Read Online The Last Days of Disco by David F. Ross - Free Book Online Page A

had always fascinated Gary, and he found it the most bizarre thing to contemplate: a volcanic plug, perfectly framed between the Heads of Ayr and the slopes of Arran’s southernmost edge, which didn’t seem to correspond to the local geography. It seemed to him that it should be up near Mull or Skye, with violent waves making it almost impossible to access. Instead it just sat there, in relative isolation, in generally calm waters, easy to get to … but why would anyone bother? When relations with Harry were at their most strained, Gary would come here and clear his overheated brain by imagining himself living there. Alone, except for the gannets and gulls. He figured that an enforced isolation was a far more attractive option than living in a pressurised environmentalongside a disinterested father with whom he could no longer make any connections. He loved that view; imagining it to look wildly different from the side that faced the northern tip of Ulster.
    Harry had sometimes brought his three children around to the harbour, where a large brown van sold fish suppers ‘straight off the boats’. He’d carry the steaming hot food wrapped in newsprint across to the small rectangular parking area where Gary, Bobby and Hettie were waiting expectantly. Together they’d sit in contented silence, watching this lonely piece of rock until the streetlights around the island’s only perimeter road gradually illuminated its base and it was time to head home. The only movement was the stocky, lugubrious, black-and-white ferries that traversed the normally calm water between Ardrossan in the distance, and Brodick on the Isle of Arran. They moved so slowly and directly it was as if they were being operated by a pulley system. It was entirely appropriate that Hettie and Gary should spend this last day of his R ‘n’ R here.
    They were way beyond the starter’s hut on the Royal Troon Golf Course when Gary eventually stopped and set Hettie back on her feet. He’d spotted a sheltered section of the dunes and motioned for her to follow him over. The rain was still relatively light, but the sand was dry within the protective structure of the banking and the westerly wind that had been blowing into their faces as they had progressed down the beach towards Prestwick was now billowing far above their heads. They both sat down on Gary’s jacket. He pulled black sandshoes from its inside pockets and arched his long, bony feet into them.
    ‘Mum’ll have been pleased wi’ yer prelim results then,’ said Gary before lighting a cigarette.
    ‘Yeah, but Dad’s a bit annoyed that ah’ve dropped the biology. Ah was doing OK, but ah couldn’t do that and art
and
music.’
    ‘You need to do the subjects that
you
want tae do. It’s got fu … It’s nuthin’ tae do wi’ him.’ Gary worked hard to avoid swearing in Hettie’s presence. She had never asked him not to; it was just a self-imposed boundary he had always felt that he shouldn’t cross.
    ‘He doesn’t mean to be negative,’ said Hettie. ‘He just can’t see how a good job can come out of goin’ tae art school. He’s obsessed wi’ me doin’ medicine or law or something …’
    Gary cut across her. ‘… Aye but just so he can brag about it tae auld bags like Sadie Flanagan! Trust me, you dae exactly whit fires ye. Yer cleverer than any ae’ us an’ when ah come back up after the summer, ah’m no wantin’ tae hear that you’ve dropped these subjects cos’ a
school jannie
made ye.’
    ‘What do ye mean … after the summer?’ asked Hettie, a little aggressively.
    ‘Ach … we’re maybe gettin’ a postin’ in the next few weeks.’ Gary said this quietly and then paused before adding, ‘… an’ there’s a lassie … doon in London, ken? Anyway auld Harry’ll be glad ae’ the peace after this wee trip.’
    ‘He’s really proud ae you tae, Gary. Ah ken it. Ah’ve heard him talkin’ to Mum about ye. About how ye’ve done somethin’ he dreamed about