Page 55 of Always, in December

Chapter Twenty

The taxi pulled up on a side street in Edinburgh. You could just about see Edinburgh Castle in the distance, almost seeming to blend with the grey sky above, and Josie thought how the city seemed like a world of its own, like it could easily be gated off, the people inside living completely separately from the rest of the world. She loved the combination of the city-feel, the grandeur of it, combined with the sensation that it wouldn’t take long to get to know it, to be able to walk the whole city without needing a map. Like you’d be able to find comfort in the small familiarity of the place, yet also be able to find secret nooks and crannies if you wanted to.

Erin glanced at Josie as they got out the car, then reached out to shake Max’s arm. ‘We should show Josie round Edinburgh later, Max.’

Josie twisted her lips. ‘Am I that obvious?’

Erin smiled, and linked an arm through Josie’s as they followed Max, taking Josie a little by surprise. ‘I remember the feeling. I might be Scottish, but I grew up in Glasgow, and I still remember the first time I saw this city.’

‘So do you still live here now?’ Josie asked and Erin nodded. Josie glanced at Max, who was walking a little ahead of them. ‘And you, Max?’ she asked, raising her voice.

He glanced back at them, and his eyes seemed to flicker as he clocked Erin and Josie’s arms, linked together. ‘Huh?’ he said with a frown.

‘Do you live in Edinburgh now?’ Josie pressed.

‘Oh, no,’ he said, looking back in front of him. ‘I’m in Bristol at the moment.’ Josie nodded slowly. So, he and Erin weren’t living together then – she wondered what that meant.

Max led them to number seventy-two and rang the bell, Josie feeling a little uncomfortable with Erin’s arm through hers. Either it was some weird girl power play going on, along the lines of keep your enemies closer, or else Erin was actually genuinely making an effort to be friendly, which made it decidedly more difficult to hate her. On top of that, the fact that Max wouldn’t tell her what they were doing here, and that Erin seemed totally ok with the not knowing, was making her stomach curdle anxiously.

It was a grumpy-looking man, in his forties at a guess, who answered the door. He was a little scrawny, his beard and brown hair both peppered with grey. His face was brown, skin slightly leathery, like he’d spent a lot of time somewhere hot, somewhere other than Scotland. He narrowed his eyes, frowning with very bushy eyebrows. Those eyes, even squinted, were almost turquoise, the colour of the ocean on a bright day, and they travelled over the three of them suspiciously.

Erin smiled brightly. ‘Hello again, Geoff.’

When the man’s – Geoff, apparently – eyes only narrowed further, so much so that Josie was surprised he could still see out of them, Max sighed. ‘I told you we were coming, no need to act so shocked.’

Geoff grunted. ‘Right. Fine, fine, come in.’ His voice was a little gruff, his accent difficult to place – Irish originally, Josie thought, but with hints of the north of England, and possibly Australia, that suggested he’d lived a somewhat nomadic life. He turned and walked away, moving with a grace that seemed at odds with the rest of his appearance, into the dim house, leaving the door open behind him. Max gestured Josie and Erin inside and shut the door behind them. Josie bit her lip as she followed Erin further in. Had Max brought her to see a friend, a relative? If so, why all the secrecy?

The house was a little stuffy, like no windows had been open in a while, the living room the man led them to untidy, stacks of books overflowing the bookshelf into piles on the floor, the wooden table in the middle of the room, between two mismatched armchairs, covered in coffee ring stains. There was no TV, though an expensive computer sat in one corner on a wooden desk, the keyboard buried under bits of paper. The walls were bare, apart from one photograph above the little fireplace – a murky river, surrounded in reeds, with the eyes of a crocodile just visible over the water, staring out at them. Josie felt a little shiver run down her spine at the sight of it – both for the photo and the moment of it, the intensity.

‘Suppose you’ll all be wanting a drink, will you?’ Geoff asked, his voice practically a growl.

‘That would be great.’ Max seemed to be trying hard to make his voice overly friendly, a direct contradiction to his friend. He was good at it, when he wanted to be – that charm that he sometimes seemed to hide behind. ‘Coffee?’

Geoff shook his head. ‘Only got tea, and the straight kind. Coffee gives me an upset stomach.’

‘Tea it is then,’ Max said.

‘I’d love a tea,’ Erin said. Then all three of them looked at Josie.

‘Yes, tea would be lovely, thanks.’ She fixed a bright smile to her face, which Geoff didn’t return. He didn’t ask how they took it, only glided out through the door, into the kitchen presumably.

Max sat himself on one of the armchairs, slouching, looking completely at home, and Erin perched on the arm next to him, saying nothing. Josie let her gaze travel around the room, resting on two big, hardback books on the desk by the computer. The one on top looked like it was a collection of wildlife photography. Josie took a step towards it, and felt her phone buzz in her pocket.

I’m sorry!!! I only just plugged my phone in. Where are you??? I can be ready in five.

Josie shook her head as she read the WhatsApp, and was about to reply when Geoff reappeared, surprisingly quickly. He handed them each a mug – Josie’s was the yellow one you got with the Mini Eggs Easter egg.

‘It’s black,’ he said, in a voice that strongly suggested not to contest that. ‘No milk in the house. I’m lactose intolerant.’ He plopped himself in the other armchair, wrapping both hands around his own mug. With the only two seats now taken, Josie could only hover awkwardly. Erin shot her an encouraging look, though Josie had no idea why.

‘Josie,’ said Max, ‘this is the friend I told you about. Geoffrey Gilligan.’ He gestured to Geoff and Josie smiled politely, though she had no recollection of Max mentioning a particular friend to her. ‘Geoffrey,’ continued Max, ‘this is Josie. The girl I mentioned.’

Geoffrey Gilligan . . . The name sprang to life in her mind, and her gaze snapped to the photography book on the desk, the crocodile eyes on the wall. A memory of that Brooklyn bar, of Max telling her that he had a good photographer friend, that he could introduce her, if she liked. Josie sucked in a breath, looked at the man. ‘You’re Geoffrey Gilligan?’ She lurched towards him, stretching out a hand.

‘That’s what he just said, isn’t it?’ He took her hand, his grip firm and strong. He looked like he was still frowning, though she wasn’t sure if that was just because of his bushy eyebrows, whether they always looked pulled together like that.

‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t . . .’ She took a breath. ‘It’s so nice to meet you.’

‘Not what you expected, am I?’ he said with that slight growl.