Shall We Do It Boy-Girl Boy-Girl?
by Pat Black
Genre: Drama
Swearwords: A few strong ones.
Description: It's Daft Friday, and Billy's looking forward to the Christmas do at the office.
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The tinsel decorating the counter in Latif’s shop might have been a dozen Christmases old, and it had gone bald. Perhaps someone had spent an evening plucking the drooping silvery fronds out of boredom, or despair. Billy had an urge to pick it himself while he waited for Latif to ring the booze through the till.
“You partying tonight, I take it?” Latif said, handing him a blue carrier bag filled with cans of beer.
“Yeah, for sure,” Billy said.
“Big night, eh?”
“Definitely, Latif.”
“Is it your work?”
“It is,” said Billy. “Christmas do. Having a few drinks and stuff in the office, then heading out.”
“Ah, good man. The ladies better be watching out tonight, eh? Playa in the house!”
A guy who was behind Billy in the queue said, “Hey mate, can I go to your party? I’ll swap you – you can stay in the house with my missus.”
A few other people in the queue laughed. “Yeah, come along, feel free,” Billy said, smiling. “I’ll save you some.” Billy took his change and left the shop. In the cold outside, his cheeks and ears burned.
In the freezing fog the streets were unfamiliar, alien. In this cottony cocoon the fairy lights on the trees visible through people’s windows seemed oddly forbidding. He thought of an angler fish down in the deeps, restive beneath its neon lure.
On the train, there were a load of other people heading for their own Christmas dos. Young girls, new haircuts, all legs and shiny dresses, their excited prattle. A team of old guys in leather jackets, whooping and laughing and red-faced. A couple of women in their fifties or sixties, wrapped up in big coats and scarves, huddled together on their seats, whispering. Billy sat right at the very back, drowning them out with his MP3 player and staring at the lids of the beer cans in the bag at his feet, their tight, reassuring grid. He strongly considered having one, and then did. Some people looked over to where he was sat, and a few made comments, smiling. He smiled back, and gulped the lager down. He hadn’t had anything to eat and the liquid was sour in his stomach, disagreeable. He burped into his hand.
The fog swallowed the people up when he left the station. This was Daft Friday, the emergency services’ busiest day of the year; there were sirens and blue lights already. His MP3 couldn’t quite drown out the sound of an ambulance, shrieking out of the mantle of vapour; one of the old boys who’d been on the train, who were going the same way as Billy, put his fingers in his ears.
Slowly, the office came into view. Lights, colours, action. Silhouettes through the slatted blinds showed people were dancing already; bifurcated people, black and white bars swaying in time to a beat he couldn’t hear.
He took his headphones off after he’d buzzed himself through the security door. Kendra, a buxom lady in her fifties who was his line manager, was out in the corridor, writing a text message. Pissed already, she gave him a big hug and showed him where to put the beer. “That’s a big bag you’ve got there!” she trilled. She was wearing a paper hat. “Where have you been anyway?”
“I had stuff to do in the house. It started at five, didn’t it?”
“It started at three, you plum! Get in there, everyone else is here.”
“Oh, smashing.” He handed her his coat.
“Janice is here,” she said, winking at him.
“That’s grand. Any of those little sausages left, Kendra? I like them.”
“You’re blushing! Ha ha!” Kendra gave him another hug, a lingering one, and he was horribly aware of her breasts for a moment.
The music in the office seemed to assault him. Everyone was a good distance down the road. The eyes, the red faces, the over-loud chatter. The girls were up and dancing along with the two or three gay guys in the office, a blur of legs, tits and hair gel. Dotted around the tables were the wreckage of an in-house buffet; chicken wings, sausage rolls, tuna sandwiches cut into triangles and the ubiquitously untouched quiche. There was no sign of Janice.
Everyone spotted him, and there were a few whoops and cheers. He saluted them with an opened can.
He went to get himself a paper plate and some food. At the table where the buffet was set up, Douglas was standing talking to Daphne. It was mostly to do with the fact the girl was called Daphne, but he imagined Douglas and Daphne being like Fred and Daphne in Scooby Doo. Douglas, tall, blond and gym-honed, Daphne with a lovely pair of good long legs on her and straight, shiny red hair.
“Hey, Billy!” Douglas reached over and took Billy’s hand.
“Douglas, hey. How you doing?”
“Not bad. Shit, we thought you weren’t coming. It’s good to see you.”
“Ah, I had stuff to do in the house. Sorry I’m late. Anyway, I’m here now. Time for the last of the wee sausages, I think.”
“Ah, too right, mate. You okay for drink there?” Billy shook his head, gesturing with the can. Douglas turned to Daphne. “I’m going to get a refill, be back in a minute.” He went over to a table stacked with cans and bottles. A girl drifted over to chat with him.
Billy nodded at Daphne. “Hey there. You heading out with us tonight?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She tossed her hair when she said this; some nervous tic, maybe. “I said I’d head up the road at about ten, I’ve got another couple of big nights out to go on this week. I need to watch the cash.”
“Excellent,” Billy said. He heaped potato salad on his plate.
“We didn’t think you were coming. Janice was going to text you.”
“Oh, right. No-one did. I kind of got my times mixed up, I thought it started at five.”
“Nah, three. And anyway, if you thought it started at five, you’re still late!”
“I know, I know. I’m playing catch-up.”“Good plan, I say. Very sensible. Most of these people are birling anyway.” She leaned into him, and he caught a puff of perfume. “Janice was asking after you.”
“Oh right. She still here?”
“She is, she is. Think she’s in the staff room. You know what they say about parties, all the best conversations are in the kitchen.” Daphne became the second person to wink at him that day. Then she went over to talk to some other guy.
After Douglas had guffawed with a pocket of gay guys and dolly birds over by the stereo, he came back over to Billy again. One of the girls took Douglas’s hand and tried to keep him where he was, but he managed to get clear.
“Few steamers about tonight, Billy,” he said, cracking open a can of lager.
“So I see. I’m well behind,” Billy said.
“I think we’re heading to the dancing,” Douglas said. “Going to go quite soon. You up for that?”
“Definitely. Had a good night last time, eh? At the Social?”
“We did,” Douglas nodded. The last time was when people suspected he’d got it together with Daphne. The pair even had a collective name in the office: Double D. It was sort of embarrassing as Daphne was engaged. Some older guy with a Beamer and bald spot. Always the way.
Actually, Douglas was alright. Bit of a player but he got on alright with the guys. You couldn’t be jealous of him. Billy had been for a few pints with him before.
There was a bit more small talk, then someone screamed. Billy knew who it was without looking.
He had the briefest impression of leopardskin-patterning before Janice struck, scooping him up in an almost paralysing embrace. Her lips were greasy and slipped off the side of his face. This must be what it’s like to be actually attacked by a leopard, he thought; one little flash of activity, you connect the dots, and then you die.
“Where have you been?” The leopardskin blouse was slashed open, and her breasts were enormous, utterly disproportionate to her small frame. Breasts that got cross if you didn’t look, breasts that bet you a fiver you couldn’t look away. Her black bra was fringed with white lace. He could smell sweet white wine on her breath.
He explained about having stuff to do in the house, but she was having none of it. “Tonight’s not the night to be shy. Are you up for coming out to the dancing later?”
“Oh definitely, definitely.”
Douglas tried to hide a smile behind his can. “You’re looking well, Janice.”
She beamed. “Thank you Douglas. Looking well yourself.”
Things sped up after that. Billy had a few chats with his colleagues, the usual small talk with the dolly birds and the gay guys. Then an irritatingly upbeat exchange with Santa himself, the boss, provider of the provender. A grave-looking man with a smoker’s face, hewn from timber. Billy had worked there for eighteen months now but the bastard still didn’t know his name and was possibly even less sure of his face.
Billy sat for a while with Moira, who had been off on maternity. She had put on a wee bit of weight but was still lovely-looking. He’d remembered thinking so when she was getting heavier with the baby, sitting across from him at the office. One time, Janice had noted that the Titty Fairy had been to Moira’s house, and he had guffawed along with everyone else. But there was nothing sexual in these feelings, or how he noted her changing body. Something else, entirely. He’d always made a fuss over her when she was expecting. Opening doors, going to collect cups of tea from the canteen.
“You’re looking great,” he said. “When you bringing the wee fella back in to see us?”
“I wish I’d brought him tonight,” she said. “Tommy’s useless when he’s left on his own with him. On the phone every two minutes!”
“The wee man would be up there dancing.”
“Too right. Well, maybe when he gets his sea legs, he’s still a bit unsteady just now. He’s into everything, though, I swear to God. You can’t turn your back for a second.”
“Do you get used to all the poop?”
“Get used to it? I’m a bloody artist with poop. I am the mistress of poop. I fear no poop.”
“Even the multi-coloured ones?”
“Especially those. You just deal with them, I guess.” She grinned, then bit into a Scotch egg.
“It’s a life skill, that.”
“Totally. How about you, anyway? What’s your plans for Christmas?”
“Ah, I dunno. My brother’s invited me over but it’s a long way to go.”
“Oh! You should go.”
“I know. I don’t really want to be away for a whole week, though. Got a few plans with my mates, you know?”
“Well, you can see your mates any time, Billy. Christmas is about family. Your brother’s got kids, hasn’t he?”
“Three. All mental. I was talking to them on the phone the other night. They asked some awkward questions about Santa.”
“Like, ‘How does he get in the house when we have a two-bar electric heater and no chimney?’ Those kind of questions?”
“Yeah. I just told them, straight – he has a magic key. Plus, magic dust to freeze time, so he can get to every boy and girl in time around the world.”
“Aw. You’re a good uncle. See, you’d have fun. You should be with family. Your brother will want to see you, too, you know. He’ll want to see you right.”
“I know. I’ll have a think about it. By the way, I meant to tell you. Thanks for the card, I really appreciated that.”
“Oh, don’t bother, no trouble at all.”
“I mean, you were all ready to go with the wee fella and everything.”
“Oh no, it was nothing. It was the least I could do. You all bearing up okay? The rest of your family getting on alright?”
“Yeah, fine. Totally fine.”
Farewells were said, and things were wrapped up pretty quickly. They got their coats together and split off into separate groups; Billy went with Douglas, Daphne, Janice and Colin, a sort of specky guy who came in to do IT now and again, who never ever spoke to anyone. Janice tried to get the gay guys to come along, but they all followed the glittery dollybirds into taxis. These ladies took their time saying goodbye to Douglas, lots of hugs and kisses. Daphne chewed the side of her mouth, but managed a smile.
Janice looped an arm through Billy’s as they walked back into town. “So tell me, tiger. What have you asked Santa for this year?”
“Ah, you know. The usual. A football. The Oor Wullie. Puncture repair kit for the blow-up doll.”
Janice laughed, much too loudly. She tilted her head back; he saw her fillings. People lurking across the road turned to stare at her.
They were going to a place called Jintzy’s, one of these restaurant-cum-pub-cum-club places that were convenient if you wanted to stay in the one shithole from beginning to end of your night. On the way down the road, they stopped at a bank machine.
“It’s the solstice tonight,” Colin the IT guy said.
“Jesus!” Janice said. “I got a fright there. You actually made a sound, Colin!”
“The nights will start getting lighter again from tonight. You might see the Great Bear,” Colin said. “It’s pointing straight to the south. It means the sun’s coming back around to us. Everything’s in its place.”
Janice wafted the air in front of her face. “Sorry, Colin, I couldn’t see you there for all this fog. What was that you were saying about looking at the stars?”
“I’m into that stuff,” Douglas said. “I mean, I dunno about the constellations and I couldn’t name one of them. Maybe Orion’s belt, or the Big Dipper. I got one of those planetarium things for Christmas when I was a kid. I’ve still got it. I love to sit there and watch the stars go round and round. ‘Specially when I’m pissed.”
Douglas was alright. A good guy. Daphne smiled. She was standing awfully close to him.
It was much too loud in Jintzy’s and rammed with people, but they managed to get a table. Pure luck; a miserable-looking bunch of people got up to leave, and Janice pounced. “Sit down,” she said. “Shall we do it boy-girl boy-girl?”
Colin sat at the end of the table but said very little; him aside, boy-girl boy-girl worked fine. Daphne and Douglas had a good chat, heads leaned close in to each other. Colin took long, sweeping gazes at the ladies who passed in front of him, taking sips from a pint like a lizard tasting the air with its tongue.
“Do you think Colin is sending out signals?” Janice whispered.
“Definitely. That guy’s a sexual lighthouse,” he whispered back, and Janice roared with laughter.
Billy noticed the new highlights in her hair, told her they were nice.
“You’re a charmer tonight, mister,” she told him. She took his hand.
Then Colin shrieked, “Photo, everyone!” He leapt to his feet and took out his mobile phone. The four others huddled in for the shot, grinning. Idiot, Billy thought, baring his teeth. Janice had let go of his hand.
They got dancing after that. There were some awfully drunk people in there; guys still wearing paper hats from their Christmas meal earlier in the day; leches and slags, some of them all over each other. One guy appeared to be dry humping a tiny little woman clear off her feet in one corner. Another girl, clinging onto a banister, bit into a fake Christmas tree while her friends all lined up photos. She did this twice, while people adjusted their angles and took more shots.
Daphne and Janice attracted a lot of attention from the men. Both of them were completely insouciant, Janice’s breasts jiggling with a rhythm of their own. Only when the wolves got too close did they back away or put a hand up to ward them off. Billy burned with a strange resentment and went to the bar to get drinks.
Janice joined him. “Music’s alright,” she shouted in his ear. “Wish they would put some Christmassy stuff on, though. You know – some Slade?”
“Probably saving it for nearer the end,” he said.
“Maybe they’ll get us in a big circle at last orders? Auld Lang Syne.”
“Maybe they’ll bring a choir in. Sing We’re Walking in the Air.”
She giggled. He put his hand on the small of her back, and kept it there. She gave him a look, then, something that he couldn’t read. Not exactly shock or surprise; it was a serious look, an unusual look from Janice. Blood surging, he moved forward to kiss her. She took a step back. “Whoa,” she said.
“I’m sorry,” he said, eyes widening. “Sorry.”
“It’s alright. I’m just a wee bit surprised. It’s okay, though, Billy, you’re alright.”
“Shit. I’m sorry.”
“You’re fine. Hey, it’s alright, don’t worry. We’ll have a sit down and a wee chat later, eh?”
They decided shots might be a good idea; sambuccas, unlit, then some multi-coloured nonsense which came from a row of bottles which had a scorpion on the label. All five clinked their shot glasses and chased them, wishing each other a merry Christmas. Billy choked it back, swallowing down the burning sensation.
Janice spoke to Colin for a while; he pretended to look at messages on his phone, keeping an eye on how close these two got. Janice slapped Colin on the knee as they shared a joke. When Colin got up to go for a pee, he moved in and sat down.
“Would you take his grave as quick?” she said, raising an eyebrow.
“I don’t want his grave. I want his nice comfy chair.”
They started talking, then. Properly talking. The drink had loosened his tongue. Things about his family. What had happened this year. The funeral. Later, this would be one of the things that he couldn’t bear to think about; one of the things that caused him to bury his head in the covers when he woke up in the dead hours of the night, or early in the mornings when his consciousness beat the alarm clock, with nowhere for his thoughts to turn but inwards.
“I understand,” she said, patting his arm. “I kind of felt the same way. When my ex-boyfriend left me, I didn’t know where I was. You know?”
“He was an arsehole. A total arsehole.”
“It was my fault, too, Billy,” she said.
“Still an arsehole.”
They talked about her for a while. They talked about them both being 30 soon. She talked about the girls in the pub, whether he didn’t fancy any of them. “I don’t know them, do I?” he said, irritated.
“Well... you’ve got to start somewhere. I think you need a girlfriend, old son. That’s what I think. We’ll try and get you a girlfriend.”
“I’m not sure I want... Oh!” He gestured helplessly. “I’m crap at that stuff.”
“What do you mean?”
“Asking girls out. Things like that.”
“What do you mean?” The old Janice appeared in her expression now; playful Janice. Leopardskin Janice.
“Just, you know, asking girls out. It’s easy for someone like Douglas,” he said, gesturing to where Daphne and Douglas were sat, talking. Heads very close. “They come to him, don’t they? It’s like he’s got a dog whistle or something.”
“It’s not all about what you look like.” Janice said. “I mean look at... hey, look at Colin!”
Colin was on the dance floor. A girl who seemed to be wearing some sort of fancy dress costume was cosying up to him, wrapping a pink feather boa about his neck. Had Colin been sporting a bow tie at that moment, Billy was sure it would have begun to spin.
“His fucking glasses will get steamed up,” Billy said.
“Look! He’s tongueing her! Colin’s a player, how about that?”
“Yeah, how about it?”
She patted his knee, a little gesture of admonition. “Now, now. Don’t be sour. He’s an example for you. If a specky gadge like that can get a lumber, it’s no problem for a fine lookin’ man like you. Listen to your aunty Janice. I’ll make it my mission to get you a nice bird. I’ll keep an eye out for you. How about that?”
“Great. It’s a deal.”
“Come on, don’t be like that. I have powers, you know. I’ll get you over the line.”
“How do you mean?”
“What?”
“Get me over what line?”
“Nothing. I’ll get you a bird. That’s what I mean.”
“I’m not a virgin, or anything. Christ.”
She laughed. “I never said you were, honey. Never said you were.”
Daphne got up and left. No goodbyes were said, no hugs and kisses. She slipped her coat on, waved at everyone and was on her way.
“Now where do you suppose she’s going?” Janice said.
“Home to her fiancé?”
If Douglas was upset, he didn’t show it. He collected his half-drunk pint glass and came over to Billy and Janice. “Hey there. It’s hellova noisy in here, eh?”
“Where’s Daphne off to?” Billy said.
“Allan was picking her up, he’s waiting outside.”
“Oh, I’ve never met Allan,” Janice said. “Why didn’t she bring him in to meet us?”
Douglas shrugged.
Colin disappeared; Billy never saw the girl with the feather boa again either.
At last, the old records came on, Slade, Wizzard, Paul McCartney. Janice whooped and dragged them all up to dance. By then the amount of punters had thinned out somewhat. When Fairytale of New York came on, Janice and Douglas took it in turns to sing the lines. Janice sagged into Douglas at the part where they sang, “you took my dreams from me,” and Billy saw with complete clarity and certainty where the night had been headed all along. Something inside him bowed its head and slunk off. He made a gesture towards the bar; Janice nodded vigorously. He got himself another multi-coloured shot and two more for the others. He watched them from a bar stool, dancing a waltz along the floor. Some people clapped and whooped at this. Her leopardskin blouse seemed to be undone almost to the navel, but she either didn’t know or didn’t care. Douglas, for his part, led her like a gentleman. “This year’s Strictly Come Dancing champions, folks, give it up!” the kindly DJ said. “And that’s last orders at the bar, folks. Last orders.”
“That was a great night,” Janice said, as they gathered their coats. “I really enjoyed that.”
“Me too,” Billy said. “Right good laugh.”
“I thought it was open later than this,” Douglas said. “Probably a good time to call it quits, though.”
“Definitely. Hey – you guys could come back to mine. I’ve got plenty of drink in.”
Douglas and Billy’s eyes met. “Could do,” Billy said.
“Sounds good to me, I don’t have anything planned for tomorrow morning.”
A girl tried to accost Douglas as they filed out when the lights went up. She was tall and had lovely long chocolate brown hair and a tattoo on her ankle and Billy thought, please, please. But Douglas shrugged her off after a bit of small talk. They headed outside; it had been snowing, and there was a good covering on the roads and pavement.
“Look at that!” Janice said, hand outstretched to catch a lazily drifting snowflake.
“When was the last time we had a white Christmas?” Douglas said. “I can’t remember.”
“Uh, it was the year East 17 got the Christmas number one, I’m sure,” Billy said. “That’s the only one I can remember.”
“You’re right! Christ, the drink’s destroyed my brain.” Douglas shook his head.
Janice lobbed a snowball at them; they played around in the snow for a while, giggling and laughing. Billy saw the taxi first, and flagged it down. Inside, Janice’s cheeks were red and she huddled in between the two boys. The taxi driver had golden tinsel around the window of his cab, and one of those tiny fake fir trees.
Janice’s flat was on the ground floor of a new-build block. The windows were all dark, save for the glittering trees inside. “We’ll need to keep the noise down,” Janice said. “There’s a few families here.”
Inside, the flat was compact but everything looked brand new; she hadn’t long moved in there, after breaking up with her fella. Christmas cards lined up around the available spaces, but no decorations, Billy noted.
She poured them vodkas, big ones, big enough to taste at this stage of the night. They drank their drinks; had another. Douglas and Billy sat at either end of a couch, with Janice sat on an armchair and the music on, but down low. Douglas and Janice bitched about other people in the office. Janice cackled.
When do I leave? Billy thought. He scanned the books on her white Ikea shelving, the DVDs; he stifled a yawn.
He didn’t remember putting his head down for a snooze, but he must have because when he lifted his head, Douglas and Janice were kissing beside him on the couch. Douglas ran one hand through her hair and she gasped at that, a raw sound.
Confused for a moment, Billy drew in breath and shifted in his seat, knocking over an empty glass with his foot. Douglas and Janice parted.
“I must be going,” Billy said, rubbing his face. “I must be going.”
“Oh no, wait. It’s freezing outside,” said Janice.
“I’m going,” he said. “Where’s my jacket?”
“Hold up, mate,” Douglas said. “Don’t be daft. Get yourself a taxi.”
“I’ll be fine.” He got up to go.
“You can’t go out in that. Hang on, I know a number for a private hire firm.” Janice went for her phone.
Outside, beyond the net curtains, the snow was falling again, thicker clumps now. The streets were filled with light, washed in orange from the glow of the streetlamps. The private hire taxi firm said they were looking at a wait of ninety minutes.
“You can bed down here,” Janice said. “I’ve got spare blankets and stuff. Please. Please don’t go out there.”
Billy nodded, dumbly. His eyeballs seemed to be rolling about inside his head, adrift on their own sea, and he felt nauseous. “Maybe do that,” he said, and burped.
“You going to be sick?”
“No.”
“Okay then, okay.”
“Wonder if Colin’s seein’ ‘em,” Billy said, and giggled.
“What?” Douglas said.
“The stars. Wonder if Colin’s seeing the stars now?” He rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hand, and sat down heavily.
He gasped and thrashed awake. Daylight, fully laundered, crisp and white. Snow everywhere outside. That curious silence.
He had his shoes off but he couldn’t remember having removed them. He had a pillow and a duvet over him. Despite that, and the fact he still had his clothes on, he was cold.
He checked his watch; a decent hour. There were children shouting and laughing outside the window. The snow was still coming down. All around the flat, the fault scars of a night back at the flat. Empty beer bottles he could not remember drinking. One suspiciously full cup of tea sat nearest to him on the coffee table. An empty tub of Pringles. He could remember none of these things.
While he got his shoes on, Janice padded through to the livingroom. She was wearing a black terry-towelling house coat. Her toenails were also black. Tiny, tiny feet, Billy thought.
“Hey,” she said. “I heard you getting up.”
“Yeah, I’d best get going. Thanks for letting me stay.”
“Oh, no problem.” She was looking rough; her hair had seen better days and she hadn’t taken her make-up off from the night before. But she smiled at him. “Hope you were comfy.”
“It was fine.”
“You want a cup of tea? Maybe even stretch to some breakfast, if you’re hungry.”
“Oh, no.” He clutched his stomach. “I couldn’t. Some night, eh?”
“It was good. I hope you’re okay.”
“I’m brand new. Totally fine. Douglas away?”
She didn’t flinch. “Yeah. It was funny, he got a text message and he left. Not long after you fell asleep.”
“Right.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes. Totally fine. I’d best be off, then.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Stuff to do in the flat, today. Bit of Christmas shopping.”
“You don’t need to shoot off, you know.”
“I do. I do.”
She bit her lip and nodded. There wasn’t anything else to say. He hugged her at the door, and she hugged him back, sinking her head into his chest, rubbing his back. “You make sure you have a good Christmas,” she said. “You make sure, now.”
Outside, real trees, ribbons of snow covering their stark winter nakedness. A boy and a girl, both aged about eight or nine, were running around crazy, scooping snow off the bonnets of cars and lobbing it at each other. A mum and dad in their late thirties were scraping snow off their 4x4’s windscreen. “Come on,” the dad said to them, “let’s go.”
“I want to make an angel first, dad,” the girl said. She threw herself into a bank of snow on a spare patch of ground and started making the angel shape, waving her arms back and forth.
“Elizabeth!” her mother said. “You’ll get a chill! Look at you, you’re soaking wet! Into the car, you two – now!”
He watched them as he passed by on the pavement, noting the utter joy and over-excitement in them, on their faces, as their father started the car up and drove away.
Swearwords: A few strong ones.
Description: It's Daft Friday, and Billy's looking forward to the Christmas do at the office.
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The tinsel decorating the counter in Latif’s shop might have been a dozen Christmases old, and it had gone bald. Perhaps someone had spent an evening plucking the drooping silvery fronds out of boredom, or despair. Billy had an urge to pick it himself while he waited for Latif to ring the booze through the till.
“You partying tonight, I take it?” Latif said, handing him a blue carrier bag filled with cans of beer.
“Yeah, for sure,” Billy said.
“Big night, eh?”
“Definitely, Latif.”
“Is it your work?”
“It is,” said Billy. “Christmas do. Having a few drinks and stuff in the office, then heading out.”
“Ah, good man. The ladies better be watching out tonight, eh? Playa in the house!”
A guy who was behind Billy in the queue said, “Hey mate, can I go to your party? I’ll swap you – you can stay in the house with my missus.”
A few other people in the queue laughed. “Yeah, come along, feel free,” Billy said, smiling. “I’ll save you some.” Billy took his change and left the shop. In the cold outside, his cheeks and ears burned.
In the freezing fog the streets were unfamiliar, alien. In this cottony cocoon the fairy lights on the trees visible through people’s windows seemed oddly forbidding. He thought of an angler fish down in the deeps, restive beneath its neon lure.
On the train, there were a load of other people heading for their own Christmas dos. Young girls, new haircuts, all legs and shiny dresses, their excited prattle. A team of old guys in leather jackets, whooping and laughing and red-faced. A couple of women in their fifties or sixties, wrapped up in big coats and scarves, huddled together on their seats, whispering. Billy sat right at the very back, drowning them out with his MP3 player and staring at the lids of the beer cans in the bag at his feet, their tight, reassuring grid. He strongly considered having one, and then did. Some people looked over to where he was sat, and a few made comments, smiling. He smiled back, and gulped the lager down. He hadn’t had anything to eat and the liquid was sour in his stomach, disagreeable. He burped into his hand.
The fog swallowed the people up when he left the station. This was Daft Friday, the emergency services’ busiest day of the year; there were sirens and blue lights already. His MP3 couldn’t quite drown out the sound of an ambulance, shrieking out of the mantle of vapour; one of the old boys who’d been on the train, who were going the same way as Billy, put his fingers in his ears.
Slowly, the office came into view. Lights, colours, action. Silhouettes through the slatted blinds showed people were dancing already; bifurcated people, black and white bars swaying in time to a beat he couldn’t hear.
He took his headphones off after he’d buzzed himself through the security door. Kendra, a buxom lady in her fifties who was his line manager, was out in the corridor, writing a text message. Pissed already, she gave him a big hug and showed him where to put the beer. “That’s a big bag you’ve got there!” she trilled. She was wearing a paper hat. “Where have you been anyway?”
“I had stuff to do in the house. It started at five, didn’t it?”
“It started at three, you plum! Get in there, everyone else is here.”
“Oh, smashing.” He handed her his coat.
“Janice is here,” she said, winking at him.
“That’s grand. Any of those little sausages left, Kendra? I like them.”
“You’re blushing! Ha ha!” Kendra gave him another hug, a lingering one, and he was horribly aware of her breasts for a moment.
The music in the office seemed to assault him. Everyone was a good distance down the road. The eyes, the red faces, the over-loud chatter. The girls were up and dancing along with the two or three gay guys in the office, a blur of legs, tits and hair gel. Dotted around the tables were the wreckage of an in-house buffet; chicken wings, sausage rolls, tuna sandwiches cut into triangles and the ubiquitously untouched quiche. There was no sign of Janice.
Everyone spotted him, and there were a few whoops and cheers. He saluted them with an opened can.
He went to get himself a paper plate and some food. At the table where the buffet was set up, Douglas was standing talking to Daphne. It was mostly to do with the fact the girl was called Daphne, but he imagined Douglas and Daphne being like Fred and Daphne in Scooby Doo. Douglas, tall, blond and gym-honed, Daphne with a lovely pair of good long legs on her and straight, shiny red hair.
“Hey, Billy!” Douglas reached over and took Billy’s hand.
“Douglas, hey. How you doing?”
“Not bad. Shit, we thought you weren’t coming. It’s good to see you.”
“Ah, I had stuff to do in the house. Sorry I’m late. Anyway, I’m here now. Time for the last of the wee sausages, I think.”
“Ah, too right, mate. You okay for drink there?” Billy shook his head, gesturing with the can. Douglas turned to Daphne. “I’m going to get a refill, be back in a minute.” He went over to a table stacked with cans and bottles. A girl drifted over to chat with him.
Billy nodded at Daphne. “Hey there. You heading out with us tonight?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She tossed her hair when she said this; some nervous tic, maybe. “I said I’d head up the road at about ten, I’ve got another couple of big nights out to go on this week. I need to watch the cash.”
“Excellent,” Billy said. He heaped potato salad on his plate.
“We didn’t think you were coming. Janice was going to text you.”
“Oh, right. No-one did. I kind of got my times mixed up, I thought it started at five.”
“Nah, three. And anyway, if you thought it started at five, you’re still late!”
“I know, I know. I’m playing catch-up.”“Good plan, I say. Very sensible. Most of these people are birling anyway.” She leaned into him, and he caught a puff of perfume. “Janice was asking after you.”
“Oh right. She still here?”
“She is, she is. Think she’s in the staff room. You know what they say about parties, all the best conversations are in the kitchen.” Daphne became the second person to wink at him that day. Then she went over to talk to some other guy.
After Douglas had guffawed with a pocket of gay guys and dolly birds over by the stereo, he came back over to Billy again. One of the girls took Douglas’s hand and tried to keep him where he was, but he managed to get clear.
“Few steamers about tonight, Billy,” he said, cracking open a can of lager.
“So I see. I’m well behind,” Billy said.
“I think we’re heading to the dancing,” Douglas said. “Going to go quite soon. You up for that?”
“Definitely. Had a good night last time, eh? At the Social?”
“We did,” Douglas nodded. The last time was when people suspected he’d got it together with Daphne. The pair even had a collective name in the office: Double D. It was sort of embarrassing as Daphne was engaged. Some older guy with a Beamer and bald spot. Always the way.
Actually, Douglas was alright. Bit of a player but he got on alright with the guys. You couldn’t be jealous of him. Billy had been for a few pints with him before.
There was a bit more small talk, then someone screamed. Billy knew who it was without looking.
He had the briefest impression of leopardskin-patterning before Janice struck, scooping him up in an almost paralysing embrace. Her lips were greasy and slipped off the side of his face. This must be what it’s like to be actually attacked by a leopard, he thought; one little flash of activity, you connect the dots, and then you die.
“Where have you been?” The leopardskin blouse was slashed open, and her breasts were enormous, utterly disproportionate to her small frame. Breasts that got cross if you didn’t look, breasts that bet you a fiver you couldn’t look away. Her black bra was fringed with white lace. He could smell sweet white wine on her breath.
He explained about having stuff to do in the house, but she was having none of it. “Tonight’s not the night to be shy. Are you up for coming out to the dancing later?”
“Oh definitely, definitely.”
Douglas tried to hide a smile behind his can. “You’re looking well, Janice.”
She beamed. “Thank you Douglas. Looking well yourself.”
Things sped up after that. Billy had a few chats with his colleagues, the usual small talk with the dolly birds and the gay guys. Then an irritatingly upbeat exchange with Santa himself, the boss, provider of the provender. A grave-looking man with a smoker’s face, hewn from timber. Billy had worked there for eighteen months now but the bastard still didn’t know his name and was possibly even less sure of his face.
Billy sat for a while with Moira, who had been off on maternity. She had put on a wee bit of weight but was still lovely-looking. He’d remembered thinking so when she was getting heavier with the baby, sitting across from him at the office. One time, Janice had noted that the Titty Fairy had been to Moira’s house, and he had guffawed along with everyone else. But there was nothing sexual in these feelings, or how he noted her changing body. Something else, entirely. He’d always made a fuss over her when she was expecting. Opening doors, going to collect cups of tea from the canteen.
“You’re looking great,” he said. “When you bringing the wee fella back in to see us?”
“I wish I’d brought him tonight,” she said. “Tommy’s useless when he’s left on his own with him. On the phone every two minutes!”
“The wee man would be up there dancing.”
“Too right. Well, maybe when he gets his sea legs, he’s still a bit unsteady just now. He’s into everything, though, I swear to God. You can’t turn your back for a second.”
“Do you get used to all the poop?”
“Get used to it? I’m a bloody artist with poop. I am the mistress of poop. I fear no poop.”
“Even the multi-coloured ones?”
“Especially those. You just deal with them, I guess.” She grinned, then bit into a Scotch egg.
“It’s a life skill, that.”
“Totally. How about you, anyway? What’s your plans for Christmas?”
“Ah, I dunno. My brother’s invited me over but it’s a long way to go.”
“Oh! You should go.”
“I know. I don’t really want to be away for a whole week, though. Got a few plans with my mates, you know?”
“Well, you can see your mates any time, Billy. Christmas is about family. Your brother’s got kids, hasn’t he?”
“Three. All mental. I was talking to them on the phone the other night. They asked some awkward questions about Santa.”
“Like, ‘How does he get in the house when we have a two-bar electric heater and no chimney?’ Those kind of questions?”
“Yeah. I just told them, straight – he has a magic key. Plus, magic dust to freeze time, so he can get to every boy and girl in time around the world.”
“Aw. You’re a good uncle. See, you’d have fun. You should be with family. Your brother will want to see you, too, you know. He’ll want to see you right.”
“I know. I’ll have a think about it. By the way, I meant to tell you. Thanks for the card, I really appreciated that.”
“Oh, don’t bother, no trouble at all.”
“I mean, you were all ready to go with the wee fella and everything.”
“Oh no, it was nothing. It was the least I could do. You all bearing up okay? The rest of your family getting on alright?”
“Yeah, fine. Totally fine.”
Farewells were said, and things were wrapped up pretty quickly. They got their coats together and split off into separate groups; Billy went with Douglas, Daphne, Janice and Colin, a sort of specky guy who came in to do IT now and again, who never ever spoke to anyone. Janice tried to get the gay guys to come along, but they all followed the glittery dollybirds into taxis. These ladies took their time saying goodbye to Douglas, lots of hugs and kisses. Daphne chewed the side of her mouth, but managed a smile.
Janice looped an arm through Billy’s as they walked back into town. “So tell me, tiger. What have you asked Santa for this year?”
“Ah, you know. The usual. A football. The Oor Wullie. Puncture repair kit for the blow-up doll.”
Janice laughed, much too loudly. She tilted her head back; he saw her fillings. People lurking across the road turned to stare at her.
They were going to a place called Jintzy’s, one of these restaurant-cum-pub-cum-club places that were convenient if you wanted to stay in the one shithole from beginning to end of your night. On the way down the road, they stopped at a bank machine.
“It’s the solstice tonight,” Colin the IT guy said.
“Jesus!” Janice said. “I got a fright there. You actually made a sound, Colin!”
“The nights will start getting lighter again from tonight. You might see the Great Bear,” Colin said. “It’s pointing straight to the south. It means the sun’s coming back around to us. Everything’s in its place.”
Janice wafted the air in front of her face. “Sorry, Colin, I couldn’t see you there for all this fog. What was that you were saying about looking at the stars?”
“I’m into that stuff,” Douglas said. “I mean, I dunno about the constellations and I couldn’t name one of them. Maybe Orion’s belt, or the Big Dipper. I got one of those planetarium things for Christmas when I was a kid. I’ve still got it. I love to sit there and watch the stars go round and round. ‘Specially when I’m pissed.”
Douglas was alright. A good guy. Daphne smiled. She was standing awfully close to him.
It was much too loud in Jintzy’s and rammed with people, but they managed to get a table. Pure luck; a miserable-looking bunch of people got up to leave, and Janice pounced. “Sit down,” she said. “Shall we do it boy-girl boy-girl?”
Colin sat at the end of the table but said very little; him aside, boy-girl boy-girl worked fine. Daphne and Douglas had a good chat, heads leaned close in to each other. Colin took long, sweeping gazes at the ladies who passed in front of him, taking sips from a pint like a lizard tasting the air with its tongue.
“Do you think Colin is sending out signals?” Janice whispered.
“Definitely. That guy’s a sexual lighthouse,” he whispered back, and Janice roared with laughter.
Billy noticed the new highlights in her hair, told her they were nice.
“You’re a charmer tonight, mister,” she told him. She took his hand.
Then Colin shrieked, “Photo, everyone!” He leapt to his feet and took out his mobile phone. The four others huddled in for the shot, grinning. Idiot, Billy thought, baring his teeth. Janice had let go of his hand.
They got dancing after that. There were some awfully drunk people in there; guys still wearing paper hats from their Christmas meal earlier in the day; leches and slags, some of them all over each other. One guy appeared to be dry humping a tiny little woman clear off her feet in one corner. Another girl, clinging onto a banister, bit into a fake Christmas tree while her friends all lined up photos. She did this twice, while people adjusted their angles and took more shots.
Daphne and Janice attracted a lot of attention from the men. Both of them were completely insouciant, Janice’s breasts jiggling with a rhythm of their own. Only when the wolves got too close did they back away or put a hand up to ward them off. Billy burned with a strange resentment and went to the bar to get drinks.
Janice joined him. “Music’s alright,” she shouted in his ear. “Wish they would put some Christmassy stuff on, though. You know – some Slade?”
“Probably saving it for nearer the end,” he said.
“Maybe they’ll get us in a big circle at last orders? Auld Lang Syne.”
“Maybe they’ll bring a choir in. Sing We’re Walking in the Air.”
She giggled. He put his hand on the small of her back, and kept it there. She gave him a look, then, something that he couldn’t read. Not exactly shock or surprise; it was a serious look, an unusual look from Janice. Blood surging, he moved forward to kiss her. She took a step back. “Whoa,” she said.
“I’m sorry,” he said, eyes widening. “Sorry.”
“It’s alright. I’m just a wee bit surprised. It’s okay, though, Billy, you’re alright.”
“Shit. I’m sorry.”
“You’re fine. Hey, it’s alright, don’t worry. We’ll have a sit down and a wee chat later, eh?”
They decided shots might be a good idea; sambuccas, unlit, then some multi-coloured nonsense which came from a row of bottles which had a scorpion on the label. All five clinked their shot glasses and chased them, wishing each other a merry Christmas. Billy choked it back, swallowing down the burning sensation.
Janice spoke to Colin for a while; he pretended to look at messages on his phone, keeping an eye on how close these two got. Janice slapped Colin on the knee as they shared a joke. When Colin got up to go for a pee, he moved in and sat down.
“Would you take his grave as quick?” she said, raising an eyebrow.
“I don’t want his grave. I want his nice comfy chair.”
They started talking, then. Properly talking. The drink had loosened his tongue. Things about his family. What had happened this year. The funeral. Later, this would be one of the things that he couldn’t bear to think about; one of the things that caused him to bury his head in the covers when he woke up in the dead hours of the night, or early in the mornings when his consciousness beat the alarm clock, with nowhere for his thoughts to turn but inwards.
“I understand,” she said, patting his arm. “I kind of felt the same way. When my ex-boyfriend left me, I didn’t know where I was. You know?”
“He was an arsehole. A total arsehole.”
“It was my fault, too, Billy,” she said.
“Still an arsehole.”
They talked about her for a while. They talked about them both being 30 soon. She talked about the girls in the pub, whether he didn’t fancy any of them. “I don’t know them, do I?” he said, irritated.
“Well... you’ve got to start somewhere. I think you need a girlfriend, old son. That’s what I think. We’ll try and get you a girlfriend.”
“I’m not sure I want... Oh!” He gestured helplessly. “I’m crap at that stuff.”
“What do you mean?”
“Asking girls out. Things like that.”
“What do you mean?” The old Janice appeared in her expression now; playful Janice. Leopardskin Janice.
“Just, you know, asking girls out. It’s easy for someone like Douglas,” he said, gesturing to where Daphne and Douglas were sat, talking. Heads very close. “They come to him, don’t they? It’s like he’s got a dog whistle or something.”
“It’s not all about what you look like.” Janice said. “I mean look at... hey, look at Colin!”
Colin was on the dance floor. A girl who seemed to be wearing some sort of fancy dress costume was cosying up to him, wrapping a pink feather boa about his neck. Had Colin been sporting a bow tie at that moment, Billy was sure it would have begun to spin.
“His fucking glasses will get steamed up,” Billy said.
“Look! He’s tongueing her! Colin’s a player, how about that?”
“Yeah, how about it?”
She patted his knee, a little gesture of admonition. “Now, now. Don’t be sour. He’s an example for you. If a specky gadge like that can get a lumber, it’s no problem for a fine lookin’ man like you. Listen to your aunty Janice. I’ll make it my mission to get you a nice bird. I’ll keep an eye out for you. How about that?”
“Great. It’s a deal.”
“Come on, don’t be like that. I have powers, you know. I’ll get you over the line.”
“How do you mean?”
“What?”
“Get me over what line?”
“Nothing. I’ll get you a bird. That’s what I mean.”
“I’m not a virgin, or anything. Christ.”
She laughed. “I never said you were, honey. Never said you were.”
Daphne got up and left. No goodbyes were said, no hugs and kisses. She slipped her coat on, waved at everyone and was on her way.
“Now where do you suppose she’s going?” Janice said.
“Home to her fiancé?”
If Douglas was upset, he didn’t show it. He collected his half-drunk pint glass and came over to Billy and Janice. “Hey there. It’s hellova noisy in here, eh?”
“Where’s Daphne off to?” Billy said.
“Allan was picking her up, he’s waiting outside.”
“Oh, I’ve never met Allan,” Janice said. “Why didn’t she bring him in to meet us?”
Douglas shrugged.
Colin disappeared; Billy never saw the girl with the feather boa again either.
At last, the old records came on, Slade, Wizzard, Paul McCartney. Janice whooped and dragged them all up to dance. By then the amount of punters had thinned out somewhat. When Fairytale of New York came on, Janice and Douglas took it in turns to sing the lines. Janice sagged into Douglas at the part where they sang, “you took my dreams from me,” and Billy saw with complete clarity and certainty where the night had been headed all along. Something inside him bowed its head and slunk off. He made a gesture towards the bar; Janice nodded vigorously. He got himself another multi-coloured shot and two more for the others. He watched them from a bar stool, dancing a waltz along the floor. Some people clapped and whooped at this. Her leopardskin blouse seemed to be undone almost to the navel, but she either didn’t know or didn’t care. Douglas, for his part, led her like a gentleman. “This year’s Strictly Come Dancing champions, folks, give it up!” the kindly DJ said. “And that’s last orders at the bar, folks. Last orders.”
“That was a great night,” Janice said, as they gathered their coats. “I really enjoyed that.”
“Me too,” Billy said. “Right good laugh.”
“I thought it was open later than this,” Douglas said. “Probably a good time to call it quits, though.”
“Definitely. Hey – you guys could come back to mine. I’ve got plenty of drink in.”
Douglas and Billy’s eyes met. “Could do,” Billy said.
“Sounds good to me, I don’t have anything planned for tomorrow morning.”
A girl tried to accost Douglas as they filed out when the lights went up. She was tall and had lovely long chocolate brown hair and a tattoo on her ankle and Billy thought, please, please. But Douglas shrugged her off after a bit of small talk. They headed outside; it had been snowing, and there was a good covering on the roads and pavement.
“Look at that!” Janice said, hand outstretched to catch a lazily drifting snowflake.
“When was the last time we had a white Christmas?” Douglas said. “I can’t remember.”
“Uh, it was the year East 17 got the Christmas number one, I’m sure,” Billy said. “That’s the only one I can remember.”
“You’re right! Christ, the drink’s destroyed my brain.” Douglas shook his head.
Janice lobbed a snowball at them; they played around in the snow for a while, giggling and laughing. Billy saw the taxi first, and flagged it down. Inside, Janice’s cheeks were red and she huddled in between the two boys. The taxi driver had golden tinsel around the window of his cab, and one of those tiny fake fir trees.
Janice’s flat was on the ground floor of a new-build block. The windows were all dark, save for the glittering trees inside. “We’ll need to keep the noise down,” Janice said. “There’s a few families here.”
Inside, the flat was compact but everything looked brand new; she hadn’t long moved in there, after breaking up with her fella. Christmas cards lined up around the available spaces, but no decorations, Billy noted.
She poured them vodkas, big ones, big enough to taste at this stage of the night. They drank their drinks; had another. Douglas and Billy sat at either end of a couch, with Janice sat on an armchair and the music on, but down low. Douglas and Janice bitched about other people in the office. Janice cackled.
When do I leave? Billy thought. He scanned the books on her white Ikea shelving, the DVDs; he stifled a yawn.
He didn’t remember putting his head down for a snooze, but he must have because when he lifted his head, Douglas and Janice were kissing beside him on the couch. Douglas ran one hand through her hair and she gasped at that, a raw sound.
Confused for a moment, Billy drew in breath and shifted in his seat, knocking over an empty glass with his foot. Douglas and Janice parted.
“I must be going,” Billy said, rubbing his face. “I must be going.”
“Oh no, wait. It’s freezing outside,” said Janice.
“I’m going,” he said. “Where’s my jacket?”
“Hold up, mate,” Douglas said. “Don’t be daft. Get yourself a taxi.”
“I’ll be fine.” He got up to go.
“You can’t go out in that. Hang on, I know a number for a private hire firm.” Janice went for her phone.
Outside, beyond the net curtains, the snow was falling again, thicker clumps now. The streets were filled with light, washed in orange from the glow of the streetlamps. The private hire taxi firm said they were looking at a wait of ninety minutes.
“You can bed down here,” Janice said. “I’ve got spare blankets and stuff. Please. Please don’t go out there.”
Billy nodded, dumbly. His eyeballs seemed to be rolling about inside his head, adrift on their own sea, and he felt nauseous. “Maybe do that,” he said, and burped.
“You going to be sick?”
“No.”
“Okay then, okay.”
“Wonder if Colin’s seein’ ‘em,” Billy said, and giggled.
“What?” Douglas said.
“The stars. Wonder if Colin’s seeing the stars now?” He rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hand, and sat down heavily.
He gasped and thrashed awake. Daylight, fully laundered, crisp and white. Snow everywhere outside. That curious silence.
He had his shoes off but he couldn’t remember having removed them. He had a pillow and a duvet over him. Despite that, and the fact he still had his clothes on, he was cold.
He checked his watch; a decent hour. There were children shouting and laughing outside the window. The snow was still coming down. All around the flat, the fault scars of a night back at the flat. Empty beer bottles he could not remember drinking. One suspiciously full cup of tea sat nearest to him on the coffee table. An empty tub of Pringles. He could remember none of these things.
While he got his shoes on, Janice padded through to the livingroom. She was wearing a black terry-towelling house coat. Her toenails were also black. Tiny, tiny feet, Billy thought.
“Hey,” she said. “I heard you getting up.”
“Yeah, I’d best get going. Thanks for letting me stay.”
“Oh, no problem.” She was looking rough; her hair had seen better days and she hadn’t taken her make-up off from the night before. But she smiled at him. “Hope you were comfy.”
“It was fine.”
“You want a cup of tea? Maybe even stretch to some breakfast, if you’re hungry.”
“Oh, no.” He clutched his stomach. “I couldn’t. Some night, eh?”
“It was good. I hope you’re okay.”
“I’m brand new. Totally fine. Douglas away?”
She didn’t flinch. “Yeah. It was funny, he got a text message and he left. Not long after you fell asleep.”
“Right.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes. Totally fine. I’d best be off, then.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Stuff to do in the flat, today. Bit of Christmas shopping.”
“You don’t need to shoot off, you know.”
“I do. I do.”
She bit her lip and nodded. There wasn’t anything else to say. He hugged her at the door, and she hugged him back, sinking her head into his chest, rubbing his back. “You make sure you have a good Christmas,” she said. “You make sure, now.”
Outside, real trees, ribbons of snow covering their stark winter nakedness. A boy and a girl, both aged about eight or nine, were running around crazy, scooping snow off the bonnets of cars and lobbing it at each other. A mum and dad in their late thirties were scraping snow off their 4x4’s windscreen. “Come on,” the dad said to them, “let’s go.”
“I want to make an angel first, dad,” the girl said. She threw herself into a bank of snow on a spare patch of ground and started making the angel shape, waving her arms back and forth.
“Elizabeth!” her mother said. “You’ll get a chill! Look at you, you’re soaking wet! Into the car, you two – now!”
He watched them as he passed by on the pavement, noting the utter joy and over-excitement in them, on their faces, as their father started the car up and drove away.
About the Author
Pat Black is a thirtysomething writer, journalist and bletherer, born and raised in Glasgow. He says he has made that difficult transition from aspiring novelist to failed novelist, although he has had a couple of short stories published. He’s the author of Snarl, a completed novel about a monster that tries to mount the Houses of Parliament. Holyrood emerges unscathed, for now.