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Authors: Josephine Myles
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it be, rattling around all by yourself in a place like this?
Any pity for Alasdair evaporated on seeing the back garden, though.
“Oh. My. God.” The lawn seemed to go on forever in neat stripes before being swallowed up by forest. But that wasn’t what had made Cosmo adopt the pearl-grabbing pose. No, there was only a ruddy swimming pool, complete with diving board. Morning swim. What a way to begin the day. The rain was light enough for it not to be an issue, and the air was mild enough to strip off, he was sure. Cosmo raced up the mossy brick steps to the pool area, only to be confronted with an empty hole in the ground.
“Well, shit.” A mosaiced scrolling vine wound around the top of the empty concrete basin, and a few dead leaves littered the bottom. There was a set of wide, semi-circular steps leading into the shallow end, and a puddle lurking in the deep end where more leaves blocked up the drain. A low building squatted on the other side, the three doors in a row indicating a set of changing rooms, perhaps. Cosmo wiped the raindrops off the diving board, sat down and rolled his cigarette. “What a fucking waste,” he said, to no one in particular.
“Mate, you have got to get your pool filled,” Cosmo announced as he pushed back into the kitchen. Alasdair looked up from the pan he was stirring, his expression as surprised as if Cosmo had just suggested he take up ballet.
“Why would I want to do that?”
“Er, so you could swim in it?”
“I don’t much like swimming.”
“What’s not to like? Man, I haven’t been swimming in years. Used to love it when I was a kid. Nan says she had to drag me out of the pool, kicking and screaming when our band colour was called.” They never did give you long enough at the public swimming baths. But a private pool? That’d be amazing. “You could swim as long as you liked here, though. Imagine that.”
Alasdair sort of smiled, if you could call that kind of grim lip twist a smile. “I don’t even know if the pool’s watertight. It probably needs all kinds of work doing to the filters, and retiling. It looks like a money pit to me.”
“You’ve got enough, though, haven’t you? Mate, if I had your kind of cash, that’d be the first thing I’d splash out on. Well, maybe a bike first. Or a new guitar.”
Alasdair made no comment, just placing a couple of plates of scrambled eggs on toast down on the table. “Tuck in, then.”
Breakfast was sort of strange after that, with Alasdair far more withdrawn than Cosmo had ever seen him. Maybe he was stressed out about something. Work, hopefully, rather than the fact he had Cosmo there. Cosmo having inherited the nattering gene from his nan, he filled the silence by wittering on about his plans for the day, which mainly involved busking down by the library so he could catch all the pedestrians coming out of the Eden Shopping Centre.
“What songs do you play?” Alasdair asked when he mentioned the oldies getting the best payoff.
“All kinds. A bit of Simon and Garfunkel. Nick Drake. Some Don McLean. John Martyn.”
Alasdair’s eyes lit up. “Do you know ‘May You Never’?”
“Yep. I love that one.”
“Would you play it for me?”
“Sure. I can bring my guitar round later if you like.”
Alasdair’s stabbed at his toast with his fork. “I’ll be busy for the rest of the weekend, but I’ve got a guitar you can play now if you’d like.”
Busy? Cosmo tried not to let his disappointment show and shovelled down the rest of his eggs while Alasdair went for his guitar. He came back with a real beauty, made of some kind of exotic wood with a scrolling mother-of-pearl inlay on the fretboard.
“Wow, you’ve got a custom-built Martin? You must be seriously into it. These things cost a small fortune.”
Alasdair shrugged sheepishly. “Haven’t picked it up in years. I was taking lessons for a while, but I never got past the basics. I think I’m one of those people with no natural
Any pity for Alasdair evaporated on seeing the back garden, though.
“Oh. My. God.” The lawn seemed to go on forever in neat stripes before being swallowed up by forest. But that wasn’t what had made Cosmo adopt the pearl-grabbing pose. No, there was only a ruddy swimming pool, complete with diving board. Morning swim. What a way to begin the day. The rain was light enough for it not to be an issue, and the air was mild enough to strip off, he was sure. Cosmo raced up the mossy brick steps to the pool area, only to be confronted with an empty hole in the ground.
“Well, shit.” A mosaiced scrolling vine wound around the top of the empty concrete basin, and a few dead leaves littered the bottom. There was a set of wide, semi-circular steps leading into the shallow end, and a puddle lurking in the deep end where more leaves blocked up the drain. A low building squatted on the other side, the three doors in a row indicating a set of changing rooms, perhaps. Cosmo wiped the raindrops off the diving board, sat down and rolled his cigarette. “What a fucking waste,” he said, to no one in particular.
“Mate, you have got to get your pool filled,” Cosmo announced as he pushed back into the kitchen. Alasdair looked up from the pan he was stirring, his expression as surprised as if Cosmo had just suggested he take up ballet.
“Why would I want to do that?”
“Er, so you could swim in it?”
“I don’t much like swimming.”
“What’s not to like? Man, I haven’t been swimming in years. Used to love it when I was a kid. Nan says she had to drag me out of the pool, kicking and screaming when our band colour was called.” They never did give you long enough at the public swimming baths. But a private pool? That’d be amazing. “You could swim as long as you liked here, though. Imagine that.”
Alasdair sort of smiled, if you could call that kind of grim lip twist a smile. “I don’t even know if the pool’s watertight. It probably needs all kinds of work doing to the filters, and retiling. It looks like a money pit to me.”
“You’ve got enough, though, haven’t you? Mate, if I had your kind of cash, that’d be the first thing I’d splash out on. Well, maybe a bike first. Or a new guitar.”
Alasdair made no comment, just placing a couple of plates of scrambled eggs on toast down on the table. “Tuck in, then.”
Breakfast was sort of strange after that, with Alasdair far more withdrawn than Cosmo had ever seen him. Maybe he was stressed out about something. Work, hopefully, rather than the fact he had Cosmo there. Cosmo having inherited the nattering gene from his nan, he filled the silence by wittering on about his plans for the day, which mainly involved busking down by the library so he could catch all the pedestrians coming out of the Eden Shopping Centre.
“What songs do you play?” Alasdair asked when he mentioned the oldies getting the best payoff.
“All kinds. A bit of Simon and Garfunkel. Nick Drake. Some Don McLean. John Martyn.”
Alasdair’s eyes lit up. “Do you know ‘May You Never’?”
“Yep. I love that one.”
“Would you play it for me?”
“Sure. I can bring my guitar round later if you like.”
Alasdair’s stabbed at his toast with his fork. “I’ll be busy for the rest of the weekend, but I’ve got a guitar you can play now if you’d like.”
Busy? Cosmo tried not to let his disappointment show and shovelled down the rest of his eggs while Alasdair went for his guitar. He came back with a real beauty, made of some kind of exotic wood with a scrolling mother-of-pearl inlay on the fretboard.
“Wow, you’ve got a custom-built Martin? You must be seriously into it. These things cost a small fortune.”
Alasdair shrugged sheepishly. “Haven’t picked it up in years. I was taking lessons for a while, but I never got past the basics. I think I’m one of those people with no natural
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