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  I like it when Julian talks to me like this.

  That’s how he acquired the nickname. A girl in our year – what was her name again…?

  Don’t remember.

  Miranda… that’s right. Miranda used to say a little rhyme. He clasps his hands together in front of him, wags his head fae side to side and recites.

  Hector Protector was dressed all in green;

  Hector Protector was sent to the queen.

  The queen did not like him,

  No more did the king,

  So Hector Protector was sent back again.

  And our Hector was born. Julian waves his hand as if he’s introducin him to me.

  Yes, well, you’re not that hot on knowing when to shut up yourself, old man. Been trying to shake that off for years. But it seems, and he looks right at me with his wee eyes. Once the butt of a joke, always the butt. And I feel kinda sorry for him then. It canny have been much fun at university wi a face like that.

  My real friends call me Dougie.

  Pleased to meet you, Dougie, I says, and I hold out my hand to him. I didny like my nickname when I was wee either. I came home fae school in Primary Two all excited one day, cause we had a French lesson and sang a song: ‘Au Clair de la lune’, I thought it was about me. For years after, Danny – that’s my brother – called me Della Loony.

  Hector… Dougie laughs then and for the first time his face looks sorta natural. Maybe we should start a survivors’ club, he says. Nicknamed Anonymous. Initials, NA… Not Applicable. Acronym, Na —

  You’ve lost me now, I says.

  That’s his problem, Julian says. Loses people all the time.

  Uncalled for, old man, Dougie says, and he starts to get up.

  Sorry, Hec — Dougie. Sit down, man. I didn’t mean anything. Sit down. Tell me what you’ve been doing lately. It must be – what? – nearly two years since I last saw you. Julian’s got his hand on Dougie’s arm and he sits down again.

  Yes… at least two years. What have I been doing? Oh, this and that, Dougie says. Mainly trying to extricate myself from the clutches of the family. What about you? Glasgow Uni actually let you do this PhD? Found somebody louche enough to supervise you? He twists his mouth.

  Yeah, no problem, Julian says. My thesis is that recent writing by men is uxorious – you know… domestic, emasculated. I’ll be looking at the religiosity in Lawrentian sexuality and examining American picaresque – Miller, Kerouac – those guys.

  Trocchi? Dougie says.

  Yeah, he might merit a footnote. Julian grins. Welsh, certainly. He picks up his glass and lifts it to Dougie. Still waving the saltire, then?

  I don’t know what they’re talkin about. My mind starts to wander. Funny how things work out. Two days ago, I would never a guessed what I’d be doin. I look across the restaurant. Everybody’s getting a bit pissed; they’re talkin louder and laughin. I can’t see Danny and Laetitia. A guy with a green T-shirt stands and holds up his cigarette to one of the stubby yellow candles on the wall. It doesny light. He reaches up again, pulls it back, looks at the blackened end a his fag. Then he lifts the candle right out the metal bracket, holds it up to his cigarette and takes a long draw. He doesny put the candle back, but; he sets it on the nearest table and carries on talkin to his pals. I can see it happenin just before it does. First a napkin flares. The yellow flames light up the surprise on folks’ faces. Then the tablecloth catches at one end and fire whooshes to the other end in a second. I snatch up the wine carafe and run over. Somebody shouts. People are jumpin up. I pour wine on the flames, but there’s no much left in the bottle.

  The waiter comes runnin over wi a fire extinguisher – Scusi! Scusi! – and skooshes the foam all over. The fire goes out right away. What a mess but. The waiter doesny say nothin. Just looks at everybody, shakes his head and walks away, carryin the extinguisher in one hand. The guys on the other side a the table have got white speckles of foam on their claes, some on their faces. They look shocked. Somebody says something and a few people laugh. Then they’re all laughin and I laugh too. I realize I’m pure shakin.

  Clare?

  I turn round and Julian’s there. He holds out his hand to me and I go up and fling my arms round him and burst into tears. He hugs me tight and strokes my hair.

  Well, what will you be up to next? You little fire-raiser.

  It wasny me!

  He laughs. I know, I know. Shh… He takes me by the arm and leads me over to our table. Dougie’s no there. I’m glad. I’m goin to sit down but Julian keeps me standin. He picks up his wine glass and I think he’s gonny give me a drink. Instead he takes a slug hissel, pulls my head to him and kisses me. He opens my mouth wae his tongue and the wine pours in and down my throat. It feels warm and rough. When he takes his mouth away, there’s wine on his lips and on mine. I kiss him again.

  Come on, he says, let’s get out of here. I look round the restaurant. Everybody’s startin to get up and go. Two waiters are clearin away the mess on the table and one a them’s comin wae a bucket and mop. Party’s over. We get our coats and head for the counter.

  It turns out Danny’s paid for the meal. So Julian just gies the waiter a tip and says, La pappardelle alla lepre – molto deliziosa. Grazie. And the waiter smiles and kinda nods. Grazie, signore. Signorina. Buona notte.

  It’s only when we get back into the B&B I realize my hair smells of the fire. I lift a hank of it to my nose and sniff; it’s got that horrible burnt paper smell mixed in with the usual cigarette smoke. And underneath, faint and far away, still a wee bit of the rose soap.

  What you doing? Julian comes up behind me and takes my rucksack and my coat off at the same time with the sleeves still through the straps.

  I’m gonny wash my hair.

  What, now?

  Aye, how no?

  Because I have other plans for you.

  The warm, sharp feeling pure shoots through the whole a my insides. I turn and put my arms round Julian. And then I remember.

  Oh, I can’t! I’ve got my period.

  Julian laughs. Do you really sink, my dear, zhat I vill be put off by a little menstrual blood?

  I look at the bed. It’s got clean covers on. Pale yellow wae an embroidered bit at the top. Nice.

  But it’s… it’s dirty, I says.

  Filthy through and through. He kisses the top of my head. Mmm, smoky, he says. I tell you what, if you’re so desperate to be squeaky clean, why not use the bidet. I’ll watch.

  To wash my hair?

  He laughs again. This hair. And he touches me down there on the front of my jeans.

  I don’t know how it works.

  Come here, I’ll show you. He takes my hand and pulls me towards the bathroom.

  No, wait. I’ll have to… sort mysel first. I pick up my bag and go quickly intay the bathroom and lock the door.

  It’s definitely no as good as a pad. The tampon’s leaked and there’s mair blood on the crotch a my jeans. I reach my hand between my legs intay the pan, feel about for the string and pull it out. It looks like a dead mouse. Or like a bit of my insides. Give you the boak. I drop it in and wipe mysel as best I can wae toilet paper, flush it all away. I fish another of Bernie’s tampons out the box in my bag, peel off the Cellophane and stick it in. A shower would be so good. Julian’s shower’s bigger than the one in our room. White tiles and a wee bottle a shampoo on the shelf. It wouldny take long.

  I strip off my claes as fast as I can, slide back the door a the shower, turn the knob. The cold water that comes shootin out makes me gasp and I jump out the way. I listen a minute. No sound fae the room. I hold my hand under the rushin water till it starts to feel warm. I’m just in when I hear Julian at the door.

  Clare? Not this again. Let me in. C’mon.

  Wait a minute. I leave the shower on, slide back the perspex partition, grab a towel fae the rail and open the bathroom door.

  He looks surprised. And annoyed. I thought I told you —

  It was too temptin. I want to
wash my hair.

  You bad girl. Good girl, rather. Goody badshoes. He comes right up to me and takes the towel off me. He smells of the fire too. Some of his dreads swing forward like burnt rope. I step back and into the shower. I let it run over me right away. Over my hair and my face and down my back. Some of the water’s sprayin out the door of the cubicle ontay the floor of the bathroom. It doesny reach where Julian’s standin and he keeps back. Like he wants to stay dry. That suits me. I take the plastic bottle fae the shelf and screw off the cap. It smells lemony. Fresh. I squeeze a good dollop of the yellow shampoo ontay my hand and rub it on my hair. It must be good stuff, cause it lathers up right away. I close my eyes and soap my hair all over. It gies me the creeps a bit, Julian just standin there watchin me. I dig my fingers in hard to get right down to the roots so’s I can get rid of the burnt smell of the restaurant.

  When I open my eyes again, efter I’ve rinsed my hair, Julian’s no there. The bathroom’s full a steam and the towel is lyin on the floor soakin up the water fae the shower. So’s my claes. I turn off the water and step out. When my eyes get used to the steam I can see Julian through the open door, lyin on the bed wae one hand behind his head, smokin. I reach for the other bath towel off the rail. It’s damp too with the steam. But it’s dry enough. I wrap it round my head and rub my hair. The steam’s startin to drift away now and I notice Julian isny lyin gazin intay space like I thought. He’s watchin me. His jeans are bulgin again at the crotch. I hold the towel in front of me and go to close the door.

  Oh no you don’t, he says, and sits up on the bed. You must finish washing. Like a good girl. You must wash down here. He rubs his hand round his crotch as he walks towards me. In the bathroom he leans past me, bends down to the bidet and turns on the tap. He lets it run for a bit, keepin his hand under the water. Then he stands up and looks me in the eye.

  Now I want you to sit astride this bidet and soap that sweet rosebush of yours.

  What d’you mean? I says. But I know fine what he means.

  Just what I said. He looks at me for a long time. I feel my face turnin red, but I’m no gonny look away afore he does.

  OK? he says. I nod and he walks away back into the room and lies on the bed again. I put my leg over the bidet, over the rushing water, and sit down like he telt me. It’s cold on my bum and drops a water’s runnin down my back fae my hair.

  Oh, for fucksake, he says. And he jumps up and comes into the bathroom again. Here, wait. He reaches into the bidet and eases the tampon out fae atween my legs. We don’t want this getting in the way. He stands up and swings it into the lavvy by the blue string. Drops of water spark up and catch the light. I feel blood tricklin into the white porcelain bowl underneath, runnin away down the plughole with the water. Julian turns back into the bedroom and flings hissel onto the bed.

  Right, he says. You can start now.

  I’m like, Lights, camera, action. But I say it under my breath so he canny hear. I look about for some soap. There’s a dish set in the tiles beside the bidet and a wee bar of soap in wax paper same as in my room. I pick it up and unwrap it, drop the paper on the floor and look at the bar. It’s yellow like the shampoo. Like the walls of the room. I sniff it. It’s lemon too. Julian’s watchin me. I keep my eyes on him and reach the soap down into the water to wet it. It slips out my hand and I have to feel about to catch it. I make a lather with my two hands, reach round and start to wash mysel down there.

  Soap up that flaming bush, he says. He’s rubbin the front of his jeans. I stick the bar of soap in the water again, then rub it on the front of my pubes until they’re all covered in bubbles.

  Like this? I says.

  He doesny say nothin. Just groans.

  I must admit I’m getting the melty feeling dead strong too. I keep buildin up the lather and rubbin and Julian keeps on watchin and groanin.

  I wonder how long he wants me to do this. Cause I must be clean by this time. And then it happens again. The heat shoots up fae my crotch right up through me to my head and waves come over my whole body. I stop movin my hand and lean forward and groan too. I look down and big splashes of blood are droppin among the white suds and flowin away down the hole. I watch it all disappearin and wait till the waves get fainter. I put my hand under the flow and scoop warm water onto my pubes until all the soap’s away. Then I turn off the tap. It’s dead quiet suddenly. I get up. My knees are tremblin and blood’s tricklin down the inside a my thighs.

  Oh God, I says. I lean back against the wall. The white tiles are cold and the shock of them wakes me up. I pick up the towel and stick it between my legs. Then I look at Julian. He’s still lyin on the bed, but he’s starin at the ceilin now. I walk over to him and sit on the bed.

  You weren’t supposed to come, he says.

  But I’ve washed as much as I can. How long did you want me to stay there for?

  No. You weren’t supposed to come.

  Oh… right… I’m sorry.

  He doesny say nothin.

  I didny mean to.

  He still doesny say nothin.

  I couldny help it.

  He just lies there.

  *

  I don’t know what time it is when I wake up and hear the tappin. Feels like hours later. I listen for a minute. Julian’s half on top of me, breathin slow and steady, still sleepin. It took me ages to get him in a good mood again after the carry-on wae the bidet. Even then he wouldny do it unless I called him Henry. Henry! And he called me Germaine.

  Like Germaine Greer? I says.

  Decidedly not, he says. But he did laugh. Seems she was a character in a book, this Germaine. Topic of Cancer or something.

  The tappin comes again. A wee bit louder. I waken up more.

  Julian, I says. I think somebody’s at the door.

  Hhhrmm?

  The door. Somebody’s there. Oh my God, maybe it’s Mr Abensur, I whisper.

  Wha…?

  Somebody’s at the door.

  Julian takes his arm off me and sits bolt upright. Who is it? he says.

  There’s this muffled female voice: It’s me.

  Laetitia, I whisper.

  Can I come in?

  Wait a minute, Julian says. And he starts to get up.

  No, I says. I grab his arm. Don’t let her in. She’ll see me here.

  He shakes me off, switches on the light above the bed and goes towards the yellow door. Just a minute, he says. His dreads are spread out over his bare shoulders. He’s got no claes on; his back and his bum are sorta flushed pink wae the warm. And he’s away to open the door.

  I scrabble to fling the sheets off me, jump out the bed, run intay the bathroom and pull the bolt. I hear him turnin the key, openin the door of the room and speakin to Laetitia.

  Come in, he says. What’s the matter?

  She’s cryin. Laetitia’s cryin. I hear her sniffin and sobbin. I listen at the door, but they’re talkin dead quiet; I canny make them out.

  Great.

  The bidet’s nearest the door, so I sit on the edge of it and wait.

  I still canny hear nothin. I notice my bag’s in the corner wae my boots. My claes are lyin on the floor damp, so I pick them up dead quiet and hang them on the radiator. No that it’ll make any difference, cause the radiator’s off. I’m gettin cold too.

  Then I have the idea to take another shower. It’ll warm me up. I slide the shower door open. She’ll hear it, Laetitia, but I’m no stayin in here all night. Even if it’s what Julian wants. That will be right. I reach into the cubicle and turn the shower to high. The water shoots out cold again, but I close the door quick and wait for it to heat. It doesny take long. As soon as the perspex steams up, I slide the door back a wee bit and step in.

  I don’t want to wet my hair again but, so I wiggle the shower head down the pole and let the water run ontay my boobs and my belly. I find another wee bar of lemon soap and unwrap it. I don’t need much of a wash, but I do it anyway. For something to do. I wonder if they’re talkin about me.

>   Wae the water runnin, it takes a minute afore I hear the bangin. I turn off the shower.

  Clare? Julian’s sayin. Clare, it’s alright, you can come out. Clare, can you hear me?

  Aye. I’m just comin. I step out ontay the cold tiles. There’s only a wee hand towel left on the rail. One big one’s soakin and the other yin’s in the bed. I hope it did stop the blood gettin on the sheets. I dry mysel as best I can wae the hand towel. I’m glad I didny wet my hair again. It’s damp now and the ends are wet, but at least it’s no drippin. I get another tampon out the box in my bag, crouch on the bidet and stick it in. Still three left. I’m gettin the hang of them now. Maybe I’ll keep usin them when I get home. I take my jeans off the radiator and pull them on. They feel horrible. Cold and damp. All crumpled. My bra’s no too bad cause it’s nylon. My T-shirt’s worse than my jeans. I can feel mysel startin to shiver.

  Clare, what’s keeping you? C’mon.

  I don’t say anythin. I don’t want to go out there. Maybe she’s away. I canny ask but, in case she’s no. I pull on my sweatshirt wae the hood and zip it up. It doesny even make me feel any warmer. I fish my socks out my boots and sit on the bidet to pull them on. At least they’re dry. I slide my feet intay the boots and do them up.

  Clare, for Christsake!

  Comin. I go over and take a look in the steamed-up mirror. My eyes are big and my face is dead pink. I try out a smile but it doesny look real. Comin. I open the door slow and look in the room.

  I’m expectin them to be sittin on the bed, so first I don’t see them. Then something moves in the middle of the room. Julian’s standin wae his arms round Laetitia. He’s got his jeans on, but nothin else. He takes his arms fae round her, holds her shoulder, looks at her face.

  OK? he says. You ready?

  Laetitia nods. You can see she’s been cryin, cause her mascara’s all ran.

  Hi, I says.

  Julian turns to me but he keeps one arm round Laetitia’s shoulder.

  Hi, Laetitia says. She doesny smile.

  Clare… Julian says. And stops. He looks at me. Like he doesny know what to say.

  What?