Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
‘Don’t you miss the buzz of city life?’ Charlie asked, making a grand sweep of his arm towards Edinburgh Castle and almost decapitating a group of startled tourists.
‘No,’ Kieran said, dropping a few coins into the battered hat of a man curled against a shopfront. ‘I don’t miss elbowing my way along Princes Street, that’s for sure.’
They reached The Devil’s Dram, their old haunt from uni days.
The type of pub where the windows wept condensation and the doorway was permanently blocked by diehard smokers.
They squeezed inside, jostling through the weekend crush, and lucked into a table just vacated by a pair of students who looked barely conscious.
‘Right,’ Charlie said, shrugging off his jacket. ‘What are you having? Pint of heavy? Wee dram?’
Kieran smirked. He could already see where this was going. ‘Just a pint’s fine.’
‘Or,’ Charlie continued, eyes bright, ‘I could get you a Flirtini. Maybe a Unicorn Whisper with extra sparkles on top?’
‘You’re an eejit.’
‘Nah, seriously. I’ll ask for a tiny umbrella and a pink straw. Something to make you feel special.’
‘Just get me the pint, you dafty.’ Kieran laughed, a genuine one, grateful he’d escaped Cranley for a few hours. Charlie’s ridiculous banter was nostalgic in the best way; it reminded him of a younger version of himself, before life had got messy.
Charlie pulled a theatrical sigh. ‘Fine. Pint of lager for you, one Princess Potion with fairy dust for me. Sorted.’
He returned with two pints of Innis & Gunn and a laminated menu tucked under his arm. ‘My stomach thinks my throat’s cut,’ he announced, rubbing his belly.
They ordered macaroni cheese with garlic bread. Comfort food, pub grub. No flamboyant names or themed nonsense. Straightforward and safe.
‘So, you don’t miss Edinburgh. Is that because Cranley’s crammed with gorgeous women desperate to hook up with a soon-to-be billionaire tech giant?’
Kieran spluttered mid-sip. ‘Hardly. The handful of women I’ve met are either happily partnered or old enough to have lived through three recessions.’
The server plonked cutlery, napkins and condiments on the table. ‘Thanks,’ said Charlie. ‘Come on, Kieran, there must be someone close to your age! Ah, don’t tell me: you’re still pining for Lisa.’
Denying it would be a lie. Admitting it… Heather, Charlie’s wife, had been good friends with Lisa. Not so much after the split, since Heather had aligned herself with Team Kieran, but he didn’t want to seem like a lovelorn loser. ‘It still hurts, OK. Let’s leave it there.’
‘Fair.’ Charlie nodded, which meant absolutely nothing, because he never let a topic go if it intrigued him.
He picked at the beer mat. ‘But you’ve got to give me something.
Two or three youngish, attractive women in Cranley willing to fall for a saddo like you…
Then I’ll bore you with tales of fatherhood and the joys of a pregnant wife who now requires assistance clipping her toenails. ’
Their food arrived. Charlie tore into his with the enthusiasm of a man facing his last meal.
Kieran chased a forkful of macaroni round his plate.
Who had he met in the younger age bracket?
Jinnie, happily married and with a baby.
Angela, possibly married, also with a baby.
Then there was Beth. He knew next to nothing about her.
Except that she cooked very well and appeared to have an allergy to babies.
‘Mate, are you not eating?’ Charlie asked.
Kieran took a token bite then shoved his plate towards him. Charlie pounced on it like a starved wolf. Fortunately, his friend worked out three times a week at the gym, otherwise he’d be the size of a well-fed bungalow.
‘There is someone,’ Kieran said. The words escaped before he could apply the brakes. He grabbed a slice of garlic bread and shoved it into his mouth to stop elaborating.
Charlie’s head snapped up. ‘Now we’re talking. Is she another yoga nutter like Lisa, or does she have actual substance? Not that Lisa doesn’t have substance. She just needs to stop banging on about chakras and tantric sex.’
Sex. Kieran pretended not to remember what that was. Couldn’t care less if he never again writhed around under tangled sheets, making a woman moan with pleasure. Nope, not interested.
‘Kieran,’ Charlie said slowly, ‘you’re making a weird face. And kind of a weird noise.’
‘No I’m not.’
‘People are staring.’
Shit. Kieran scanned the room. No one was looking at him.
‘You are so full of shit, Charlie.’
Charlie shrugged, dragging a hunk of bread through the dregs of the cheese sauce. ‘Mate, I’ll be knee-deep in nappies again come July. Or August. Heather complains I don’t listen. I’m more worried about Jacob.’
Jacob, in Kieran’s fairly inexperienced opinion, was a sweet boy with a gentle disposition and a fondness for complex Lego constructions. ‘Because he’ll feel temporarily displaced as the focus of the family?’
‘No. Because he said he wanted to chop up the baby and cook it in the oven.’
Kieran blinked. ‘Wow. That escalated.’
‘He’s just being dramatic,’ Charlie said breezily. ‘Probably.’
Slightly worrying. Possible serial-killer alert. Kieran decided not to pursue that. There were only so many potential serial-killer conversations a man could manage on a Saturday afternoon.
‘Send my love to Heather,’ Kieran said. ‘She’s a diamond.’
Charlie softened. ‘Aye. She is. And I don’t mind the toenail clipping. Or the flatulence. Or the screaming. Or the threats that she’ll never pee normally again.’ He shook his head helplessly. ‘What is that about?’
Kieran had no answers. Only a growing ache in his chest.
‘Sorry. Got sidetracked there,’ added Charlie. ‘Tell me about the someone you’ve met.’
‘There’s nothing to tell. Her name’s Beth. She’s the chef at The Jekyll and Hyde pub and we’re both newcomers.’
Charlie grinned. ‘And the locals aren’t likely to drive you out with pitchforks or perform some weird ritual involving wicker and flames?’
Charlie was obsessed with creepy movies. Evil dolls that came to life, or ancient entities hell-bent on wreaking havoc. Kieran had no time for the supernatural. A man of science and logic, he observed the world with a pragmatic eye.
‘Not yet. Cranley is more likely to lull me into a coma than a horror film.’
‘How’s the app coming along?’ Charlie owned an upmarket garage selling vintage cars. He knew next to nothing about Kieran’s IT abilities, just as Kieran had zero interest in carburettors, gearboxes and the expensive nap of a leather seat.
‘It’s coming along at a snail’s pace. The problem is, I’m a one-man band. Designer, coder, future advertiser and marketer. I need investment to progress. But without something polished, it’s hard to get investment. It’s a chicken-and-egg situation.’
Charlie glanced down at his immaculate ensemble of suit trousers, pristine white shirt and shoes that gleamed. ‘Heather buys most of my clothes. I haven’t a clue about what goes with what. So, pitch your product to me. As someone who dresses like a funeral director, what exactly does your app do?’
Kieran rubbed a hand over his face. Ideas usually came effortlessly. Today they flickered weakly at the edges of his mind.
‘It helps people find their comfort zone,’ he said. ‘Streamline their wardrobes. Curb impulse buying. Build a capsule collection that fits their lifestyle. Less clutter, more confidence.’
‘Right.’ Charlie’s expression suggested he’d reached his boredom threshold.
‘I’m thinking of a two-tier plan. Freemium – free, duh – and Premium. Where you’ll get discounts at certain stores and other extras. I want to offer customers empowering, smart, stylish and sustainable choices, one outfit at a time.’
‘Nice,’ Charlie said, wiping his mouth. ‘No clue what that means. Heather tells me if I look like a sack of shit or gives me a thumbs up if I pass muster. Currently, I daren’t say a word about her appearance. She’s allowed to use the word “whale”. I value my life too much to comment.’
The afternoon drifted towards its end. They finished eating, exchanged the ritual man-hug and promised to meet again soon.
‘By which time,’ Kieran said, ‘you’ll have two kids and I’ll still be a single, nerdy bastard.’
Charlie checked his phone as his Uber arrived. ‘Or you’ll be loved up with Beth, eating gourmet meals every night.’
Kieran snorted as he waved him off. Loved up. As if.
On the train back to Cranley, he let his head rest against the cool glass. Outside, the countryside blurred into green and gold streaks.
The only creature that loved him was Prom.
And he wasn’t entirely certain the cat was totally on his side.