Poisoned Cherries Read Online Free PDF Page B

only find out if I chose to tell him.
    There was only one problem.
    “I won’t deny our daughter, Susie,” I found myself saying, ‘not for one second.   Tell the press officer to give me the reporter’s phone number.   I’ll issue a statement through my lawyer.”
    “Saying what?”
    “Saying that you’ve had our baby, that she’s a wee cracker, and that we’re both chuffed as hell.”
    She laughed.   “I can just hear Greg McPhillips reading that to the press!”
    “Word for word, I promise you.”
    “And what’ll he say about the fact that you’re still married?”
    “The truth; that Prim and I haven’t been together for some time, and that the last time I spoke to her she was in Mexico with her new partner.”
    “You sure you want to be that frank?”
    “Certain.”
    “What about Miles?”
    “If he can’t handle it, fuck him.”   Mary frowned at me across the supper table.   I mouthed an apology.
    “Indeed I will not,” Susie chuckled.   “You might be making a scarlet woman of me, but I’m not going to live up to it.”
    “Hey, I don’t want to do that; we’ve got things to talk about.”
    “No, we don’t.   I can take care of myself
    “I know that.   I didn’t mean that.”
    “Shut up, Oz.   You’re tired and emotional.”
    “Okay, I will, for now.   How’re you feeling?”
    “Sore.”
    “How’s wee Janet?”
    “Hungry.   Lovely too.”
    “Look after her.   I’ll pick you both up tomorrow, mid-day as arranged.
    The only thing is, we’re not going to be alone.”
    Seven.
    I was as right about that as my Dad had been the day before.   There was a posse of reporters and photographers staking out the maternity unit when I drove up in Susie’s car.   I recognised one bloke from my Edinburgh days, so I walked straight up to him, being as showbiz as I could.
    “Hi, Freddy,” I greeted him.   “You guys expecting something?”
    “Not any more,” he answered, as they crowded around me, shoving mikes and tape recorders into my face.   “You’re a fucking dark horse, big Oz.”
    “That won’t be going out on radio,” I said.   The newspaper reporters grinned; the woman from the local FM station scowled.
    “Can we have a picture?”   one of the photographers shouted.   “You and Miss Gantry and the baby?”
    “That’s up to Susie.   We’re going back to Glasgow..   .”   I was still amazed that maternity units let patients home so quickly these days; I thought they’d have kept her in for a week.   ‘..   . Maybe we could do something there.”
    “We’d rather do it now, Oz,” said Freddy Everest.   “It’ll get the picture desks off our backs .. . and yours, for that matter.”
    We did what they wanted; I had done some shopping for Susie on the way in from life, picking her up some normal-sized gear, since all she had packed for the weekend was maternity kit.   I have to say she looked terrific, as good as any movie star I’ve ever met, when we finally let the mob into her room.
    She didn’t look as good as Janet Gantry Blackstone, though, dressed in a tiny gown I’d also found at the Gyle Centre, and wrapped in my christening shawl, which my Dad had produced earlier that morning, from the box in which it had been stored for thirty years.
    The drive home to Glasgow really was sedate; Susie sat in the back seat holding the baby as if she was made of nitroglycerine.   This time there was no music allowed, although I don’t think that Bohemian Rhapsody would have woken wee Jan.
    “Have you spoken to Miles and Dawn?”   Susie asked me, out of the blue, just as we passed Harthill.
    “I called Miles last night.”
    “Have you still got a career?”
    I laughed.   I’d been saving that one up.   “I surely do.   He knew about you and me; Prim lied about that too.   She told me that she’d said nothing to them about our thing, because she didn’t want to hurt my movie prospects.   That was rubbish, of course; as soon as she