THE IMAGES

THURSDAY DECEMBER 9TH 1976
DANBRAY - NEWTOWN
The room was small but very smart, a large single bed facing a teak wardrobe that supported his guitar case with a sizeable table to its left, a little hi-fi unit with his record player and records tucked neatly below and a couple of easy chairs on either side of a little coffee table. The wallpaper was pale blue. patterned in dark diamond shapes with a host of posters and photos on the wall, Bolan, Bowie, a Led Zeppelin poster of Jimmy page with the Gibson SG double neck, a cinema promo of ‘That’ll be the Day’ and ‘Stardust’ as a double bill, a Radio Times cover featuring ‘The Likely Lads’ and some concert flyers for Lindisfarne, Wings, Thin Lizzy and Gary Glitter in the same space as a promo photo of Sawbones. The bedside light illuminated the room most evenings, supplying just the right amount of light to do things without destroying the atmosphere. Mott the Hoople were playing quite loudly as the live version of ‘One of the Boys’ was coming to an end and Bill turned the volume down. He listened at his bedroom door for a moment and then quietly nipped out to the hall.
With a strange secretive movement, Bill took the phone into his room and immediately began to dial. The phone felt good in his hand unlike the flimsy slimline, push button jobs everyone seemed to be turning to - he preferred the old chunky Bakelite ones that were dying out by the nineteen sixties. The heavy receiver announced its ringing tone quite loudly as he waited for an answer.
“Hello?” the girl’s voice replied cautiously, reflecting a Southern accent.
“Hi!” he said pleasantly, “How’s things?”
“Bill! What a lovely surprise… where are you?”
“Home, just thought I’d give you a quick call to see how you were.”
“I’m fine, just…”
“What? Has something happened?”
“No, just missing you. It feels like ages since I saw you last.”
Rosser smiled with a tender look, “It is, well it feels like ages but it’s only three days twenty hours and… seventeen minutes!”
The voice laughed, “You’re so silly! What have you been doing since I saw you?”
“Not a lot, Mandy, just caught up with my friends the other day – they were beginning to think I’d joined a Monastery!”
“You didn’t tell them about us, did you?”
“Yeah, in gory detail and played out some of the difficult bits with an Action Man and Sindy doll but the plastic limbs broke when I tried to demonstrate Saturday night’s session!”
The girl laughed, “You rotter! Teasing me.”
“Usually the other way round isn’t it?”
“You like that, don’t pretend you don’t!”
Bill chuckled and shifted on his seat, “So, how’s school been?”
Mandy sighed, “The usual, nothing new there just getting ready to wind up for the holidays… and they can’t come soon enough!”
“I know what you mean. Any news yet?”
“Nothing, no change!”
Bill frowned and paused. “So… what’s happening?”
“We’ve been through all this. You know what I have to do. Anyway, when am I seeing you again… Saturday?”
“Well, there’s a problem there… the chaps are doing a night out and …”
“You have to go or they’ll want to know what you’re up to?”
“Yeah, sorry Mandy! But what about Sunday?”
There was a pause, a long pause. “Well, actually… Sunday would be great!”
“You rat!”
“Maybe we could go an see a film in the evening, ‘All the President’s Men’ is supposed to be good and I’ve never seen it yet!”
“Really? Been dying to see that and ‘The Way We Were’ for ages myself but just couldn’t manage to get to it. Robert Redford makes me warm all over – isn’t he in Led Zeppelin’s ‘The Song Remains The Same’?”
“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, Mr Rosser! I don’t care what we see actually, so long as we spend time together.”
“Me too, Mandy, then we could…hang on!” Bill paused and listened to the footsteps moving along the hallway. “Damn, listen I have to go, sorry! I’ll ring you before Sunday and I’ll see you then, okay?”
“Very! See you then… love you!”
“Me too! Bye!”
Bill put the phone down and immediately went back out with it to the hall, mentally cursing the lack of privacy that being in a family demands. But now at least there was Sunday to look forward to as much as Saturday.

BEARSDEN
She slipped into the pale green dress, pulling the zip from low on her belly to her bosom before stepping into the low-heeled beige shoes as she adjusted her silver bracelet. The room was quiet with only the resonant sound splinters of the television downstairs pervading her bedroom. For a moment she looked at the books and magazines on her bed contemplating whether or not to go down and watch ‘Columbo’ with the rest of the family – it was already a pretty predictable show but at least it would distract her from the worry. Clutching a black hairband in her right hand she pulled her hair together with her left and tidied her dark mane aloft before tugging the white streaked wisps forward. Michelle bit her lip as she walked to the door but paused and turned back to her bed again. Pushing the literature to her left, she sat down and began to look through the old ‘Cosmopolitans’ - seeking out the indexes to search for the subject matter she needed, flicking to the ‘Problem Page’ in the issues which had no valid content. The fashion spreads and cosmetics features temporarily held no value to her, she was seeking a more specific goal than to simply pass time immersed in trivia. It took a while but she found about four issues that were relevant and the rest she piled up and returned to the little table by the window. Now with these and the large medical book she had secured from the Glasgow Road library she had some external reference points. Michelle gave out a long sigh as she grasped the little pile and went over to the bed settee at the far side of the room, settling down to begin her research.

DANBRAY - NEWTOWN
The urban prison was very comfortable, at least as comfortable as any confinement area can be. The red light glowed dully, creating an atmosphere of warm isolation and solitude. In the long thin glass the ice cubes tinkled softly each time the Israeli orange juice was raised as the TV murmured, barely audible. Seated cross-legged on the bed, a withdrawn figure discarded Heller’s Catch 22 and surveyed the room, studying it objectively although he was part of it.
It was a large room filled with an eclectic combination of inanimate residents. The walls were crammed with pictures of every kind, an iconic conglomeration of aeons. Facing the sprawling fireplace was the window and the outside. Long red curtains stood guard and behind them was a little bench to sit on and survey the alien landscape of beyond. To the left, an old black piano that used to belong to his Aunt sat dormant, out of tune and tarnished with objects and pictures adhering to it. A black guitar case stood next to the piano, containing his beloved natural wood Ibanez Les Paul guitar. The large old blue settee confronted the fireside while the enormous TV stared at it with its' multicoloured unseeing single eye. Behind the door a huge cupboard hid as if waiting to pounce on something. Commandeering the room were the bed, devoid of legs and running to about eight inches off the floor, and the metallic stereo with its glowing green light, unhidden and constantly making their presence felt.
James Dean gazed down rebelliously, Philly Soul Bowie pouted, David Lean’s Lawrence of Arabia mini poster vied with Vivienne Neves as she was looking down at a large ad for the Sex Pistols ‘Anarchy’ tour with the Apollo ticket pinned to it. Elsewhere The Marx Brothers were going crazy, The Beatles albums promo poster, Be Bop Deluxe’s Axe Victim, McDowell's Clockwork Alex sneered and a beautiful half naked, blue jeaned and topless Uschi almost jumped out of the yellow background, proudly unembarrassed by observers’ gazes to join the Doom Patrol in pride of place above the fire - all the images looking down from their heights as though to proclaim their domination. These subversive elements stood unperturbed by the mass of books, magazines and paperbacks which dominated the room! They were everywhere, on shelves, in cupboards, lying around in neatly combined packages specific to subject or publication title. Almost anything imaginable could be found somewhere within the realms of their kingdom - love, humour, biography, fiction, art, black magic, psychology, fashion, sociology, philosophy, poetry and French literature filled this space. This was their domain and they made his room a home!

DANBRAY - BELLSTREE
Columbo was regarding Laurence Harvey with some suspicion as their audience in the little living room watched with casual interest at best.
“Would you like some tea, Chrissy?” Mrs Summers asked the pretty blonde beside her.
The room was dull, illuminated only by the table lamp in the far corner, the comfortable sofa facing the large television. There was a bookcase, two armchairs, and a couple of matching cabinets on either side of the fireplace, with the long coffee table between them and the television making the room seem full without being cluttered – it was a big change from the old days in the big detached house.
“No thanks, Mum, not just now. I’ll make some for you when this is done if you like?”
Her mother was in her early forties, pretty and naturally blonde like her daughter, unnaturally slim and almost worn looking but when she smiled at her daughter there was no doubting the good looks were still there and a deep warmth was clearly evident.
“Oh, yes please, Chrissy, that would be lovely. You know every time I see Laurence Harvey I think of…” her voice trailed off.
“Dad?” Christene asked blankly.
The other woman nodded, “They looked so similar when he was younger! Especially in ‘Room At The Top’.”
Christene didn’t inquire about which of them looked like whom when they were younger, it was disturbing enough without starting to talk about things which were long gone and sorely missed.
“Well, I think Laurence is going to end up having a long holiday at the end of all this – unlike the real world, crime never pays in these things.” Christene replied softly.
With a broad smile her mother turned to her, “You’re spending too much time in front of the television with me, you’re starting to get cynical… you need to get out more with your friends. You don’t have to baby-sit me, you know!”
Christene glanced over and just smiled without replying.
“Chrissy… you have to live your own life, Darling! I made my own mess and I don’t want you to pay for my mistakes. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Yes… and I like spending time with you because I like spending time with you. I get out when I want to with my friends.”
“Yes, but you could go out and buy yourself the things you deserve if you weren’t having to pay for so many of the bills here, wouldn’t you? You should go to university, get an education the way you were meant to – you’re so bright… nearly top of the class every single year when we lived…”
“Mum,” Christene sighed “I know I’m bright, I don’t have to get a degree to prove it! I’ll worry about all that when we get back on our feet a bit more. Anyway, it gives me time to think what course I’d really want to do rather than just rushing out of school and picking whatever first comes to mind. I’m training in the Pharmacy department and at least that gives me some sort of qualification that I can always use, doesn’t it?”
Mrs Summers tilted her body towards her daughter. “I’ve sent off for a variety of University prospectus and Grant forms, Chrissy, and I want you to promise me that you’ll go through them all and find something you want to do and then enrol next Autumn – you’d already be there if it wasn’t for me. This is important, promise me!”
The girl swallowed hard and responded carefully to ensure her emotions didn’t boil over or even show through. “I promise to look through it all and if I’ve not made a fortune by next year then I’ll give it serious consideration – okay?”
“That means you have to apply in the New Year!”
“We’ll look through it all together, eh, Mum?”
Her mother nodded and gave her daughter a little hug. “I love you, Christene, you’re the only good thing left in my life and that’s why it’s important you don’t miss out on all the things you should be enjoying right now. Your friends, parties… boyfriends!”
“Mum!”
“Listen, Chrissy, when were you last out with a boy?”
“Mum! I meet lots of boys… I just haven’t met anyone I like enough to go out with.”
There was a brief pause as if her mother was considering whether or not to continue the topic. “What about that boy you and Michelle were talking about the other day, Mhic’s friend – the one you’re always on the phone to?”
“Oh, God, Mum!” Christene said blushing a little, “He’s just a friend, he’s nice but we’re just friends!”
“Girls as beautiful as you don’t have many male friends, just ones who’re probably chasing you - but you just don’t want to be caught! Michelle always says he’s very nice and handsome too… so?”
Throwing her head back Christene sighed aloud, “Will I go and phone him now? Ask him out? Offer myself to him?”
Her mother laughed gently and nodded, “No, that might be a little pushy but don’t let the things that might bring you some happiness slip away because of all that’s happened – okay? That’s all I mean, I don’t want to run your life but I don’t want to ruin it either!”
“When I meet someone I want to go out with then I will, Mum! So stop worrying… and you’re missing the end of the shabby raincoat detective!”
The older woman smiled and turned back to the television with a wry grin, “Fine, lecture over… for now!”
They both giggled and distractedly gazed back at the television.

HELLENFORD
Most of the bars in Hellenford were the same, either nice, middle class drinking establishments or low-life dives filled, unsurprisingly, with low-lifes. Dave swallowed some more Vodka and orange, drew on his half-consumed B & H and ignored anything around him – especially the insipid muzak seeping out from the wall speakers. A pale blue anorak lay on the seat beside him and his casual dress sense of dark polo neck, faded jeans and boots made him conspicuous in the sparsely populated respectable lounge. From up on the balcony he looked below and watched his sister Julie all glammed up in her red patterned skirt and white blouse - seeming to hold no key to seduction for her boyfriend, Martin the Dentist, sitting together and barely enjoying each other’s company in relative silence… it reminded him of his own parents and that was a dark and depressing thought. She was the only one in the entire family who seemed to have no problem with his father - there had to be something wrong with that scenario. The only aspect of amusement about the tedious panorama was imaging his father dressed like Martin, all big beige flares and multi coloured, diamond zigzag tank top over an enormously collared, mustard toned shirt… were Mr David Macklin senior born thirty odd years later than he was it was a sure bet he’d be every bit as clueless about fashion.
Dave lit up another cigarette from the dying butt of his previous smoke. Pam was late yet again, he’d been there over an hour and still there was no sign of her. This was beginning to really eat him up – hell, it had been doing so for months now. Why did he never choose the ones who desired him? He always fell for the ones who wanted someone else… or at least didn’t want him enough.

DANBRAY - NEWTOWN
The various coloured lights, too, laid suit for superiority as they blinked to one another from scattered points within the room, the blue lava lamp with its amorphous red, floating globs barely illuminated the corner nearest the bed while the large black Mass candles were symmetrically ostracised to the mantelpiece. This was clearly Harris's room and Harris was clearly the room's. He sat quietly, still and unblinkingly glaring back at the idiot box, puzzled by the ‘Special Branch’ figures inexplicable, soundless actions. The room was mysterious, isolated and yet everywhere. A prison and a haven, a world within a world but strangely alien. The room had character, presence, in fact it was almost a living entity – but who was master and who was servant?
Harris looked at the picture, it was unusual for him to have non-iconic images on display whether vended as gifts or not. He looked at it hard and it stared back at him unperturbed.
The imprinted face was lovely, consuming even - it drew the onlooker right into it. Christene stared back from within the tiny white lined image within the chrome frame. The cloud of blonde, wavy hair cascaded from the top of her head, limpid blue eyes rested beneath the faint slopes of her narrow blonde eyebrows and blazed brightly, proudly even. They were warm eyes but were tinged with a hint of loneliness and vulnerability. The bright and full mouth shielded her sparkling yet fractionally imperfect teeth. The only dissonant factor that disrupted the purity of her visage was her pretty little snub nose which gave her a friendly, charming warmth she wore well. The softly rounded jaw perfectly completed her face and supplemented a long slender neck. It was self evident that she was extremely attractive, but there was something more – an indefinable factor suggesting more than simple good looks. The girl was somewhere between very pretty and distinctly beautiful – but that was just the surface… why did he always seem to draw the wild ones?

KIRKPATRICK
Mhic slammed the slimline phone down forcefully, not exactly angry but more… frustrated. It was becoming a way of life and not a particularly desirable way of life at that. They went out once a week and talked every night… about everything except the things which really mattered – them, the relationship, the problem. With a deep sigh he moved along the pale flower patterned hallway back to his room, completely ignoring his sister, Mary, as she exited the bathroom wrapped in a large pink towel. He slammed the door of his bedroom behind him hard enough to make the wall posters dance in a billowy response.
As the door of Mhic’s room closed noisily, Mary paused for a moment as if considering whether to follow him to discover what was wrong but she was wet and still had Maths homework to finish for tomorrow. With a little mental shrug she just returned to the bedroom she shared with Pauline, rolling her eyes as she heard the all too familiar and now quite antiquated strains of the early Bay City Rollers yet again… kids!
Mhic lit another cigarette and flopped down on the bed, oblivious to the image of Buddy Holly staring down at him with a plastic nineteen fifties grin diametrically opposite the Roxy Music crew at the far end of the room. The stereo churned out the wholly dissatisfactory sound of Argent’s ‘Nexus’ album but he didn’t even care enough to get up and change it. The mirrored wardrobe reflected his irritation but he was quite unaware of his glassy twin’s concern as he began to idly leaf through an old copy of ‘Street Life’ but it too simply couldn’t hold his attention. Even when his eyes settled on the large Roland keyboard standing upright in the corner, there was no inspiration to play. Flicking ash away he rose again and prowled the room, distracting himself by laying out tomorrow’s work clothes on the little brown two seater sofa to the right of the door before finally leafing through the enormous wall of albums and thousands of singles to find something good. There was a momentary look of earnest concentration on his face as he began to sporadically browse the spines of the albums… Angel, Argent, Average White Band, Beach Boys, Beatles, Bob Dylan, Bowie, Bryan Ferry, Chicago, Clapton, Cockney Rebel, Alice Cooper, Cream, ELP, Faces, his fingers flickered on jumping down a shelf, Manfred Mann’s Earth Band, Moody Blues, Motown, Pink Floyd, Queen, Roxy, Rod Stewart were all considered before finally settling on ‘Sheer Heart Attack’. Mhic sipped at the cold tea from the cup on the little chrome table as ‘Brighton Rock’ filled the room then slumped down on the sofa to distractedly gaze out the window at the neon-illuminated street outside.
Surely there had to be more to life than just putting up with shit, day in and day out - school, parents, family, money, clothes, booze, job, food, friends… girlfriends. Mhic kicked at the table, splashing what was left of the tea all over the chrome with no urge to clean it up. It was clear he still had no idea how to rectify this impasse with Michelle, it was becoming the most significant aspect of their relationship and it shouldn’t be… but he just couldn’t stop thinking about it all. Thoughtlessly he flicked ash on the floor. Falling back into the sofa he looked over at the clock on his left as if actually seeing the hours slipping away slowly before his eyes – one day he’d want all this wasted time back, but then it’d be too late!

HELLENFORD MARINA
The Marina was as much for social interaction as it was for the mooring and maintenance of boats. The Club House overlooked the main bay where a host of varying sized crafts were docked, bobbing up and down in response to the shifting tide. The main lounge was busy, in fact it was always busy – when it cost as much as it did to rent berthing docks as this Marina charged, then it was a certainty the clientele were going to maximise each and every fringe benefit. It was very lush and modern with the minimum of nautical themed decoration. Some sort of faceless jazz–funk was playing quietly in the background, it could have been any of the host of identity impaired bands still pounding away at a trend that had already almost passed.
Peter Torrence was of medium height, average looking with no specific features that really registered strongly in the memory aside from his expensive, gold rimmed glasses. His dress sense was pleasantly middle class, grey flares, dark ‘V’ neck jumper with a white open collar shirt and shiny black shoes – he blended in with everyone else perfectly. With a smile he returned to the table and sat down between his sister, Melanie, and Pamela facing out to the window. They were all smartly dressed without being formal, the girls both wore trousers, heels and pale blouses that allowed their bosom to be noticeable without being overt.
“So, did I miss anything?” Peter asked.
The two girls looked at one another and giggled, merely shaking their heads.
The youth mentally shrugged and smiled at them, stealing a glance at Pam without being indiscreet. “So are you coming to the Christmas dance here, Pamela?”
Pam grinned and looked coy, “All depends!”
Melanie smirked and looked away to the handsome man in a suit at the next table.
“On what?” Peter asked.
“On whether someone invites me or not… and whether I feel like it!”
“I didn’t think you would be stuck for attention. I assumed you were already taken care of in that department.”
“Maybe… maybe not.” she said finishing her glass of Pernod and tossing her hair back with a flick of her head.
“Well, I hope you decide to attend – it’s sure to be great fun and you’ll know most of the people here. Maybe…” he trailed off.
Pam smiled and looked away, making him work for her attention. The man at the bar was in his early thirties but very dishy – all tall, dark and handsome.
“Sorry, Peter, what was that?” she finally responded, still smiling as she turned away when the man at the bar nodded pleasantly.
There was a little twitch of irritation on Peter’s face as he watched her.
“Actually, Pamela, I thought you were seeing someone these days!” he said, irritated more by her casual response to him than any deep rooted sense of passion.
“Did you?” she responded.
Melanie smiled to herself, reflecting how the two of them probably deserved each other. For a moment a brief sense of malice pulsed through her and she almost spoke out but managed to restrain herself… why ruin the ongoing amusement?
Peter sighed and cleared his throat, “Well, another drink, Pamela, Melanie?”
“Please!” The girls said in harmony as Peter automatically rose to go to the bar once more.
Melanie waited until he was out of earshot.
“Aren’t you seeing David Macklin?” she accused Pam with a mischevious smile.
“Who?”
“David Macklin!”
“Am I?”
Melanie laughed aloud, “We should spend more time together, you and I, I think we’d get along ever so well!”
Pam grinned as she watched Melanie, it was nice to be with someone who actually seemed to understand what she was about.

DANBRAY - NEWTOWN
Samantha stirred from in front of the fireplace, blue eyes burning arrogantly beneath a blaze of dark brown hair, disturbed by an unheard sound. She looked over at Harris, flicked her feline tongue for a moment then lay at peace once again soundlessly. Harris's cat, as undoubtedly as she was Siamese.
The strains of Cockney Rebel’s ‘Human Menagerie’ faded away with ‘Death Trip’ and Harris laughed, waiting for midnight. There was a long time to go. He changed the album and now Philip Glass’s ‘Einstein On The Beach’ discretely filled the room, raising the ambient temperature as he studiously tidied his Fortress of Solitude, cleaning shiny surfaces for half an hour or so until there was nothing left to clean. Flopping down on the black leather chair he was torn between watching the late night ‘Journey into Mystery’ with its charmingly haunting theme on STV or slamming on the ‘Man Who sold the World’ and rereading DP 121 - ‘The Death of the Doom Patrol’. Inevitably Niles Calder’s babies won out, after all he was always a sucker for tragedy.

DANBRAY - BELLSTREE
“Hello?”
There was no answer but someone was clearly there.
“Hello, who’s calling?”
“Christene?”
“Michelle? Hey, what’s up…? You had me worried there, I always think it’s bad news when the phone goes late at night.”
“God, I’m so sorry… Look I’ll… we can speak tomorrow, I know you’ve got to be up early for work – I’m really sorry to have called so late!”
“Michelle, what’s the matter? It isn’t that late, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”
“I just wanted to talk to you…”
“Awww, were you missing me, Darling?”
The other girl laughed, “A bit, actually! Sometimes you seem far away!”
“Well I do live in the ‘Forbidden Zone’.”
“Sorry, Chris, I didn’t mean it that way!”
“Hey, come on… I’m just kidding – Is everything alright, you don’t sound too good?”
There was a pause before the reply.
“No… fine, I’m fine – what about you?”
Christene paused, debating whether to pursue the issue that was not being raised.
“God, a harrowing evening. Mum was taking me to task about getting on with my life and going to Uni again!”
“Well, she’s right! You should be there and out having fun, shouldn’t you?”
This time Christene sighed, “Like Stevie’s party? That was a lot of laughs, hosts of brain dead zombies, getting hammered out my mind, accosted and then nearly raped – if that’s fun then I can hardly wait to get to work tomorrow.”
“I didn’t mean it like that!”
“Yeah, I know, sorry! It’s just been one of those nights and it makes me feel bad!”
“I know what you mean…”
“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, because I can hear something’s the matter, Miche.”
The other girl sighed and said nothing for a few moments. Christene waited until she was ready.
“Mhic!”
“Mhic? Why, has something happened?”
“No – that’s what’s the matter!”
“I need more of a clue, Michelle.”
“It’s difficult to explain if you know what I mean?”
“You can’t talk freely?”
“Uh-huh!”
“So it must be something sensitive?”
“That’s right – very!”
“Oh, I see… what we were talking about last week?”
“Yeah… neither of us had a super time either at or after Steve’s party, one way or another!”
“Has something else happened, has Mhic said something… done something?”
“No… well, not really! He’s just been kind of distant for the past couple of weeks – since the party. And when I told him about this photography thing we’ve been offered he was really cold about it all. On top of what’s been happening between us, well… it’s really upsetting, Christene. I just wish you were here, I really wish you’d have come to live here when… you know!”
“Michelle, it’s going to be okay – look, I know you can’t let your Mum hear what you want to say so… how about me coming over tomorrow after work, we’ll get a bite to eat at the Steak House and have a chat then go down to the Station Hotel and have a few drinks to celebrate or drown our sorrows… what do you think?”
“Oh, Chris, that’d be great - I’m so sorry to dump all this on you… but I don’t know what to do and you’re the only one I can talk to about it! Sorry!”
“You don’t have to be sorry, you were there when I had no one - so no more sorries, okay?”
“Thanks… oh, God, you didn’t have something else planned for tomorrow night did you?”
“No, nothing at all!”
“Are you sure… no Jonn things?”
“Hah! I think he’s had more than enough of my antics between the escapades during the summer and then being beaten to a pulp at Stevie’s party… I don’t think there’ll be any more Friday night pals for a while.”
“Did he say that?”
“No, but you know him. You can just tell and who could blame him? I got loaded at that party and was just being flirty… well, with everyone but him and then he has to… God, if I was him I’d have had enough of all my crap – I’m sure he has his own problems without bothering about mine!”
“Actually, Chris, I think he would have done the same for anyone… so I can’t see him being miffed over you being attacked, he seemed pretty upset for you! All he asked about was if you were okay. And he didn’t give you a hard time over the fact you didn’t… well, couldn’t face him after it.”
“Yeah, he just made it seem nothing had happened when he called that week. I really wish I’d phoned him first. I don’t know why he bothers with me sometimes!”
“Maybe because you two have fun when nothing bad’s happening… and maybe he just likes you!”
“Well… maybe, who knows? We’re having a catch up on Sunday so I’ll see how the land lies then. Oh, while I remember, Suzanne is up this week!”
“Really? How is she?”
“Good, very good actually! We’re heading out on the town on Saturday and she specifically asked if you were going to come along… might be good, switch off a bit – all catch up and party?”
“I’d love to see Suzanne again, yeah – you’re right! Let’s go on a rager, girls night out… no boys and no boy talk… we’ll be doing that tomorrow night!”
They both giggled.
“That’s better, Miche! So we have a definite plan then?”
“Oh, yeah! Look I’d better head off and let you get back to things. I am sorry to have phoned so late and bent your ear but… thank you so much. I just felt… y’know?”
“Don’t be silly, we’ll get all this sorted out tomorrow… right?”
“Right… and you’re staying over – you must!”
“Sure, great… and I’ll bring my torch so you don’t get scared if you start telling ghost stories like in second year!” Christene laughed.
“Very funny - but I’m sure there was something in that cupboard!”
“Yeah… ooohhhh yeah!”
“Goodnight, Christene!”
“Goodnight, Michelle!”
“Goodnight, John-boy!” that said at the same time, laughing.

DANBRAY - BELLSTREE
He just couldn’t settle down tonight, there were just too many thoughts going through his head. The yellow lights cast long shadows ahead and behind him as he slowly walked along Castle Street, little spits of rain permeating his light black jacket as he made his way past the residents car park where Granadas, Escorts. Capris and Vivas were at rest for the night. He smiled to himself noting how it was like a Ford parking lot, if it weren’t for the occasional Datsun or Toyota he was sure he’d have been outside a BNP meeting hall. Only occasionally did he see another person or the odd couple making their way home from the pub. Even at night he was quite at home in Bellstree and quite removed from the sense of peril many residents felt. Bill wandered through the dark streets towards the chip shop, the boredom of the house becoming too intense for him. In his pale Levi Sta-Prest and black edged blue shirt with stack heels – he felt resplendent. Beer still swirled within his stomach and residually pulsed through his veins. Another fruitless evening spent in The Ship, listening to the same stories he’d heard time and time again – the modern world, the glory of the shipbuilding days, the growing violence, the changing world… even how the Sex Pistols and these ‘punks’ were a blight on society. All of it made him smile, not because the old boozers were stupid but because their parents probably said all the same things about the nineteen fifties and the evils of Elvis. There was one thing he was sure of though, he would never end up like that – watching his life fade out in long lost memories of bygone days, he was going to be different. It was a pleasant if normal night, flirting with some of the wives, chatting with the men and just getting loaded – he wondered if drinking would hold the same charm when it was official, after all by May they would all be like Storey, eighteen and legal.
The sounds of his heels clicked like a warning bell through the street as he turned down the little path, pausing to see what was happening at the shops. As he watched he could see the Chimes Bobbie King and Mogga milling around outside the chip shop, smoking and passing a bottle of cheap wine to one another - aimlessly minding their territory. If he’d known Mogga was one of his attackers the other day he could have fucked him up at the same time as Burgess… he’d have to be sure to let them both know that Burgess had grassed them up to save losing his teeth – they’d probably appreciate that bit of information!
Someone else was watching, the clouds parted briefly and the moon flashed through. A strange thought unexpectedly crossed his mind about his friends, did they all know the individual dreams they each undoubtedly harboured despite the things they said and jointly adhered to? Did they all have little fragments of private lives that the others were never privy to? Did it make their friendship any less valid if they did? Maybe he was just feeling a little guilty about Mandy, he really should have been in touch with the other chaps during his sick time but somehow he just didn’t want anyone else in on the romance. With a mental shrug he began walking forward again, walking heavily to announce his approach. Rosser knew clearly what he wanted to do tonight - in the immediate ‘now’. The little bastards that jumped him were a debt that had to be repaid – he’d done Burgess and here was the chance to hammer two more… King and Mogga! Once they were hammered there was apparently only Sheeran left of the four names and someone mentioned earlier on that it looked like he was going on a holiday at Her Majesty’s pleasure… but he’d still have to come out someday and Bill was like an elephant when it came to this shit, he just never forgot.
One hand slipped into the inside of his jacket and felt the cool metal there. A grin spread across his face and adrenaline started to pump through him as he approached the pair, the challenge being noted by both sides. There was only one owner of this turf in his area! He defiantly moved down on them hoping he could get this done swiftly enough to have time to get a fish supper afterwards – Toni’s made great fish. Bill saw the two hoods he wanted pausing as if deciding whether to stay or bail and it made him smile as he broke into a run that saved them having to make a choice, descending on them like Batman. The drifting clouds aggregated and the moon became obscured.

BEARSDEN
Pink Floyd’s ‘One of These Days’ was still filling the room from the large, white, wall speakers when he fell back on the right hand side of the bed, perspiration dotted all over his forehead turning the short tufts of fair hair into little, sharp, damp tails. With a deep sigh he slipped one leg out the bed and tossed the sticky sheet from his skin. The girl looked over at him as if waiting for some event to manifest, dragging her hair from her face with a gentle stroke of her hand. For a moment she considered saying something but declined as her partner lit up one of the joints lying on the bedside table, taking a brief draw before handing it to her and then lighting another for himself.
Ruth inhaled and let her eyes flicker round the room she was already more than familiar with. Like the rest of the opulent house the bedroom was neat, modern, expensive and almost minimalistic – white walls with half a dozen framed images of cultural icons like Hendrix, Bolan, Miles Davis, The Rat Pack and The Godfather as the decorative back drop to a low glass table and some black leather chairs… everything else was pretty much secreted in the walls. Stevie parents were rarely home and even more rarely home at the same time if they were in residence – but bearing in mind their lifestyle, it was unlikely that it would make any difference to the things she and Stevie indulged in together.
She took a sip of the Whisky and lemonade from the bedside table by her side of the bed, dragging herself to a semi sitting position. Her long auburn hair was a tangled mess and her bright green eyes peered out from a slightly roundish face that grimaced as she felt a little trickle of perspiration slither down between her ample breasts uncomfortably. Ruth looked much more adult than she was in reality, her body was very womanly and appealing so she didn’t have to rely on her many other talents to engage people generally. With a long draw she pulled on the joint and flicked the hanging ash into the large glass ashtray before gazing over to Stevie. His face was handsome and well shaped with narrow eyes and a smallish mouth that seemed to be elasticated when he smiled as it widened enormously.
They remained silent as they smoked, it was like a ritual and it was good stuff. Stevie always had good gear no matter what it was – it was one of the benefits of being connected and having wealthy parents, The joint in her hand was just past the halfway point when she felt the all too familiar sensation inside herself forcing her to drop it carefully into the ashtray, toss the sheet back and rise. Stevie’s eyes followed her nudity, watching the gorgeous, rounded bottom wiggle away from the bed as she pushed the en suite bathroom door open – not turning away and exhaling a puff of smoke until he heard her flick the light and saw the door close.
Inside she locked the door of the black tiled, chrome trimmed bathroom and sat down grabbing a clutch of toilet paper with her left hand as she felt the ejaculate begin to run out of her insides. Ruth sighed with more than a little exasperation and wiped herself with a tiny bite of her lip as she leaned back and gently stroked her sex with her right hand. Slowly she made little rotations against herself with two fingers and consciously remained silent as she did so. It only took a minute or two to achieve her first climax of the evening, a twisting little spasm that tingled through herself in luxuriating pleasure and release – only stopping her ministrations when the last embers of gratification had burned out. Her legs twitched a little as she felt the bulk of him running out from her internals, hearing it splash onto the porcelain with a perverse smile painting her face. With a sigh she grasped another clutch of paper and wiped the warm fluid from her genitals before rising and grabbing another handful and running it under the tap to begin cleaning herself again. As she rubbed she gave into her own pleasure once more, leaning against the wall and making sure she didn’t make too much noise either from her mechanics or her achieved pleasure.
Ruth looked at herself reflected from the huge mirror, pleased with what she saw – more pleased with that than her evening’s frustrating copulation. The things she did to fill in her empty life! Her hands eagerly cleansed herself before damply sweeping her hair back and drying herself off and returning to the bedroom.
The music had long stopped and Stevie had already nodded off with the burnt out joint still in hand. Ruth shook her head in despair, how Stevie hadn’t burned himself alive before this defeated her. Patiently she padded over to his side of the bed and removed the barely warm joint from his unconscious fingers, blowing the fallen ash to the floor and then standing at his side with arms folded under her near symmetrical breasts. It was really just as well that Stevie had other talents and benefits in his personal portfolio, she thought to herself.

DANBRAY - OXHILL
It might be nice to see one’s extended family every once in a while but, as harsh as it sounded, it was also nice to see them leave. Undoubtedly it had made for a long night, although it was always amusing to exchange banter with his cousins especially Marlene… now, if she wasn’t his young cousin - but he stopped that train of thought as swiftly as it had began. The curious thing about the evening was the almost secret information passing between his father and his uncle, there was clearly something afoot but it was still being kept under wraps… and he hated secrets unless it was him who was keeping them. With a mental sigh he let it go, it would all come out eventually. It was getting late and since there was nothing on the three television networks he wanted to watch, Sto retired to his room.
He walked into the semi darkness illuminated by the white light from the far off street and clicked the table lamp which sat in the far corner bathing the room in a pale blue light. With a little leap he hopped onto the large bed that faced the window, to his right was the wall of shelves with books, magazines and little statues as well as the big stereo and his records with an entire shelf dedicated to his Americana music covering the fifties to now. On his left were the door and a wall covered with an immense American flag hung with the stars to the bottom. There was a little wardrobe to the left of the window and a door beside it leading to his own bathroom, mirrored by another door leading to the storage cupboard where he stored his white pearl Premier drum kit. Sto reached over and flicked the stereo allowing the sounds of the Velvet Underground’s ‘Heroin’ to gently cascade about the room. His eyes flicked to the clock and was surprised how late it was and how tired he now felt… but it was still too early to retire. With another stretch he grasped one of the mini-cans of beer Americans loved and he opened it one handed, hardly tasting the first few swallows. Leaning over again he grasped this month’s import copy of ‘Cream’ – he loved that idiot Lester Bangs work, the review of ‘Metal Machine Music’ was one of the funniest he’d ever read and it was a mystery to him why everyone hadn’t found it to be so.
Clare was such a gem to know the things he really liked, if only she lived on the West Coast instead of the East. Sto casually leafed through articles on Widowmaker and Tom Petty, mentally noting he should watch out for the first single ‘American Girl’ when it was released because it sounded like his kind of thing. The Polaroid slipped out from somewhere towards the back of the American Music Magazine, jammed into the two page article on the Boston based, pseudo-Stones orientated band, Aerosmith, featuring a guy with a mouth the size of Russia. Retrieving it curiously from the floor, Sto was shocked and thrilled to see the demure little redheaded Clare half-naked and barely wrapped in a revealing studded leather leotard complete with a little black mask. The fetishistic clothing did little to distract him from focussing on her ample charms, smiling back up from the shiny photo. He was blown away, he never suspected she was so racy nor that she was the type to risk donating such compromising images of herself away… but it was still a thrilling, if unexpected, bonus she had gifted him with – at least he assumed it was meant for him. It had to be didn’t it? But then, what if…

HELLENFORD
The spits of rain were becoming heavier and it was just one more thing to add to the long list of items which had made this a far from perfect night. It was a long way home, for all the difference it made with the mood he was in. The girl had been pretty, even in her waitress uniform, dyed blonde and well made up, tight white blouse and black skirt… if it weren’t for her the night would have been just like being in solitary. At first he enjoyed the attention, listening to how she was supplementing her grant by working four nights a week in the bar, how she was far from home and the irritation she felt when the half loaded customers became more than flirtatious as the night wore on. It was only later he started to feel some discomfort, some perverse sense of guilt that he knew was quite irrational – probably more due to the fact that he didn’t want to deceive her rather than from any notion of betrayal. There had been a considerable amount of booze consumed tonight, courtesy of her doubling his measures and slipping the extra pint to him here and there.
Dave dug his hands into the light blue anorak pocket and pulled the gold packet out, there was one left and he paused to light it up before tossing the empty packaging away. Drawing hard he trudged the quiet street and tried to ignore the chill wind and rain in his face, enviously looking at the warm lights within the houses he passed on the long road home.
It was when she slipped her arm into his as he walked her home after closing time that it gave him the first twinge of discomfort, irrespective of how pleasing it also felt. The girl was genuinely nice, pretty and just a little lonely – it was a feeling he knew all too well tonight. When she invited him into her flat he knew part of him wanted to go inside, have coffee, kiss and whatever else may happen… but that would have been unfair, at least on her. She didn’t seem the promiscuous type just a little isolated and feeling the need to be with someone, probably. Not that any of it mattered now, he had made his excuses and left her once she was safely home – in a way he was already regretting it. What was it Harris always quoted? ‘Virtue is its own reward! – It bloody well had to be because no one else is going to thank you’.
What the fuck had happened to Pam tonight? It would almost have been comforting to think she had been involved in some hideous accident and was fighting for her life in Intensive Care somewhere but that was too much to hope for – the truth was undoubtedly much less palatable, she just didn’t give a shit! Dave tried to rationalise what he saw in her, she was attractive, voluptuous and wild as often as she was demure but he’d been out with girls as attractive if not more so and yet this one was in his blood.
It was as if there was something wrong with him – something he simply couldn’t see or understand and he didn’t know why. Here he was again, pissed off, alone and angry – this was no way to live. The same thoughts he had rationalised time and time again continued to run through his head all the way home.
When he finally reached Montrose Street it was almost a relief to see the hideous house of horrors he called home, he was wet, angry and ready to sleep for eternity.
There were no lights on in the monolith but that was no surprise. The gravel crunched under his feet as he walked up the drive, getting his house keys out as he did. The storm doors were closed over and he turned the handle, pushing forward as he did. Unexpectedly the doors remained shut and he cursed aloud as he bounced back from the immovable force. He tried again but the doors remained solidly shut barring any access and making him curse aloud – his fucking insane father… why couldn’t the old bastard be in some grotesque car crash and just die wracked in agony. With boiling blood he took a pace back and retracted his foot to boot the lock when he thought better of it. Stepping back he knew that all the windows would be closed, this was a deliberate act designed to antagonise and humiliate. Dave wondered what to do, sleep in the garage if he could tweak the lock, phone one of the boys, thumb a lift and turn up at Harris’s door, go back to see if he could spend the night with the barmaid who thought he was in his mid twenties? The anger and rage almost made him sick when he thought of one last hope. Stealthily he snuck round the side of the house, sneaking around the back to his room window – there was just a chance that his only real ally in the household might have put a spanner in Daddy Dearest’s plan. In the near darkness he hopped up on his window ledge and experimentally pushed upwards at the lower frame. Success! God bless Elaine, once again she’d made him glad that one of his sisters wasn’t the human casualty that the rest of his family clearly were. The grin of victory belied the deep hatred he felt for the pathetic excuse for a man that had sired him. As he quietly tumbled into his chilly room and closed the window behind him he wished that something good would happen in his life because if it did he would grab it with both hands and never let go.
Dave quietly undressed and slipped into bed with anger still chiselled on his face, it had been another perfect fucking day in the life of Macklin Junior.

DANBRAY - NEWTOWN
Pulling his long black trenchcoat on, he extinguished the lights – making sure his door was left open enough for the little monster to enter and exit as she chose. As he saw it, the room was as much hers as it was his - it validated the old saying, 'People don’t own cats – cats own people'. The coat adhered to him like a second skin as he left the house, a bottle of Bezique in hand, it was time to go and see 'her' again.
Quietly slipping into the metallic black coloured Toyota, Harris turned the ignition key and felt the car kick into life. A flick of the wrist and the wipers swished across the screen to clear the accumulated raindrops. Automatically he clicked the stereo and graphic equaliser on, illuminating the immediate viscinity with green light then a host of multi colours as Jeff Beck’s ‘Diamond Dust’ instantly seeped forth. With a last look at his home he slipped out the drive onto the Newtown Road to blend into the misty nightscape.
The half hour car journey was seemingly short and swiftly travelled, almost impatiently. By the time he reached Park Circus the music had flipped and the Stones 'Time Waits for No one' was already fading out. Parking on Woodlands Terrace he looked over the city before exiting, the twinkling lights were much prettier from a distance. With a discrete flick of the car door banging a ghostly echo behind him, Harris traversed the neon lit street to her building quite alone. At the end of the road he climbed the steps and pushed the foyer doors open, turning the key to the outer door and entering the warmth of what was only a lush Hotel, he quickly traversed the thickly carpeted stairs to the top apartment. Once more he found himself confronting the familiar dark wooden door – again, tapping a rhythmic three knocks and waiting. Slowly the door opened and the faint hint of discordant music manifested audibly, the aura of it becoming tangible. Harris looked at the pretty dark haired woman in her short, silk Chinese robe, she looked back with light dancing in her eyes. Elegantly tall, narrow hipped and with a seductive little artificial beauty spot on her left cheek, she was a most appealing sight. Her arms snaked around his neck, filling him with her scent and pulling him in. Harris wordlessly smiled back at her, laughter escaping from his throat. The door slammed shut and Harris continued his journey across the web.