–
‘I know, it feels longer than that, doesn’t it? I feel I’ve known you for years, now. Which is why I feel I can say something to you. Pay you a little compliment, if that’s all right. I mean, the last thing I want to do is to embarrass you …’
–
‘… but what I wanted to say, really, was this. I just wanted to say that there’s one thing I really like about you. One thing about you that I’ve never encountered in any other woman. Can you guess what it is?’
–
‘It’s the way … Well, it’s the way you never judge people. That’s a very rare quality, you know, in a woman. Or a man, for that matter. There’s nothing judgemental about you at all.’
–
‘You see, I know I’m behaving badly. I know I shouldn’t have done what I did, and I shouldn’t be doing what I’m doing now. But you’re not going to give me a hard time about it, are you? You know that I’ve got my reasons. You know there are extenuating circumstances.’
–
‘It doesn’t look good, I realize that. I walk out of Alison’s house at five o’clock in the morning, without saying thank you, without saying goodbye. Not only do I walk out, but I raid her drinks cabinet while I’m at it. Now, I know that Alison and her husband are stinking rich, and they’re not going to miss a couple of bottles of whisky. Not just any old whisky, admittedly, but two very expensive single malts. Well, that isn’t my fault, I don’t care what the bloody stuff tastes like, if they’d had Bell’s or Johnnie Walker in the cupboard I would have been just as happy to take those. Still, as a matter of principle – even leaving aside the cost – I can see that I shouldn’t have done it. As I said, none of this looks particularly good. So there I am, dragging my suitcase along the street at five o’clock in the morning, a stolen bottle of whisky bulging out of a jacket pocket on either side, two coppers in a parked police car glaring at me suspiciously as I walk by, and somehow …
–
‘I mean, there were other things that happened in between. I’m pretty sure of that. There was a lot of walking around. There was that homeless guy in the doorway who followed me down the street and kept asking “Are you all right, pal?” And I sat on a bench for a while. Quite a long while, actually. It was high up somewhere, near a park, looking down over Princes Street and Princes Street Gardens and the whole city. The classic tourist view. It was still dark when I sat on that bench, and light when I got up and left. The snow was falling again, by that stage. Not settling, though. Just falling. Still hasn’t started to settle.’
–
‘It was a relief to get back to you again, I must say. I was pretty cold by then. Took a few sips of the Laphroaig to warm myself up before we got going, which I know is really a bad –’
–
‘Whoa! Thank you – nearly missed that one. Wasn’t concentrating, sorry. And don’t pip your horn at me, you rude, impatient bastard, just because there’s someone who doesn’t know his way around here as well as you do. We’re not all bloody natives, you know. Now, where was I?’
–
‘Oh, never mind, I can’t remember. Let’s just enjoy the scenery. D’you know, I don’t think I’ve ever driven over the Forth Bridge before. This must be the furthest north I’ve ever been. That’s a bit stupid, isn’t it? Forty-eight years old and never been north of Edinburgh. I should make a list. I should make a list of all the things I ought to do before I get to fifty. Bungee-jumping. Hang-gliding. Reading one of those godawful books that Caroline always said would be good for me.
–
‘Ah, Donald, you never stood a chance, really, did you? You stood no more chance of sailing round the world than I do of getting to Unst tomorrow and turning up at that shop with a box full of toothbrushes. Who are we trying to fool, eh? Who are we trying to kid? Ourselves, probably. Yes, that’s right. We have to fool the rest of the world at some point as well but that’s not the difficult part – the difficult part is convincing ourselves, isn’t it? Isn’t that right, Donald, me old mucker? Me old shipmate? Eh?’
–
‘Sorry, Emma, it’s you I should be talking to, isn’t it? Were you beginning to feel left out? Or perhaps you’re beginning to get worried, hearing me chat away to someone who died forty years ago, someone I’ve never even met. That’s not right, is it? That’s not healthy. Anyone would think I’d been drinking too much whisky before getting behind the wheel of this lovely car. I don’t believe in ghosts, and neither do you. Of course you don’t. You’re nothing if not rational, are you? A pure reasoning machine, you are. You don’t have a body, or a soul, just a mind, a beautiful mind, and that’s how I like it. What use would I have for someone with a body and a soul? What use would someone with a body and a soul have for someone like me? No, we’re made for each other, Emma, you and me. We’re like those “cosmic beings” that Crowhurst thought everyone was going to turn into. Disembodied. Too good for the physical world. In fact we’re so well suited that there’s something I have to ask you. Will you marry me? Go on – I’m serious. Gays and lesbians can get married nowadays so why shouldn’t a man marry his SatNav? Where’s the harm in that? I thought we were supposed to be all liberal and tolerant and inclusive in this country. Go on, what do you say? Marry me. Come live with me and be my wife. What’s your answer?’
–
‘Oh, we’re on a motorway now, are we? When did that happen? I hadn’t even noticed. So which motorway would that be, exactly? The M90. I see. And where are we heading towards, on the M90? Perth, apparently. Perth, followed by Dundee, followed by Forfar. Forfar! Now there’s a name. There’s a name to conjure with. Makes me think of football results. Didn’t the guy who used to read the football results on the BBC say that was the most difficult one to get right?
