‘Well, this is very thoughtful of you, Tommy. Long time no see. You’d better come in.’
Tommy McCall turned to Rebus. ‘See? I told you there’d be a welcome waiting for us at Tony’s house. Always a welcome at Tony’s.’
‘You’d better come in, too, John,’ said Tony.
Rebus nodded unhappily.
Tony directed them through the hall and into the living room. The carpet was thick and yielding underfoot, the furnishings looking like a showroom display. Rebus was afraid to sit, for fear of denting one of the puffed-up cushions. Tommy, however, collapsed immediately into a chair.
‘Where’s the wee ones?’ he said.
‘In bed,’ Tony answered, keeping his voice low.
‘Ach, wake them up then. Tell them their Uncle Tommy’s here.’
Tony ignored this. ‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ he said.
Tommy’s eyes were already closing, his arms slumped either side of him on the arms of the chair. While Tony was in the kitchen, Rebus studied the room. There were ornaments everywhere: along the length of the mantelpiece, covering the available surfaces of the large wall-unit, arranged on the surface of the coffee table. Small plaster figurines, shimmering glass creations, holiday souvenirs. The arms and backs of chairs and sofa were protected by antimacassars. The whole room was busy and ilLat ease. Relaxation would be almost impossible. He began to understand now why Tony McCall had been out walking in Pilmuir on his day off.
A woman’s head peered round the door. Its lips were thin and straight, eyes alert but dark. She was staring at the slumbering figure of Tommy McCall, but caught sight of Rebus and prepared a kind of smile. The door opened a little wider, showing that she was wearing a dressing gown. A hand clutched this tight around her throat as she began to speak.
‘I’m Sheila, Tony’s wife.’
‘Yes, hello, John Rebus.’ Rebus made to stand, but a nervous hand fluttered him back down.
‘Oh yes,’ she said, ‘Tony’s talked about you. You work together, don’t you?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Yes.’ Her attention was wandering, and she turned her gaze back to Tommy McCall. Her voice became like damp wallpaper. ‘Would you look at him. The successful brother. His own business, big house. Just look at him.’ She seemed about to launch into a speech on social injustice, but was interrupted by her husband, who was now squeezing past her carrying a tray.
‘No need for you to get up, love,’ he said.
‘I could hardly sleep through that horn blaring, could I?’ Her eyes now were on the tray. ‘You’ve forgotten the sugar,’ she said critically.
‘I don’t take sugar,’ Rebus said. Tony was pouring tea from the pot into two cups.
‘Milk first, Tony, then tea,’ she said, ignoring Rebus’s remark.
“It doesn’t make a blind bit of difference, Sheila,’ said Tony. He handed a cup to Rebus.
‘Thanks.’
She stood for a second or two watching the two men, then ran a hand down the front of her dressing gown.
‘Right then,’ she said. ‘Good night.’
‘Good night,’ concurred Rebus.
‘Try not to be too long, Tony.’
‘Right, Sheila.’
They listened, sipping tea, as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom. Then Tony McCall exhaled.
‘Sorry about that,’ he said.
‘What for?’ said Rebus. ‘If a couple of drunks had walked into my home at this time of night, you wouldn’t want to hear the reception I’d give them! I thought she stayed remarkably calm.’
‘Sheila’s always remarkably calm. On the outside.’
Rebus nodded towards Tommy. ‘What about him?’
‘He’ll be all right where he is. Let him sleep it off.’
‘Are you sure? I can take him home if you -’
‘No, no. Christ, he’s my brother. I think a chair for the night is called for.’ Tony looked across towards Tommy. ‘Look at him. You wouldn’t believe the tricks we got up to when we were kids. We had the neighbourhood terrified of what we’d do next. Chap-Door-Run, setting bonfires, putting the football through somebody’s window. We were wild, I can tell you. Now I never see him unless he’s like this.’
‘You mean he’s pulled this stunt before?’
‘Once or twice. Turns up in a taxi, crashes out in the chair. When he wakes up the next morning, he can’t believe where he is. Has breakfast, slips the kids a few quid, and he’s off. Never phones or visits. Then one night we hear the taxi chugging outside, and there he is.’
‘I didn’t realise.’
