'A flat in the New Town,' Lorna said. But again it was her mother who gave the address.
The hotel's downstairs dining room was quiet at lunch-time. Diners either preferred the bistro-style restaurant on the ground floor or else didn't know of this second restaurant's existence. The decor was minimalist, oriental, and the elegantly set tables had plenty of space between them. A discreet place for a conversation. Cafferty got to his feet, shook Barry Hutton's hand.
'Uncle Ger, sorry I'm late.'
Cafferty shrugged, while a flunky helped Hutton into his chair. 'Long time since anyone called me that,' he said with a smile. 'It's not like it's true.'
'It's what I always called you.'
Cafferty nodded, examining the well-dressed young man before him. 'But look at you now, Barry. Doing so well for yourself.'
It was Hutton's turn to shrug. Menus were being handed out.
'Any drinks, gentlemen?' the waiter asked.
'Calls for champagne, I think,' Cafferty said. He winked at Hutton. 'And this is on me, so no arguing.'
'I wasn't about to. It's just that I'll stick to water, if that's all right.'
The smile stuck to Cafferty's face. 'Whatever you want, Barry.'
Hutton turned to the waiter. 'Vittel, if you have it. Evian otherwise.'
The waiter bowed his head, turned to Cafferty. 'And will you still be requiring the champagne, sir?'
'Didn't hear me say otherwise, did you?'
The waiter made his little bow again and headed off.
'Vittel, Evian...' Cafferty chuckled and shook his head. Christ, if Bryce could see you now.' Hutton was busy adjusting his shirt cuffs. 'Rough morning, was it?'
Hutton looked up, and Cafferty knew something had happened. But the younger man was shaking his head. 'I don't drink at lunchtime, that's all.'
'Then you'll have to let me buy you dinner.'
Hutton looked around the restaurant. There were only two other diners in the place, seated at a far corner and deep in what looked like a business conversation. Hutton atudied the faces, but didn't recognise them. He turned back to his host.
'You're staying here?'
Cafferty nodded.
'Did you sell the house?'
Cafferty nodded again.
'And made a fair bit on it, I'd guess.' Hutton looked at him.
'Money's not everything though, is it, Barry? That's one thing I've learned.'
'You mean good health? Happiness?'
Cafferty pressed his palms together. 'You're young still. Wait a few years and maybe you'll see what I mean.'
Hutton nodded, not really sure what the older man was getting at. 'You got out pretty early,' he commented.
'Time off for good behaviour.' Cafferty sat back as one waiter produced a basket of bread rolls, and another asked if he wanted the champagne chilled or served slightly cool.
'Chilled,' Cafferty said, looking at his guest. 'So, Barry, business is good, eh? That's what I hear.'
'I'm not complaining.'
'And how's your uncle?'
'Fine, as far as I know.'
'You ever see him?'
'He won't set foot back here.'
'I know that. I thought maybe you headed out there. Holidays and stuff.'
'I can't remember my last holiday.'
'All work and no play, Barry,' Cafferty counselled.
Hutton looked at him. 'It's not all work.'
'Glad to hear it.'
Their food order was taken, and the drinks arrived. They toasted one another, Hutton refusing the offer of 'just one wee glass'. He took his water neat: no ice, no lemon.
'What about you?' he asked at last. 'Not many people come straight from the Bar-L to a place like this.'
'Let's just say I'm comfortable,' Cafferty said with a wink.
'Of course, you kept a lot of your business interests going while you were away?'
Cafferty heard the quotation marks around business interests. He nodded slowly. 'Lot of people would be disappointed if I hadn't.'
'I don't doubt it.' Hutton tore open one of the tiny, glazed rolls.
'Which brings me to our little lunch here,' Cafferty went on.
'A business lunch then?' Hutton asked. When Cafferty nodded, he felt a little more comfortable. It wasn't just a meal any more; he wasn't wasting his time.
Jerry's face recoiled from the slap. He was getting used to slaps recently. But this wasn't Jayne.
This was Nic.
He felt his cheek beginning to sting, knew the imprint of a hand would be forming there, pinkish red against his pale skin. Nic's hand would be stinging, too: small consolation.
They were in Nic's Cosworth. Jerry had just got in. It had been Nic who'd called - Monday night - and Jerry had jumped at the chance of escape. Jayne was in front of the telly, arms folded, eyes drooping. They'd eaten their tea watching the news: sausage, beans and egg. No chips: the freezer was bare, and neither of them felt like taking the trip to the chip shop. That was when the argument had started.
Ya useless lump of...
It's you needs to get off your fat arse, no' me...
Then the phone call. The phone was Jayne's side of the couch, but she ignored it.
'Two guesses who that'll be,' was all she said. He was hoping she'd be wrong, that it would be her mum. Then he could say, 'That's you quietened,' as he handed over the receiver.
Because if it was Nic... Nic on a Monday night, he never usually went out Mondays... that could probably mean only one thing.
And now here they were together in the car, and Nic was having a go at him.
'See that stunt you pulled, you ever do something as stupid as that again...'
'What stunt?'
'Phoning me at work, ya donkey!'
Jerry thought he was in for another slap, but Nic punched him in the side instead. Not too hard: he was calming down a bit.
'I wasn't thinking.'
Nic snorted. 'When did you ever?' The engine was already turning over. He slammed the car into gear and got a squeal from the tyres as they sped off. No indicator or mirror; a car behind tooted its horn three or four times. Nic checked the rearview, saw an old guy, all by himself. So he gave him the finger and a mouthful of abuse.
When did you ever?
Jerry's mind was working back, forming answers. Hadn't he been the one who'd done most of the shoplifting? And the one who bought them their booze when they were under age, because he was that bit taller and older-looking than Nic. Nic: smooth, shiny face, still like a kid's even now; thick dark hair always cut and styled. Nic was the one the girls went for, Jerry hanging back to see if any of them would find him worth talking to.
Nic at college, telling Jerry stories of shagging marathons. Even then, even back then there'd been glimpses: she didn't fancy that, so I slapped her till she did... had her wrists held in one hand and I was pumping
