6
Reunion

Nicola downed another double gin and tonic and looked around. This had been a mistake. Not the idea of a reunion as such, but the sticky-floored venue they’d chosen was a massive miscalculation. Within ten seconds of entering the place she’d almost been puked on by a rubber-limbed boy with curly hair and the baggiest jeans she’d ever seen.

Bally’s was packed with kids old enough to be her offspring. Nicola knew it was a cliché to think that, but she couldn’t help it. It was the nightclub that time forgot. Nicola hadn’t seen the likes since they stopped showing The Hitman and Her, that ridiculous late-night celebration of the old-school, small-town disco mentality hosted by Pete Waterman and Michaela Strachan in the late 80s. These days Waterman was doing a television documentary about trains and Strachan was presenting wildlife programmes. Nicola felt similarly out of touch with her past in the face of the flashing lights, mirrorball, dry ice (dry ice, for Christ’s sake, she thought) and wrought iron and perspex that filled the large cattle-market dancefloor and sheltered booths arranged around it on two levels.

The reunion had hired out the ‘executive suite’ area of the club, which was little more than a handful of booths cordoned off with one of those old-style barriers – twisted rope tied between small stands. A squat, burly guy in a black pilot jacket stood guard over the entrance. They did have a section of the bar to themselves, which meant that at least they didn’t have to jockey for position and beers with the rest of the scum, avoiding the resultant arse-pinching and lewd comments that would entail.

Nicola was taking full advantage of the bar. She ordered another double gin and tonic and looked at the people filling the executive suite. There were about twenty-five here already, and they were expecting the same again to arrive. In the Lochlands last night there had been half a dozen friendly faces, swapping stories in a laid-back easy-going atmosphere. The current setting, with the shrieking kids half her age and the collection of thirty-something failures with droopy faces, seemed desperately unappealing.

As she was getting a goodnight kiss from Amy, the phone had rung. It was David. It was obvious straight away that he was reasonably drunk, which didn’t surprise or bother her. She knew he’d been at the football in the afternoon, and she drank the best part of a bottle of wine with her tea, partly to keep up with him and partly, she surprised herself by thinking, because she was a bit nervous. Nervous about the reunion, and a bit nervous of meeting up with him again after last night. It was just a kiss, that’s all it was at the moment, but it was a damn nice kiss, and she probably wouldn’t mind a few more like that.

He said he was running late and she’d agreed to meet him here, telling herself that it was ridiculous to need someone else for support. She was regretting that decision. She had wandered in and found the segregated reunion area, had her name ticked off by the bouncer and headed straight to the bar, only turning to see who else was in once she had a drink in her hand. Now she spotted a couple of people from the Lochlands last night, and just as she was about to make her way over, Kirsty suddenly appeared in front of her.

At school Kirsty Boyd had always had the airs of an American prom queen. She’d been short and trim, with big teeth and bigger hair. Tonight the haircut was more restrained (and about ten times more expensive, judging by the highlights running through it) but her figure was just the same, as was the plastic smile spread across her face, hiding a venomous tongue and a more poisonous mind. Kirsty had been the driving force behind this whole reunion, and Nicola suspected that she’d done it entirely to show off her own currently affluent situation and apparently perfect family life.

Kirsty was married to a square-jawed man who had made his money in construction and now owned the controlling share of a Scottish premier league football club, making him the youngest football director in the country. She lived a few miles out of town in a custom-built house with far too many bedrooms, all en suite, situated perfectly amid mature woodland, with a sea view, a jacuzzi, an indoor pool and a playroom with an enormous drinks cabinet. She had two small children that the nanny took care of while she was off doing charity work or fucking her fitness instructor. It was half Footballers’ Wives, half Stepford Wives, and it was all awful. Nicola wasn’t jealous of Kirsty, she was just wary of her presence and her motivations. She had seen Kirsty backbiting and scheming too many times, both at school and when she lived in Arbroath with Amy. She mirrored Kirsty’s fake smile and took a drink.

‘Nicola, hi! How are you?’

Air kiss, air kiss.

‘Good, thanks, Kirsty, and you?’

‘Oh, fantastic. Isn’t it great seeing everyone together again like this? Everyone keeps thanking me for organizing it, but you know it wouldn’t have happened without everyone turning up. I’m just glad that so many people responded to my idea of having it.’

She took a delicate sip of what appeared to be a glass of white wine. It was the first time Nicola had ever seen anyone drinking wine in Bally’s. Why had she arranged for the reunion to be here? Unless she had some kind of ulterior motive that Nicola couldn’t fathom.

‘And how are you, Nicola? How’s single parenthood treating you?’

‘Oh, you know, pretty damn good, I guess.’

‘I know it’s old fashioned to think so, but I have to say it’s so brave of you to bring up little Amy on your own. I mean, it can’t have been easy with her dad on the other side of the world and not interested in the pair of you.’

‘We do OK, thanks,’ said Nicola through gritted teeth.

‘And how is Amy? Enjoying school?’

‘Yeah, getting on great. Causing trouble, as per usual, but no more than any other kid.’

‘My two are absolute angels at the moment. They’re no trouble at all, they behave themselves so well I really don’t know where they get it from because Ian and I can both be so naughty if we want to be.’

Jesus Christ, thought Nicola, please let me get out of this conversation and back to the bar.

‘Did you come down on your own?’

‘Erm, well… ’ said Nicola, looking round.

‘How brave, but then you always were a brave one, weren’t you? Dashing round the world like that for an adventure and coming back with a baby! Why don’t you come over and have a gossip with the ladies. We’re just over here.’

Nicola felt a hand on her back lightly but firmly pushing her towards Kirsty’s little coven of sycophants, the girls who had never managed or wanted to escape from the thrall of Kirsty’s influence. Anita Milne, Lesley Masson and Claire Pollock were virtually indistinguishable from each other, their highlighted, shoulder-length hair, neat designer outfits and buffed appearance pathetically mirroring Kirsty‘s. Nicola would rather speak to just about anybody else than this lot, but she could feel herself getting sucked towards them.

‘All right, ladies, how’s it going?’

Nicola suddenly felt Kirsty’s hand fall away as David’s presence split them up, and he stood swaying slightly in between them. Kirsty was quick to react.

‘David Lindsay! How are you?’

She made to air kiss him, but David ducked nimbly out the way. The resultant awkward physicality of Kirsty as she tried to right herself made Nicola smirk.

‘My, we haven’t seen you around these parts since – when would it have been? – well, since Colin’s funeral, I suppose.’

‘Straight to the point, Kirsty, just like I remember,’ said David. ‘I’m fine, thank you for asking. And I haven’t been here since then, you are absolutely correct. But it’s great to be back. You are looking fantastic, if I may say so, Kirsty. How do you get your hair to do that?’

David waved a hand towards Kirsty’s head, and a brief look of panic crossed her face as she thought he was actually going to run his fingers through her hair. She regained her composure and ignored his comment. Her gaze focussed on David’s other hand, which was lingering on Nicola’s back as the three of them stood there, like a polite Mexican stand-off. Eventually David spoke.

‘If you don’t mind, Kirsty, and despite the fact that you’re looking fantastic – did I say that already? Well, you can’t hear that sort of thing often enough, that’s what I always say – anyway, if you don’t mind, Kirsty, I have some urgent business to discuss with Nicola. I have to get her as drunk as me. So if you’ll excuse us, you fantastic-looking woman, I’m going to take her over there’ – he pointed generally over his shoulder to nothing in particular – ‘and buy her drinks. It’s been great meeting you again. Save a dance for me later on, will you?’

With that David grabbed Nicola’s hand and headed towards the bar. Kirsty watched them go with a sly look in her eyes, and turned to go and spread the gossip she thought she knew.

‘You’re drunk,’ said Nicola.

‘Absolutely correct, but actually I’m not nearly as drunk as I was pretending to be just then. I thought you needed rescuing from scary, plastic features over there.’

‘You were right about that.’

‘And I wasn’t lying. I do intend to get you more drunk.’

‘Good, because I fully intend to allow myself to be made more drunk.’

‘Then life is sweet. What have I missed round here?’

Nicola looked around her at the horror of Bally’s. If she wasn’t mistaken that was Atomic Kitten playing. She could see Kirsty and her cabal in close consultation.

‘Fuck all. Let’s get a drink in.’

Three shooters and Nicola was just about all caught up with David in the drunk stakes. The pair of them had started schmoozing around a few other people at the reunion, including some of the crew from the Lochlands the previous night, swapping small talk as they drifted around, separate but keeping a close watch on each other’s movements. They fell into different conversations but their communal two-way booze round kept them loosely tethered to each other, deliberately so.

David was talking football with Gary and a couple of other guys that he hadn’t known too well at school. One of them was nicknamed Plunge at school – David never knew why – but now introduced himself as Dean. The other guy was called Jonathan something, David forgot what, and his chin still stuck out like Bruce Forsyth. David’s only memory of Jonathan was seeing him running about at Andy MacDougall’s house party with a kitchen knife, screaming at the top of his voice that he was going to circumcise himself. They got the knife off him pretty quickly. That was the same party where Andy himself got locked in the bog and had to jump out the first-floor window. Strange night, David vaguely recalled.

He felt a slap on the back and turned to see the leering, perspiring face of Mike Clarkson. Clarkson had been a royal pain in the arse at school, a hardnut who bullied the hell out of the no-marks and nobodies. He wasn’t tough enough to be in the big league, but he had enough balls to bully most people at school, and enough pals to back him up if necessary. David’s friendship with Neil had made him less of a target for Mike, but he was still the subject of plenty of verbal from the guy, as was just about everyone else in their year. And here he was now, that same over-confident swagger to him, the same cautious eyes and tensed neck muscles, the same button-down collared shirt and crew-cut hair, the same pathetic need to get one over on everyone in the basest way possible. There might be plenty of good reasons for coming to a school reunion, but Mike Clarkson sure as shit wasn’t one of them.

‘David, how’s it hanging?’

‘Mike.’

‘Haven’t seen you round these parts for years,’ said Mike. ‘Since Colin died, eh? Nasty business that, right enough. Don’t blame you for buggering off, I suppose, having your best friend commit suicide.’

‘He didn’t commit suicide,’ said David with a sigh. ‘It was an accident.’

‘Well, that’s one way of looking at it, I suppose. The inquiry would say that, wouldn’t it? No point in making his folks more unhappy about it than they already were.’

‘It was an accident, Mike.’

‘There were folk that suggested he was pushed as well. I suppose that could’ve happened. How would anyone know? We all know what the cliffs are like, it would be easy as fuck to trick someone up there, shove them over and that would be that.’

‘No one tricked anyone, or pushed anyone,’ said Gary.

‘Maybe someone who was jealous of him,’ Mike continued. ‘Jealous of everything he had that they didn’t. It’s possible, you can’t deny that.’

‘Like Gary said, no one pushed anyone, Mike,’ said David.

‘When you suddenly disappeared after the funeral, David, there were rumours that you’d had something to do with it. I never paid those rumours any fucking mind. That would be ridiculous, I used to say, David wouldn’t have had anything to do with Colin’s death.’

‘That’s touching, Mike, really.’

‘And anyway, he most probably just topped himself, didn’t he? People do it all the time. The suicide rate amongst blokes in this country is through the fucking roof. Of course, there is another possibility. Maybe he jumped off for a thrill and fucked it up. Kids have started doing that, you know, they’re calling it tombstoning.’

‘Yeah, we heard,’ said Gary. ‘But that’s not what Colin did.’

‘We’ll never know, will we? It’s a right fucking mystery. Must’ve been hard for you though, David, living with the death of your best mate, your bosom buddy, your special little friend that you went everywhere with.’

‘Are you trying to say something?’ said David.

‘Like what?’ Mike couldn’t pull off a pretend innocent look without smirking.

‘Like that me and Colin were gay.’

‘I never said that, did I?’ He turned to the others. ‘Did I say that? Did I?’ He waited for an answer, and after a few seconds of silence turned back to David. ‘I never fucking said that, OK? And even if you were, what fucking difference would it make? Unless it was having a dirty, hidden secret that made Colin top himself. Couldn’t stand living the lie any more and all that shit.’

‘You’re a fucking joke,’ said David, and the air chilled.

‘What did you say?’

‘You heard me.’

They stared blankly at each other as the beat of some cheesy dancefloor-filler throbbed all around them, their faces close enough to smell the booze on each other’s breath. Eventually Mike broke the spell, chuckling to himself and downing what was left of his bottle of Sol.

‘Watch yourself, David, you cheeky cunt,’ he said, pointing with his bottle hand. ‘Just watch yourself.’

He turned and sauntered towards the bar and the vacuum he left was filled with slightly nervous exhalations. Jonathan and Plunge had been hiding wide-eyed behind their pints, hoping Mike would ignore them. Gary glared at Mike’s back as he walked away, muttering ‘fucking prick’ under his breath. David just shook his head and smiled at the ridiculousness of it all.

Nicola was washing her hands in the toilets when Kirsty and her entourage swanned in. This was not a coincidence.

‘Nicola!’ Kirsty declared it as if surprised to see her. ‘Great timing, we’re just about to have a cheeky wee line of Uncle Charlie, why don’t you join us?’

She pulled out a wrap, unfolded it and started chopping out lines of white powder as Anita watched the toilet door and the other two pretended to relax at either side of her. It was like being back in the school bogs, thought Nicola. She hadn’t snorted anything in years. She had been quite partial to a bit of speed in her student days, and tried various things while travelling, but all that had stopped with Amy. But then here was Kirsty with a couple of kids younger than Amy, and a couple of grams in her pocket. Nicola had never really taken to coke anyway, its price always seemed way out of proportion to the effect. It was the narcotic equivalent of a Prada bag, a rather tacky and ultimately pointless demonstration of wealth in the face of those that didn’t have it.

‘I’m all right, thanks.’

‘Very wise, I’m sure,’ said Kirsty. ‘You’re so responsible.’

‘No, I just don’t like coke.’

‘But I did notice there was something you did like out there,’ continued Kirsty, getting out a note and rolling it. ‘Or rather someone.’ She took a blast, then the other nostril, then did the sniffing thing so as not to lose the coke snot. She passed the note to Claire. ‘I couldn’t help seeing that you and David Lindsay seem to be getting on well.’

Nicola sighed. ‘He’s OK. We’re just friends.’

‘It looked like you thought he was more than OK earlier on. Anything we should know about?’

‘What, in your official position as town gossip, you mean?’

‘Nicola Cruickshank, there’s no need to be like that, I was only asking. I don’t know what you see in him, myself, he’s hardly catch of the day, is he? But then I suppose as a single mum you can’t be too choosy about which men you let into your life.’

‘Now, Kirsty, that is just plain rude.’

‘Not at all, dear, I’m sorry if you took offence. I didn’t mean anything by it.’

‘Didn’t you?’

‘I didn’t as it happens. You’re being very hostile, you know that? I don’t know why you’re being so defensive, unless you’ve got something to hide.’

‘Whatever, Kirsty. It doesn’t really matter what I say, does it? You’re going to assume that me and David have a thing going, aren’t you?’

‘And would I be wrong if I assumed that?’

Nicola sighed again and thought about leaving, but something kept her there. By this time the note had been passed round all four girls and back to Kirsty. There was still a line cut out in front of them and Kirsty offered the note to Nicola.

‘Sure I can’t tempt you?’

‘I told you, Kirsty, I’m not a fan of coke. Turns people into gobby, arrogant arseholes, as far as I can tell.’

‘Now who’s being rude?’ said Kirsty with a smile, before quickly ducking down to hoover up the last line and sniffling. ‘And how does David feel about Amy? He does know about her, doesn’t he?’

Nicola let out a small snort of a laugh. ‘Sorry to disappoint you, Kirsty, but yes, he does know about her.’

‘And they get on OK? I mean, it’s such a lot to take on, someone else’s daughter. I suppose you both living in Edinburgh makes things easier.’

‘Kirsty, I haven’t said there’s anything going on, have I?’

‘Well, isn’t there?’

Nicola shook her head. What was the point?

‘There is nothing going on between me and David. Is that clear enough for you?’

‘I think the lady protests too much, what do you think, girls?’

‘Oh for fuck’s sake,’ said Nicola, tired of the exchange. She pushed herself up from the sink she was leaning against. ‘If you’re quite finished slagging off me and my…’

‘Yes?’ said Kirsty. ‘Your what?’

‘My friend,’ said Nicola, deliberately. ‘Then I’ll get out your way.’

She pushed past Kirsty, then Anita at the door, letting the throb of the dance music briefly enter the toilets as she swung out. She headed off towards David, who was within spilling distance of the bar and talking to a little goblin of a man she recognized as Gary Spink.

‘Nicola, you remember Gary, right?’

‘Hi Gary, long time no see.’

‘You’re looking great, Nicola.’

‘Thanks. Are you the man responsible for getting muggins here shapeless this afternoon?’

‘Well, it was a quiet pint really, but you know how these things can escalate.’

‘I do indeed. I’m away to get a round in, what are you both having?’

She went to the bar, and David felt a mixture of pride and irritation as he watched Gary’s gaze follow her arse.

‘She’s looking great, isn’t she?’ said Gary. ‘She seemed pretty friendly with you. Something going on there I should know about?’

‘That would be telling.’

‘Because if not, I might have a go at chatting her up myself.’

‘In that case, yes, there is something going on.’

‘I knew it. You look good together.’

‘We’re not actually together, you understand. Well, we might be. I don’t know, really.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll leave you to it. I wouldn’t have a chance with her anyway.’

By the time Nicola returned, Jonathan and Plunge had somehow drifted back into orbit around them, and introductions were duly done. Nicola turned to Gary.

‘You were another of the ADS, weren’t you?’

‘For my sins.’

‘Have you kept in contact with Neil?’

‘Haven’t seen him in years, don’t know what he’s up to.’

Plunge piped up. ‘I thought I saw him earlier.’

The rest of them seemed to notice Plunge for the first time.

‘Really?’ said Gary. ‘Here? I thought he was a bit of a recluse these days. Are you sure it was him?’

‘We’re talking about Neil Cargill? Joined the Marines? Yeah, I’m sure I saw him earlier. It wasn’t in the reunion bit, he was over the other side of the club, on his own. He’s a stocky fucker, with tattoos? I’m sure it was him.’

Plunge turned to point to where he had seen Neil. To the right of the DJ booth was a dark area, where the lights seemed not to reach into the corner, but there was no one there. They all craned their necks in comedy unison, like meerkats on the lookout, to see further into the dark recesses of Bally’s, the swarm of drunkards around them making it impossible to see clearly for more than a fleeting moment.

‘It was a while ago, about an hour or something,’ said Plunge, as if trying to justify the lack of a Neil Cargill in the corner of the room. ‘But I did see him.’

‘He got chucked out the Marines, didn’t he?’ said Jonathan.

‘Did he?’ said David.

‘Yeah, I’m sure I read it in the paper or something. He fought in the first Gulf War – Desert Storm and all that – and then I’m sure I read that he got discharged not long after. Don’t know whether it was because he was injured or what, but there was definitely something in the paper about it.’

‘Seems weird,’ said Nicola, ‘thinking that someone our age was out fighting in wars ten years ago. Can’t imagine what it must’ve been like.’

‘Just watch the news, we’re doing it all over again,’ said Gary.

David wasn’t really interested in talking about politics, the mention of the current conflict flicking a switch in him to off. He wanted to change the subject.

‘Right, seeing as how we’re here to remember our school days, I can’t help feeling that we should be getting into the spirit more. For a start, we are not nearly drunk enough. I suggest some drinking games. You lot grab a booth and I’ll get another round in.’

It was past two and the three of them were seriously steaming.

‘Check out Mr and Mrs Loverpants there,’ said Nicola, pointing at a couple in the adjacent booth, virtually screwing each other on the stained, raggedy seating. ‘We were never that bad, were we?’

‘What, you mean the two of us?’ said David. ‘I never got the chance.’

Nicola tried to hit him affectionately on the arm, only she missed and fell slightly against him. She righted herself. ‘No, I don’t mean the two of us, I mean us – our generation. We were never just out-and-out shagging in the middle of Bally’s, were we?’

‘Maybe we weren’t,’ said Gary, ‘but some people were.’

‘Really?’ said Nicola. ‘It’s amazing what you don’t remember. Like, I don’t remember so many of our year being such arseholes.’

‘That’s about all I remember,’ said David. ‘Although I was just sitting here thinking they weren’t as bad as they used to be.’

‘Fuck off,’ said Nicola. ‘They’re twats, the lot of them. Present company excluded.’

‘But what about the lot we were in the Lochlands with last night? They’re all right, aren’t they?’

‘Aye, I’m not talking about them either.’

‘Who are you talking about, exactly?’

‘The arseholes. The twats. Kirsty Boyd and her pals, and all the rest.’

‘Now Kirsty,’ said Gary, waving a green chartreuse around in front of his face, ‘she is an arsehole. And a twat. I’d still shag her, likes.’

‘Then you are a sad man, Gary Spink,’ said Nicola.

‘Nicola, you are absolutely right,’ said Gary.

‘And what about you?’ Nicola said, turning to David. He looked a bit blurry, in keeping with the rest of the room.

‘What about me?’

‘Would you shag Twinkletoes over there, given the opportunity?’

‘No thanks. It would be like having sex with a teacher or an auntie. Not good, in other words.’

‘We had one or two teachers I wouldn’t have minded shagging,’ said Gary. ‘And I have a nice auntie, too.’

‘You are one sick fuck,’ said Nicola. ‘Really. Although, our art teacher Mr Thompson was a bit of all right, wouldn’t have minded getting him into the art cupboard once upon a time.’

‘Gary, which fucking auntie are you talking about?’ said David. ‘I’ve met your Aunt Kate, and if it’s her you’re talking about you really are a sick fuck.’

Gary just smiled. David shook his head then turned to Nicola.

‘Mr Thompson!’ he said. ‘You fancied Mr Thompson? He was so gay. You had no fucking chance.’

‘I could’ve turned him though, eh? Don’t you think?’ she snuggled up to David’s arm and Gary laughed.

‘I reckon you could turn anyone,’ Gary said and it was David’s turn to laugh.

‘What, even straight guys?’ David said. ‘Turn them gay, you mean?’

‘Shut up, you cheeky fuck,’ said Nicola, letting go of his arm and shuffling clumsily out the booth. ‘I’ve still fucking got it,’ she said, doing a drunken shimmy. ‘Now, what are you pair of arseholes wanting to drink?’

As Nicola tottered away, both men watched her go.

‘She really is something,’ said Gary. ‘I guess she was worth coming to this reunion for, wasn’t she?’

‘I reckon so,’ said David. ‘Although it’s been a laugh all round, frankly. Mind you, that could well be down to the fact that I’m steaming drunk and I haven’t really done any socializing with anyone except for you and her.’

‘So, what now?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Between you and her? You going for it?’

‘Dunno, just wait and see. We’re both old enough to know how the world works. At the moment we’re getting on great, so let’s just see where we go from here.’

‘And what about Arbroath?’

‘What about it?’

‘Is it going to be another fifteen years before you come back?’

‘It’ll be another fifty years before I set foot in Bally’s again, that’s for sure. But I might make it back for the odd game at Gayfield, if you keep me posted. That’s if you’re going to be here, what with the plans for art college and everything.’

‘Yeah, of course.’

Nicola was leaning over the table with a triangle of shot glasses between her hands, careful not to spill anything, when she jumped as if knocked from behind. She quickly dumped the drinks and turned.

She was several inches taller than Mike Clarkson and was looking down on him. He had an evil glint in his eye.

‘Did you just pinch my fucking arse?’

‘Sorry, love, couldn’t resist it,’ said Mike, spreading his arms out in a gesture of goodwill, a near empty beer bottle in his right hand. ‘You’re looking so good these days, Nicky. What are you doing hanging about with a couple of losers like them?’

‘Just fuck off, Mike, eh?’ David shuffled round the booth to get up but Nicola gently motioned him to stop.

‘These two are about the only gentlemen in this shitehole,’ she said. ‘Everyone else in here seems to be a jumped-up little prick with a hardman complex stuck in the fucking 1980s.’

‘Shame you think that way, love. I was going to let you come home with me, show you what a real man can do for a woman like you.’

‘Does this charm routine work on anyone? Ever?’

‘Then again,’ said Mike, ignoring her and looking at David, ‘I wouldn’t want the sloppy seconds of someone like David here, would I? Your bucketfanny is probably fucking rancid, eh, love?’

David made a quick move to get up, but not quick enough and he felt the smash of the beer bottle against the back of his head as he lunged forward, grabbing Mike in a messy rugby tackle. The two of them tumbled to the floor. Like all drunken pub fights, the first few seconds were a ramshackle stalemate as both men clung onto each other, unable to extract limbs from the core of their scrum. But after a few moments Mike managed to wriggle a leg clear and kneed David in the bollocks, and as his grip loosened Mike got above him and smashed a thick forearm across his face. The bottle was gone from his other hand, but he was rabbit punching the back of David’s head, until finally he let go completely. Mike stood above him, screaming like a maniac and booting him square in the face when Gary jumped on him from behind. They struggled for a second before Gary also got an elbow in the face, shocking him into half-releasing his grip. Just then, several thick-set bouncers with no necks appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, the crackle of their headsets somehow heard over the throbbing bass from the dancefloor. Almost seamlessly, they separated Gary and Mike and lifted David from the floor, where he was beginning to prop himself up.

‘These cunts bothering you?’ they said to Mike, and David realized this was only going one way.

‘Yeah,’ said Mike, wiping his sleeve across his mouth. ‘Just jumped me for no reason.’

‘That’s bullshit and you know it,’ said Nicola, glaring at Mike, but even as she spoke Gary and David were being lifted off their feet and marched to the door. She stood for a second looking at Mike, who met her gaze impassively, just a little smile creeping into the corners of his mouth, then she turned on her heels to catch up with the bouncers as they headed through the foyer. Out of the corner of her eye she could sense Kirsty and her cabal soaking up every second of the action. For a moment she thought about turning to shout something at them, but she couldn’t think what to say, so instead she fired on, catching up with the bouncers outside the front door as they held Gary and David up against the weather-beaten, puke-splattered pebble-dashed walls.

‘We don’t fucking like trouble in our club, have you got that?’

‘You know as well as I do that Mike started it,’ said Gary, before getting a hefty smack across the face.

‘We don’t give a flying fuck who started it. But we know Mike and we don’t know you, so he’s staying in and you’re out. Now, don’t go thinking about hanging about here, maybe catching up with him when he leaves, ’cos we’ll be here then as well, and we’ll be keeping an eye out for you. And just in case you were feeling really stupid, don’t go getting the police involved, because we know them as well, and they don’t take too kindly to getting called away from their chips on a Saturday night.’

Gary and David were released and shoved nonchalantly backwards with enough force to make them both stagger and fall over in the patchy grass.

‘Now fuck off, the pair of you,’ said the bouncer at the front, then, glancing at Nicola, ‘and take this slag with you.’

‘Fuck you, prick,’ said Nicola, but the bouncers were already back inside the front door. The incessant beat of the music died as the door closed, to be replaced by the wash from the sea behind them. They stayed like that for a few moments, David and Gary on their arses, Nicola standing over them, before she sat down next to them on the grass and the three of them started laughing. They couldn’t stop themselves, as ripples of laughter passed from one to another, then back again, the volume getting louder as the laughter continued. Eventually they settled down, and were left surrounded by the sound of waves hitting the shore. There was no one else about, except for a lonely drunken figure slumped on a seat over by the crazy-golf course.

‘What a fucking arsehole,’ said Gary.

‘I think that pretty much goes without saying,’ said Nicola.

‘And those bouncers,’ said David. ‘They were the genuine article. Real 80s meatheads. I tell you, if anything’s going to take me back to my schooldays, it’s getting chucked out of this place by a bunch of skinhead bouncers who think they’re fucking Sly Stallone and Bobby De Niro. That is priceless. The perfect end to a perfect school reunion, really.’

They got slowly to their feet, swiped at their dusty arses and headed slowly away from Bally’s, never looking back. Behind them, the drunk guy at the crazy golf seemed to stir a little as they disappeared round the corner.

The sky was already gaining a watery grey wash around the edges as they said their goodbyes. Standing by the war memorial at the top of the High Common, they could see for miles: Gayfield and the harbour then the cliffs in one direction, Bally’s, Elliot Beach and the golf course the other way, and between them miles of slick, grey ocean, filling in the cracks of the world.

Gary was heading west to his folks’ house on Monymusk Road, David was angling to walk Kirsty home, past the Keptie Pond and the Lochlands. As he always did at drunken goodbyes, David felt a slight, subconscious twinge of memory, at some base level his mind recalling that night, the last night he’d seen Colin alive. That, combined with the morning dew already forming in the air, made him shiver slightly.

‘I guess I’ll be seeing you,’ said Gary.

‘Yeah, keep in touch this time,’ said David. ‘Have you got a pen? We should swap numbers.’

Nicola raked in her bag noisily, and eventually dug out a pencil and an old receipt. They exchanged numbers with Gary, then there was an awkward silence between them, no one sure what to say next. The evening seemed over, a line drawn under events by this ceremonial exchanging of details, after which nothing more should be said. Gary made awkwardly to hug David, who reciprocated in kind, then he kissed Nicola, and saying final farewells he walked along the path over the railway and headed home.

David and Nicola visibly relaxed as they watched him leave. Being with Nicola was an easy, comfortable sensation, thought David; it felt as if he’d known her for the last fifteen years. He felt a lot more sober than he had even half an hour ago. Whether it was because of the physical exertion or the fresh air or the lack of handbag house pounding in his ears he didn’t know, but he felt a lot more together here, walking across the grass with Nicola, their arms entwined the way lovers’ arms do. They walked slowly towards St Vigeans Road, neither of them feeling the need to say anything.

Eventually Nicola spoke.

‘I’m beginning to think you were right about this whole revisiting your past thing,’ she said. ‘I thought tonight was going to be a laugh, but it was pretty shocking really. Sorry for dragging you along.’

‘I’m not sorry. For a start, if I hadn’t come to Arbroath we wouldn’t have snogged last night, would we?’ He gave her a little nudge, and she smiled a coy smile at him.

‘I suppose not.’

‘Anyway, I really enjoyed myself tonight, despite getting in a tiny fight and getting chucked out. In fact, that made the whole thing better. And I got to meet up with Gary again, which was pretty cool. I mean, we’re not about to start being best mates or anything, but it would genuinely be good to keep in touch with him this time.’

Nicola looked at him.

‘You know,’ she said, ‘it seems we’ve totally switched our opinions about the past. Isn’t that weird?’

‘No, we haven’t. It just depends on what past you’re talking about. That kind of past’ – he indicated over his shoulder in the direction of Bally’s – ‘I can live without.’

‘I know what you mean.’

They walked on further, happy in silence for a while, the sky brightening to the east.

Outside Nicola’s house they kissed again, both of them more forceful and drunken than last night to begin with, then slowing and relaxing after the first few minutes, soaking up each other’s physical presence and drowning in it. Someone wolf-whistled them from the bottom of the street, but they didn’t break off, instead just giggled slightly into each other’s mouths in a communal sign of togetherness. Eventually they broke apart, and David actually felt dizzy.

‘You know, I’m going to go round the abbey tomorrow morning with Amy,’ said Nicola. ‘Before we head back to Edinburgh. Do you fancy coming?’

‘Yeah, that would be good. You can do your tour guide thing on me. Ignorant old history-hating me.’

‘I’m part of your history, amn’t I?’ Nicola said with a nose wiggle. ‘And you don’t hate me, do you?’

‘Hmm, let me think about that,’ said David, and they started to kiss again.