the old shoe factory site. He'd only been aware of that work for nearly the last month. Pat's son Jamie was in Andrew's class and excitedly following the project's progress.

Back in the present day, Andrew felt he had to be fair here. Dad did get much better for working locally again - look what a fantastic summer that one of 1999 was. All the gatherings with all the Tennants' lads' families.

"Yes - and look how Dad was when the parties ended!" said Kirsty. "He couldnae wait to get out of the house before work or after it - to another woman!"

"Elspeth's more than paid her price for that," said Andrew.

"Aye - she's a lovely person who always deserved better!" agreed Kirsty. "Much like us. You're more than paying your price for our biological father not being our real one. That's Donny!"

"Who's gone before his time and before we could all make up for lost time!" lamented Andrew. "Meanwhile, Lawrie Millen's still free to cause trouble even with being locked up!"

"Only if we let the b*****d," said Kirsty. "Remember two things here. You take after Donny and he'd be as proud of your courage as I am."

The tears were still pouring off Andrew half an hour later. The sweat, too, which puzzled him. OK, so it was mild for February but the nights were still cold. He only ever felt as hot as this on oven like summer days.

After his shower, Andrew noticed the message alert on his mobile. It was Michael's response to the text Andrew had sent him earlier.

Andrew knew ringing wasn't a good idea while tensions were running so high. Better to let the facts do the talking. Mikey would then see the son helped himself where the father didn't. Unless you counted Lawrie helping himself to items in a jewellery store he ram raided.

Andrew felt like he'd also been hit by a truck after reading Mikey's message. It hurt even more than this God awful stomachache.

Glad you're now getting help and going back home's a good idea. It'll give you some distance from the problems and the support of those closest to you. Please give them all the best from me.

"Those closest to you" - that said it all, didn't it? "I'm not one of them now so you've nothing left to stay for in Holmesbridge." Andrew forwarded the message to Kirsty with the bitterest of ironies introducing it. I'm sure you'll appreciate being chosen to receive Mr Curtis's good wishes.

The radio then taunted Andrew about the emotional baggage set waiting for him up in Edinburgh. Parklife had been on Radio Forth when the first ever Millen v McArdle darts tournament got underway. Around 4.30pm on Wednesday 11 November 1999 - a day which really went down in family history.

Andrew and Kirsty were picked up from school that night by their Aunty Bridie. The news of Mum being poorly round Grandma Janice's naturally caused the Millen kids some concern. Yet as ever Robbie was able to swiftly allay it.

Lots of people were poorly right now - half of Robbie's class to start with. Aunty Colette would soon be home and meanwhile there was Robbie's new darts game to play with. He'd received Aunty Sheena's belated eleventh birthday present yesterday. She always underestimated the delivery time from Cyprus.

Robbie and eight year old Teresa were master arrowsmiths already. They were also touchingly keen to hand their expertise down the family line.

Teresa was only nine months older than Andrew, which had gone on to seem like nothing. Yet to children a school year's difference made all the difference.

Teresa was so big sisterly in how she took Andrew's arm and guided it towards the treble 20. She'd notably been that way again since Robbie's death - ironically right at the beginning of the year meant to be his best ever.

The darts marathon stopped only for a fish and chip tea. Shortly after this, Colette came round with her children's clothes and toothbrushes. She felt a bit better now but Andrew and Kirsty would be staying here overnight. When they did return home, Dad wouldn't be there.

They'd probably guessed their parents hadn't been happy together for a while now. Everyone - Andrew and Kirsty most of all - would just be miserable if he stayed. Mum didn't think that was a good idea and Dad agreed. He'd be going to live with the lady who did make him happy - Elspeth.

Colette was right - her son and daughter had picked up on the bad atmosphere. It did come as a relief that wouldn't be hanging over their home any more. They'd also at least be spared seeing their dad make them second best to other people.

But of course that didn't stop them feeling the pain of it. Men who had wives weren't meant to have girlfriends, too. Men who had children should want to live with them, not someone they shouldn't be with anyway. Mum saying Dad could go didn't make it right, either.

Andrew and Kirsty refused point blank to set foot in Lawrie's new home. What if Dad married Elspeth? wailed Kirsty. Cinderella might be her favourite story but she didn't want a wicked stepmother.

Andrew was surprised to find himself hating the wonderfully supportive Robbie almost as much as Lawrie and Elspeth. His cousin's belated birthday present was a darts set. His own - fifteen days after he'd turned eight - was his parents divorcing.

Robbie knew how to deal with everything but never had to deal with anything. By day he did brilliantly at school where he was one of the most popular pupils. By night he went back to a house he wanted nothing more from. The perfect family life was already there. But then everything fell Robbie's way, didn't it?

Including carpets of snow that killed him at 28, you self pitying sod. The thought seemed to literally sicken Andrew as he felt the nausea rising again. Its violence brought him to his knees and doubled up his emptied stomach.

However, Andrew's failed attempt to stand showed the pain was even worse down his right side. Appendicitis, he realised - then with even more horror that both phones were in the lounge.

He forced himself down the staircase by sitting on each step, The sweat dripped off him on to the hallway carpet as he crawled across it. "For f**k's sake!" Andrew yelled at the mobile insistently ringing yet again. "I'm doing my best to get to you!"

It was a best brilliantly done as he got to within arm's length of the coffee table. Then in a split second finish to his marathon, he collapsed unconscious with a lingering, tortured scream.