He swung the car past the Palace of Holyroodhouse, and, on the right, the floodlit site of the Scottish Parliament building. "How many of those things have you won?" he asked.
"BAFTAs? Four; three film, one television."
"And Oscars?"
"Three, plus two Golden Globes."
In the darkness of Holyrood Park, she could see his soft smile in the dashboard light. "Oh, I remember them well," he whispered.
Her laugh was deep and raunchy. "They"re still doing all right. Moved a little south, but still all right."
"I know," he said. "I saw that film of yours a couple of years back; the one where you got your kit off. That felt very weird, I"ll tell you. It"s as well the cinema was dark."
"Have you seen many of my movies?"
"Several of them. I have them on video."94.AUTOGRAPHS IN THE RAIN.
"Good boy. You"re helping to make me rich."
"You like that, do you? Being rich?"
"It"s okay. Why? Is that your ambition?"
He shrugged. "A lot of people would say I am already; you"d probably just say that I"m comfortably off. I"ve had a few legacies in my life, and I"ve invested them well. Give me five years and I could retire in considerable comfort on my police pension and my investments."
"And will you?"
"Not a chance. The day I feel burned out as a copper, then I"ll go; but I"m a h.e.l.l of a lot more than five years away from that. Lou, even back then, when we were kids, I had a vocation for police work, and in particular, for the investigative side. My father wanted me to be a lawyer; when I told him I was joining the police, he felt let down, as if the money he spent sending me to school in Glasgow, then to university, had all been wasted.
"But I said to him ... I remember it, clear as daylight. . . "Dad, I am going to be a lawyer. I"m going into the justice business; the only difference between your ambition for me and my own is that I want to work at the sharp end."
"And you know what he replied? He looked at me and muttered, "I bred a f.u.c.king idealist!" But the last thing he ever said to me, the night before he died, was "Son, you were right." On the two occasions in my career when, for a fleeting moment, I"ve thought, "Why, Bob, why?", that"s been my answer."
He drew to a halt in the queue at the Willowbrae traffic lights, and glanced sideways at Lou, her profile framed in the lights of the Mercedes dealership.
"How about you? Why do you do it? It hasn"t brought you happiness; I can tell that. So what is it? Fame? Money?"
She laughed, but it was a brittle sound. "Of course it is ... especially money." The traffic began to move through the lights, and he eased forward with it.
"I am happy, Bob, really. Not like you are, with your wife and young family, but I"m happy with what I do. Even way back then, the very day I met you, when I joined your squash club because I wanted you, that same day I joined the drama society because I wanted that even more.
"When we split, it was because you followed your Presbyterian conscience. But if we"d stayed together then, I"d have left you eventually for my other lover ... either that or I"d have destroyed your life.
"I spent a long time wondering what it was about, why I was addicted toAUTOGRAPHS IN THE RAIN.
the hot lights, the roar of the greasepaint, the smell of the crowd, as they say. For a while, I thought I was the most self-indulgent being alive.
"And then, one night, I was in Los Angeles, at an Academy Award ceremony. I wasn"t nominated that year, so when it was over I started to leave, to meet some man, at some party somewhere. It had started to rain during the show, and it was hammering down outside like a b.l.o.o.d.y monsoon.
It was chaotic, some very famous people were running for their limos under inadequate umbrellas, and twenty-thousand-dollar dresses were being ruined in five seconds flat.
"In the middle of it all, I saw a man; he was a singer, a minor figure in the movie industry, but a legend in his own field. He was standing there, his buckskin jacket soaked, his long hair plastered to his head, and he was signing autographs, not just one or two but dozens, maybe hundreds, for all the people who were pressed around him, wanting a piece of him.
"I don"t know how long I watched him, standing there signing those soggy books, tee-shirts, programmes, anything, as best he could, as all those b.l.o.o.d.y movie stars ignored the crowds and ran as fast as their dignity and their heels would allow. But eventually someone spotted me, shouted to me above the noise "Louise", and waved a baseball cap at me.
"I walked out from under the marquee, into the rain, I took the marker pen he gave me, and I signed, watching the ink run even as I wrote. Then another, and another. The signatures were barely legible, and probably didn"t survive the night, but I knew as that singer knew that it didn"t matter.
"Those people out there in the storm were representatives of all those who make people like me. I hate the word "fans"; they are our patrons.
They give us something of themselves . . . love if nothing else . .. and it"s our solemn duty to give them something back. Even if it does cause us momentary discomfort.
"So that"s why I do it, Bob. So that I can sign autographs in the rain."
They drove on in silence for a while, leaving the city lights behind. They had just turned off the A1, when Louise reached out and touched his cheek.
"Speaking in general terms of course, do you ever wonder," she asked quietly, "what it would be like to be with someone again, an old lover, after a quarter of a century? Would it be as good as it was, would it be better, would it be a let-down?
"In your deepest thoughts, do you ever wonder that?"
"I can"t speak in general terms, Lou," he murmured. "In terms of bygone lovers, Myra"s dead, there was someone I never want to see again, and
there are a couple of others I can barely remember; which leaves only you.
I can only speak of you.
"Of course I wonder. Do you think I could ever forget what it was like?
We were only youngsters, you and I, but we were tremendous together.
Today, given maturity, experience, and everything else, sure, most people might be tempted to play those scenes over again.
"But not me. It"s a delicious thought, but that"s all it can be; for me at least. Because where I am now is where I want to stay for the rest of my life. I am happier than I have ever imagined; in ten minutes or so, you"ll find out why.
"Just suppose you and I did indulge ourselves, even just for one night.
We could contrive the circ.u.mstances without difficulty, and afterwards say "Thanks" and walk away. Sarah would never know or even suspect.
"But I"d know; I"d know I"d betrayed her, the kids, the whole thing. And because I had, even though I"d got clean away with it and things might appear to be as perfect as before ..." He tapped his chest. "... in here, they would never be quite the same again.
"I speak from experience here; I only have what I have now because Sarah was tough enough to see us through our tough time. That alone means that I feel guilty even fantasising about you.
"There"s something else," he added. "I love her like crazy, and I"d die before I"d betray her again.
"Don"t get me wrong, Lou," he said, glancing across at her, "I cherish the memory of the time we had as youngsters. We were perfection together, even if it was too good to last. However, it can provide a great foundation for lifelong friendship if we both see it that way. Deal?"
He took his right hand from the wheel and held it out. She smiled, and shook it firmly. "Deal," she said. "Not even for the part of the world which I don"t yet have, would I spoil what you have now.
"For the truth be told, my old love, to be as happy as you, away from all the glitz and glam, is what I want for myself, far more than another fifty Oscars."
They drove on towards Gullane, Bob"s eyes on the road, Louise looking out of the window at the lights across the Forth.
As they reached the village, Bob shifted in his seat. "Oh," he exclaimed, "I almost forgot. Alex can"t make it tonight, so we have another dinner companion, my pal, and colleague, Neil. He"ll be your taxi back to Edinburgh, too. He"s probably there ahead of us.96."One word, of explanation rather than warning, about him. His wife died less than a year ago, so if he seems a bit withdrawn, that"s why." He chuckled. "Don"t go thinking he"s star-struck or anything; big Mcllhenney"s the least impressionable guy I know."98.27."What exactly is it that you do in Bob"s team, Neil?" asked Louise, as Mcllhenney"s car accelerated out of Gullane, towards the amber glow which hung in the sky over Edinburgh. "We talked about everything but that. I noticed one thing though; you never called him by his Christian name all night, not once.
"Sarah yes, but not him. All the other policemen we talked about - Dan Pringle, Andy Martin, Mario McGuire, Maggie Rose, all first names - but not him."
"I can"t, to his face," the big dark-haired man answered quietly. "I respect him too much. He"s told me I should away from the office, but I"ve told him I just can"t do it." He gave a soft laugh. "Not till he promotes me another three ranks, at any rate.
"It"s a police thing; part of being in a disciplined service. An inspector might be on first-name terms with a chief inspector, when there are no PCs around, maybe even with a superintendent, if they"ve come through the ranks together. But when an officer moves into the Command corridor, when he becomes an ACC or a DCC, he goes on to another level.