Red Alert by Margaret Thomson Davis Page B

Bruce and good to him, and couldn’t bear to part with him, even in death. That’s why they had him embalmed so that they could continue to keep him near to them in the station.
    When she reached the watch room, and the adjoining kitchen area, there were men in the gym area. Some were heaving at the weights machines. There were machines to develop and harden the upper-arm muscles and shoulders, others for the back of the legs, others for the chest. An hour was allocated at the end of each shift for exercise. Of course, if the alarm bell went, they rushed off to whatever emergency it was. But they needed to try and get whatever part of the hour they could before going off duty. It was vitally important to be strong because so much of the gear they had to lift and carry about and use was excessively heavy.
    Kirsty had seen Greg the night before and she was looking forward to seeing him again when he came in for the day shift. The exercise machines had certainly worked for him. Every muscle in his body was bulky and hard and perfectly shaped. No wonder all the students in the Art School enjoyed drawing and painting him.
    Sandra had told her, ‘Even your father, Kirsty, said Greg had a perfectly formed body. Have you seen Tommy’s painting of him?’
    She hadn’t. She kept well clear of the Glasgow School of Art. She had enough of her father at home without seeing him at the Art School.
    But she’d seen examples of Tommy’s other work when she and Greg had visited Sandra and Tommy at the flat at Charing Cross Mansions. It was obvious that Sandra and Tommy were in love but Kirsty always detected the sadness in Tommy’s eyes. Sandra confided in her that Tommy was suffering from fits of depression. Sandra blamed Kirsty’s father’s continuous criticism and ridicule of Tommy and his work.
    ‘I’m sorry to speak about your father like this, Kirsty, but I absolutely hate and despise the man for the way he treats Tommy.’
    ‘You don’t need to apologise to me,’ Kirsty said. ‘I know only too well what my father’s like. I just wish there was something I could do to help Tommy. I’m no artist but even I can see Tommy has talent. There can’t be any doubt about that. It seems to me he’s got something extra. I don’t know what it is but his work seems to glow from the canvas, seems to come to life as you look at it.’
    ‘I know. I know. That’s exactly it,’ Sandra cried out. ‘I keep telling him that but he thinks I’m biased because of how I feel about him.’
    ‘I’ll tell him as well.’
    ‘Thanks Kirsty. It’s worth a try but I bet he’ll just think I put you up to it. I mean, he’ll smile and thank you but he won’t really believe you. Your father has got him too brainwashed into thinking differently. I’m getting really worried. He gets so depressed. He just kind of sinks into himself and goes quiet and I feel he’s not close to me any more. Not close to anybody.’
    ‘I could try and speak to my father if you want. But I’m sure that wouldn’t do any good. It would just give him an excuse to have a go at me. I could put up with that. I’m used to him having a go at me, but the thing is that it wouldn’t do Tommy any good. The danger is in fact that he’d be even worse to him.’
    ‘Oh God, no. We don’t want to risk that.’
    ‘Why does he do it, I wonder? I mean, keep putting people down?’
    ‘Let’s face it, Kirsty. He’s a bully and it makes bullies feel big. They don’t do it so much, if at all, to stronger characters. He’s charming to all the directors, for instance, because they’re in a stronger position than him, for a start.’
    ‘You’re right. He never tries anything with Greg. He knows he wouldn’t get away with anything with him. He’s even as charming as can be to me and Mum when Greg’s around. He waits until Greg’s safely away before being his nasty, sneery self again. You should hear how he is with my brother, Johnny. He doesn’t get the chance so much