‘I don’t know for sure.’
‘Am I on the carpet?’
‘No, because you don’t need to wear uniform. Anyway, if you were, he’d be phoning you himself. Don’t be anxious, just be on time.’
Four
‘Will it always be like this?’ Aileen de Marco asked the question without looking directly at him.
He waited until he had caught her gaze. ‘A few hours together here and there, do you mean? Quick lunches like this one, in quiet restaurants where we can trust their discretion?’
She laughed lightly. ‘Make that rhyme and you’ve got a big country-and-western hit on your hands.’
‘That’s the west of Scotland gene pool: deep down we’ve all got a touch of the maudlin in us.’ He grinned back at her. ‘You’ll never get me to sing it, though.’
‘I’ll bet you’ve got a great singing voice.’
‘You’ll never know. I don’t plan ever to get that drunk again.’ He took her hand in his. ‘To answer you, no, Aileen, it won’t always be like this: that’s a promise. Why do you ask, though? Are you having second thoughts about the two of us? Do you want to stop this thing before it goes any further?’
‘No, I don’t. Forget I said that, Bob; it was stupid. I know it’s got to be this way for a while, given your position, and mine. “Deputy Chief Constable and Justice Minister in Glasgow Love Tryst”: God, the headlines were swimming before my eyes last night, in the dark.’
‘You’re selling yourself short.’ He chuckled. ‘When I saw them, they read, “First Minister de Marco and Top Cop Skinner: the secret uncovered” . . . or words to that effect.’
‘There’s no certainty I’ll be First Minister.’
‘Are you going to run for the leadership of your party?’
‘Yes,’ she conceded.
‘Is there any sign of anyone running against you?’
‘No.’
‘In that case it’s an absolute certainty.’
‘I wish I had your confidence. The electoral process can drag on a bit: there’s always the chance of someone else throwing their hat in the ring.’
‘The voters will chuck it back out again. But until that happens, and until Sarah and I have ironed out all the details of our split, you and I should avoid being seen together, other than in professional circumstances. Agreed?’
‘Agreed. I’m sorry I had my wee wobble there. It’s just that being with you makes me feel . . .’
‘Yes?’
‘It makes me feel content: I don’t know how else to put it. Somehow, I just feel like I’m at home, in a way I haven’t since I was a kid. Does that make sense?’
‘It does to me,’ Bob replied.
‘How does it make you feel, then?’ she teased.
‘I have trouble describing that too,’ he admitted. ‘The best I can say is that I don’t feel alone any more.’
‘Alone? You’ve got four kids: how can you feel alone?’
‘See? I told you I have trouble describing it.’ He looked down at the table for a moment, at the remains of their meal, then back at Aileen. ‘It’s this way, love. Ever since Myra, my first wife, died, there’s been a part of me that’s never healed up. I’ll tell you a truth: in the years I was on my own, bringing up Alex, I dreamed of Myra all the time; in those dreams she wasn’t dead, only away visiting her mother, or a friend, and then she’d come back, and it would be all right. But every morning after, I’d wake up and she was still dead, and inside I was as lost and alone as I felt on the day of her funeral. When Sarah came along, and we got together, I hoped that I could put all the hurt, all the loneliness behind me, but I never did, not quite. I still dreamed of Myra, never Sarah, always her, and she still wasn’t dead, only gone for a while. The dreams grew more frequent, until I’d see her almost every night, full of life, but every morning my mind’s eye would see her dead once more.’
‘Did you ever tell Sarah this?’
‘How could I?’
‘Didn’t you tell anyone, not even your friend Kevin, the psychiatrist you saw?’
‘I only tell Kevin what he needs to know; some stuff I can’t share with him.’
‘You carried all that inside you, for all those years?’
‘Yup.’
‘So what’s happened?’
‘You have. They’ve stopped. I don’t dream of Myra any more. When I do, it’s you I see.’
Her eyebrows came together, slightly. ‘Are you telling me that I’m a substitute for your dead wife?’
He squeezed her hand, firmly, but not hard enough to hurt. ‘Not for a moment. You’re nothing like her, nothing at all. She and I had little in common, other than the fact that we were crazy about each other. You and I, we’ve been drawn together by qualities we share. No, Aileen, what I’m telling you is that I believe, I honestly do, that Myra’s finally satisfied that I’ve found the person I should be with.’
Her eyes glistened. ‘Won’t you miss her, if she never comes back at night?’
‘No, for all I have to do to see her is look at my older daughter. She’s as like her mother as two people can be,’ he smiled again, ‘although she’s a little less wild, I’m glad to say.’ He drank the last of his bottled water. ‘So here I am, saved at last. Yes, my marriage is over, and that pains me, because however well Sarah and I manage it, the kids will not have the upbringing that we had planned. Despite that, when I look into the future, although I don’t have a clue what it holds, I see you in it, and that makes me . . . I’ll use your word. It makes me content. No, I’ll go further: it makes me feel happy in a way I haven’t for the last twenty years.’
‘Would you like me to chuck it?’
‘Chuck what?’
‘Politics. I wouldn’t be the first just to up and walk away from it.’
Bob leaned back, his scepticism written all over his face. ‘Sure, you do that,’ he said slowly, ‘and I’ll give up my job as well and we’ll do what with our time? I’m sure I could lecture in criminology. You could go back to civil engineering. We’d live happily ever after, except we’d both be bored stiff during the day, and we’d both regret what might have been. No, my dear, you stay the course: you’ve got your destiny to fulfil.’
‘What’s that?’
‘To be First Minister of Scotland. What else?’
‘You really believe I can do the job?’
‘For the next ten years, given the strength of your party, and as long as you want to after that: I know it, and so do you; don’t try to kid either of us.’
‘Now there’s a word: kid. What if I want one?’
‘Then have one: we’ll need to wait until my divorce is through, if I’m to honour part of my agreement with Sarah. But if that’s what you want and we can make it happen, why not? Ministers have had paternity leave before now. Where’s the difference?’
‘None, I’ll grant you. Can you picture me breast-feeding in the parliament chamber?’
‘Don’t start me picturing your breasts at all,’ Bob murmured. ‘I have a busy afternoon: I have things to tie up before I leave for London.’
‘Will I see you before you go?’
‘I don’t know for sure. Sarah and I are seeing our lawyer at five this evening to look at a draft separation agreement, then tomorrow I’ll have to spend time with Mark, the Jazzer, and Seonaid . . .’
‘The Jazzer?’
‘James Andrew, my younger son: we used to call him Jazz before we started using his given names.’
‘What’s he like?’
‘Rough and tumble, bright.’
‘Like you?’
‘He’s showing all the signs, I fear. Anyway, I need to give them some spoiling before I’m off, then on
