Kim laughed so loudly that a child in a pram, part of a family passing her on the promenade in optimistic summer outfits, burst into tears. She gestured an apology at the disconcerted father. Kim’s mother saw all parking charges as theft, so by extension a massive criminal enterprise must involve car parks. She changed the subject.
‘I gather you saw Edward earlier, Mum.’
‘Oh I did. I did indeed. A very odd radio station event where we were supposed to meet the presenters, but he was the only one who had the decency to come, and the poor thing had no voice.’
‘He said you helped him get his message across—’
‘Yes, I certainly did. When I wasn’t fending off that wretched man he works for.’ Barbara’s reply was defensive. As if daring her daughter to ask for more. ‘Where are you, darling?’
‘My car has a flat tyre. I’m walking down the promenade. I’m passing Muffles, to be precise.’
‘Oh, Muffles.’ Barbara’s voice said:I love that store.To Kim, Muffles was a place for baggy fleeces and unisex cardigans, not to mention elasticated denims; she would be as likely to visit Muffles as Alcatraz. In fact, come to think of it, less likely – she had toured Alcatraz once.
‘Mum,’ she teased, ‘do you think Muffles is the thing you love more than anything else in the world?’
‘Not more than Edward.’
‘Oi! That’s my boyfriend. You can only love him from a distance.’
‘Well, that’s what I do,’ said Barbara. ‘My favourite radio presenter.’
‘Hands off, Mum.’
‘There are no hands, only ears.’
‘Well, I’m glad you love him more than Muffl—’ A quick knocking on the window to her left brought Kim to a halt. She turned to face the café she was passing.
There was a face pushed up against the window, stretched and warped by the glass between them like a work of modernist art, only one bright blue eye showing. It was a familiar face: a youthful expression enhanced by some of the clearest skin Kim had ever seen, with strawberry blonde hair combed into an unfamiliar thick fringe. In a split-second, Kim’s alarm was replaced by the glow of recognition.
‘Old friend!’ she cried.
The face broke into a tentative smile, as if Stevie Mason was hurt by the brief moment Kim had not recognized her. For Kim the feeling was different – a stranger might see Stevie as a collection of scars, but recognition wiped all of that away. She just saw her friend.
Kim said into her phone: ‘Can I call you back, Mum? Just seen a mate.’ An instant later she was at the bar stool next to Stevie’s. She placed her handbag on the counter at the window and looked at the younger woman.
‘My my,’ Kim said. ‘What a treat to see you after all these months, wonderful girl. A tonic.’
Events had thrown the two women together more than a year earlier. Stevie’s late grandmother had been a victim in The Case. Stevie went to Edward for help; he had needed Kim for his investigation. The three had bonded, especially after Stevie’s face was burned with acid. When the case was closed, she had faded away.
Now, she stared at Stevie, studying her face. The burn across the hairline would usually be most noticeable to a stranger, because the hair had not grown back and Stevie had previously made no effort to hide it. Today it was hidden by a thick fringe. Her face looked wider, the cheeks puffed like a squirrel storing nuts for winter, but the most distinctive feature was the eyepatch that covered the left eye.
‘You’re staring, Jesus Christ Kim, you’re fucking staring, and forgive my blasphemies, God help me, get tae fuck.’
The volley of obscenities made Kim laugh. A combination of saloon bar sweariness and high church godliness peppered almost everything Stevie said: a mix of her early years in Glasgow, the Tourette’s, and now her buttoned-up vicarage life all made Stevie Stevie. Kim laughed at the reminder of those double barrels the young woman always fired. ‘Here you are, Stevie, effing and jeffing and then asking God for help.’
‘I cannae help it, you’re looking at me like you’ve never seen my face before.’
‘It’s the new fringe, my love! I’ve never seen you with one before; almost as if you’re covering yourse—’ Kim broke off, cringing inside.
Stevie said, ‘Sorry if my face shocked you. I’m on some steroids. Makes my cheeks puff like a nutty squirrel. The healing is soooooo slow,’ she added. ‘Roddy wanted me to try to cover it.’
‘Roddy?’ said Kim, eyebrows lifting.
Stevie looked down. What was that, discomfort? ‘He’s here in a minute. My fiancé.’ Stevie adjusted her eyepatch then lifted her head up, proudly.
‘Wow! I didn’t know! Congratulations, you superstar! Love came knocking!’
‘Well, that’s one word for it.’ Stevie shook her head and loosened a hairband, allowing a thicket of rich, blonde curls to tumble across her shoulders. Kim could see the discomfort more clearly now, and she wondered if it was caused by the fact thatthere must be a wedding planned, and evidently neither she nor Edward were invited.
