28 August 2012
Peter and Sarah had ringside seats watching Ryan and Lynsey sing 'I think we're alone now' on the karaoke; badly. Peter laughed, Ryan was a good cop, but he had hardly spoke two words in the two months he had been on in the department. Peter wondered if this was the real him, or if it was purely the Bacardi he had been downing. He still had not made up his mind about Lynsey, she talked a good game, but was far too confident for her own good and length of service.
Peter looked at his watch, just past midnight. The rest of the DCs had gone home over an hour ago as they had work in the morning. He felt he had had enough too, and wanted Sarah to give him the rest of his birthday present.
Sarah put her arm round his shoulder, 'so old'n, you had enough yet?' She moved up closer to him and leaned her head on his shoulder. She was slurring her words.
'Yeah, think this will be my last.' He had said that an hour and three doubles ago.
The bar had been busy for a couple of hours, but now there was just the four of them and a table of three junkies in the far corner.
Peter watched them. Their body language, jaundiced, skinny features, missing teeth and their own dialect and shared accent –regardless of where they were born - set them apart from the rest of Scotland. They had become a new breed and he hoped Darwinism would kick in soon.
He nudged Sarah, 'Do you recognise any of that shite?' The youngest of the three met his gaze and raised his glass. Peter ignored the gesture, but continued to stare him down. 'Aye, that’s Marc McEwan. Mind we done him for breaking into the petrol station last year. Not a bad lad, the usual.' Sarah was always more understanding when it came to these people.
Peter didn’t take his eyes away from them and replied, 'I remember. Give him a cigarette and he'll confess all. His Ma and Da are alcies, but even they have disowned him. Hes on a DTO isn’t he?' The Drug Treatment Orders were a way of keeping the prison population down, as long as they kept clean, they kept their freedom.
Sarah nodded her head, 'I dinne ken who disowned who, but I think hes doing no bad. Hes almost looking normal so maybe hes sticking with it. Don’t recognise the other two though.' Before Peter could stop her, she waved him over.
Marc stood up and brought his drink across, Peter noticed the glance shared by the two left behind. 'Awrite boss, a wee night out wie the boys is it?' Peter flinched as Marc sat down next to Sarah, but said nothing. Sarah broke the uneasy silence, 'hope you’ve been keeping out o'bother Marc?'
'Aye doll, been clean for ages man. Nothing else for it. Got an interview next week for a council job.'
Peter leaned forward, 'Aye? Very good. Who's your neighbours?'
Marc tutted, 'I dinne ken, just two guys out for a pint. Only just met them. They're sound like. Anyway, enjoy your night contstubles.'
Peter felt the hairs on neck stand on end, he hated the way these pricks purposefully mispronounced 'constable'.
Before Marc could leave, Peter took hold of his arm, 'Catch you later, Marc' he waited a beat before letting go and Marc replied, 'Aye boss.' Marc turned his back and walked back over to his new friends.
The song finished, Sarah gave a whistle and Peter gave a polite couple of claps. The DJ thanked the drunked duet and said goodnight as Tom rang the bell for last orders.
'One for the road?' Ryan shouted over.
'You want one more Sarah?' Peter asked. She shook her head and said that she wanted a glass of water, but told him to get himself one. Peter lifted his glass, 'Get me a brandy n ginger and a glass o water for Sarah.'
Lysney staggered over to the booth and slumped down in the seat next to Peter, 'Ive had enough' she slurred. Her head lolled onto Peter's shoulder. 'I canne be arsed walking. You think the beat will be out and about?' She smirked.
Peter's stomach lurched, as Sarah straightened up in her seat. In a spilt second the atmosphere at the table changed. 'What was that?' Sarah said through clenched teeth.
Lynsey put her hand on top of Sarah's on the table, 'I only live up the road' she said. Peter put a firm hand on Sarah's knee.
Sarah stood up, 'Give me your fucking keys and piss off before I say something both of us will regret. And if your car has moved, I will make sure you never collect another paycheck.' Sarah towered over Lynsey, who was looking sheepishly at Peter for help. 'Im only joking Sarah, calm down.'
Peter decided to intervene, 'Lynsey, just go home. The taxis will be across the street.' He stood up, whispered in Sarah's ear 'I'll take care of it', got Lynsey's coat and helped her to the door and flagged the attention of a waiting taxi.
Before she got in the car, Lynsey said 'what did I do?' Peter opened the car door and said 'You're drunk, don’t worry about it. Just go home and enjoy your days off. See you on Monday.' She gave him a hug, fell into the back seat and he shut the door behind her and told the driver her address.
As Peter went back inside the pub he noticed Marc's two friends stand up. The taller of the two shook Marc's hand, after which Marc put his hand in his pocket. Another day, another hit, thought Peter.
He stood his ground at the door as the two approached him. 'Excuse me' the taller one said, however Peter did not move 'Whats your name?' Peter asked, looking him straight in the eye.
'Me? Paul.' He had a Glasgow accent and his breath smelt like dog shit.
'Paul what?'
'Paul Smith.' He dropped eye contact and walked round Peter and out the door, followed closely by his partner.
Peter returned to his table where Ryan was seated with Sarah who was gathering her stuff together. 'Was it something I said?' asked Ryan, handing Peter his brandy.
Thin Line Ch 1:3 • Opuss № I