THE IMAGES

SUNDAY DECEMBER 12TH 1976
DANBRAY – NEWTOWN : MORNING
Like clockwork the bells of the nearby church exploded into life at exactly eleven fifteen. A sign to guarantee it was Sunday morning. Harris rolled out of bed, his body feeling tense and strained after the previous evening's antics. Naked, he looked out of the window. In the far distance the sun glowed like a flickering candle, unsure whether or not to unleash itself on the wet, glittering streets. The clouds roamed in search of an unknown prey, their presence almost threatening. Easing himself into his favourite clinging jeans with their little rips half patched by American badges and the pleated black shirt with white stitching, which lay by the bedside, he then went out to the white kitchen in search of nutrition. He felt replenished as he swallowed the ice cold orange juice, each gulp awakening sleeping limbs and preparing them for a fresh assault from the new day.
A quick wash and hair set later he was strolling back to his room where, on his command, the stereo burst into life. David Bowie began to sing about ‘Young Americans’ as side one of the plastic soul album gently seeped through the four speakers on the perimeter of his bedroom as Harris sat in front of the ruddy glowing, plastic flamed, fire and waited for the punctual arrival of Christene.
Bowie was intoning ‘ain’t there one damn song…’ when, at precisely 11.30 am, the doorbell rang a discrete two note tone and he jumped up, ready to go.
A dark haired figure was discernible through the glass, it was not the one he was expecting. Harris stood at the door, puzzled. 'Why should the girl from the tennis court be here?' he wondered.
"Are you ready yet?" she asked confidently in a cultured English accent.
"For what?" Harris answered with a hint of aggression in his voice.
"To go out, Chris must have told you we were going away for the day?"
"Aahh, so you're her cousin?" he said inspecting her more closely. "I see! Hang on, I'll get my jacket."
"Fine!" the dark haired girl smiled, her eyes drinking his youthful body. "I'll see you in the car."
Harris went back to his room, shut down the stereo, switched off the fire, mouthed his goodbyes to the sleeping parents and left quietly. At the bottom of the drive the blue MG breathed its' exhaust fumes out with regularity, giving it an image of life. Inside the little car the heater was running and Christene sat huddled in the back, eyes bright and glowing. She gave him a sparkling hello before making introductions.
"This is my cousin!" she said with a smile. "Her name's Suzanne. Say hello to her."
"Hello!" he dead-panned in response. "We've already met though! Tennis, I think, wasn't it?"
"Yes, you spoiled the whole game – and I was winning! You and your friends rather upset Annabelle, it took a bottle of Moet to placate her. So you owe me one!" Suzanne replied with a husky toned accent.
"I'll pay you back sometime!'
"Interesting, how do you intend to do that?"
Christene rolled her eyes and grimaced in the back. "Take no notice of her, Jonn, but keep a firm grip on your zip or she'll have you before you know it!" She said with just a touch of bitterness creeping into her voice.
The little car raced along the Newtown Road heading for the Boulevard. Suzanne’s ringless left hand flicked the tape player on, subjecting them to the torture of some nameless Genesis album that forcefully intruded into their minds – much to Harris’s discomfort. It was as much to block out the pain of the Prog Rock hacks as it was natural scrutiny that induced Harris to assess the girl driving beside him.
She was at least twenty five, maybe more for all it mattered, and although it was cold outside her clinging white blouse was opened invitingly to reveal smooth bronzed skin which almost glowed. The familiar scent of Chanel drifted over from her, he guessed it was ‘Number Five’. The black trousers adhered to her very tightly so that the shape of her underlying body was completely discernible, almost a characteristic part of her. Harris guessed that underwear wasn’t a big obsession with Christene’s family. Wearing little make-up to enhance the icy green eyes, save for some eye-liner and pale lipstick, showed her face to be bright and lively but yet there was something which haunted her features, something he couldn't work out - yet. The bright diamond ear-rings caught the light around her and reflected it in little twinkling sparkles to her sharp boned cheeks, highlighting the face whose brightness was contrasted sharply by the mane of dark hair which hung gypsy like around her shoulders. Harris cast his eyes over her in final summation, she was fashionably attractive and well constructed to the point of being street glamorous.
Suzanne was apparently unaware of the inspection and merely replied tardily to Christene's barbed insinuation softly. “That sounds very like jealousy, Christene.”
Christene ignored her and gazed blankly out of the tiny rear window at the specks of rain which fell falteringly. Curiously, she was dressed quite conservatively but tastefully, as opposed to her usual extrovert self. The soft, black polo neck and light blue jeans held her tightly without being too revealing while her face was unusually completely devoid of any signs of cosmetics.
Harris relaxed as the car accelerated along the A82 to Glasgow at an alarming rate.
"Where are we going to, then?" he asked to no-one in particular.
Suzanne looked away from the road and smiled at him.
"I thought we'd go to Edinburgh, just to see what it's like. I’ve never been there!" she said in a cultured London tone.
Christene draped herself over the back of the passenger seat almost leaning against Harris’s head. "I've already told you what it'll be like – dead, like a graveyard at midnight. Empty - like your mind. It’s Sunday, Scotland is closed on a Sunday!”
The dark haired girl sighed in reply and gunned the speedy little car along faster than ever. There was a little click from the stereo as the tape came to an end and Harris unconsciously made an audible sigh of thanks, making Suzanne turn with a hint of indignation.
“What?” the dark haired woman asked him emphatically.
With a little raised eyebrow he glanced over, debating whether or not to be diplomatic about her taste in music.
“That was absolute torture… Genesis? Genesis! I’d sooner listen to the noise of a construction site!” Harris stated as he erred on the side of diplomacy.
“I thought you youngsters enjoyed bands like Genesis.”
“Maybe my grandfather might enjoy them but, personally… thanks, but no thanks! Do you have anything else… you know, from this century? Music that isn’t for the brain-dead?”
They all giggled a little as Suzanne’s eyes narrowed to little slits in his direction.
“What about ‘Yes’?”
“No!”
“They’re good, I’ve got that triple album somewhere…”
Christene laughed from the back and leaned over Harris. “You’ll enjoy that, won’t you – a triple album will keep the music flowing all the way to Edinburgh!”
Harris mimed the horrors of regurgitation. “Genesis and Yes, how do you choose? Well, actually, you don’t! What else is there, ‘pop picker’?”
Suzanne glanced back at Christene in the rear view mirror with an impish grin as she rummaged through the tapes beneath the stereo, pulling one out and automatically pushing it into the slot.
“I know! This will be perfect for you, Jonn-Boy!”
The little piano chords rang out before the voice sang.
‘Why do birds suddenly appear, every time you are near?’ The music implored making the two girls cackle with laughter.
“The Carpenters – Gold!” They both said simultaneously.
Harris rolled his eyes and slunk deeper into his seat.
“Well, ladies, clearly its crap… but it’s still better crap than your Genesis and Yes torture tapes… ‘they long to be, close to you!’” he harmonised perfectly as the others giggled in response.
“If you’re really good, I’ll let you listen to Abba after this!” Suzanne stocattoed as she continued laughing.
“Total Mince!” Harris sneered with contempt. “But still better than that Prog Rock, hippie music!”
Christene jutted forward between the seats, the scent of her Kiku drifting on the air.
“You should have seen her and Annabelle last night, bopping away to ‘Waterloo’, stripping to ‘Waterloo’ almost! Michelle and I were absolutely mortified!”
“Then you shouldn’t have joined in with me, should you?” came the reply as they all began laughing again.
“Well, that’s a mental image I’ll replay every time I have to listen to the super-Swedes!” Harris offered with a thoughtful grin as they approached Glasgow at high speed.

HELLENFORD : LATE MORNING
The little radio-cassette player was filling the dull, chilly garage with sound – making it slightly more tolerable for Dave as he rubbed the cold metal of the shears with a light sandpaper. The big black BSA motorbike stood gleaming at the back of the garage in isolation, the family car was parked outside having just returned from church. The smell of the oil and lubricant mix filled the draughty workplace as Alice Cooper’s ‘Generation Landslide’ helped a little grin manifest on the tall youth dressed in dirty brown overalls. On the workbench before him were an assortment of garden and mechanical tools, about a third of them gleaming and glistening with the glow of clean, lubricated metal whilst the others, yet to be attended to, were wet with WD40 designed to loosen the heaviest portions of rust.
The garage door opened and cold air rushed in as the silhouette appeared, only drawing the door over a little behind him.
“How are you getting on with the job?” Mr Macklin asked mechanically.
“Fine!” Dave sighed with a suppressed irritation. “Just enjoying another relaxing Sunday!”
His father, still neat and tidy from attending Church, walked over towards the bench.
“Turn that noise off, will you? I can’t even hear myself think with that drivel going on. Well, if you’d done this during the week then you could be out enjoying a relaxing Sunday or, better still, coming to church with the rest of the family!”
Dave sighed and switched Alice Cooper off. “I’d sooner clean this lot!”
With folded arms, Mr Macklin looked down at the array of both cleaned and uncleaned work on the bench.
“For God’s sake, David, is this the best you can do? These tools cost good money and they’re rotten with rust!”
“Why don’t you get off my back and find something else to do?” Dave responded moving to the rear of the garage to fetch another piece of rag.
“I’m asking you – do you call this clean?”
“Do you know how to get it cleaner? Why don’t you show me?”
Mr Macklin began to walk back towards the door, shaking his head in disapproval.
“Typical, always looking to get someone else to do your work for you!”
“Yeah, right… what you mean is you can’t! You can’t get it any cleaner because it’s easier to talk about than do. God, you’re pathetic. I don’t know why I bother…”
“You keep a civil tongue in your head, David!” His father threatened as he stood by the opened door.
“Get fucked!”
The neatly dressed man took a pace forward, raising his arm and pointing to his son.
“Don’t use your gutter language with me, boy! I’ll teach you a lesson you won’t forget in a hurry – you might talk like that with…”
Dave interrupted as a sudden thought struck him like the glowing shafts of sunlight beginning to pierce the cloudscape outside.
“I get it now, I see what’s the matter… it’s not me you hate is it? It’s you – you hate yourself and your stupid, meaningless life, don’t you?”
“How dare you!” he shouted angrily. “How dare you say that. I’ll…”
Mr Macklin moved forward, his face a red ball of anger with veins throbbing from the neck up. His fists were clenched and he began to move all too quickly toward his son.
Only once or twice before had this level of rage manifested but this time was different.
Dave moved forward through the vacant garage, hands by his side and his face an unnatural mask of calmness.
“Come on, do it! Go ahead, show me! Here I am!”
The man looked at him and took another pace before stopping dead as he saw no movement or fear in his son’s eyes. Dave shook his head in a motion of profound sadness as he looked at his father and then he merely folded his arms.
The look of rage on Mr Macklin’s face became even more intense but something was fading in his eyes, dying as his son stood silently staring.
His father gazed back for a moment or two in absolute silence, turned and slowly walked out the garage door, closing it behind quietly.
Dave’s eyes were stinging, almost overtly damp. In a smooth, speedy gesture he picked up the sparkling hatchet and fired it with every iota of force he could muster into the garage door. The tool spun through the air in tidy elliptical turns until it hammered into the splintering wood with a thudding echo that resounded throughout the garage as it penetrated so deeply that part of it actually jutted out into the fresh air.
He stood breathing hard, fists shaking as he just stared ahead at the closed door - completely unmoving. Dave remained absolutely motionless for over a minute and then simply turned, reactivated the tape machine and continued cleaning the remaining tools once more.

THE A8 : LATE MORNING
The wind whistled around the little blue sports car as it flashed along the busy A8 to Edinburgh, grey scenery and bursts of greenery disappearing behind them almost unseen while inside they all finally relaxed, chatting away throughout the journey as The Carpenters sang their hearts out for the three passengers. As they travelled to the Capital city Harris learned Suzanne was a fully qualified lawyer, had newly become a junior partner in a prominent central London Law Firm, was unofficially engaged to a senior partner, loved going out, adored holidaying abroad and clearly had a wild side to her nature. She, in return, learned almost nothing about Harris.

DANBRAY – BELLSTREE : EARLY AFTERNOON
The hot water was filled so high in the bath that the occupant had to be careful about any violent movement lest it induce a tidal wave that broke over the pale yellow fibreglass to saturate the surrounding floor. Bill simply relaxed as he listened to the radio oozing Sunday afternoon hits. He slipped under the water as ‘Rockin Me’ by Steve Miller began – it wasn’t his cup of tea really, more of a Macklin thing but it was good pop music… probably going to end up in the Sawbones set before the year was out. He was grateful there were no gigs this weekend, DJ and Ronnie were working today anyway – rather them than him. Bill resurfaced, wiped the water from his eyes and reached for the shampoo from the little vanity unit that ran along the wall side of the bath, twisting the little ‘easy pour’ cap on the dark green Vosene bottle and pouring the yellowy brown liquid into his wet hand. As he savaged his scalp a broad smile stretched over his visage – it was Sunday, he was going to see Mandy in a couple of hours and there was no school for him until next year… life was good!

EDINBURGH : AFTERNOON
Just after 2.00 PM., at the foot of the Castle the blue sports car sat in the car park, other cars scattered sparsely around it. With their arms intertwined and Harris in the middle, they followed the winding road back from the thrill of Suzanne seeing the actual place where the Royal Tattoo was held annually. The only time Harris cared about this place was the year his father’s regiment had attended, the glowing memory being that his father had actually sat in James Bond’s Aston Martin DB5 from ‘Goldfinger’ – a level of cool that impressed his Milngavie primary school friends in the mid-sixties.
Christene's voice finally broke the comfortable silence. "I don’t know about you two, but I want some tea or something. That place was drier than an Egyptian tomb."
Suzanne smiled benevolently, ignoring the barb. "Alright then, little sister, we'll get something light to eat - if we can find anywhere that's open in the… what is it you call Edinburgh, Jonn?”
“The City of the Dead!"
The two girls grinned at one another and clutched him a little tighter as if watching some scary film.
Harris shook his head with a smile as they began their search.
The wind blew at them, pulling at their hair and stinging their eyes as they swiftly walked towards the bland greyness at the base of the hill, a greyness of urban city life which extended to and joined with the overcast skyline.
They walked together, jackets and coats blowing in the chilly East Coast wind, with their heels clicking in unison as the sparsely populated Princes Street stretched out before them. The trio moved as though they owned the streets in which they were strangers, stopping here and there to look in or sometimes laugh at the shops they passed. Along the main street there was still no sign of anywhere being open, nor was there any sign of life in the little shops that ran off from the main strip. The girls constantly stopped at the clothes shops to condone or condemn the extortionately priced, out of date fashions.
Harris despised the sterile street and all its' trappings, especially on a soggy Sunday afternoon in mid winter when it was like desolation boulevard. It seemed to be endless, running to the stretches of infinity as the sharp lines of grey and black fell together and blended obscurely into the vague architectural shapes in the distance. The shops seemed to be small and impotent, plastic and soulless.- perhaps even depressing. The only lasting impression he ever felt from the sprawling metropolis was one of emptiness and cold – it was a rotten place to be alone in.

Christene stared at the reflection of Jonn in the shop window, her intense blue eyes glowing bright like a child's, seeing him before the horde of novelties in the shop.
With a little reluctance she succumbed to the admission that she had resisted for so long – she felt strongly attracted to him. He’d been there for her through thick and thin and yet had never imposed on her nor seemed to ask anything in return, but at the same time she also felt an odd sensation of reservation in her feelings because of his strange moodiness. Often he could appear to be quite unemotional and removed where at other times he was enthusiastically entertaining - almost as if he were two separate people. He wasn’t an easy person to know.
Christene watched him as they walked away from the shop, out the corner of her eye, trying to understand what was going on in her own mind as much as his. The feeling of being indebted to him was one which she had brought on herself, but he had been there when she needed someone outside her own circle… and he had never judged her in anything.
Gazing at the large brown eyes which smouldered like burning suns beneath the mass of dark brown hair that was more than a little Bowie like, she realised that it was not only admiration which drew her to him - he was very attractive in a saturnine, possibly arcane, pretty boy manner. It was so prominent it generally escaped her notice as she tried to search for something deeper. All her boyfriends had been handsome, attractive and desirable so she simply tended to take good looks for granted, so much so she had begun to ignore that aspect in the men she met. It was only now she began to realise why she had refused the invites of interested men for the past months. The answer was right in front of her – she had started comparing them to him. Jonn’s harmonic features all ran together, the high cheek bones, the sharp nose, the electric eyes, the jutting jawline and the gorgeously pleasant large mouth, all amalgamating to compose a bizarrely handsome composition. All the commercial scenery passed her unseen as her infatuation with him consumed her, he was thin but delicately muscled and covered with skin that glowed with life. Despite the unpleasant unemotional characteristics he possessed, she had come to really like him in a different way over the past six months or so, especially after Stevie's party. That was what had made her realise what had happened within herself, when she simply couldn’t face him after what he had done for her.
As her train of thought began to move into uncomfortable territory, she shrugged at the futility of her musings, mentally shaking herself and following the other two down Rose Street to find the café that Harris had apparently suggested might be open.

DANBRAY – OXHILL : LATE AFTERNOON
The faint sounds of Bad Company were drifting out from behind as Sto left his bedroom, briefly feeling a strange sense of irony as they sang ‘Can’t Get Enough’. He was still aching from the bathroom incident in Joanna’s but at least all his important equipment had suffered no permanent damage – just felt a little tender. Sunday afternoons were a drag and he was already quite bored with reading and listening to music – he needed to get out somewhere. His baggy combat trousers trailed over his boots and his big, bleached denim shirt hung over his hips untidily. With a little sigh he dug out the Joanna’s door ticket from his pocket, flipping it over to look at the phone number the girl had scrawled for him last night. There was a pause as he wondered whether to call. Sto sighed deeply and walked over to the phone, avoiding the human cannonball that was his little sister as she darted past with a demonic chuckle. It made him smile and shake his head in wonder at what was actually going through the little girl’s mind – it was all too far back for him to remember those kinds of childish adventures.
Sto lifted the receiver from the two toned grey telephone and began to dial, sighing once more as the ringing tone began and then continued five, six, seven times. He was about to hang up when a girl’s voice answered.
“Hello?”
“Hellen?”
“Yes…?”
“Hi, it’s Sto!”
The girl’s voice became quite animated and enthusiastic. “Hey, how are you?”
“Good… you?”
“Going insane! Sundays kill me!”
“I know what you mean, its slow death here!”
“So, did you stay on at Joanna’s? One of the girls was on the phone this morning and told me there was a huge fight just before the band were about to play again… I’m glad I missed that.”
Sto hesitated, “Yeah, me too!”
“For once Penny’s ‘getting-home-early-for-daddy’ was a godsend. What was she like? I’ve never seen her drool over a guy like that – ever… I thought she was like a Tressy doll, y’know, nothing down there?”
Sto laughed at Hellen’s rat-a-tat chatter, it reminded him of something he just couldn’t quite put his finger on. “So, what’s on the cards for you today?”
Hellen snorted, “Nothing, nowhere to go and nothing to do – another average Sunday! What about you?”
“Dunno, feeling a bit stir crazy – can’t really settle down to anything. I’m probably just going to take a drive or something.”
“Where to?”
“Dunno? Why, any ideas?”
“Maybe…” she said coyly and with a seductive tone.
Sto chuckled, “I’m listening!”
Hellen sighed audibly and paused, “Well… maybe we could meet up?”
“Great! What do you fancy doing? Film, get a bite to eat, pub, disco?”
Once again she paused.
“Hellen?”
“Is there anything else you’d like to do to kill a Sunday night?”
Sto laughed and resisted saying the first thing which naturally came into his mind.
“What can I say, Hellen? I can think of a million things!”
“See if you can guess what I’m thinking!”
Sto mentally rolled his eyes, it was pretty unlikely she was going to be thinking of anything like the subject matter that was playing through his mind at the moment. He merely laughed and coughed a little suggestively.
“Well done, Sto!”
“What?”
“No one will be here tonight, all my family are out and about doing… whatever old people do and I’d like to get loaded and… enjoy myself! Want to join me?”
Sto paused and looked skyward, silently thanking the Gods for their bizarre act of kindness.
“I can’t tell you how much I’d like to!”
“Good!” she laughed with a hint of innuendo. “Well, if you bring a bottle of vodka I’ll provide something warm to put it in!”
“Okay… you sure?”
“Very – are you?”
“Totally and utterly sure! What’s the address?”
“Do you know Jordanhill at all, not far from the College, Crow Road?”
“Yeah!”
“It’s the houses looking onto the playing fields, before the shops at the bridge, three oh seven – white house with a red door.”
“Cool!”
“So it’s a definite?”
“Absolutely, eight?”
“Fine – don’t let me down, Sto! I don’t want to get all painted and dressed up for nothing!”
Sto grinned as he held the phone to his ear. “Trust me, Hellen, it won’t be for nothing! I’ll be there with bells on!”
“Hmmm, bells? That’s interesting!” she giggled down the phone. “So, I’ll see you tonight?”
“Yup, counting the minutes!”
“Good, See you later!”
“Later!”
Sto put the phone down as Gerry stood leaning against the living room door, looking like a warped version of Sto himself except taller, thinner and with close cropped hair.
Gerry grinned and shook his head but said nothing.
“Drop dead, braindeath!” Sto suggested with a grin as Gerry wandered away with a little flick of the thumbs up sign.
Sto laughed, even the skulking eavesdropper couldn’t ruin his mood – it was pretty unlikely anything could bring any rain into his life today.

EDINBURGH : LATE AFTERNOON
The cafe was small and plain, its paintwork red and flaking with its' old yellowed ‘Coke’ sign feebly gripping onto the antiquated board above the doorway. It was like most of the area off the Royal Mile, a little seedy and deteriorated. Once inside, however, this image was soon dispelled. It was a serenely charming little café, dimly lit with one or two kids noisily eating ice-cream with their parents while a young couple sat in the corner consuming boiling coffee. The cosy atmosphere and sudden heat was refreshing to the three of them, almost like a breath of spring. All of them revelled in the quaint surroundings and drank in the strange warmth of the shadow filled room with its little side booths and tables covered in old Formica.
Sitting themselves by the old orange Wurlitzer juke box in the corner they gave the elderly woman their order and eagerly awaited her return, smiling at an unspoken joke as they watched the old woman shuffle into the back shop to prepare her brew - a timeslip back to Victoriana. As the girls waited, Harris got up and investigated the playlist on the jukebox, dropping a few coins in and pressing a series of buttons. He grinned as he leaned over the table, deliberately avoiding asking what music they may have wished to listen to.
“You should like these, there’s loads of old people’s music on that thing!”
The girls glanced at each other smiling as he sat down with them and The Eagles ‘Hotel California’ import single quietly filled the little café.
“Oh, I like that!” Suzanne grinned with a rich warmth. “At least you have some musical taste!”
Harris shrugged off his red zipper jacket and allowed it to fall across the back of the chair. He slid down further into the seat and relaxed himself.
“So what do you think of Edinburgh then, Soozee?" he mock-slurred.
"It's not what I'd imagined it to be," she began thoughtfully. "It's ever so quiet - even for this time of year. In London there's always things to do and of course the pubs are opened at civilised hours. I do like the place though, it's got a kind of atmosphere to it - I can't say what, but I like it!"
"A nice place to visit, but I wouldn't like to live here?" he replied with a hint of sarcasm. "Yeah, I know what you mean. The whole place is like a film set for the tourists who come to look at things but don't actually see them, all they come for is to holiday and look at the two dimensional shop fronts instead of going into the back streets where the real life is. There's more character behind the scenery than in the whole of the Royal Mile with all its plastic tartan trimmings. It's exactly the same as any other city, no better and no worse, except that most people just won't look to their own back yard for entertainment - instead they travel hundreds of miles to visit somewhere that’s probably a remodelled version of their own city."
Christene smiled a little at the typically cynical observation.
“You know, Jonn, I’ll bet you were the type of child who used to tell his friends that there’s no Father Christmas… sometimes people don’t want to see what’s really underneath the make-up.” the blonde girl said as she looked at his face.
Suzanne looked thoughtful for a moment and then nodded in response to Harris’s comment.
"I suppose you're right, but you don't look at it that way when you go on holiday, do you? You're getting away from your own patch to see new scenery. I'd sooner be bored in unfamiliar territory than at home. Annabelle and I are seeing as many new places as we can on our little winter holiday."
As she finished the old woman returned with a large tray of tea and cakes with a little glass of fizzy orangeade. Putting it on the table she surveyed them for a moment as though puzzled about something. Harris handed the old woman a pound note and a fifty pence, wondering if the rustic act generally worked on tourists. He watched the woman carefully pocket the money and then shamble off to the privacy of the shop counter recess – she looked like an Eagles fan as well. Harris turned his attention to the attractive, dark haired Suzanne as she started to drink from the steaming cup.
“Chris says you're going abroad to live, Suzanne, what's the deal there?" he asked with some curiosity.
"Why, missing me already?"
Christene rolled her eyes with a little irritation. "See, I told you she was a hunter!"
Harris nodded and smiled at Christene. "Your family really seem to have some special traits, don't they? Good looks not being too low on the family Gene-scape!"
The older girl giggled and gave a nod to Christene. "You're right, he is a little charmer. I can see why you like him!"
With a little dirty look, Christene discouraged her cousin from broadcasting her private thoughts.
"Hey!" Harris interrupted the pair. "I'm still here, haven't gone deaf, dumb and blind yet!"
"But you'd still be nice to look at if you did, Jonn!" Suzanne breathed with a pleasing overtone.
"Abroad, you, doing what, why?" he reminded her, stealing a gaze at her desirable body.
Mockingly she unbuttoned her blouse provocatively. “Well, dear…" she panted, looking right into his eyes with a sparkle in her own.
A wry smile flickered across his face for a second.
“Won't be much good, Toots!" he said with a little harshness. “There are real professionals over there, trained in the arts of sexual depravity, who'd make you look like a novice virgin from a convent.”
“I like competition!”
The blonde almost smiled in a tacit agreement. "Not that many people could compete with Suzanne - she has… hidden talents!"
"They're not that hidden, Chris, just like yours!" Harris offered with some honesty.
"Christene, is your friend complimenting us or being insulting?"
Her cousin just smiled and shrugged, a little uncertain herself.
"Okay, ladies, not getting good answers here. So we can either flirt some more, chat or just get a room together and make the day a little more interesting!"
The other two looked at one another and giggled in mock shock.
"It was just a thought, Edinburgh's not that fascinating - at least we'd have a tender memory to cherish in the future when we're old and past caring about getting down to dirty town!"
Christene laughed warmly as she looked from one to the other. "Actually, you two would make a perfect couple for one another!"
Harris and Suzanne looked at each other, a long and intense glance before he piped up.
"Is your friend complimenting us or being insulting?"
The dark haired girl's nose wrinkled as she laughed.
"Insult to you, compliment to me… or is it the other way about, Chrissy?"
"Your hormone treatment isn't working, Suzie!" Christene retorted with a little laugh.
Harris grinned at the way they teased one another, despite the underlying history he was oblivious to. "Actually, you two might make a better couple than any other combination!"
The two girls smirked to one another, raising their eyebrows provocatively. Harris just shook his head and suppressed his grin as best he could as Steely Dan’s ‘Reeling in the Years’ drifted out making Christene smile as it reminded her of a long forgotten memory. Harris smiled to her, almost as if he knew what she had been thinking.
They sipped their order and picked cakes from the tray as Harris tried once more.
"Okay, last time, then! You and Annabelle - heading off, what's the deal… hate your life, job, career, friends or just seeking new horizons?"
Suzanne shrugged and sighed before she spoke.
"Bit of everything, really. We just want to try something new!"
He resisted stating the obvious thought. "Is this a real plan or just a pipe dream? I mean, are you going to take foreign bar exams or spend your time as a cleaner or waitress somewhere?"
"What?" she asked him rather indignantly.
"So… you’ve no real plans to do anything - all you want to do is get away? Running away from something isn’t the same as running to something. If you're going to escape, then you should do it for the right reasons!"
Suzanne was taken aback by the unexpected candour but her annoyance soon became patently obvious.
"How do you know what I'm going to do or what plans I have? You're very forthright with your observations - especially given you don't know me!"
Christene turned on her, almost with glee.
"You don't like to be taken to task over the things you profess, do you?"
Harris' eyes drank in the scene. There was a deep bond of some form between the two girls and the superficial squabble was clearly of no real consequence. It was a strange paradox, he mused, wondering if Suzanne’s history was as complex as Christene’s.
Suzanne's expression changed visibly before she even answered.
“Okay, you're right, Chris, but look at it this way, what's the point in working at your career, day in and day out, for the next thirty or forty years – there has to be something more, that's no life. I simply want to find something else. I like the law and what I do, but it certainly isn’t the sole key to my eternal happiness. I might not know exactly what I want to do in the future, but I know what I don’t want to do!"
"See!" Harris breathed patiently. "Much more useful info. That’s nice, I like that - positive negativity. Jobs or careers aren't your raison d’être, but living your life is. Better than just spending the rest of your days filled with discontent, especially if you end up never doing anything you wanted to! One day you’ll wake up and hate yourself and your life - and it might be too late to change anything by then."
"I didn't realise you were such an optimistic philosopher, Jonn!" Suzanne teased as Christene sat watching with a silent smile. "But you can't just drop everything in your life without thinking of the consequences, you know! The bills don't stop just because you want to take a holiday from the real world. Not many people would be prepared to toss away their old lifestyle, which, in effect, they would have to do according to you."
Harris's head nodded in agreement. "Then you're in trouble. Since most of your lifestyle revolves around your job and its' sphere of influence, if you don't like your job - it’s going to effect your life as well."
Suzanne paused for a second and then looked deeply at Harris. “I love my career, but it’s still a job and that's really all – I want more from my life, one way or another! Jesus, you’re still in school. As you say, it's all very well having ideas like that but you've got to be able to do something about them. I can’t change the whole world and I don’t even want to, it’s hard enough looking out for your own life never mind anyone else's - if that makes me self centred, then toughty!"
"Wanting to change things is still better than just not caring!"
"Well, I care enough to try and enjoy my life. So, I’ll probably go to Europe, even if it's only for a couple of years, and then return to law practice. That’s my plan for now. But if you want to swim against the tide then you're going to have a really hard job - the system can't be changed and you just can’t beat it… it’s insanity."
“I’ll tell you what’s insanity… grinding away in some shitty job, day in, day out for forty years after which you're disposed of like a used tampon before spending the last few years of your life in an almost incontinent miasma of lost opportunities. Now that’s really insanity!”
The girls grinned a little as Christene tousled his hair and smiled at him intimately.
"Sometimes he's a little like Karl Marx meets Sartre! Super-cheery!"
Suzanne returned to the attack without pause. "What are you going to do to beat the system, Jonn? Or are you going to do anything apart from complain?
“Complaint is a good start – you have to be angry first and to know your enemy second!” he laughed revealing his wide mouth, but glanced over at her intently. "Maybe in a small way you beat the system just by becoming happy!"
"The system doesn’t necessarily preclude being happy, does it. And anyway, that's not really world changing, is it?" Christene interjected, gazing at Harris.
He nodded in concession. “Okay, I’m not sure! You’ve got me! I don't really know what I'll do either - all I know is that I'm not going to end up being a cipher who works in some pissy office for the best years of my life. I’ll probably just follow my own genius, maybe incite revolutions somewhere!”
"That's even more vague than my going to Europe." Suzanne responded, finding she liked his disposition despite her doubts about the veracity of its thesis.
"Perhaps, but which of us is the most determined?” Harris challenged defiantly with some confidence.
The two protagonists gazed at one another deeply, as if something unspoken was taking place.
Watching the pair intently, Christene's smile lit up the table.
“Touché!” she breathed with a little patronisation. "But let's see what there is in the rest of this town. in the here and now! Or do we have to debate that as well?"
With a peel of unexpected laughter, they nodded in agreement. The last song Harris had programmed burst forth, an old Yes single - ‘America’. He looked at them with a face of perfect innocence as the four minutes of personal torture commenced and they all began laughing once more.

DANBRAY – BELLSTREE : LATE AFTERNOON
The grey buildings watched him walking past as the wind tugged at his heavy black Crombie. Untidy garden hedges swayed in the intermittent gusts, spraying tiny showers of settled raindrops from their leaves that forced him to move aside a little. He hated the fact that the train station was so far away from the Bellstree, typical of incompetent urban planning. None the less, there was little which could diminished the internal sunshine that radiates through him as he plodded on to his destination. Bill was just approaching the top of the flight of steps that led down to the group of shops where Toni’s was situated. There was a little grin as he remembered his recent descent down this very flight, evening the score with the two Chimes thugs who needed to be mob handed to take him. He could have gone the other way but he liked looking down from here, seeing Danbray unfolded before him from the vantage point of altitude.
Rosser was neatly dressed, well pressed Black parallels, black dress shoes and black crew neck jumper. He flicked his collar up and thrust his hands into his pockets as he began to descend the stairs but he was hardly a third of the way down when he saw the couple moving up towards him – a boy and a girl. Rosser recognised him right away and he prepared himself for what was to come.
The couple were unaware of anything else around them, wrapped arm in arm and laughing with one another as the dark figure approached them. The three people met at about the halfway point of the stairs and Rosser stopped menacingly. Burgess looked up, mouth open as if to supply abuse when he saw who it was and his face paled in discomfort. The short girl with untidy, windswept, shoulder length black hair kept her arm round the Chimes thug, a natural little smile on her face as she enjoyed just being with her boyfriend. She was quite pretty but dressed in cheap clothes and a flimsy coat, none of which did anything to enhance her appearance. Rosser noticed she had nice eyes, devoid of the usual hardness that these thugs usually went for.
Burgess glanced at the girl and then at Rosser, worry quite clearly on his face - he knew he was no match for the dark figure at the best of times and this was certainly not one of them.
“Listen, man, I’m not looking for any trouble today!” Burgess stated looking up nervously.
Rosser stared into his face, then at the girl who had no idea what was going on, then back to Burgess.
“Then it’s your lucky day, Micky, because I’ve got things to do and places to go. Anyway, we’ve settled our business – haven’t we?”
Burgess nodded in affirmation, his mouth grimly tight.
Bill smiled and nodded to the girl who smiled back with a flicker of uncertainty at what was going on.
“Is everything okay, Michael?” she asked him in a faint voice as she held him a little closer.
Burgess tried to smile casually before he spoke. “Yeah, fine, Donna – we know each other from school!”
Rosser laughed a little and moved aside to let them pass, making a waving gesture with his arm. The girl smiled broadly at that as they began to move past.
When Burgess drew level he paused, glanced at the dark figure and nodded with a hint of respect.
Bill leaned forward and whispered in his ear. “Tell Sheeran that when he comes out the slammer I’m going to fuck him up bad style for jumping me and for nicking the money from those kids. Oh, Jimmy Monaghen’s going to see him as well – his daughter’s kid goes to that school. He’s lucky the cops got most of the cash back because Jimmy was going to break his legs and you know what him and his bunch of gangsters do to anybody who gets in their way… wouldn’t want to be Sheerie, or anybody stupid enough to hang out with him – know what I mean?”
Burgess swallowed hard, hoping Monaghen didn’t know who else was in on the robbery – nobody in the area messed with those people, even the cops were wary.
Bill nodded and Burgess nodded back again, acknowledging the tip with what approached gratitude, then moved on up the stairs.
Rosser watched them go and wondered if the girl knew what her boyfriend was really like, but then he just shrugged – it wasn’t his problem.
Rosser looked ahead, anxious to get to the station, checking his watch in the habitual manner he was incapable of resisting, and increased his pace as he left the outskirts of Bellstree eagerly. Even the thought of seeing Mandy made him feel good, Burgess should be grateful for her just being alive – Bill certainly was.

EDINBURGH : LATE AFTERNOON
It was late afternoon when they stepped out into the fresh air once again and quickly walked down the road, leaving the little café behind them. The dimness of twilight painted the back streets in a picturesque light that Suzanne felt demanded some investigation. An hour or so of playing ‘tourist’ left them seeking some more substantial entertainment by the darkness of early evening, at which point they had been fruitlessly driving along meandering East coast country roads with little idea of where they were or where they were going. They had finally left ‘The City of the Dead’.

KIRKPATRICK : EVENING
Mary was in the bathroom applying dark mascara to her eyelashes, checking her image as she finished. There was something different in her appearance when she was made up, maybe it was just that she looked so much older and sophisticated or maybe it was just that her parents frowned on anything that made her more appealing to the world beyond. Her fiery red hair was flicked back in a wild style that certainly made her look much more mature than her sixteen calendar years. The tight red dress revealed her curvy shape, rounded hips, the tiny waist and the very prominent bust – it made her feel as good as she looked. The only thing about the dress that she was uncertain about was whether it was short enough. Mary shrugged, it was too late to do anything about it now, she was meeting the other girls at the café in less than half an hour. It was imperative that she got her coat on and escaped the house before her parents returned from evening services. With a quick glance outside the bathroom door to make sure the coast was clear, she tottered out on immense heels that gave the illusion she was much taller than she actually was. The lilting tones of music were coming from her brother’s room – as ever.
The sounds of Bryan Ferry’s ‘Price Of Love’ EP was filling the immediate vicinity as Mhic lay back on the sofa facing the window in his bedroom. The room was smoky and the world outside was wet and dark – not unlike Mhic’s state of mind. He heard the phone ring but remained seated, he didn’t want to talk to anyone… probably one person in particular!
“Mhic – Phone!” Mary called out.
“Then answer it if you want, it’s not for me!” he replied coldly and with an adamant tone.
“I’m busy getting ready!”
“I don’t care!”
The sound of the immense heels hammered out through the hallway even above the sound of his stereo as he listened to Mary finally answer the ringing telephone.
“Hi, Michelle, how are you?”
There was a pause.
“Oh, I’d love to go there, did you all enjoy it?”
Another pause.
“Really?” Mary laughed with a strange tone. “And what did they do?”
Pause.
“My God. In front of everyone? You lot are totally crazy, not like my friends – I’d love to go there with you guys!”
Pause
“Really? Do you mean it? Yeah – thanks!”
Pause
“Love to… yeah! Hang on and I’ll get him!”
The sound of the clumping feet approached and the door unceremoniously opened.
“What about knocking?” Mhic asked quietly without looking at her. “I could have been doing anything!”
Mary’s face sickened and she rolled her eyes before pointing out the door.
“Michelle - for you! Hurry up!”
Mhic looked up with annoyance and nodded her in.
Mary was puzzled and irritated by his behaviour. “What?” she asked him impatiently.
“Close the door!”
“Why?” she asked as she watched her brother push the door shut behind her.
“Do me a favour, Mary, tell her I’m not in!”
“What?”
“Just tell her I’ve gone out!”
“Why?”
“Just do it, will you?”
“No!”
“Mary!”
“No, I’m not lying for you – do your own dirty work.”
“Mary?”
“No!” the redheaded girl hissed angrily. “I like her and she just told me I can go out with them some night, so I’m not going to tell lies when you’re here!”
“Be a shame if Dad knew how you were dressed and what you were getting up to later… wouldn’t it?”
“You’re a shit, Mhic!”
“Tell her I’m out!”
“I’m going to tell her you’re right here – You can tell Dad whatever you want!”
Mhic rolled his eyes with vexed irritation and pulled a pound note from his pocket, waving it at her, confidently knowing her state of poverty.
Mary sighed and snapped it out his hand.
“I hope she dumps you!” she said angrily and stomped out again.
“Michelle? Sorry for the delay, just checking, he must have gone out for ciggies or something… I’ll leave him a note to say you called because I’ve got to run – meeting the girls! Okay? See you soon, bye!”
Mhic heard the phone being replaced and the stomping thunder off briefly, re-approach and then head straight out the front door.
He lit another B&H cigarette and reluctantly thought about Mary’s last comment to him.

DANBRAY – OXHILL : EVENING
At the Storey residence, the old brown clock on the large mantelpiece chimed out seven monotones. In the warmth of the spacious living room, Mr. Storey, a thin, almost bald man with high cheekbones and sunken, lively eyes, watched his son for some sign of positive reaction.
Sto looked at him, irritated and unable to express all he felt inside himself.
“Well?" Mr. Storey asked inquisitively.
Sto stared back defiantly, finally comprehending all the mystery that had been apparent when Uncle Mike and the family had been over recently.
”Well, what? I’m pleased for you, I hope you'll be very happy – successful even. But that's your life, Dad, not mine! You have to do your thing just like I have to. So I'm going to do what I want to do, not whatever you say I should! I'm too old for all that - try Gerry!"
Sto’s father sighed and folded his arms, trying to resist the sense of resignation from appearing in his expression.
“I’m not trying to tell you what to do, Richard. Just letting you know what’s going to happen and ask if you want to come along. I know you’ve got your own life and, frankly, I gave up trying to push you in the direction I thought best a long time ago. I just want you to know that your mother and I would like you to be with the rest of the family in this venture. Maybe you could think about it for a while?”
Sto nodded reluctantly and his father nodded back with a little smile then paused for a moment and finally left the room.

SOMEWHERE ON THE EAST COAST : LATE EVENING
It had been some time since they saw any sort of populated area and so the warmly illuminated building drew them like moths to a burning flame. The building was antiquated looking, Tudor like with brown beams running across faded white walls and the paint peeled name board read something unreadable Inn. It looked as though it had been there since the dawn of time but equally it could have been a pre fabricated building put up last week to cash in on a nostalgia wave. The lights at the front illuminated them in the darkness of the tiny car park as dark shadows hung round the sides and little buildings that seemed to run off from the main structure.
Suzanne stretched, extending her long limbs and caressing aching muscles, she smiled to Jonn and Christene as they were closely leaning on the warm bonnet of the car as if she were taking too long. With a patient shake of the head they wandered over, Suzanne leading, and were met with the warm, sweet smell of the large, single roomed pub. Immediately they succumbed to the convivial atmosphere of the tastefully lit lounge that was clearly designed to facilitate locals rather than tourists. As they entered the dozen or so rustic men stopped all their ongoing activities and conversation to see who the foreign invaders were. From their clothing and curious looks it appeared that outsiders were probably a comparative rarity. On seeing the girls a chorus of welcome rang out, enticing and accepting of them - Harris, however, was met with icy stares of incomprehension and disdain, perhaps due to the image of patched jeans, bangles and flowing hair that was probably more at home on the set of ‘Top of the Pops’.
“They probably think I’m a ‘Bender’!” he confined in a whispered tone to Christene, making her laugh and intimately bump up against him, her Kiku perfume exuding to fill his senses once more.
The bar was a small alcove-like affair, filled to abundance with all sorts of obscure bottles and illuminated by what seemed to be a series of electric oil lamps. The bar was lacking anyone to serve until a large, black haired man with piggy eyes stepped forward to help them. He spoke with a heavy east coast accent. “Betty's not here just now, ken? We just serve ourselves usually, what d’you want?”
Harris laughed to himself as he thought of the small bar and the makeshift waiter in comparison to a bustling, bright, West End, London bar… Suzanne’s big city didn’t have a look in. The thin youth looked at them, awaiting their reply to the piggy eyed man's question.
“Well, what do you fancy, girls?"
Christene’s eyes turned in thought before she decided. “The usual, please."
"Same as Chrissy, thanks!" Suzanne smiled, eyes running around the small room to see who was there and how interesting they looked.
"Two vodkas and lime and a Coke, please! A bottle of Coke if you have it!’ Harris said leaning against the bar, relaxed. The makeshift barman appeared a little puzzled as if wondering what other form Coke came in - clearly the ‘on-tap’ trend hadn’t reached this time warp yet. The two girls sat down over in the corner, Christene keeping a space for Jonn. The landlady returned before the piggy man could serve them. She was a bustling, middle aged woman who was slightly more than desirably fat, an older version of the medieval buxom, serving wench. She smiled broadly and her cheeks bunched up, culminating in welds of fat which were warmly rosy.
"Hello, dearie, we don't get too many tourists stopping by in the winter months. Been having a nice day with your two friends? So that was two vodkas with lime and a Coke, was it?"
"Yes, thank you and whatever you're having - if you would!"
The woman grinned, giving a flattered gaze as she looked at his handsome face.
"Well, that's very kind… maybe some of these boys could learn something about manners from you!"
The men in the bar grumbled good naturedly and derided her as she discouraged them with a dismissive flick of the wrist. Her friendliness fortified Harris in some way and he briefly thought of what kind of life she must lead out here in the middle of nowhere.
Suzanne leaned over to Christene. "Well, this one is really quite something, Chrissy! You said he could be charming but you didn't tell me he contaminates everyone around him like a virus. Nice bum, too!"
"Suzanne!" Christene reprimanded playfully before she continued thoughtfully. "He is terribly cute though, isn't he? I really like him, not just the looks…"
Her cousin held her hand and looked into the cobalt blue eyes.
"First time I've heard you like this, Christene. Are you hooked?"
The other's harsh glance was her only response.
"Just asking, Chrissy, just curious. I can see it in your eyes and he isn’t too hard to look at – is he? Well, if he’s the one for you, try not to push him away! And… Whoo, looks like we're going to have local company too… and he is a big, strapping boy!"
"Hello." the well built, blondish stranger smiled as he approached the women. "Can I take a seat?"
Suzanne's charm and flirtatiousness kicked in automatically. "Oh, yes, please do…"
Harris watched from the bar as the hostess chattered away, Suzanne really didn't have a circuit breaker when it came to drawing men into her web… the pair of them were clearly never dull!

DANBRAY – OXHILL : LATE EVENING
The initial disappointment and then tight-lipped, sober look of resolution which his father had adopted haunted Sto later as he was consumed in the cold night air, the Volvo car keys in hand. And he had thought that nothing could diminish his Sunday happiness. He pushed the key into the lock and looked upwards at the flickering stars which tormented him in their distance. His mind was a muddle of confusion, he hoped that somehow he would find the right thing to do, one way or another.
‘Why me?’ he asked himself as he opened the car door and slipped in. He clunk-clicked and turned the engine, dumping the bottle on the passenger seat, opened the glove box and pulled out a box of tapes and without concentrating flicked through them. Sto grabbed Hendrix ‘Electric Ladyland’ and slammed it into the tape player. With an effort and the assistance of the ‘All Along the Watchtower’ he cleared his mind and spent a moment or two thinking about his destination. Hellen - pretty, sexy, charming, naked Hellen. He continued to think about her and what lay ahead and his face began to radiate in a wide grin. Sto thought about it a little more and the car roared off.

BEARSDEN : NIGHT
The half naked girl conceded that Christene had been right, this had just proved it. Michelle’s face was still flushed, dressed only in her short black T-shirt she wiped herself dry with the soft tissues. Methodically clearing the last clinging traces of her own lubrications from her genitalia to the white cleansing rags, she crushed them up and unceremoniously flushed them away. Perfunctory masturbation was really tasteless but she had become so unsure of her own responses that she had to be certain – it was the first time she had experienced an onanistic gratification in the past two months. There was an abundance of lubrications and orgasm was normal, if less enjoyable than usual – given the circumstances. What was going on? During the first month with Mhic she had discretely orgasmed at least twice simply through heavy petting and body grinding but when it came to… intercourse, she just didn’t seem to be able to let go – to allow penetration. There was no doubt she wanted to sleep with him, he was special to her and he was supposed to be her very first lover but instead of a beautiful experience it was simply becoming more and more traumatic. At least now she knew everything was working, at least on her own it was – so why couldn’t they simply do it. Michelle knew she was nervous about sex but keen, especially because it was Mhic… he made her wet thinking about him, but when they went to bed there was clearly something wrong. She assumed Mhic must have slept with a variety of girls – they all had that questionable reputation and anyway he didn’t appear to be doing anything wrong. He hadn’t rushed her, he didn’t force her, he had never really hurt her in their previous attempts so there was no real pressure in that respect. Any pressure was coming from herself, apparently, simply not lubricating enough and tensing up as tightly as could be. There was no obvious answer except for using an artificial lubricant and, aside from the fact that it wasn’t her ideal way to experience sex for the first time, it still didn’t solve her own disposition to the obstacle.
The shower was running hot as she disrobed and stepped under to clean herself before going to bed. The wall mirror revealed her nakedness as quite flawless and probably a little desirable although she didn’t think of herself in those terms – she simply took her looks and good body for granted. Her gaze didn’t linger long, it made her feel strangely uncomfortable now, obviously because of the problem. With an absent minded mechanical response she washed and shampooed but all the while thinking about how she could deal with this and the advice Christene had offered. There clearly had to be some manner to break this impasse, it was preying on her mind all the time. It had become such an issue to her she just couldn’t talk to him about it and he certainly hadn’t broached the subject on any level aside from a cooling in attitude.
She had dried herself by the time she realised just how lost in thought she was. Her white robe was wrapped tightly around her, the damp T-shirt already in the laundry bin before she made a conscious effort to walk to her bedroom. There were almost no scenarios she hadn’t considered to deal with this issue – even the stupid notion of getting really drunk, but like all the other ridiculous projections she had assessed, that was no real solution and it wasn’t how she imagined losing her virginity.
For some time she wished she had someone’s advice or even just somebody there to listen to her. The fact that she had taken so long to finally, although almost a little reluctantly, confide in Christene demonstrated how intense the issue was for her. It had certainly been one of the most unusual Friday evenings she could remember spending, but with the aid of a few drinks and Christene’s patient gentility, she had finally voiced the problem. Even here in the security of her bedroom, late at night, it was all she could think of… whatever problems she anticipated when sex rears its head certainly didn’t have much to do with hers in the here and now – this was something she never anticipated whether it had happened to hundreds of other girls before her or not. Cosmopolitan didn’t seem to be able to supply the answer to this problem. The only notions that made any sense were the ones Christene had indicated, but even they were a little inhibiting… and yet she had been bang on the money about the masturbation as a demonstration that there was no physical anomaly taking place – this was a psychological issue! It didn’t solve the problem but it made it easier to know where to look, metaphorically. Her friend was smart, caring and most importantly, non-judgemental… not even about Mhic’s attitude. Michelle was sure he’d been home tonight, well probably was… maybe?
Whatever else happened between them she wasn’t going to try again until she had her own mind cleared and had formulated a specific plan – there was no way she was going to risk feeling as badly as she did about this ever again. Now she had to really assess Christene’s suggestions and ascertain which of them was the most suitable, the most comfortable for herself. The fact that her friend hadn’t simply suggested do this and then do that had been sage advice, somehow she had realised that what was right for one person was wholly inappropriate for another – that in itself made Michelle wish she’d gone to Christene earlier, she was the best friend she could ever have wished for… it was a pity that Mhic wasn’t as wise as her! But now the really important question was what to do, which avenue to follow.
Wrapped up in her bed, naked and alone, she extinguished the bedside light and closed her eyes.
Michelle still didn’t know what to do.

SOMEWHERE ON THE EAST COAST : LATE NIGHT – EARLY MORNING
It was well after closing time at the inn and the front door was long bolted and closed for the night when the biggish woman emphatically suggested that it was time they all went home. Good naturedly she smiled at the cries of complaint as the last of the customers lamented their drinking session was ending so soon, a mere couple of hours after regulation closing time. In no time the majority of the patrons were gone, slipping out the side door and consumed by the night. Suzanne was propped, ungracefully, between Harris and the burly, fair haired man in his mid twenties who had remained with them for most of the evening.
Christene sat indignant on the other side of Harris, furious at Suzie for having drunk too much as well as flirting like a wild thing to the point of embarrassment - and was now leaving them with the problem of getting home safely.
Harris, on the other hand, was pleased that both Christene and Suzanne appeared to have enjoyed the unexpected night in the sticks, playing darts and dominoes as well as drinking in all the rustic and amusing stories the charming bunch had continuously bombarded their audience with, making them laugh almost non stop. He was also secretly amused by the blatant and outrageous flirting of the seductive Suzanne, she was so unsuited to the awkward long haired farmer youth who hung on her every word and movement – but he certainly couldn’t fault the man’s taste, she was a very bright and sexy package.
It was with a margin of reluctance that Harris finally rose to his feet and gently assisted Suzanne away from the little table. Christene was clearly angry as she harshly took hold of her cousin’s arm and moved her to the door, consigning Harris to merely watch the girls walk away from him. The fair haired man drained his glass and followed them out leaving Harris alone with the Landlady. Returning the glasses to the bar with a grin and a little nod, he took his leave, amused at her coy smile and finger wave as he departed.
As they stood in the little alley, about ten or twelve yards from the car, their foggy breath floated in the air as they paused in the faint light, the crescent moon only showing the barest of features. Behind them the door clicked with a resonating echo as the lock was thrown and bolts dropped. Harris shivered a little in the sudden cold.
"God knows how we can get home!" Christene hissed back to him. "Suzie is far too drunk to drive. Why didn’t she stop when she was told?"
Harris shrugged without any hint of worry. "Because she's on holiday and it doesn't look as if it takes too much to distract your cousin. It's fine, I’m alcohol free, so I'll drive… I had a funny feeling about tonight!"
The blonde was puzzled but her cousin's lack of co-ordination demanded most of her concentration. Christene held Suzanne roughly, her displeasure obvious, and, for a few seconds, was fascinated by the sky above and the tiny insignificant objects in the firmament.
The local still hung around them as though waiting on something, boozily swaying. Somehow Harris knew the night wasn’t quite over yet, but at least it wasn’t going to end like the nightmare in Joanna’s.
"Just take her down to the car and put her in the back, Chris, let her sleep it off. And start the car too, please!" Harris said forcefully.
Christene's mouth opened and closed again as she started to walk Suzanne, who was now at the incoherent stage and unsure of what was going on, down to the glistening blue car at the end of the alley. Suddenly the stranger lunged at the girls, missing, but demanding they listen to him. The girls paused in the darkness.
“I’ll take her home." he slurred with a hint of demand. “She’ll be alright with me. Had a barry night, didn’t she? Girl said she was coming with me anyway - she did! You just, just go on… be alright."
Harris twitched with irritation and moved past him, pushing Christene on towards the car.
“You'll have a job getting her home - she lives in London, Sport! Anyway we’re all heading off – cheers! Watch out heading home, man.”
"She'll… she can come with me. Hey, whassyername… come on wi’ me!" came the angry reply.
“Look, why don't you just go home and sleep it off, huh?" Harris suggested with a little sense of alarm growing.
“Look son. Don't tell me what do. Don't!”
Christene was transfixed by the situation until Harris pushed her once again.
“Go!” Harris demanded with some authority. "Go! Start the car… I said go, Chris, now!"
The two intertwined figures reluctantly scuttled down the dim alley, Christene' eyes shining with hesitation, anticipation and a little fear.
The burly man started after them. Harris pushed him against the wall, gently but forcefully.
“Look, why not just go home, pal, and leave us to it – let’s all just go back to our own homes, okay?" Harris said, uncertain of the apparently simplistic character in front of him.
The poker faced guy shook his head violently, his flaxen hair following out of synch with the rest of him.
“Go to hell!" he said to Harris, half turning and moving forward a little. "That dark haired tart wanted it and I'm going to get it. Man - all night she waved herself in front of me, all night. Aaah, she wants it and I'm the one to give it to her."
Harris was conscious of how ridiculous it was, but he couldn't help but think how Suzanne would probably condense the shabby country boy to a quivering mass of clapped out meat. It was funny - almost.
Feeling a sinking sensation in his stomach, Harris knew what was going to happen before he pushed the guy off the wall. He hoped that the other was too drunk to have good co-ordination, at least that would be some advantage… and there’d need to be some since his burgeoning opponent was considerably older and a damn sight better built.
The door of the car slammed shut and the engine roared into life, it was an infinitely small distraction but one which caused Harris to lose his concentration long enough for the long hair to make an unexpectedly savage blow to the stomach. A loud, unwilling grunt filled the night air and the force lifted Harris from the ground and dumped him headlong into the bins and boxes of rubbish by the far wall. He groaned at the sudden emptiness inside him, now lying collapsed in a gasping heap. The enemy stood almost bewildered, amazed at himself. Harris felt the urge to fight disappear with the wind which had been knocked out of him. The tall man moved in on Harris, making sure that he was truly disabled. Looking up, Harris could see the blow coming almost before the man had thought about the kick which would finish the job. The brown eyes saw the huge boot swung towards him. Moving as best he could the crouching youth tried to avoid the attack, but merely reduced it to a shatteringly glancing blow to the shoulder. The sound of the impact was loud and inwardly he writhed and twisted at the pain which burned like a million blunted, burning needles – almost totally incapacitating his left arm. Harris felt the explosion of sweat break across his brow, mentally cursing himself for being stupid enough to have allowed the drunk to get so close to him right from the word go.
The man had lost his balance from the inertia of the kick and now struggled to steady himself against a stack of wobbling beer cases - it was the only reason Harris was going to have any time to make some defensive manoeuvre. Seeing the thick piece of table leg barely within reach, the injured youth pounced at it like a crippled cat. The angry creature now stood almost erect with an empty bottle clutched in his hand, hair strewn and eyes glinting in the dark like a boozed up maniac on the rampage. Their eyes met and time slowed for them both, each possessing the power of mutilation in their grasp, eternity and a fleeting lifetime coexisting at once.
The man moved first as he swung in a wide arc and the other, still crouching, ducked aside. With gritted teeth and flaming eyes, Harris struck his target, the wood whistling through the air like a bullet. Oblivious to anything but the growing danger, Harris never even saw the long, twisted, rusty screws which gaped from the top of the discarded table-leg. The jutting metal spikes sank deep into the man's upper thigh with a hideously soft, squelching sound as flesh was gouged open with the considerable impact. The sickening crunch seemed to echo through the alley as Harris hung onto the weapon, momentarily finding it difficult to pull it away.
The other man dropped the bottle in shock and tilted forward with a rasping gasp, clutching feebly at his leg as he dropped to a collapsed kneeling position. Flesh and meat gaped through the yawning hole in his leg while blood oozed out at an alarming rate from the severed veins. In the dimness Harris was unable to see any of the damage, the redness of the blood simply blending with the black of the shadows - all he knew was that he had to follow the attack up. Struggling to stand Harris used the table leg to rise, bringing his foot back and kicking as forcefully as he could into the kneeling man's face with an impact that resonated throughout his entire leg right up to the hip. Blood spurted instantly from his exploding nose and flashed like a spraying arc in the pale moonlight for a fleeting instant as the sound of cracking teeth echoed with an ugly reverberation. The man flew back with a thud, quivered for a moment and then lay groaning pitifully as his body began to shake involuntarily.
All of it was over in a mass of extended seconds accumulating into a tiny eternity that probably only measured a minute or so in the real world. Harris stood, panting, pausing only to make sure the man wasn’t going to rise up again then dropped the weapon and staggered down the alley supporting himself by the wall. A cursory glance backward revealed an unidentifiable heap in the distance, already forgotten. Harris quickened his pace as he saw a light from a window above and heard vague movement from somewhere within the pub. He saw Christene halfway out the passenger door, anxious to find out what the delay was but he waved her back as if nothing had happened.
Painful moments later he flopped into the car, taking the driving seat and flexing his left hand in preparation for departure – he was relieved to feel it still worked. Christene’s face was pale with worry.
"What happened? Are you alright?” she almost screamed at him. “Oh, God! I might have known something like this would happen. It’s her, she's a jinx!"
He rolled to face her, trying to maintain a normal disposition but still concerned about the ramifications of the fight. His eyes desperately tried to locate the light switch, they couldn’t drive in the dark.
“I think we'd better leave now."
Christene grasped at the boot marked left shoulder and Harris involuntarily winced harshly, reluctantly letting a groan escape his lips.
"Jonn!" Christene intoned with concern.
"I'm fine but we have to get out of here!" he replied, finally flicking the light switch and hammering the gear into place, kicking the accelerator and roaring off with skidding wheels.
The car screamed down the little twisting road, leaving the rustic bar behind them, sticking tightly to the asphalt irrespective of the light frost on it. Mentally he cursed the unfamiliar country road and just hoped they could get far away without crashing.
"You shouldn't be driving like this, stop and let me take a look at that! Are you hurt badly, what happened? Jonn?" she inquired frantically as she touched his shoulder once again.
“Fuuuuck!” he groaned involuntarily and almost let the steering go before quickly managing to regain control. He saw panic run across the girl’s face.
“Jezus, Christene!" he hissed, narrowly avoiding running off the road. "…I’ll be fine in a couple of minutes”
The girl’s fury exploded. “You bloody idiot, you got involved in a fight because of her, didn’t you? You could've been… Jesus, anything could've happened! You can’t drive in this state!”
“You don’t drive, Suzie isn’t fit to and we can’t afford to hang about. I’m fine, I just want to put some distance between there and here!”
“You should just have left her, it’d serve her right."
"I was thinking of that poor fair haired moron, not her."
"Oh, you idiot! She’s been a bloody nightmare and you're every bit as bad in your own way. What if something happened to you – do you ever think of that?”
“Well, something did happen to me, didn’t it… and it’s not the first time. In fact this is just like…”
He paused as his anger dissipated and he became silent.
“Just like what?” she asked accusingly, in fact almost guiltily.
“Just like Jim Stark and Judy after the chicken run… with Suzanne in the Plato role!”
The car raced along at a dangerous pace, Harris’s eyes desperately seeking some kind of illumination in the distance – anything that indicated they were nearing the main roadways.
“That’s not funny. You’re not Clint Eastwood and this isn’t a film - don't you get tired of always trying to be the hero?" Christene shouted at him angrily.
"Eastwood, nah, too tall and not articulate enough… It was more of a James Dean analogy - not so much heroic, just wrong place – wrong time… the story of my life!”
"Is that meant to be funny? Because it isn’t, none of this is funny! What do you think I’d… Do you have any idea how I would… “ she broke off, unwilling to say what she wanted.
"Firstly, I doubt for a second you would ever leave her in a situation like that – and, secondly, I certainly wasn’t going to. So what did you expect me to do, Christene? He wasn't going to take ‘no’ for an answer!"
"And sticking your neck out was the only way to deal with it?"
He looked at her before turning back to watch the road.
"Well… the ‘Dirty Harry’ thing did seem like the obvious choice in the circumstances!"
"That's not funny either, Jonn!" Christene said emphatically, turning away as she felt her eyes begin to sting.
“You’ve seen… shit, Christene, there was absolutely no choice – none!”
“There’s always a choice.” she seethed.
“Not when it’s between Genesis and Yes!” Harris replied with a laugh.
Harris’s response infuriated her, she quivered with anger for a moment and then fell quite silent, looking out the side window.
He smiled wryly to himself and tried to relax in the soft seat. He was pretty sure if he weren’t there that Christene would have gone up against the young farmer to save Suzanne. In the mirror he could see only blackness occasionally peppered with the little pinpoints of light from pulsing stars and far ahead of them, finally, was a yellow glow of some urban illumination reflecting on the half clouded sky.
The car's engine whined as the blue streak ate up the country road interrupted every so often by Suzanne’s drunken moaning. Christene still said absolutely nothing, she was tough, bright, cute and capable of standing up to him… all the things he liked in a girl! The silence was deafening but he wasn’t going to make any attempt to coax her into conversation.
Harris painfully clicked the radio on - anything was better than more Genesis or Carpenters from Suzanne's questionable tape collection. The radio's light bathed the occupants of the car instantly in a ghostly orange glow as Georgie Fame’s ‘Leaving The City’ recognisably thumped out making him smile a little. Harris relaxed a shade more as they finally left the narrow country lanes and rejoined the real world again, accelerating hard - anxious to get them home.

DANBRAY – BELLSTREE : EARLY MORNING
At about half past three the blue MG pulled up outside Christene's house, upstairs a light glowed menacingly. There had been no conversation whatsoever for the last hour and a half throughout the entire journey back to the West coast. Harris and Christene gently pulled Suzanne from the tiny rear seat with some difficulty and finally the three of them stood outside the car as the engine began to click in cooling response to the bitter night air.
Harris ignored the dull growing pain in his shoulder and smiled at them as if nothing unusual had happened.
“Well, I think it’s time for me to say good-night y’all, and, eh, thanks for the truly invigorating day!"
Suzanne was pale and as sleepy as she was loaded but the cold night air was beginning to bite into her with the chill of reality. She looked at him hard, struggling through the alcohol to respond.
“Sorry, sorry about the bloozing… booze - Oh, don't feel well. Chrissy, I feel sick, oh God…!"
“Forget it, you’re on holiday… but maybe you should avoid taking your car next time you want to get hammered, or bring your co-pilot!” Harris suggested diplomatically. “Nice car, though, drives really well and aside from the bad music, it’s a class act – like its owner.”
Christene opened her mouth to say something but stopped as she looked at Harris.
"Maybe you should get her in, Chrissy!" he said, teasing her with the term Suzanne used.
The blonde girl's face was still reflecting an anger, if anything it was now a more resolute disposition that clearly showed she wasn't even going to reply. Harris shrugged, just a little, and crouched down a little to look at Suzanne as her head hung down in nauseous discomfort.
“Goodbye, Suzanne, very nice to have met you. Enjoy the rest of your journey with, eh, Annabelle - wherever you go. Just remember to be careful – it’s a big bad world out there!”
The girl nodded, her head rolling as her body was still supported by Christene.
"Mmm-hum, see you in big city… going to be sick!"
“Come on Suzie, let's get you in before you puke all over me! Come on!" Christene said forcefully as she tugged at her. "I’ll phone Annabelle and tell her you won’t be going back to the hotel tonight.”
Harris smiled clutching his little red jacket in his right hand, adamant he was going to show no discomfort before them. “So all’s well that ends well! Goodnight ladies.”
“G'night, Jonn-boy!” Suzanne giggled and then looked as if she was going to be ill.
Harris nodded, flicking his jacket over the damaged shoulder and staring at Christene.
“Night, Chris… See you during the week!”
There was no reply.
Harris made a single nod of his head, turned and began the long walk home from Bellstree, appearing and disappearing as he walked along the path of dim street lights. Faintly he heard a tiny voice echoing ‘thank you’ hanging in the night air but he didn’t turn. Insensate he continued, determined to show no pain. He paced the street confidently, alone save for the sound of his clicking heels echoing in the distance. Christene watched him until he was completely consumed by the night, and only then dragged her incapacitated cousin inside.