Scratch by Danny Gillan Page A

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/