Tombstoning Read Online Free PDF Page B

Tell me about your life for the last fifteen years.’
    She gave him a sideways look. ‘The concise version, or the ultra-concise one?’
    ‘Concise version, please.’
    ‘Left school, four years at Glasgow, backpacked round the world, worked in Australia, came home, discovered I was pregnant, had Amy, worked at Arbroath Abbey, moved to Edinburgh.’
    She had been counting off the points on her fingers with a smile, and now returned to her pint.
    ‘Wow, what the hell is the ultra-concise version like?’
    ‘Graduated, travelled, Amy, job.’
    ‘Fair enough. So… a daughter, eh?’
    ‘Yes, indeed. I assume you’re wondering about the father? Well, I haven’t seen him since before Amy was born. He’s Australian, we had a thing going over there for a while, nothing even remotely serious, then we split up and I came back to Scotland. Two weeks after I got off the plane I discovered I was two months pregnant. That was 1995. He knows about her, I post pictures and he sends stuff on birthdays and Christmas, but he’s about as interested in us as we are in him, to be honest. He’s also six years younger than me, barely more than a baby himself when I got pregnant, and on the other side of the world, so I can’t really blame him for not taking more of an interest.’
    They both took another swig of lager as a plaintive violin line meandered around the room.
    ‘I guess that must’ve been tricky, bringing a daughter up yourself.’
    ‘I had the family. My folks were great about it, they couldn’t get enough of her. Still can’t. After a year or two I managed to get a job at the abbey, doing the tourist guide stint. I suppose I was slumming it with a degree and everything, but it was a decent enough job. Plus I got a foot in the door at Historic Scotland, and now I work at the headquarters at Salisbury Place, inspecting and categorizing listed buildings and that sort of malarkey. It’s a job I really enjoy, and it’s good to be out of Arbroath.’
    She swigged the remains of her pint and squeezed out from behind the table to get the round in.
    ‘Same again?’
    ‘Yeah, cheers.’
    David watched her as she went to the bar and couldn’t help noticing her figure. She was as slim as she’d always been, but she still had curves where women were supposed to have curves. He wondered how his own body had changed over the last fifteen years. It didn’t look as good as hers, that’s for sure. When Nicola turned back with the pints he self-consciously turned away to look down at his empty pint glass. Nicola noticed, smiled and squeezed back into her seat.
    ‘So,’ she said, drawling the word in a parody of his earlier opening gambit. ‘David Lindsay. From Arbroath. A potted history, if you please.’
    ‘I’m afraid mine isn’t nearly so interesting. If I count them on my fingers like you I’ll probably only get to about three.’
    ‘Quit stalling and make with the info.’
    ‘OK. Left school, came to Edinburgh to do computer science, graduated with a 2:2, worked in pubs for a couple of years, did a post-grad at Napier in web design, worked through a string of gradually less impressive and less exciting jobs over the last’ – he counted in his head – ‘Jesus, eight years. I’ve been doing this shit for eight years.’
    ‘And now?’
    ‘And now what?’
    ‘What about this place you’re at now – what is it, Run Deep?’
    ‘Still Waters, I like what you’ve done there. Nah, it’s a shithole, and a failing one at that. The arse has fallen out the web-design market, everyone and their bloody dog can do it nowadays. I suspect the dole queue beckons soon, to be honest.’
    ‘Really? Sorry to hear that. Although it doesn’t sound as if you particularly like the job anyway.’
    ‘No, I don’t suppose I do, but it pays the bills.’
    ‘That is surely the saddest phrase in the English language – “it pays the bills”.’
    ‘I know what you mean. But it does.’
    David took a breather and a few slugs