Chapter 2 � A drink with a Scotsman

 Chapter 2 – A drink with a Scotsman

Have I ever mentioned that candyfloss and fairground rides don’t really mix? Well, they don’t.

I collapsed on the sofa, feeling slightly nauseated. Keira threw herself down on one side, Molly on the other, and Joseph folded himself into the armchair opposite.

“That was fantastic!” Keira was practically bouncing off the ceiling. It probably wasn’t a good idea to let her have all that sugar.

Molly laughed sweetly. “Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it! Although next time I think we’ll steer clear of the rollercoaster, right Jim?”

I nodded weakly.

“Didn’t you like it, Dad?” Joseph watched me, his eyes sparkling.  He was tall for his age, about 5”6, slim and lanky like I was. He wasn’t particularly interested in sport, unless it included running. Seriously, I have never seen anyone run so fast. He could challenge the wind and beat it to boot.

He grinned cheekily at me, brushing his hair away from his face. It had grown long in the past few months, so much so that his mother was threatening to hack it all off with a pair of garden shears. I rolled my eyes at him. He came over and sat on me. Keira squeaked as her brother’s weight half squashed her. Molly turned on the TV. We settled.

After a while, Molly nudged me. “Don’t forget about Gary.”

“I won’t.” I was almost asleep.

“Are you going out with Uncle Gary?’ Keira piped up. He wasn’t really their uncle – I was an only child and Molly had two brothers living in America- and he wasn’t a god-father since neither of us were particularly religious, but he was an uncle in the same way that all long-term family friends always turn into an uncle or aunt once the little ones come along. Gary and Evelyn had no children of their own, so they spoilt ours with a vengeance.

“Yes, I am.” I said, tweaking her nose playfully. “And Auntie Evelyn’s bringing around some of her Brownies.”

Keira’s young face lit up at the prospect of more sugar.

“It’s ten to, Jim.” Molly gently chided me. I heaved a sigh and got up from my comfortable position in search of my coat.

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Sure enough, ten minutes later Gary’s battered old Landrover Defender juddered to a halt outside and the man himself thumped cheerily on the front door. Molly let him in.

“Ah, Jim, are youse tae git pissed?”

Gary is one of those men that can terrify muggers in dark alleyways into giving him their wallets, while at the same time enjoys watching Gardner’s World and always cries when Bambi’s mother dies. It was a rather odd combination, although to imagine the huge Scottish eccentric as anything else would be impossible.

And he was huge. I have always been pretty tall myself at a healthy 6”2, but Gary towered over even me. With thickset shoulders, a long bushy beard, vibrant ginger hair and muscles the size of small cars, he could be quite intimidating if you didn’t know the softhearted kitten-lover underneath.

“Gary!” Molly admonished him. “Watch your language!”

“Och, sairy lassie.” He chuckled, and then scooped her up in a massive bear hug, kissing both cheeks before he let her down again. “A brang some of Evee’s Brownies tae keep youse happy whilst A kidnap yer hubby for the mirk!” He said, drawing out a covered tray. The delicious smell of freshly baked chocolate-chip Brownies wafted over to where I stood, making my ride-churned stomach rumble appreciatively.

Joseph and Keira chose that moment to rush in and fling themselves on their Uncle Gary, laughing delightedly. Next to that bear of a man, they looked tiny.

“Weel, if it isna wee Joseph and Keira! A hope you’ve been keepin’ an eye on yer da!”

“Yes Uncle Gary!” They intoned dutifully, both grinning. “We’ve made sure he hasn’t gotten into any trouble!”

I made a face. It’s a long-standing joke that Gary supposedly employs Molly and the kids to keep an eye on me.

“Once your spies have finished giving a report of my daily crimes, would you like to go?”

“Dinnae be so sae impatient, Robin! We’ll suin hae youse in the stocks!” Another inside joke. It’s probably best not to ask about this one.

I bent down and kissed Keira, then patted Joseph on the head. “Be good for your mother!” I kissed Molly. “Save some Brownie for me!”

“We won’t!” She winked, then shoved us out of the door with the threat that if I didn’t have a good time, she would force me on the 50ft drop ride I had been too much of a coward to go on earlier. Since I’ve never been fond of heights, I did as she said.

The weather outside had taken a turn for the worst. Earlier it had been clear enough to enjoy a good day out, but as darkness fell, a cold wind and depressing drizzle came with it. I hunched deeper into my coat as we tramped to the Landrover, giving Gary a grateful smile as he switched the heater on as soon as I hopped in.

The Royal Stag was a ten-minute drive from my house. It was a pleasant little place, a classic British pub where loyal customers never paid their tab and darts games were held every Friday evening. Gary and I came here quite often, so the barman waved to us as we came in and had our usual orders ready by the time we’d sat down.

Being a Saturday evening, the place was surprisingly quite. Not even the TV on the bar playing highlights of some football match was drawing much of a crowd. We snagged ourselves a table out of the way in one of the quiet corners, and Gary produced some peanuts from somewhere.

A tired-looking waitress set two pints of bitter down and Gary and I were left to ourselves.

“We shoud dae this mair aften, Jimbo. Does yer pale skin guid tae see the light of day.”

“I, unfortunately, can’t hold four pints of good Scottish Ale down as well as some people I could name. If we can keep the embarrassing table-dancing down to a minimum, that’d be great.”

Gary wrinkled his nose and held up his glass to the smoky lights. “This is haurdly Scottish Ale, Jim. Shilpit British gnat’s piss mair like!”

“Don’t let the landlord hear you bashing his drink!” I chortled, and took a deep draught from my own gnats piss. Creamy froth stuck to my lip, and I wiped it away quickly. True, the Royal Stag was not renown for it’s alcohol, but it was cheaper than the Ritz.

Gary settled his great bulk more comfortably and looked at me sternly over his drink.

“Sae, Jim, A hear yer conscious has been on the mairch again.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“Molly telt me this mornin afore she woke youse up.”

See, I told you. They compare notes on me when I’m not looking.

I sighed. “You know what I’m like, Gary. It’ll pass. It always does.”

“If yer nae happy wi yer job, why don’t youse do something else?”

“It pays the bills and keeps Molly and the kids happy.”

“But it’s making youse miserable. A just cannae understand youse sometimes, Robin. Yer always takkin care of awbody ense afore yerself.”

“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do? Robin of Sherwood – protector of the poor?”

“Jim, A anerly caw youse Robin acause A swicked youse intae dressin up as him ane time in Uni. Hilarious as it was, youse dinnae need tae take it tae hert.”

I stared glumly into my drink. “It’s not just the pay, you know. I’m worried that if I did quit, I wouldn’t be able to get in somewhere else.”

I looked up as Gary snorted incredulously. “Jim, yer a britcht lad. Youse cam awa frae University wi ah solaid dagree and guid recommendations! It’s nae like they’ll turn youse awa for bein tae thick!”

I guess he was right. It wasn’t as if I was depriving some village of their idiot. I mean, I got a scholarship to Cambridge for goodness sake! I only declined because Molly was pregnant with Joseph at that point and I couldn’t ask her to move with me. Instead I settled on London University, and left with a pretty impressive set of results. It wasn’t too late to go back and study to be a doctor or something. It wouldn’t be hard.

But apart from my hellish job, I was happy. I’m a home-loving person, not keen on change. My family was happy too, and that was the most important thing.

“I see your point, Gary, but someone has to do this job. Why let some other poor sap suffer?”

“But Jim! This job is harlin on youse! Even A can see that! Molly’s wirrit about youse tae!”

I drained my glass silently. Gary ordered me another. When it came, a trickle of froth running down the outside of the crystal-like glass, I replied steadily: “Gary, I chose this job, so I’m going to have to deal with it. I realize that by saying that, I lose my right to moan, but I’ll get over it. I thought you always say to look on the bright side of things?”

His big brown eyes looked at me sympathetically. “Anerly whan there is one.”

I frowned and sipped my drink.

Okay, perhaps my speech to Gary sounds like a strange change of heart. Yesterday I was moaning like an old farmer’s wife, but here in this smoky pub, with a stiff drink and good company, I felt a world away from the clinical corridors and harsh lights at work.

Besides, Gary would only pester me even harder to get a new job if he knew just how much turmoil my poor brain was in.

“Anyway, how’s Evelyn?” I asked, changing the subject.

“Aye, she’s guid. Mighty excited aboout the trip neist weekend.” I could imagine. Evelyn was a slender Hispanic beauty with luscious red lips and mysterious hazel eyes. To look at her, you’d think she’d stepped right off the front page of some fashion magazine. She was probably far too excitable, bouncy and bubbly for that though. If you put her and Molly in the same room together, they’d immediately be off on the gossip train and would talk your ear off about anything and everything. If the Olympic games had a talking contest, those two could easily win gold for Britian – or Scotland as the case may be.

“And I bet Molly and the kids are all scoffing the Brownies right now so there’ll be none left for me.”

I sounded so despondent that Gary burst into thundering laughter and clapped me on the shoulder. “Och, dinnae youse worry, Jim! A’ll geit her tae make a speicial batch just for youse!”

I’m a sucker for Evelyn’s cooking.

“Speaking of the wee bairns, A hear Joseph won a race tither day.”

I nodded, allowing a proud smile to creep over my face. “He sure did! It was a regional race and he came first, so they’re stepping him up to national.”

“Guid for him! That lad may end up an Olympic medalist one day!”

I grinned, remembering when Joseph was much smaller than he was now, and I’d sat him on my knee and asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up.

“I wanna be a cheetah!”

I laughed and bounced him up and down. “Why do you want to be a cheetah, Jo-jo?”

“Because they run fast!”

Even then he had a clear goal in mind.

“He’s growing up, that’s for sure. He’ll be fifteen in the autumn.”

“Nou, that’s a scary thocht!”

“I know.” I groaned. “It makes me feel old.”

For a while we lapsed into companionable silence, listening to the commentator on the TV and the dull murmur of the bar’s other occupants. Gary brought me yet another drink. I had the funny feeling he was trying to get me drunk, but I wasn’t complaining. I felt warm and fuzzy, and that was probably because of the drink too. But that was okay.

“Gary?”

“Aye?”

“You think…that if I did give up my job, I could find something else?”

“Aye, easily.”

“What do you think I’d be good at?”

Gary eyed me thoughtfully. “Mebbe a professional juggler? Or an air hostess.”

“’Not a girl.” I wrinkled my nose, and the Scotsman laughed.

“Seriously, you think I could be a doctor? Like in Casualty?”

“Why’d youse wanna be one o thir depressive, druooged-up dafties? Aw thay dae is skirt around wi scalpels, lordin’ ower awbody an’ ‘avin affairs. I dannae think Molly’d be tae happy aboot that.”

“I think it seems glamorous.”

“Jim, thay’re actoors.”

I went to take another sip from my glass only to find it empty. I frowned. “I don’t think I’d be a very good actor. Did I drink this?”

“Aye, youse did.” Gary was still nursing his first pint. “Yer tae honest tae be an actoor.”

“Thanks?” Gary didn’t think much of actors, but then he also always said truly honest men were a pain in the neck.

He laughed, downed the rest of his drink and offered me a hand. “C’mon, lad, ‘tis time tae gae.”

I pouted. “Already?”

“Yer drunk, Jim. Any mair and yer’ll be oout cold.

“Am not. Won’t.” I stood up and swayed slightly, grabbing his arm for support. Okay, so maybe I was drunk.

Gary waved a cheery goodnight to the landlord before depositing me in the passenger seat of his Landi and climbing in himself.

“Well, at laist Molly winna  have nae trouble frae youse tonight.” He watched me staring docilely out of the window and then started the engine.

“Trouble? Me?”

“Ack Jim, yer so wee trouble tha youse make James Dean leuk like an altar boy.”

I didn’t even try to understand that, and instead drifted off into the happy pink clouds of drunkenness, surfacing briefly when Gary steered me out of the car and into Molly’s waiting arms, and then once again as she helped me pull off my cloths and tumble into bed.

I slept soundly that night.

Author's Note

See http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/Dusky/310077/ for translations of the scottish accent.

Reviews

[Tina Kline]

This chapter was interesting and I'm still wanting to get to the end of the story. I want to
know now what Jim is going to do about his problem with his job. Having a translation provided at the end of this chapter of Gary's Scottish would have been a very big help becasue I feel I lost part of the
story for the reason that I did not understand everything he was saying.

Tina

[Frances O'Neill]

I think I understood it for the most part, the accent I mean! Jim and Gary in the bar makes for a

comical, interesting scene.