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  ‘Polly-wolly-pom-pom! Give us a hug, you gorgeous thing.’ Sammy, who got a bit camp when he was emotional, too, shrieked and rushed through the bar-hatch, grabbing Paula in a bear-hug. ‘Look at you,’ he said, once he’d finished smothering her. ‘You’re still a wee stunner. You were always the only one I might have strayed to the dark side for.’

  ‘Oh shush, you,’ Paula said, holding on to Sammy’s hands and staring at him with obvious affection. ‘You’re looking almost dignified in your old age, Mr S. Like the face-fuzz, makes you look nearly respectable.’

  I sat there feeling like the awkward imbecile I was as I watched their mutual adoration play out. Sammy was friends with Paula’s sister Andrea and had known Paula since she was fifteen. She’d always looked on him as a big brother, and she was the wee sister he never had.

  This was lovely. Very sweet. Not something I had any right to feel even remotely jealous about. Obviously. That would have been crass and immature. Not like me at all.

  Their love-in did at least give me time to try and compose myself. Time, as it turned out, I didn’t spend well. ‘So, how do you, Paula?’ I said, with volume and idiocy, as opposed to the calmness and nonchalance I’d been aiming for.

  Paula turned to me, still smiling, still holding on to Sammy’s hands. ‘How do I what, Jim?’

  ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘Many halves. How are you, is what I meant. And yes, I’m still a wanker, to save you asking.’ That was slightly better.

  Paula’s smile turned into a laugh. ‘Good to know, though my dad has already alerted me to that fact. You’re a balding wanker, I see.’

  I wasn’t sure how to take that one. Fortunately, Sammy saved the day, or at least the moment. ‘Right, missy. What are you drinking? On me, of course.’

  ‘Cheers, a glass of white would be good.’

  With Sammy otherwise occupied, Paula finally gave me her full attention. Sitting on the barstool next to me, she said: ‘Are you okay, Jim? All this business with my dad has me worrying about you. He said you’re chucking your job and selling up. What’s the deal?’

  I heard what she had said, but all that was going on in my brain was that, after twelve long years, I was looking at Paula Fraser and she was looking back at me. That was as much as I was able to process, and I could do nothing but smile as I failed to recognise an answer was required.

  ‘How drunk are you, Jim?’

  I’m ashamed to admit I briefly toyed with the thought of saying I was ‘drunk with love’, but luckily I wasn’t quite that drunk with tequila. ‘Sorry,’ I managed to say instead. ‘It’s just a shock, seeing you. Your dad said you weren’t coming home till next week. Seeing you, in here, with Sammy being here as well. It’s a bit ...’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ Paula said. ‘I got the chance of a cheap flight yesterday and arranged to catch up with Sammy. You, I didn’t expect.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Is that still your favourite word?’

  ‘With you? Yes, it probably is.’ Wrong thing to say. Suddenly the world was awkward.

  ‘Anyway,’ Paula said, regrouping. ‘What the hell has happened in the world to make you and my daddy drinking partners? I can honestly say I never saw that one coming.’

  ‘Yeah, me neither. I’m not sure I can explain it, to be honest. Can I ask you something?’

  ‘Go for it.’

  ‘What the fuck is the deal with the whole Joe/Simon thing? And the he doesn’t like Guinness, oh, yes he does?’

  Paula laughed. ‘Wait till he starts on Bruce Lee, then you’re in real trouble.’

  ‘It’s too late for that. You should see my inbox.’

  ‘Jaysus, he must like you. That’s ...’ she paused. ‘That’s quite nice, really.’ She smiled that enigmatic smile, again. She was indeed her father’s daughter.

  ‘But what’s it in aid of?’

  Paula shrugged. ‘He’s his own man.’

  That was no help, and I moved on. ‘Is it the German thing?’ I said, displaying more stupidity than even I thought myself capable of.

  ‘What?’ Paula looked suspicious.

  ‘Bruce Lee’s grandad was German.’ I was sure of my facts, but not so confident about their relevance. God knows why, but I continued. ‘Is that why your dad likes Ingo?’

  ‘You really are still a wanker, aren’t you?’ Paula shook her head. It looked more like disbelief than anger.

  I didn’t have an adequate defence on that one, so was glad when Sammy chose that point to return, bearing drinks.

  ‘Here you go, doll.’ He placed a large glass of wine in front of Paula. ‘I figured I’d better get you another pint too, Jim. I took it out of the kitty.’

  ‘Cheers, Sam.’ I took a slurp.

  ‘So what did I miss?’ Sammy said.

  ‘Jim has a theory that Germany is a unifying influence on my family history.’

  ‘Really?’ Sammy was all ears. ‘Tell me, then.’

  ‘Does anyone know the German for faux-pas?’ I said. I was relieved to see Paula smile properly again. ‘Just me being drunk and daft, as usual.’

  Paula and Sammy looked at one another and nodded in silent agreement. ‘Jim Cooper,’ they said in unison. ‘You are by far the ...’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ I interrupted. ‘I’m the biggest wanker you’ve ever met. Ha and, what’s more, ha.’ I was getting a bit sick of that one. ‘Can we move on, perhaps?’

  ‘Sorry, Jim,’ Paula said. ‘Old times, you know? Anyway, back to reality. My dad reckons you’re going through early onset male menopause. Are you going to buy a motorbike and get a job in a pub?’

  ‘Well, hah,’ I said.

  ‘Didn’t he tell you?’ Sammy said. ‘He’s starting in here on Tuesday.’

  Chapter 9

  Yes, Sammy offered me a job and I accepted. He might say I begged for a job and he relented but that’s bollocks, honest.

  Pulling pints for minimum wage, nothing wrong with that. It sort of fit with the whole ‘starting again’ thing. Being in The Basement with Sammy was a trifle surreal, but I decided to view it as a sign I was doing the right thing.

  And then there was Paula. As soon as I’d heard her voice I knew I was still in love with her. No debate, no arguments, no doubts. She was ‘it’.

  But ‘it’ was married.

  ‘So what’s your surname now, then?’ I said, when a group of freshly arrived customers prompted Sammy to leave us alone again.

  ‘Neumann.’

  ‘Paula Neumann, seriously?’ There were two angles there, but I chose the least controversial first. ‘Like Butch Cassidy?’

  ‘Yes, Jim, that’s exactly what it’s like.’

  ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘So, how is your new man?’

  ‘I’ve been with him for six years, he’s hardly new.’

  ‘Yeah, sorry. It’s just weird to think of you being married.’

  ‘I suppose I’ve had more time to get used to it than you,’ Paula said, dropping her eyes. And there was the awkwardness again.

  ‘I guess,’ I said. ‘Is it okay to ask if you’re happy?’

  Paula looked up. ‘It’s been a tough couple of years, but yes, I’m happy.’ I’m not sure if I only imagined some sadness in her smile. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Your dad told me about the school not working out. That must have been hard.’

  ‘Yeah, it was sad. We put a lot into it. The crippling debt isn’t exactly pleasant, either. Still, I don’t know anyone who isn’t up to their eyeballs these days.’

  ‘I’m not,’ I said. ‘Or at least I won’t be in a couple of weeks.’

  ‘You’ve sold your flat, then?’

  ‘Yep, moving out on Sunday.’

  ‘Have you got a new place?’

  ‘Eh,’ I said. ‘Actually, it turns out there’s not going to be much left over once I pay everything off, so I’m going to stay with my mum and dad. Just for a wee while.’

  Paula shook her head and laughed. ‘Correct me if I’m wrong, but we lost touch because I
thought you should have a bit of ambition beyond working in The Basement and staying at your mum’s when you were twenty-one. And now, twelve years later, you’re about to be working in The Basement and staying at your mum’s?’

  ‘Well, yes. But at least I’m out of debt.’ My penchant for innocent petulance was barely attractive to Paula when we were nineteen; now even I could hear how childish it was, and I liked me. ‘Sorry,’ I added, as usual.

  ‘Fair point,’ Paula said, still laughing. ‘At least I had a flat back then, now I’m at my mum’s, too. I guess you’re one up on me. We’re a right pair, us two, aren’t we?’

  ‘So it seems,’ I said. She’d said we were a pair. She’d said us two!

  ‘It’s good to see you, Jim.’

  Result! ‘You too. You look good, Paula, not a day over forty.’ I pulled out the old puppy-dog look, for old time’s sake.

  ‘Cheeky fecker! At least I’ve still got my hair.’

  That she did, and beautiful it was, too. ‘That you do,’ I began. ‘And—’

  ‘What’s the scoop, Coop?’ I closed my eyes as Terry draped an arm over my shoulder. We were having a moment there, I thought to myself. ‘Wee Ronni’s missing you over there. Some bastard’s ordered a round of Baileys.’ Terry smiled drunkenly at me, then turned his attention to a now nervous looking Paula. ‘Is this prick annoying you, hen? Say the word and I’ll take him outside.’

  ‘No, you’re fine,’ Paula said as I squirmed.

  ‘Honestly, it’s no bother. I never liked him.’

  ‘Terry, this is an old mate of mine,’ I said, praying he hadn’t noticed Paula’s accent and wouldn’t ask me her name.

  ‘Really? My apologies, miss. Given your accent, can I assume you’re the famed Paula Fraser?’ Drunk enough to annoy but sober enough to observe, by far Terry’s most dangerous state.

  ‘Eh, yes that’s me,’ Paula said, giving me a confused look.

  ‘Hah, Terry’s met your dad a couple of times, too,’ I said.

  A look of amused understanding appeared on Paula’s face as she digested the name and, politely but not un-obviously, took note of Terry’s waistline. ‘Terry, of course. He did mention you. It’s nice to meet you.’ She held out her hand and shook Terry’s.

  ‘And you, Paula,’ he said. ‘It’s always good to put a face to a fantasy.’

  ‘Sorry?’ Paula said.

  ‘Hah, shut it, Terry,’ I said. ‘Away back and guard my Baileys. I’ll be over in a minute.’

  ‘Whatever you say, sir. A delight to meet you, Paula.’ Terry bowed.

  ‘And you, sir,’ Paula said, laughing as Terry backed away and returned to the throng. ‘He seems nice.’

  ‘Yeah, he’s okay. A bit pissed, sorry.’

  ‘You should go back to your mates. It’s your night out, after all.’

  ‘No, there’s no rush. They’re here for the beer, not me,’ I said.

  ‘Jim, don’t be rude. I’m back, you work here and you’re best mates with my dad. I’m sure we’ll run into each other again soon enough.’ And, with that, the moment was gone.

  ‘Yeah, I suppose,’ I said. ‘But—’

  ‘Anyway, no offence, but I came here to see Sammy. That big bugger owes me a dinner, and I intend to collect tonight. Do you hear me, Sammy? Get your coat on and grab your homo-satchel, I’m needin’ feedin’.’

  Sammy looked over from behind the bar, where he was huddled with the two staff. ‘Loud and clear, m’dear. Won’t be a minute, just filling the troops in about our new recruit.’

  Chapter 10

  ‘Hi, Mum.’

  ‘Hello, Jim. In you come then.’ She stepped back to allow me into the hall, not quite suppressing a ‘tut’ as the canvas shoulder bag containing my entire wardrobe clattered off her knee as I passed.

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘No problem, go on through.’

  ‘Dad not in?’ I asked, once I’d made it to the living room.

  ‘He’s upstairs moving the computer out of his, your, room.’

  ‘Oh, okay.’ Within days of me moving out nine years previously my dad had transformed my bedroom into a study/computer/music/placetogowhenhewantedtobealone room.

  My parents lived in a small, two bedroom terrace in Muirend, and neither of them had attempted to hide the fact that they were looking forward to the extra space. I hadn’t been insulted or hurt by this; they were only being practical. Plus, at the time I was at least as eager to go as they were to see me leave.

  ‘It would be nice if you went up and gave him a hand.’ She was never one for making her hints too oblique, my mum.

  ‘Of course, yes. No bother.’ I headed up the stairs.

  As I reached the top landing I could hear grunts, groans and buggers emanating from behind the closed door of my old room.

  ‘Dad?’ I pushed the door open, eager to help, and heard a thud.

  ‘Aah! For Christ’s ...’

  I put my head round the door to see my dad rubbing the top of his scalp, which I had just banjoed with that very same door.

  ‘Shit, sorry. Do you need a hand?’

  ‘I need an ambulance with you around, and watch your language in front of your mother!’

  ‘Eh, okay.’ I didn’t bother pointing out Mum was downstairs and well out of earshot.

  ‘Don’t stand there like a loon, grab an end.’

  I hurried to the far end of the computer desk, which he had been manipulating towards the door when I brained him. ‘Got it,’ I said, gripping under the lip of the desktop.

  ‘Don’t lift it from the top; it’s too ... oh for Christ’s sake, Jim!’

  My end of the beech desktop rose easily when I pulled up. Unfortunately the rest of the desk remained on the floor. ‘Shit!’ I crouched and tried to line up the wooden dowels and those weird Ikea screw things back into their holes.

  ‘It’ll sit back in no bother, it’ll be fine,’ I said.

  ‘Leave it!’ My dad all but pushed me out of the way as he bent down to survey the damage. ‘Needs some wood glue.’ He left the room without another word and I heard him thump down the stairs. A couple of seconds later I heard the back door slam as he headed for the shed.

  ‘Leave it, I need a bloody ambulance, mind your bloody language in front of your mum, don’t lift it from the top, loon!’ I’m not sure what voice I was doing – something high-pitched and sarcastic – but it felt good even if didn’t sound anything like my dad. ‘Maybe if you’d spent more than a tenner on the desk it wouldn’t fall apart.’ I had stopped the bad impersonation and was just talking to myself now, but that felt good too. ‘And Mum’s down the bloody fucking stairs, isn’t she? She can’t fucking hear a bloody fucking thing, can she fucking now? Fuck prick fuck prick fuck prick, see? She can’t hear me! Daft old ba—’

  ‘Jim?’

  I nearly shat myself. I turned to see my mum standing in the doorway. ‘Eh ... hiya.’ I felt like I had serious sunburn on my entire head.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Eh, I’m fine, yeah, sorry. I broke the desk. And hit dad on the head. With the door. Quite hard, I think.’

  Mum nodded a few times. ‘You can be, yes.’

  ‘Did you, eh, hear ...?’

  She nodded again. Now it felt like sunstroke. ‘So,’ she began, choosing her words carefully. ‘You’ve been here less than ten minutes and you’re already so angry at your dad that you’re standing up here swearing away to yourself like an ASBO’d eight year-old, and the reason you’re angry is that you broke his desk and gave him a head injury. Have I got that right?’

  I’ve always hated logic. Spock was a smug bastard if you ask me. I tried a smile. The puppy dog look stopped working on my mum when I was about three.

  She shook her head; slowly, this time. ‘Welcome home, Jim.’

  ***

  I managed to stay out of my dad’s way until dinner time. His computer now sat atop its desk in the corner of the already cramped dining room. I tried to avoid its accusing stare as my
mum brought out our food.

  ‘Thanks, Mum, looks great.’

  ‘It looks like chicken and oven chips, but thank you.’ She smiled as she sat down.

  ‘Cheers, love,’ Dad said, digging in.

  ‘How was your night on Friday?’ Mum asked a few minutes later when the silence began to get awkward.

  ‘Oh, it was a good laugh. They gave me a smoking jacket.’

  ‘Why?’ Mum asked.

  ‘Terry thought it would be funny.’

  ‘Was it?’

  ‘Not especially, no.’

  My dad kept eating throughout this exchange and we re-joined him in silent consumption for another five minutes or so. Eventually, I felt obliged to re-open proceedings.

  ‘You’ll never guess who turned up.’

  ‘Who?’ Mum again, Dad still hadn’t raised his eyes from his plate.

  ‘Paula Fraser.’

  ‘Paula? My goodness, how is she?’ Mum sounded excited and Dad looked up, eyebrows high. Paula had that effect on pretty much everyone. She met my parents less than a dozen times but they had both adored her. I doubt they could even tell you the names of any girl I’d gone out with since.

  ‘Yeah, she’s okay. She was asking for you both.’

  ‘Is she back up from London, then?’ My dad asked.

  ‘How long is she here for?’ Mum asked.

  ‘What’s she up to now?’ Dad asked.

  ‘She was lovely,’ Mum said.

  ‘You missed the boat, there,’ Dad said.

  ‘Is she single?’ Mum asked.

  ‘Unlikely,’ Dad said.

  Fuck off, I thought. ‘She’s married and on the verge of bankruptcy. She moved to Germany but it didn’t work out. She’s back staying with her mum and dad.’ See, I’m not the only failure on the planet, hah!

  ‘She’s married?’ asked Mum.

  ‘She moved to Germany? It takes courage to broaden your horizons like that,’ said Dad.

  ‘What does her husband do?’ asked Mum.

  ‘Brave girl, good for her,’ said Dad.

  Peeved. That’s the polite word for what I was feeling, right then. ‘He’s a teacher, she’s a teacher,’ I said, with more vehemence than was perhaps warranted. ‘They started a school and messed it up, and now they’re back here with nothing. Actually, he’s not even here yet, because his grandad’s sick and he doesn’t want to leave him.’ I managed to avoid adding nyaa-nyaa-nyaa-nyaa-nyaa.