Scratch Read online

  ‘You started it,’ Paula replied. She turned to me. ‘Didn’t she start it?’

  ‘Eh,’ I said.

  ‘Oh shush, Paula,’ Louise said. ‘Any more word about Ingo’s grandad?’ As changes of subject go it was pretty slick, if unexpected.

  ‘Not today, no.’

  There was a brief silence before Louise said, ‘I’m sure he’s just not had a chance to call yet.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Paula said.

  ‘Right, James, hurry up with your dinner,’ Joe said. ‘We’ve got things to do.’

  ‘We have?’ Paula’s comments had distracted me, and it took a moment or two for the fear to hit.

  ‘Oh yes,’ Joe said. There was more than relish in his tone, there was a full salad garnish with balsamic dressing and spicy salsa.

  ***

  Twenty minutes later Paula smiled apologetically as she and her mum left to meet Andrea and go to the cinema - an arrangement she had somehow neglected to mention when inviting me over.

  ‘You’re in for a treat, lad,’ Joe said as he led me into the living room. ‘Park your arse there.’ He indicated one of the two leather armchairs.

  I sat as Joe headed for a huge plasma TV in the corner, which dominated the room. It was at least a fifty-incher, far bigger than the relatively small room could reasonably accommodate, and threw the aesthetics of the otherwise tastefully decorated and accessorised lounge totally out of whack. It was fucking gorgeous.

  ‘Nice telly.’

  ‘Isn’t it just? It arrived on Saturday; Louise nearly slit my throat when she saw it.’

  ‘What stopped her?’

  ‘Fortuitous timing.’ Joe was crouched in front of the magnificent beast, fiddling with the DVD player on the shelf underneath. ‘The X-Factor came on just after I got it set up. As soon as she heard that wee Declan lad in 7.1 Dolby Surround Sound, she was a convert.’

  Declan O’Hara was a seventeen year-old Irish kid who, now all of the Scottish contestants had been voted off, was the Caledonian press’s top tip to win the competition. I had to admit that, despite my long-standing and still unbroken policy of never watching the show because it’s shite, even I wanted him to win. That I had no idea whether he was any good or not didn’t come in to it; it was a celtic (with a ‘k’) thing.

  Joe finished whatever he was doing and headed for the other armchair, remote in hand. ‘Ready?’ he asked.

  ‘For what, exactly?’

  ‘Just watch.’ Joe hit the remote and the screen came alive.

  ‘Aah,’ I said when the credits began. ‘I saw this years ago on video.’

  ‘Not like this you didn’t,’ Joe said. ‘Special edition, re-mastered.’

  It was, of course, a Bruce Lee film. Specifically, Enter the Dragon.

  ‘His first, and as it turned out only, big American movie,’ Joe said a few minutes later, as a young oriental woman was chased around what appeared to be a fish market by a ginger-bearded baddie and his mates. ‘That’s Lee’s sister, Su Lin.’

  ‘What, in real life?’

  ‘No, in the film.’

  ‘Right,’ I said. ‘Her name’s Su Lin and she’s playing Bruce’s sister?’

  ‘No, her name’s Angela Mao and she’s playing Su Lin, Lee’s sister.’

  I was getting confused. ‘So the character she’s playing is Bruce’s sister?’

  ‘No, she’s Lee’s sister.’

  That didn’t help. ‘And Lee is?’ I ventured.

  ‘Bruce.’

  ‘As in, Bruce Lee?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Okay.’ The word senile crept into my brain. ‘So, Su Lin is, stop me if I’m wrong, Lee’s sister but not Bruce Lee’s sister. But Bruce is Lee, is that right?’ I was starting to wonder if I should be phoning some kind of mental health professional.

  Joe gave me a Christ, you’re thick look. ‘Exactly!’

  ‘Okay.’ I wasn’t sure where to go from there. On screen, Su Lin, whoever’s sister she might or might not be, stuck a big shard of glass into her stomach and killed herself rather than submit to the baddies.

  ‘Classic motive through back-story,’ Joe said. ‘Of course, it’s there for characterisation more than anything else. He’d have gone to the tournament anyway because he’s a hero. The dead sister merely adds depth.’

  ‘Who, Bruce?’

  ‘No, Lee. You’re starting to worry me, James. I thought you’d seen this?’

  ‘I was very young,’ I said, trying to put Joe’s incoherence to the back of my mind. By now, we were watching people on boats going to some kind of martial arts competition. ‘That’s John Saxon,’ I said, excitedly. ‘He was in Nightmare on Elm Street. And Murder She Wrote.’

  ‘A fine actor. No match for Bruce in the fighting stakes, but he does fairly well. He’s a black belt in karate.’

  ‘There’s a man ripe for a Tarantino comeback,’ I said.

  ‘Couldn’t agree more, James. He’ll be in his seventies by now, right enough.’

  ‘That doesn’t matter. I can see him as an ageing, sadistic hit man.’ I was starting to enjoy myself.

  ‘And now we meet Mr Jim Kelly. He should have been bigger,’ Joe said as the action switched to the next protagonist.

  ‘He looks pretty big to me.’ Jim Kelly had a superb seventies afro and a mean line in kicky/punchy violence. ‘It’s good to see black actors could get decent roles back then,’ I said.

  ‘As opposed to all those Chinese people, do you mean?’

  ‘Very funny.’

  ‘Still, it’s hardly a surprise that Kelly is the only one of the three stars to get killed in the film. They weren’t all that enlightened in those days.’

  ‘Thanks for spoiling that for me there, Joe.’

  ‘You’ve seen it.’

  ‘Years ago, I can’t remember anything apart from the bit at the end with all the mirrors.’

  ‘Classic scene, that. This was released the year you were born.’

  This took me by surprise; not the fact, more that Joe would know it. ‘Was it?’

  ‘Same year as Paula, too. I had to go on my own to see it; Louise had an arse the size of Killarney and couldn’t fit into the seats at the Scala.’

  We watched in silence for a while, and I finally realised Bruce Lee’s character‘s name was Mr Lee, which gave our earlier conversation more clarity.

  ‘This is my favourite line,’ Joe said, as a badly acted thug approached Bruce, now on a bigger boat with everyone else, and asked him what his fighting style was. The art of fighting without fighting, Bruce replied. ‘How’s that for profound?’ Joe asked.

  ‘Doesn’t that just mean arguing?’ I asked.

  ‘No, watch.’ Bruce convinced the thug to get into a lifeboat with the promise of a fight on a nearby island, then, instead of following him, unhitched the dingy from the bigger boat and set it adrift. ‘See?’ Joe said. ‘The art of fighting without fighting.’

  ‘He just conned him,’ I said.

  ‘No, he used cunning and guile to defeat his opponent without resorting to violence.’

  ‘Yeah, he conned him.’

  ‘No, he resolved a conflict with misdirection rather than physical prowess, despite knowing he could have bested his enemy easily.’

  ‘Okay, but doesn’t the fact he spends the rest of the movie kicking the shite out of people kind of undermine that philosophy?’

  ‘No,’ Joe said. ‘Watch the film.’

  ‘Did I just win an argument with you?’ I said, feeling smug.

  ‘No,’ Joe said, turning to glare me in the eye. I was feeling scared again.

  ‘Did you just fight me without fighting me?’

  ‘Yes, James. Yes I did.’

  ‘You do know that was essentially just intimidatio—’

  ‘James, there are times when a man has to accept that shutting the feck up is his only and best option.’

  ‘Understood,’ I said. Inside, I was feeling quite smug again.

  ‘So, how’s it been, seeing P
aula?’ Joe asked. And lo, smugness was banished from the land once more.

  ‘Eh, good, yeah,’ I said.

  ‘She’s looking well, isn’t she?’

  ‘Yeah, yeah. She is.’

  ‘She needs her friends, James, but that’s all she needs. Do you agree?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘She’s a wee bit vulnerable at the moment, especially with Ingo not being here. I’d hate to think anyone would try to take advantage of that.’

  I was starting to think my theory about Joe trying to pair Paula and me up might be off the mark. ‘I totally agree,’ I said.

  ‘Good lad. Watch the movie, Lee’s about to crush a man to death with his heel.’

  ‘Lovely.’

  We watched for a while longer as Bruce failed spectacularly to live up to his fighting without fighting ethos, then Joe spoke again.

  ‘How are your parents, James?’

  Here we go. ‘They’re fine.’

  ‘And how is it, living with them again?’

  ‘It’s not so bad, you know,’ I said. This line of conversation was even more uncomfortable than his thinly veiled threats about Paula had been, and I could feel my cheeks burning. ‘Could be worse.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Joe said, turning back to the TV.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Joe’s eyes didn’t move from the screen.

  ‘What?’ I asked again.

  Joe smiled. ‘You’re a terrible liar, James. You should remember that.’ Was this another threat? ‘I would suggest that’s the reason you found your former line of work so unsatisfactory.’

  ‘It was more the daily humiliation and total lack of self-respect,’ I said.

  ‘Same thing. You felt guilty every time you had to force an untruth on your customers, and that led to low self-esteem. Being an accomplished liar isn’t a talent, James, it’s a deficiency of character. Poor liars don’t lack the ability to lie so much as they possess the empathy to know that lying is, generally, both selfish and destructive for all concerned. Effective lying requires a suppression of conscience. That you lack the tools to do this well is nothing to be ashamed of.’

  I’d always assumed I was a reasonably good liar. I’d certainly had plenty of practice. ‘Was that a compliment?’ I asked.

  ‘Merely an observation. But I apologise for getting sidetracked, we were discussing your thoughts on moving back to your parents’ house.’

  I’d preferred the sidetrack. ‘Okay, so I don’t exactly relish living at home in my thirties. I don’t think I’d be alone in that.’

  ‘Very true, James. Yet, it’s been very much your own actions that have taken you back there. Am I wrong?’

  ‘Well, no,’ I said. ‘But it’s only short term.’

  ‘Saving up for a deposit, are you? Pub wages must have gone up a bit since my day.’

  ‘The pub’s only a stop gap.’

  ‘Ah, so you have a plan, do you?’

  ‘Eh.’

  ‘That’s what I thought.’

  ‘Have you and my parents been meeting in secret?’

  Joe laughed. ‘Not at all, though I’d be delighted to make their acquaintance.’ No chance mate, I thought, as Joe went on. ‘You clearly think I share their opinions, though.’

  I laughed. ‘Seems that way.’

  ‘So, what is this opinion we have of you?’

  ‘That starting over is a stupid idea and I’m basically a waste of space.’

  ‘I see,’ Joe said. ‘Tell me, have either of your parents ever actually said that?’

  ‘They don’t need to, believe me.’

  ‘And have I ever said that’s what I think?’

  ‘Well, no,’ I admitted.

  ‘Yet you choose to assign these opinions to all three of us. I find that interesting.’

  ‘That’s nice for you.’ I could hear the truculence in my voice as I spoke.

  ‘I believe I said this very evening I admired your career change, did I not?’ Joe said, ignoring my childish tone.

  I’d forgotten about that. ‘So?’ I said, layering some petulance on top of the truculence.

  ‘It’s never advisable to assume you know what’s going on in other people’s heads, James.’

  I had to laugh. ‘That’s all you’ve done since I met you.’

  ‘Yes, but I’m allowed.’

  ‘That’s a bit of a double standard, isn’t it?’

  ‘No.’

  It’s hard to argue with a straight no. I gave it a go anyway. ‘Yes it is!’

  ‘No, James, it isn’t.’

  ‘So you’re just better than me, is that what you’re saying?’

  ‘Well, you might beat me at table tennis, I’ve never managed to master that, but in most respects, yes. There’s no shame in it, it’s simple genetics. We only have the tools we’re born with.’ Joe stated this as plain fact, no ego involved.

  ‘I’m rubbish at table tennis,’ I admitted.

  ‘There is also the fact I’ve spent forty-five years studying the human mind and how it works. That may give me a slight edge.’

  This made me feel better. ‘Can I ask you something, Joe?’

  ‘Of course, James. As long as you respect that I may choose not to answer.’

  ‘Fair enough. Why am I here?’

  ‘You might be better off with a priest for that one,’ Joe said. ‘Or perhaps a Buddhist.’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘Why am I here tonight? Why did you invite me for dinner?’

  ‘Ah, I see,’ Joe said, nodding. ‘Let me guess, you think I’m using you to relieve my boredom or something similar, yes?’

  ‘Well that’s certainly what Terry thinks,’ I said. ‘I’m unsure, personally.’

  ‘Can I be candid?’ Joe asked.

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘It’s mainly politeness.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘You invited me out for a drink twice, and I accepted on both occasions. And, I won’t lie, almost enjoyed myself. I therefore felt it would only be polite to reciprocate in some manner.’

  This was a bit deflating. ‘Is that all?’

  ‘Well, to be truthful, I am also using you to relieve my boredom; Terry was quite insightful in that respect. Retirement is less eventful than I’d hoped, and you’ve proven to be an interesting diversion.’

  ‘Christ, are you always this honest?’

  ‘Always, James. We have something in common, you see. The reason I know you’re such a bad liar is that I’m a terrible liar, too. I recognised this fact at an early age, thankfully, and have since followed a policy of honesty at all times. You’d be amazed what a difference not lying makes, you should try it.’

  ‘So, you never lie to anyone?’ No way could that be true.

  ‘Nope, never.’

  ‘But you’re a therapist!’

  ‘How little you understand about therapy, James, if you think lying is part of it.’

  ‘But surely you must have had loads of patients who were just moaning idiots.’

  ‘I did indeed, and I told every one of them that very thing.’

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Of course. Until they know they’re an idiot they can’t move on.’

  ‘So, am I an idiot?’

  ‘No James, you’re not an idiot.’

  Thank God for that, I thought.

  ‘You’re a wanker, as has been previously stated,’ Joe said.

  Bastard! ‘Oh, cheers. What’s the difference?’

  ‘It’s simple. An idiot is someone oblivious to their weaknesses; a wanker is someone oblivious to their strengths. These are purely my own definitions, you understand.’

  ‘So, you’re saying I’m oblivious to my strengths?’ Suddenly I didn’t feel so bad about being a wanker. ‘What strengths? What am I oblivious to?’ I was a little excited.

  ‘As I’ve said, I never lie. Sometimes I refrain from commenting, though.’

  ‘Aw.’ That wasn’t fair.

  ‘Watch the film, James. The mirror
scene is coming up in a minute.’

  He was at least right about it being a classic scene. Bruce Lee certainly wasn’t a wanker; he made the most of his strengths in all sorts of robust and lethal ways.

  Chapter 15

  My mobile started playing Rock The Casbah.

  ‘Jim, where are you?’ asked Paula.

  ‘Bus stop.’

  ‘Why didn’t you wait for me to get back?’

  ‘Eh, I didn’t know I was supposed to.’

  ‘Did my dad kick you out?’

  ‘Not as such,’ I said. When Enter the Dragon finished Joe had offered me a coffee then told me he had some work to do upstairs. I sat alone in the living room drinking my coffee for ten minutes before accepting he wasn’t coming back and let myself out.

  ‘Are you working in the morning?’ Paula asked.

  ‘No, I’m in at six.’ I was due to do my first evening shift the next day.

  ‘Wait there and I’ll pick you up in a cab.’

  ‘Oh, okay.’ The sensation of not having a bloody clue what was happening was starting to feel natural and my mind remained relatively blank during the five minutes it took for Paula to arrive.

  ‘Why did you leave?’ she asked, after directing the taxi driver to head for Shawlands.

  ‘Your dad sort of disappeared; I didn’t know what else to do.’

  ‘Shit, he can be a right eejit sometimes.’

  ‘At least he was around for most of the evening,’ I said.

  ‘I know, I can’t believe my mum sprang that cinema trip on me. I swear I didn’t know a thing about it till five minutes before you got there.’

  ‘I’m guessing it was probably your dad’s idea.’

  ‘More than likely, sorry. Was he a nightmare?’

  ‘He wasn’t too bad,’ I said. ‘We bonded over Bruce.’

  ‘God help you.’ The taxi pulled up outside Stube.

  ‘I take it we’re going for a drink?’ I said.

  Paula paused as she handed the driver a fiver, then shook her head and smiled. ‘How come I have no bother telling you when you’re a wanker, but you never point it out when I’m being a presumptuous cow?’

  ‘I suppose I’m more polite than you are,’ I said as we got out of the Hackney. ‘But it’s definitely your round.’

  ‘It is that.’

  ***