Chapter Two
Present Day
Johnny Duncan gazed out of his spare bedroom window at the light rain which darkened the neighbouring slate rooftops. The dark rain clouds had settled over Arbroath after a bright promising start to the early spring day.
There was no bed in the room only a desk and chair by the window and an overflowing mahogany book shelve unit. His trusty laptop sat amid paper and tape cassette chaos on the desk next to the only other thing of value: his digital stereo radio/ cassette player.
Johnny had stopped for a roll-up break after a two hour marathon at the computer keyboard: his weekly column had to be emailed into the Dundee Courier the following morning by eight o’clock.
Having written the column for four years since going freelance Johnny had built up a loyal band of readers. He focused on a satirical look at local and national politics. He also wrote a monthly column for The Scotsman newspaper, and articles for various international magazines including Time and Nexus–the alternative news bimonthly.
The rain became heavier, and the drops hammered on the glass. He lit up the thin roll-up; inhaled and leaned back on his chair. The shrill sound of the telephoneinterrupted his pleasure as the nicotine coursed through his system.
“Dad?” asked a girls voice as he put the receiver to his right ear.
“Caitlin! How’s it goin’?”
“Okay. Gran’s taking me to McDonalds. And we were wondering if you would like to come?”
“Yeah. I’ll meet you there in ten minutes?”
“Right. See ya!”
He replaced the receiver and took another draw from his roll-up after flicking ash into an ash tray with a small, grey skull, which grinned up at him from the centre. His eight-year-old daughter , Caitlin had suffered most in the break up of his marriage to Sue, he thought. Sometimes, when she stayed with him, he would find her crying about the way things had been. Brad, his son, was ten and, like many other boys of that age, played endless games of football with his chums saying nothing of the divorce to Johnny when he collected the boy.
Johnny blamed himself for the break-up of the marriage. His drinking had increased through the years; not that he was violent when drunk - just pathetic. Working as a reporter for the Dundee Courier from the age of eighteen he reached the dizzy heights of senior reporter where he remained until resigning and becoming freelance at thirty- eight.
The drinking had started just as an after work get-together. The pressure of work led to an escalation, and before long he couldn’t sleep without consuming half a bottle of whisky.
After two years of freelancing, and the drinking still at an unprecedented level; Sue gave him an ultimatum one night: either her or the drink. After an almighty row she packed her bags and took the kids to her mothers.
Stubbing out his cigarette he stood up and stretched, then ambled into the bathroom to clean his teeth–he liked his kids to think he had given up smoking. The doctor had advised him to stop after he found Johnny had high blood pressure. He had tried he thought, but had failed miserably.
“Hey! How are my two favourite ladies doing?” Johnny asked, walking up to the table where Caitlin and her Grandmother, Ann, were sitting putting thin fries into their mouths in a half-full McDonalds.
“Dad!” shouted Caitlin as she jumped up and gave him a hug.
He looked at their table. “Do you want anything else?”
“No thanks.” Caitlin said.
“Mum?”
“No thanks John.”
He bought himself a latte and sat at their table. A party of children cheered as a man appeared with an overloaded tray.
“Dad, I’m trying to get Gran to take me to Pleasureland.”
“No, I’m taking you and your brother back to your mother’s after this - young lady.”
“Aw dad! Please?”
“No, your mother will have my guts for garters if we’re late.”
“John!” Ann said.
“It’s okay gran, I’ve heard worse than that from him.”
“Have you now,” said Ann, giving Johnny a disapproving look.
The village of Auchmithie stood on massive conglomerate cliffs and peered down at a dilapidated harbour, ravished over the years by the merciless North Sea.
Johnny pulled up in front of a sandstone cottage on a street which led to nowhere. Sue and her new partner, Ollie, had bought the property, which had three bedrooms and a sizeable back yard for the kids to play. Ollie was an ex-marine who had found work in the off-shore business. Johnny liked the guy and could find nothing to hold against him.
Sue appeared at the front door looking great in tight jeans and a loose, red sweater.
“See ya dad.” said Caitlin, as she gave Johnny a hug.
“Yeah, bye dad,” grunted Brad, as he opened the rear passenger-side door.
Johnny pressed a button beside the gear stick and the driver’s side window lowered as Sue approached the car. “How’re you doing John?”
“Fine. And you?” He then gazed at the pavement and took a deep breath. “Sue…”
“Don’t John. I’m happy here with the kids and Ollie.”
“What! I was going to… oh never mind!”
Back in his spare bedroom Johnny stared gloomily at the icons on his laptop screen. He needed a break, he thought. He clicked on the broadband icon, and the Internet homepage sprung to life in front of him. After inserting ‘holiday’ in Google, endless pages of website addresses flashed up before him, for package deals. Johnny, however, wanted something different; something historical or religious. He had always wanted to go to Israel–to Jerusalem. Holidays with Sue were always about one thing: the sun. Inevitably he found himself lying on some beach, which never satisfied the restlessness within him.
He clicked on a flights link and on impulse booked himself on an open return flight from London to Tel Aviv on Wednesday. The great thing about being freelance, he thought, was the freedom just to go somewhere whenever he wanted.
Johnny then stood up and stretched. It would be good to get away for a while from work and, the nightmares he had been having lately.