GUILT TRIPPER (5 page)

 “You’d better come
in,”

 Bob strode into the
bedroom and Danny pushed the door shut behind them.

 Back in the lounge,
Fin went out onto the balcony to think, allowing the crisp, autumn evening into
the apartment. Taking advantage of his distraction, Judith pretended to go to
the bathroom, but eavesdropped at Danny’s door instead.

CHAPTER: 7

 “I spent the
fortnight consoling her.”

 “Consoling?” Bob
quizzed Danny aggressively.

 “Yes. I’d like to
have said we consoled one another, but the moment I needed some attention she abandoned
me. I’d distracted myself from grief by attending to her problems, then, when I
finally cracked and started expressing my own sorrow, she disappeared. I
searched for her all week before learning that she’d been evicted from your apartment
and gone back to Oxfordshire.”

 “Yeah, that makes
sense. Her parents have a big place down there. Right, that’s all I wanted to
know.”

 “So what are you
going to do now?”

 “Go down there to
fetch her of course.”

 “Fetch her? Bob, you
were unfaithful to her with prostitutes, one of whom you beat almost to death. You’ve
publicly humiliated her, jeopardized her career and, worst of all, you’ve shattered
her faith in human relationships. Isn’t it best you leave her alone to recover
and start afresh?”

 “Yes, if everything
you said was true. As always though Danny, just as in your politics, you ignore
those facts which inconvenience your bigotry, such as there was no evidence
against me…such as I was implicated by a certified madman…a fan who, in my
decency, I took pity on and allowed into my company. I’m not bitter though. I
feel sorry for him, I really do. Like you, he’s basically a decent guy who just
can’t fit into society. It’s a shame.”

 Danny laughed
sarcastically. “Would that be the same society I had to protect you from on the
way home from your little private school that afternoon, when you were bullied
for being a snobbish loner? When I had to take a kicking off the Ferguson
brothers for standing between them and you, a complete stranger?”

 Danny was referring
to their first, fortuitous meeting at the age of thirteen, one spring afternoon
on a double decker bus. He’d been larking about on the top deck with a ‘team’
from Possil when Bob had unwittingly boarded in his Glasgow Academy blazer. Crazy
Ferguson — a neighbourhood psychopath who ended up in Carstairs State Hospital
for the Criminally Insane — had taken blood curdling exception to “Little Lord
Fauntleroy” and intended to torture him. “Can you believe it?” he’d said, “cheeky
wee bastard’s got the audacity to travel home from a private school – on a
council bus!”

 With a tattooed hand
round Bob’s throat, Crazy had been about to slash his cheek with a metal comb,
when Danny ran down the aisle and leapt on his back, pulling him to the floor. The
price of this heroism was paid several weeks later, though, when Crazy and his
older brother, Buddy, had jumped him from behind outside the fish and chip
shop, knocking him unconscious with a whisky bottle. At the time, Danny’s
mother said it had served him right for defending “the enemy” against his own.

 “What’s that got to
do with the real world, here and now?” A nerve had obviously been struck, as
Bob’s voice was quavering.

 “Is that the real
world which saw you speeding round the streets on your own in the brand new car
your parents bought, while I was out and about in the city centre making
acquaintances from the four corners of the Clyde, not least among them being a
certain Mr. Alexander Addison and Billy McLean, who went on to form The Squeaky
Kirk. I suppose you’ve forgotten me coming round and coaxing you out of your
reclusive existence to meet them, because they needed a lyricist and I thought
it might be an outlet for your writing…Jesus it was hard work getting past your
‘mammy’ at the front door! Nobody was good enough for her little angel were
they? Do you remember how intimidated you used to be down town, outside the
protection of your car? Is that the real world you mean Bobby? Eh? A world in
which you could only communicate through songs; jealous of other people’s
ability to interact. And it’s the same even now. There isn’t really anybody
beneath those ridiculous clothes you’re wearing is there? Take away the
designer suits, the sports car and a record deal — which allows you to be heard
by thousands without ever having to interact with anybody — and what’s left? An
anonymous, social inadequate, that’s what.”

 “I haven’t got time
for – your – bitter – abuse.”

 Bob was almost
crying.

 Judith saw the
bedroom door handle move and stepped back into the dark bathroom behind her. Before
Bob could get out, though, Danny lit the blue touch paper.

 “Not all the
witnesses to what you did are clinically mad you know.”

 “What?” Bob bit.

 Judith heard the
door being pushed to again and resumed her eavesdropping position at the
threshold of the bathroom, where it met the bedroom door on a right angle.

 “Do you know what
the greatest part of driving a cab was for me? I was able to observe you and
Ingrid without being spotted. Sad, I know, but such is the nature of obsession.
I could park opposite the pub, or pass you half a dozen times in the street and
you’d never suspect, because I was just another taxi. But I had a special
incentive to follow your Audi TT around town.”

 “That being?”

 “Catching you out of
course. That way I could disenchant Ingrid and win her back.”

 “You bitter…bitter
freak.”

 “It was devastating
when Herman turned up at your little Govan lair with Carina. I was petrified
she’d give you something that could be passed on to Ingrid…so much that I
actually ran up the stairs and banged on your door. But, what with the noise
you were making arguing, you obviously never heard me. When Herman carried her
out of there I was sat in the darkness, behind the banister on the stair above,
watching everything.”

 “So why didn’t you
tell Ingrid?” Bob snapped.

 “Informing her you
were a prostitute beater was no good. She’d hate me more than you, for trying
to capitalise on a tragedy. So I kept quiet and waited, hoping the police would
eventually do the job for me and, thanks to the arrival of Judith, they did.”

 “Oh. Her.”

 “That was a little maneuver
of mine I’m not too proud of, but as I say, obsession does these things.”

 “Maneuver?”

 “She jumped in the
cab one night and I deliberately dropped her at Oran Mor where I knew you’d all
be. Then I promised half-fares in future, to guarantee we maintained contact. Knowing
how you’re always seeking an audience to witness your lifestyle — The
Fitzgerald Dream — I was confident she’d be embraced by the gang. She was my
eyes and ears without realizing and, the more I revealed about myself to her,
it was inevitable she’d mention me to Ingrid and, hopefully, be the catalyst
for a reunion. The rest, of course, is history — though I never imagined she’d
also precipitate your downfall.”

 Realizing that she’d
been used as a pawn in their squalid feud, Judith felt sick.

 “Danny, you know me.
I’d never deliberately hurt anyone,” Bob pleaded.

 “Yes Bob, I do know
you and you’re a spiteful, jealous brat…Look what you did to me! You only
noticed Ingrid because everybody else was raving about her beauty. Once you
knew she was universally valued, like that gold ring on your finger, you had to
have her and resented a poor man enjoying what you felt entitled to. If you
could only get her on your arm, you thought, you’d be guaranteed more of the attention
you craved but didn’t have the charisma to generate it yourself without going
via people’s hi-fi systems. To you she was just another accessory, like all
those ridiculous things you spend your money on. You’ve never been able to
think for yourself, have you Bob? I used to think that the wrong people had all
the cash, but now I’m not so sure. I think wealth is probably God’s
compensation for people who have no imagination.”

 “Yes, like self-righteousness
is God’s compensation for being poor.” Bob retorted.

 There was a hiatus
before Danny chirped up again. “The point is I loved Ingrid as a person, not as
an object. I loved her fresh, open mind. I connected with her like no one
before or since.”

 “Crap! Ingrid was
your opportunity to inflict on someone else what you’ve had done to you. What
were you at the time, thirty one? She was the perfect disciple — just eighteen
years old, intelligent and naïve. At Last, you had a captive audience to
rehearse your mother’s brainwashing on…somebody to make you feel the big man.”

 “The way people who
bought Squeaky Kirk records where a captive audience for your egotistical
whining you mean?”

 “Yes.”

 Everything suddenly
fell silent. It seemed that Danny had been fazed by Bob’s uncharacteristic
humility.

 “Prison’s done you
good Bobby. Being forced to mix with the great unwashed has given you some
character. You know, when you burst in tonight you actually made me laugh for
the first time I can remember — that Che Guevara line and so forth. You
wisecracked your way in here with all the insecurities and bravado of a young
NED…a real person instead of the old, self-loving prick. Humour is born of
adversity and I think you’ve encountered it for the first time in your life. Even
addressing Fin as ‘Pinhead’ was positively affectionate compared to the way you
used to ignore him.”

 “Hah,” Bob laughed. “I
had nothing to do but stew over my existence in that prison. What you said
about my mother and nobody being good enough for me could almost have come out
of my own head. Do you know, that four months inside was the first time I’ve
ever really relaxed. It provided some peace and perspective. My whole life’s
been a torment Dan, trying to be better than everyone, like she always told me
I was. Of course, with dad away a month at a time on the oil rigs and her
shielding me from him whenever he was home, I’ve grown up unable to accommodate
criticism. That’s why I flew into a rage when that whore attacked my music. Did
you know she used to be a classical cellist? I hated it when she told me that. You
see, Dan, I’m the archetypal goldfish in a liqueur glass. That’s why I consort
with prostitutes and have oddballs like Herman and Dickens tagging along. It
makes me feel superior, like I’m supposed to be.”

 “You…you were right
too.”

 “Sorry?”

 “What you just said
about me being a victim of my mother and using Ingrid as a captive audience so
I could enjoy the sound of my own voice.”

 “Well, we’re all
victims of nurture, Danny. So what do you intend doing then? Are you going to
the police?”

 “That’s entirely up
to you.”

 “No it’s not at all!
The balls are all stacked in your court. So what’s it gonna be?”

 “I’ll keep quiet on condition
that you sign all the Squeaky Kirk royalties earned since you were arrested
over to me, before lunchtime tomorrow. Seven hundred and sixty grand should do
the trick.”

 Judith shook her
tearful head in disgust. In the space of a minute, a man who’d spent a lifetime
masquerading as a socialist had exposed himself as a phoney and a blackmailer,
willing to profit from the attempted murder of a prostitute.

 “You’re friggin’
joking aren’t you?” Bob laughed exaggeratedly, through a combination of
disbelief and nerves.

 “No. I mean, let’s
face it, it’s only what you people should be paying in taxes anyway.”

 “According to you
people who have nothing to lose and everything to gain maybe.”

 “Whatever. But
what’s a hundred per cent worth in prison when you could be enjoying half of it
in the fresh air?”

 “How do I know you
won’t hand me in anyway, after I’ve paid up?”

 “Because I’d be incriminating
myself wouldn’t I? With half your royalties in my bank it would be obvious
there’d been blackmail and I’d be looked upon as badly as you. You know I’m a
man of my word.”

 “I did, yes. But how
can you trust a man who, it’s just turned out, has been lying to himself for
forty years. You do know you’re renouncing everything you professed to believe
in?” There was another brief pause before Bob started talking into his phone. “Fergus?...Bob
Fitzgerald…Fitzgerald! Fergus, I need a face to face…I know that but…I wouldn’t
be bothering you unless it was an emergency…Half an hour…I really, really
appreciate thi…hello?”