Gladys- Part Three

I shuddered as Gladys’ words hit home. I was too vulnerable to dismiss her perfect head-shot as pure chance. I felt naked in the presence of this myth-creature. Like everyone else I knew, I had closed my heart to the intangible by the time I reached secondary school. All that remained were a few marbles in my pocket and an indistinct sense of loss; a dark and feeble thing that sometimes stirred in the night and mewed weakly for some indefinable yen. Gladys had reached in and disturbed it. Her very proximity seemed to feed it- I felt it sit up in my chest, felt it grow warmer and stronger and more demanding. I was afraid. I had stopped daring to believe in freedom. I had tried to drown my own soul like an unwanted kitten. Ten minutes in this candlelit grotto, in the presence of this strange nymph, had recalled it to my attention. I was discomfited by its starved and neglected aspect. I felt like Gladys could see it, and that she pitied it. I thought I caught a glint of reprove in her eye.

My introspection was shattered by a terrific clattering downstairs, followed by the wallop of the front door crashing to. Clive leapt to his feet and began to bark furiously- though he stopped the moment Gladys touched a hand to his neck. I looked to her for some explanation, but she just shrugged, unperturbed. I tensed as a heavy tread began to climb the stairs. It was definitely a man. I was surprised by a surge of resentment. It hadn’t occurred to me that she might have a man. Whoever it was, they weren’t welcome as far as me and Clive were concerned. Gladys was our discovery- this was our time. Who was it who thought they could come smashing into our place?

A thick, Glaswegian accent bawled out for Gladys, before flinging open the door so that it cracked against bare plaster. Clive went to leap forward and see off the intruder, but found Gladys’ fingers firmly grasping his collar. She was smiling kindly. I was offended to see her smile offered so readily to someone else. I was also intimidated by the sudden appearance of an enormous, panting Scotsman with staring eyes and a short, black beard caked in blood. He was clearly put out at the sight of me. He examined me with infinite disdain. I tried to regard him coolly in return.

“Now then, Stuart, you’re just in time for tea. Give Stuart the chair, will you Sean? You sit here with Clive, don’t let him bite our guest.” I found myself childishly reassured that this stranger was ‘our guest.’ It was still me and Gladys- he wasn’t about to usurp me- yet. Gladys let go of Clive with a cautionary tap on the nose, and busied herself making tea for three. I stood up and found myself face-to-face with Stuart- at least I would have been if I hadn’t had to crane my neck upwards. He whipped the chair out from behind me and dropped it like a matchstick in front of the fireplace. Collapsing into the chair with a grunt, he picked up a poker and set about resurrecting the dying fire. Now he had his back to us I thought it safe to aim an enquiring glance at Gladys, to which she replied with curl of the mouth and a twitch of the eyebrow. Vaguely gratified by this hint of conspiracy between us, I resolved to sit back and see how it played out.

“Been in the wars then, Stu?” asked Gladys, as she poured water into a tall, green coffee pot.

“Aye.” Stuart began pulling off his boots whilst Gladys mashed the teabags thoughtfully. He didn’t seem inclined to elaborate; more concerned with the obnoxious question of my unwanted presence. “Who’s this wide boy?” Without even turning to look at me, he emphasised his displeasure by spitting into the fire. It hissed angrily.

“These are my new friends, Sean and Clive.” Gladys handed out little green cups of black tea, and plumped herself down beside me. “They found me out sparko on the rec, and they were nice enough not to cut me up, so I brought them home for tea.” Stuart gave a grunt, turned from the fire to give Gladys a stern look.

“Yerwill get cut up one a these days. Yer wanna be careful.” He sipped his tea daintily, turned his attention to Clive. “Focken good-lookin dug tha’.”

I didn’t know how to respond, so I nodded and raised my cup. Clive gave his tail an appreciative thump.

“Fock ah’m glad tae see yis, Gladys. Ah bin aw over.”

“It’s good to see you, Stu. I was beginning to wonder what had become of you.” Gladys regarded the vast expanse of Stuart’s hunched back with something like motherly solicitude.

“Aye. Thingsa beginning tae happen, my love.”  Gladys sipped her tea, cupped her mouth in her fingers and sank into thought. After a long silence, during which we all gazed at separate pinpoints of fire, she sat up with a sharp breath and drew a packet of tobacco from a wooden box on the table. She rolled a cigarette and thrust it at the enormous back.

“You should wash that blood off yer face. It’s all round yer snout.” Stuart grunted, accepted the cigarette.

“Aye. Ah will.”

“Excuse me.” Gladys slipped to her feet and disappeared from the room. I heard the bathroom door slam.

In an instant Stuart was on his feet, towering in front of me like an ancient obelisk. Clive had also risen to face him, but I threaded my fingers through his collar and bade him be quiet. A furious growl bubbled up from his throat.

“You touch that woman an’ I’ll slit yis in two, understand?” His voice was like a muffled shotgun. I scrabbled around for something to say. A sense of injury brought my tongue to life.

“Hey, I brought her back, didn’t I?”

“Ah dinnae focken care whityer done, wee man. Ah care whityer shitty little mind is thinkin’ right now. Didn’yer resent me when fust ah walked through that door? Airen’t yer resentin’ me now? That woman belongs tae naebedy. Jist you remember that, sonny. Naebedy.”