walked Bouncer again and popped down to Jenny’s before it was time to cook dinner, but something was missing.
‘Hi son,’ I said, trying to communicate a smile down the phone.
‘Who’s calling?’ said Steven, apparently for real.
‘How many mothers have you got?’ I joked.
He didn’t laugh.
Since our tiff over his boating incident I’d phoned Steven every day and always got a lukewarm reception. I wanted chummy conversation, a bit of light relief, but it became interrogation: me asking him question after question and getting nothing back. He was hiding in his dunno cave and nothing, not even that fact that I had a film star living right next door, would winkle him out. I was forced to continue as if my monologue was a dialogue.
‘The Claymores have worked with him loads; they all play poker together. They’re talking about having their poker nights here in Harrosie. That’s going to be a laugh, a house full of big rufty-tufty men and Hollywood stars. He’s a nice guy, dead down to earth. You know who Tony Ramos is, don’t you?’
‘Dunno.’
Steven had to have been impressed, it wasn’t everyone who had a film star next door, but he forced himself not to be.
‘Is everything alright, Steven?’
‘Quality.’
‘Is Gary still giving you all that overtime at the warehouse?’
‘Dunno.’
It’s simply a yes or no answer! I wanted to scream.
‘Because if you want to earn money, there’s plenty of work up here.’
Silence.
This was getting me nowhere; if I asked him any more questions he’d do his usual: start huffing and puffing and then say he had to go. The only avenue I had left to me was to give him my news and hope to sell him the wonderful benefits of living in Inverfaughie.
‘Talking of earning money, I’ve turned into quite the business-woman. I’ve even joined Faughie Council, well I had to really. D’you remember I told you about Betty Robertson?’
Nothing.
‘She was the one who came round for the inspection, you know, the one who got the rose bowl at the gala day?’
‘Please, I’m begging you, not the rose bowl story again,’ he said, ‘let it go.’ I ignored the impertinence; at least he was responding.
‘Well, she’s on the council. Betty says that with the movie in town we’re all going to be millionaires. There’s full employment in the village, lots of opportunity. Oh, and the big news is that a local girl got a part in the film.’ I tried to keep my voice light. ‘Morag Fenton, she’s playing Tony Ramos’s wife. I don’t know if you’ve met her yet?’
I hoped a reminder of the creamy-skinned, auburn-haired beauty might provoke a response, but he left this hanging in the air unanswered. At least he wasn’t denying it – that was a good sign.
‘Global Imperial want to give villagers work, put something back, that sort of thing, so if you were here for the summer you’d have your pick of jobs. Even acting, they’re looking for extras for the film. D’you not fancy trying your hand at acting? You could end up a big star like Tony Ramos.’
‘Nah … bsolutely.’
At last, I thought, an affirmative response!
‘Seriously, d’you fancy acting? I could speak to Jenny about getting you a part in the …’
‘Y … unlikely,’ he scoffed.
Steven sang this in such a tormenting taunt as to convey to me that I’d been duped by his earlier reply.
‘Even though I have a house full of cool Highland warriors and a film star next door; even though I’m up here all on my lonesome and missing you more every day, you still won’t come. Will you, Steven?’
Silence.
‘Steven?’
‘What?’
A ratty impatient ‘what’.
‘Nothing,’ I sighed.
After that there was a very long silence where we listened to each other’s angry breath.
Eventually Steven spoke. ‘That’s Gerry at the door for me, I have to go. Nice talking to you.’
‘Quality,’ I said sarcastically. ‘Let’s do this again soon.’
*
Jan contacted me, not for a
‘Hi son,’ I said, trying to communicate a smile down the phone.
‘Who’s calling?’ said Steven, apparently for real.
‘How many mothers have you got?’ I joked.
He didn’t laugh.
Since our tiff over his boating incident I’d phoned Steven every day and always got a lukewarm reception. I wanted chummy conversation, a bit of light relief, but it became interrogation: me asking him question after question and getting nothing back. He was hiding in his dunno cave and nothing, not even that fact that I had a film star living right next door, would winkle him out. I was forced to continue as if my monologue was a dialogue.
‘The Claymores have worked with him loads; they all play poker together. They’re talking about having their poker nights here in Harrosie. That’s going to be a laugh, a house full of big rufty-tufty men and Hollywood stars. He’s a nice guy, dead down to earth. You know who Tony Ramos is, don’t you?’
‘Dunno.’
Steven had to have been impressed, it wasn’t everyone who had a film star next door, but he forced himself not to be.
‘Is everything alright, Steven?’
‘Quality.’
‘Is Gary still giving you all that overtime at the warehouse?’
‘Dunno.’
It’s simply a yes or no answer! I wanted to scream.
‘Because if you want to earn money, there’s plenty of work up here.’
Silence.
This was getting me nowhere; if I asked him any more questions he’d do his usual: start huffing and puffing and then say he had to go. The only avenue I had left to me was to give him my news and hope to sell him the wonderful benefits of living in Inverfaughie.
‘Talking of earning money, I’ve turned into quite the business-woman. I’ve even joined Faughie Council, well I had to really. D’you remember I told you about Betty Robertson?’
Nothing.
‘She was the one who came round for the inspection, you know, the one who got the rose bowl at the gala day?’
‘Please, I’m begging you, not the rose bowl story again,’ he said, ‘let it go.’ I ignored the impertinence; at least he was responding.
‘Well, she’s on the council. Betty says that with the movie in town we’re all going to be millionaires. There’s full employment in the village, lots of opportunity. Oh, and the big news is that a local girl got a part in the film.’ I tried to keep my voice light. ‘Morag Fenton, she’s playing Tony Ramos’s wife. I don’t know if you’ve met her yet?’
I hoped a reminder of the creamy-skinned, auburn-haired beauty might provoke a response, but he left this hanging in the air unanswered. At least he wasn’t denying it – that was a good sign.
‘Global Imperial want to give villagers work, put something back, that sort of thing, so if you were here for the summer you’d have your pick of jobs. Even acting, they’re looking for extras for the film. D’you not fancy trying your hand at acting? You could end up a big star like Tony Ramos.’
‘Nah … bsolutely.’
At last, I thought, an affirmative response!
‘Seriously, d’you fancy acting? I could speak to Jenny about getting you a part in the …’
‘Y … unlikely,’ he scoffed.
Steven sang this in such a tormenting taunt as to convey to me that I’d been duped by his earlier reply.
‘Even though I have a house full of cool Highland warriors and a film star next door; even though I’m up here all on my lonesome and missing you more every day, you still won’t come. Will you, Steven?’
Silence.
‘Steven?’
‘What?’
A ratty impatient ‘what’.
‘Nothing,’ I sighed.
After that there was a very long silence where we listened to each other’s angry breath.
Eventually Steven spoke. ‘That’s Gerry at the door for me, I have to go. Nice talking to you.’
‘Quality,’ I said sarcastically. ‘Let’s do this again soon.’
*
Jan contacted me, not for a
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