situations often enough before, in my days as a wrestling announcer, but I was astonished by the cheering, the screaming even, as I stepped out of the car, holding my hand out to help Susie exit gracefully, without showing too much leg… or any knicker, as she put it. 'Listen to that,' I whispered to myself, as the sound washed over me. There was a time when you walked around this city, and nobody knew you.'
Then I looked over my shoulder, saw Liam Matthews emerging from a limo behind us, and my ego was deflated: he's a real babe magnet, is Liam.
Jay came round the car to join us as we stepped on to the red carpet. I had my left arm around Susie's shoulder as I waved to the crowd on the left, then turned to the right where the photographers were banked up.
We paused there for a minute or so; Liam and Erin, his girlfriend, joined us, and we gave the snappers a ground shot, then Susie and I moved off towards Miles and Dawn at the door.
It was pure chance that I saw it when I did, a flash of yellow, out of the corner of my eye. I reacted instinctively, turning Susie away and putting my body between her and whatever it was. I sensed movement behind me as Jay dived to cover us, then I felt the splash of liquid hitting my shoulders and a sticky sensation on the back of my head.
Then Jay had his arms around us both and was rushing us towards the door, past Miles and Dawn, both of them astonished, anger beginning to flare in his eyes.
'What the fuck was that?' I demanded as soon as we were safe inside. I put my hand up to feel the back of my head, but our minder stopped me.
'Don't touch it,' he said, 'it's only paint, but you don't want to get it all over you.'
'Only!' I barked. Osbert Blackstone is not known for losing his cool, but there are exceptions.
'Try shit,' Jay murmured, 'or acid, or phosphorous. I've had all of those chucked at me in the army.' I looked away from the door and at him for the first time. At once I saw that he had taken most of it.
The side of his face and the back of his suit were plastered with the thick yellow substance. I looked down at Susie. I was relieved to see that she was untouched, but she was not a happy lady.
'What the hell was that about?' she exploded. 'Don't tell me that was yet another of your old girlfriends making a statement.'
I shook my head. The only one who might have fallen into that category was Alison Goodchild, but she and I had squared accounts a couple of years back. But old girlfriends' new boyfriends, now that was another matter.
Miles and Dawn appeared by our side, with Liam and Erin. 'Are you okay?' asked my ex-brother-in-law, anxiously.
I nodded, beginning to rein in my anger. 'Fuck me, man,' I exclaimed, 'wouldn't we have had enough coverage, without pulling a stunt like that?'
For half a second his eyes narrowed, then he laughed. 'Yeah,' he said, in that Aussie-meets-LA drawl of his, 'you're okay. What about you, Susie?'
'I'm fine,' she snapped, 'which is more than you'll be able to say for the bastard who threw that stuff when I get hold of him! Have the police caught him?'
It was Liam who answered. 'Not a chance. That lot couldn't catch the clap. Whoever did it vanished into the crowd. I spoke to a couple of people behind the barrier, and to a couple of the security guys, but none of them saw anything but yellow paint.'
'Bloody hell, Jay,' exclaimed a voice from the side. 'You look like a no parking zone.' For all his levity, Ricky Ross looked anxious. 'I'm sorry about that, Mr. Grayson,' he said… for an ex-detective superintendent, Ricky's good at being deferential to the clients. He had a right to be sorry, too, as security chief for the event.
Miles shrugged. 'Don't worry about it. There's not much you can do about something like that; it's happened before now at my events. Last time it was in Melbourne; a couple of pop stars had their fur coats sprayed with creosote.'
'Maybe not,' the security consultant muttered, 'but my guys are trained to react a sight faster than they did. We don't even have a description of the assailant. I'll catch up with it, though. The police will inspect all the telly footage and still shots that were taken. With luck, they'll put a face to the paint-chucker and take it from there.'
'I want to see it,' I said. 'When the police look at the tapes and the photos, I want to be there.'
Ricky looked at me. If he thought about telling me to forget it, he didn't bother; he knew me better than that. 'I'll see what I can do.
They might play ball.'
'Of course they will. If it's someone with a grudge against me, I'm liable to know them, am I not?'
'True,' he conceded, 'but that's for later. Right now we'd better get that stuff off you and Jay before it dries, and get you a new jacket befitting your status… sir.'
Five.
As someone almost certainly did not say, 'Apart from that, Mrs.
Kennedy, how did you enjoy your visit to Dallas?'
Apart from having a can of yellow paint chucked at her, Susie thought the premiere was great. She and I had never been out as a showbiz couple before, and once she recovered her composure and her temper… with the help of a couple of Jack Daniels and Coke in the hospitality suite… she settled into the role like the true star she is. She'd never shown any sign before of liking the limelight… she found her Businesswoman of the Year awards more embarrassing than anything else … but when we picked up early editions of the Daily Record and the Daily Mail on the way home, and found ourselves on the front pages, it topped off her night. The fact that I was plastered in paint, and being hustled inside by security, didn't depress her at all. In fact, it made her laugh.
I read through the reports in both papers. The incident was reported, but not overmuch, because there wasn't much to tell, and I had ordered the publicists to laugh it off by saying that quite a few of my old Edinburgh friends had been my fellow-members of the Idiot Tendency when we had all been lads together, and that I was looking forward to renewing acquaintance with one in particular, when I traced him. I wasn't kidding; I had a mental shortlist of who the chucker might have been, and I was intending to find out. Having stuff tossed at me, and my pregnant wife, was no longer my idea of a lad dish prank.
Susie, on the other hand, was so chuffed by the coverage that, first thing next morning, she called Mary, my stepmother, Ellie, my sister, and Joe Donn, her dark secret, to make sure they bought copies. The girls were suitably impressed… or made appropriate noises, at least… but Joe didn't answer his phone. 'Must have gone to get them already,' Susie muttered.
I was working at home that day, having fixed a session with my dialogue tutor to take a first look at the script of Mathew's Tale. I was working out in the gym that's part of the pool conservatory when Susie left for her office, on the South Side of Glasgow, across the Erskine Bridge… yes, some people really do use the damn thing. She had a board meeting that day and I was a director, but the agenda was routine and so she had said she would write my apology into the minutes. Joe wasn't so lucky, though; he was needed to make up the quorum. I hoped he hadn't forgotten; he was an even keener golfer than my Dad, and it took a lot to keep him off the course on a fine day.
My fine day was screwed almost as soon as I'd showered and dressed after my exercise programme. I was having breakfast with Janet and Ethel in our big kitchen, and looking forward to a game with my daughter in our enormous new garden. (Our games usually involve a ball. The way I see it, women's football is going to be a big thing in years to come… it's there already in the US… and there's no harm in giving wee Janet as many career options as I can.) Our new numbers were ex-directory… of course… so when the phone rang, my instant assumption was that Susie had forgotten something and was calling from the office, or the car if she was stuck in traffic. No such luck; it was Ricky Ross.
'What are you doing this morning?' he asked, with no preliminary banter, which isn't like him.
I told him.
'Can you scrub it? Postpone it? The police want to see you.'
