I’m going to wait till the midnight hour, Steven thought to himself. Then I’m going to bed. I’ll see the bells in. Have a dram. Watch the loons on the White Heather Club singing Auld Lang Syne. He wondered if he’d get a first foot, and whether he really wanted one this year. Always such a letdown, hogmanay. Truth was, at 27 years of age he’d grown tired of the parties, the false bonhomie. Here’s tae us, wha’s like us? One more drunk clapping him on the back and asking him that and he’d move to England. It was that bad. He’d been invited to two different parties and had got out of them by telling each he was going to the other one. Instead, he turned down the sound on the tele, put his new favourite album on, poured himself a whisky and settled down in front of the fire. Happy new year.
Soon it would be 1966. Sounded a bit sci-fi. Would it be a good year? It would make a change. Then, as Andy Stewart was silently counting down towards the bells on the flickering screen , his doorbell rang. He checked the room for old socks and dirty plates. A quick check in the mirror, hair ok, nothing alarming visible, then …
“Surprise!” Someone he’d never seen before, holding up a clinking plastic bag. She looked round the side of the bag. “You’re not Alex.” She lowered the bag, her smile fading. She had the most beautiful eyes Steven had ever seen.
“I’m not. Sorry. Wish I was. I’m Steven. Steve to my friends.”
“This is the third flat I’ve tried. I don’t know where to try next. And I really need the loo.”
“I have a toilet. Please come in and use it.”
“You sure? I wouldn’t want to disturb you.”
“You will not be disturbing me. It would be my pleasure. And you’ll be my first foot. You’re here now, you can’t not come in, I’m sure it would be bad luck.”
She looked thoughtfully at him, considering. “What’s that playing?” she asked.
“Wilson Pickett’s newest album. My current fave.” Perhaps that was what swung it, or perhaps it was just the pressing need to use the toilet. Whatever it was, she set the clinking bag down and stepped into the hall. She held out a hand “I’m Julie. Julie to my friends”
“Lovely to meet you Julie. Second door on the right”. She breezed in and he heard the lock slide home. He nipped in to the lounge, and quickly poured another glass of whisky. When the bathroom door opened again he was standing in the hall holding it towards her. “Happy new year Julie. You’re my first foot, you can’t possibly leave without having a drink. Come on through to the lounge.”
She gave him a smile, a wide, free smile, and took the glass. “I’d love a drink” she said.
She loved Wilson Pickett too, as it turned out, and she ended up staying for more than one drink. In the morning, he stood by the side of the bed and watched her sleep. It was a bright winter’s day outside and a thin line of sunlight traced a line from her jaw to her ear. He couldn’t believe how beautiful she was. He thought, no, he knew, that he might be falling in love. As quietly as he could, he made his way to the kitchen, prepared tea and toast, laid out a tray with two matching mugs. He gave her the best plate.
Lying close to each other under the sheets, Steven was both overcome with a shy awkwardness, as he realised how little they knew of each other. Without any warning, he leaned over and kissed her on the lips. She had a mouthful of toast but responded as best she could.
Later, they stood side by side at the living room window. The street outside was empty, and the sky was a beautiful porcelain blue. “There’s nowhere quite as closed as a Scottish town on new year’s day, is there?” he said. “But it’s such a beautiful day, and I feel wonderful. Let’s go for a walk.”
She met his eyes, smiled back at him. “A walk would be lovely. Where should we go?”
The riverside path was busy with dogwalkers and families. As they walked their hands touched and Steven felt her fingers searching for his, then twining together. It was bitterly cold, but he felt warm. And happy. They stopped at the weir and leaned on the wall, watching the smooth, rippling water. He felt a light pressure from her hip, turned to look at her and saw her teasing smile. He leaned towards her and kissed her on the lips.
People passing saw a young couple who looked as if they were in love. Some smiled, one or two couples looked back at them after they’d passed and said something to their companion. Both of them were oblivious to anyone but themselves.
“For some reason I seem to be starving” he said. “Do you think there’s anywhere open that would serve us a bacon roll?”
“Doubt it. Want to come back to mine? I’ll see what I’ve got in the fridge.”
Julie’s flat was about half a mile from the river. In the kitchen there was a tall, thin man with a magnificent afro, frying sausages and singing to himself. When he saw Julie he gathered her in a bear hug and kissed her on the lips. “Happy new year Jules, baby” he said. “You’re looking good. Better than you usually look on new year’s day. Where you been?”
“Happy new year, Nick” she said. “This is Steve. I stayed at his last night.” Steven held out his hand, wondering what he had just walked into. “Happy new year Nick”. Nick gave Steve a hard look but took his hand. “Yeah, happy new year, man.” he muttered. He piled a plate high with food and left the room. Friendly type, though Steven.
“That food isn’t just for him” said Julie. “His girlfriend stays here too, and he does all the cooking for her. And all the cleaning. She’s a lazy cow.” She peered into in the fridge “Yay! Bacon!”.
Sandwiches made, Julie led the way into a room that looked as if it had been stirred with a giant stick. “Don’t mind the mess” she said. “Grab a seat on the bed.” They sat side by side in silence as they ate. Steven felt as if he was on a rollercoaster. He’d met this woman less than 24 hours ago, and felt as if he’d always known her. Or was he fooling himself? Falling head over heels like he always did, before hitting a brick wall? Probably. He balanced his plate on top of another one on the bedside table and sat back. Julie set her plate down, leaned back against the headboard and laid her head on his shoulder. They sat like that for a minute, maybe two, then Steven felt her hand moving on his lap. He held it in his right hand, and turned to look at her. She really did have the most amazing eyes, coppery brown and almost luminous. They seemed to look deep into his soul.
He realised he was holding his breath. He released it. “Well.” He said. “I wonder what we should do now?”
It was dark again when they left the flat and headed for a pub a few streets away. It was crowded, noisy and smoky. Steven spotted a table free in the corner and put his mouth to Julie’s ear. “You grab that table, I’ll get them in. What d’you want?”
When he emerged from the scrum round the bar with the drinks and saw Julie sitting at the table he stopped. She looked fantastic. He felt a tidal surge of emotion well up inside him. It took a real effort to get his legs to move. But when he sat down beside her he saw that there was something wrong. She looked tense, her mouth set in a straight line, all softness gone from her face. “I don’t like it here” she said. Steven leaned in and gave her a kiss on the mouth. “Course you like it here” he said. “I’m here, aren’t I?” But she was looking across the pub. He followed her gaze. A table with four men around it, all of them staring across at them, in a distinctly unfriendly way. Steven moved his chair round, blocking them. “Ignore them. This place always has a few headbangers in it.”
He tried to chat lightly, about his work, what he hoped the new year would bring, about his family. But Julie was clearly unhappy and gave single word responses. “Ok” he said. “You win. We’ll go somewhere else. Come on.” He stood up, put his jacket on, held out his hand. As they went past he table with the four men at it one of them said something that sounded like ‘black bitch’. Steven turned back towards them, suddenly furious. One of them stood up, facing him. “What’s the matter, couldn’t get a proper girlfriend?” he said. Julie pulled him backwards. “Come on, Steve, please. I really don’t want this.” He turned away, followed her out through the throng. Some of the others in the pub had noticed the exchange and watched them go. In an instant the atmosphere in the place had changed from warm and welcoming to cold and threatening.
Steven stopped outside the door and looked at Julie. “What the fuck was that? It’s 1966 for Christ’s sake. Racist bastards.”
“I take it I’m your first black girlfriend then” said Julie. “Welcome to my world.”
He took her into his arms. He wanted, more than anything, to protect her. “How can you stand it? Do you want to go back to mine? We’ll close the door on the world, not have to see any more idiots.”
They walked back to Steve’s flat arm in arm. Julie leaned in close. For Steve, everything was different, raw. Every person they walked past, every person that saw them from a car, a bus window, was judging them, judging him. The world had changed and he hated it. They didn’t speak as they climbed the stairs to his front door, shrugged off their jackets. In the living room. Steve lit a fire and Julie looked through his record collection, sliding Otis Blue out of its sleeve and placing it on the turntable. They huddled together on the couch and stared into the fire. When Otis started singing about the change that was, apparently, going to come Steven could stand it no longer. He sat forward, turned towards Julie. “This isn’t right, Julie. Why shouldn’t we be together? And Nick was pretty offhand with me too. Does he feel like these bastards in the pub?”
Julie stared into the flickering flames. “You’re a good guy, Steve, a lovely guy, and I love you for not caring what colour my skin is. Other people do though. This is what it’s like.” She looked up at him and he saw that she was crying. “Let’s go to bed, please” she said.
Their lovemaking had urgency about it, and afterwards Julie curled her arms and right leg
round him and held him tight. He lay, unmoving and awake long after her breathing told him she was asleep. When he woke the next morning she was gone. A piece of paper torn from a small notebook lay on the coffee table, on top of the cover of The Midnight Hour. With a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach he picked it up and read it.
Steve, lovely Steve – last night must have shown you what the reality of us together would be. I don’t think I could stand it, and I’m pretty certain that you couldn’t. It’s so alien to you. You’d try, but when I would meet your friends, your parents, you’d feel it. Their disapproval. Some of them might take it further and lock you out. It’s a new year, but old prejudices die hard, especially in a small town like this. What’s ok in swinging London isn’t up here. On both sides – you were right about Nick. There wouldn’t be many places we would find any comfort. It would make you feel differently about me. It would make you resent me.
So I’m leaving now, and I don’t want you to call me or come and see me. It’s better this way, believe me. I loved being with you, loved almost every minute of our time together, and we might have had something really special if things had been different. You’re a lovely guy, and I wish you everything for the future.
Love, Julie xx
He stared at the small piece of paper for a long time. Eventually he got up and went through the motions of tidying the flat. He went to the corner shop and got fresh milk, rolls, a packet of square sausage, some cans of Tennents, some other household necessities. He sat in the silent room, in front of the unlit fire, as the afternoon darkened outside. He watched an episode of Z Cars, seeing none of it. All that long evening, the coldness of the room permeated his body, chilled him, but it suited his mood. He could feel his heart turning to stone. At 9 o’clock, he crumpled an empty can of lager and got up. He knew, with absolute certainty, with an intensity stronger than any he had felt before, what he must do. A look of grim determination on his face, he put on his jacket, and set out into the dark night.
scrievin 