Twice Last Night

By William Brown

This collection of short stories is highly entertaining and impressive due to the variety it contains. Most of the stories have an element of humour unique to Scotland. The variety of stories ranges from teenage tearaways reforming their lives to success coming from poverty, to the effects of a family member being murdered, and to rekindled romances. Also included are stories about dates going wrong, triumph over adversity, holidays, human kindness, party banter, gullible people being exploited, family stories and even a heart-warming granny tale. The key element is positivity and how people emerge from difficult circumstances to improve their lives.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Feb 26, 2021
• ISBN: 9781528973533

William Brown

William Brown is Senior Lecturer in Film Studies at the University of Roehampton, London. He has written articles for journals and edited collections with a particular emphasis on the use of digital technology in contemporary cinema across a range of national and transnational contexts. He is also a filmmaker, having made four feature films since 2009.

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About the Author

The author is a late starter who only began to write short stories five years ago. He began his writing career by writing tribute poems for family and friends to celebrate birthdays, weddings and special occasions. He then decided to try his hand at writing short stories by attending creative writing classes and joining a U3A writing group. He has built a portfolio of a range of stories that covers many genres, including humour, and human and social attitude tales inspired in Glasgow.

Dedication

I would like to dedicate this effort to my wife, Janice, and children, Lisa and Martin, who have supported me throughout, as well as my sisters and brother.

Copyright Information ©

William Brown (2021)

The right of William Brown to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781528973519 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781528973533 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published (2021)

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd

25 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5LQ

Acknowledgement

I would like to acknowledge the support of my colleague Alison Clark and members of U3A, particularly Irene Conway, who helped build up my confidence as a writer.

Wanted – Alive and Kicking

Shirley and the other members of the Alive & Kicking troupe were rehearsing the lines for a forthcoming performance. The atmosphere in the community centre was joyous as the septuagenarian singers, also known as the Red Road Young Uns, waited to find out which role the director had allocated to them for the next show. Most were hoping they had no lines to remember, it was too difficult to learn at their ages, and hoped they could just sing. The meeting was interrupted by the project manager who wanted to introduce them to a new member who wanted to join the group.

Hi, everyone, said Eulelia cheerfully, meet Charlie, who is joining us. I know you will all make him feel most welcome. I’ll leave you to make your own introductions. Good luck, Charlie, I’m sure you will have a great time here.

Shirley nearly fell off her stool. She was Charlie’s ex-wife. She married him when she was 18, lived with him for 27 years and hadn’t seen him in 27 years since he left her to go and work in Corby and never returned. She was in shock. She excused herself and immediately went to Eulelia’s office along the corridor from the hall.

You can’t let him join, Eulelia, he’s my ex. I don’t want anybody to know my business here. I was here first – please tell him that he will have to go!

Oh my God, Shirley, I had no idea. Didn’t even know you had been married. I understand the way you feel but I can’t just tell him to leave. He is just here and he seems like a nice man. Why don’t you see how it goes? And if it gets too uncomfortable, we’ll see what compromise we can come up with. Please, don’t you leave, Shirley, you have made so many good friends here and you’re a valued member of the cast. Please think of what I am saying to you?

Shirley was naturally upset but after composing her thoughts, she decided to take Eulelia’s advice, after all a lot of water had flowed under the bridge and she really had moved on. She had never met anyone else, nor had she any desire to. Her break up was a long time ago, her tears had dried up. She put on a little makeup and went back into the hall. Charlie acknowledged her immediately. He nodded and waited on a response. She grinned back grudgingly.

Long time, no see. How are you?

Fine, thanks. What are you doing back in Glasgow?

Just wanted to come home. Look! Sorry about everything before. Do you want me to go away? I will if you want!

No, don’t go on my account. Let’s just see how it goes.

The rest of the gang were oblivious to any feelings of resentment or regret. Shirley and Charlie were very discreet and carried on treating each other with the utmost dignity and respect. Their marriage was over long before it was officially terminated. The pressures arising from a childless marriage in those days were too much for them to bear. The director began to distribute the script for the new show. To everyone’s delight, the only speaking part was given to the show presenter and he could read from a script. Everyone familiarised themselves with their songs, no one was objecting. They had six weeks to get it right. After a short period of discussion over a few glasses of wine, they decided to have a wee singsong in the hall. They all wanted to hear Charlie sing first ­– to gauge the competition.

Charlie stood up and belted out, Tootsie, Tootsie, goodbye, Tootsie, Tootsie, don’t cry.

Shirley was next, You made me love you, I didn’t want to do it.

The crowd egged them on to do a duet. Shirley declined. She began to think about all the house parties they used to have. They did often sing together. The parties were nearly always at their house as they were DINKYS (double income no kids yet). They did have some good times, she pondered. Other cast members all did their turn and then it was time to leave the club.

Fancy a drink, just for old times’ sake? chanced Charlie.

Why not? Shirley said. She really wanted to know where he had been, what his life was and why he had returned to Scotland. They went to their local Weatherspoon’s for a bite to eat and a couple of drinks. It was like a first date.

It was strange. There were no gaps in the conversation as though their 27-year-old hiatus had never happened. She was surprisingly comfortable with him as he explained that he had never met anyone either, nor had he wanted to really. He explained that all he really wanted was a family, and when that never happened, he thought the grass might be greener elsewhere. He admitted he was wrong. He regretted ever leaving her. He was retired now and realised that he never really had anything to keep him in Corby. He had decided to return to Glasgow. He explained that he did not know she was in Alive & Kicking. She told him that her story was very similar to his. All she wanted was for him to try to find out why it never happened, but he was always too embarrassed to go to the doctor. She had never been able to trust another man. She joined the club for company and was grateful for it.

They agreed to let bygones be bygones, for now.

Over the next few weeks and months, Charlie became a regular at the club. He was very popular. He was always chirpy, generous with his praise for others and most of all, he could sing. As you know in Glasgow, good singers are rated more highly than good doctors, especially on a Saturday karaoke night.

Charlie and Shirley continued to see each other surreptitiously. No one in the club knew but some did suspect something was going on. The dates were becoming less strained and more cordial, if not quite passionate. Their conversation was full of reminiscences, catching up with the whereabouts of their old friends and neighbours etc. Shirley knew all the answers, so she did most of the talking. Finally, after a few drinks, Shirley asked a question of her own:

Charlie, please tell me honestly what made you go – was it me?

No! Charlie said apologetically, I left to try to help you to get on with your life and maybe meet someone who could give you what I couldn’t.

He went on, Do you know the straw that broke the camel’s back? Do you know what they used to call me in the shipyard at Govan? It wasn’t Charlie the Gaffer, it was Charlie the Jaffa! Sad isn’t it.

The rehearsals and dates continued and the couple became closer but not yet intimate. Shirley’s distrust of men persisted although she quite clearly had feelings for her ex-husband. She knew that deep down he was a good guy, but he had let her down ever so badly. There was, however, another issue which kind of forced her hand. During the rehearsals, one of the members of the troupe, Iris Armour, had started to overtly flirt with Charlie. Well! He was after all, as far as they knew, single, charming, fun, funny and he could sing. Iris, apart from her smooth singing voice, was well-known for her promiscuity. She wasn’t known as yo-yo knickers for no reason. She had a legendary tattoo on her ankles which declared, ‘Heavens Above’. She had tried it on with several members to see if they were still alive and kicking.

She said half-jokingly, C’mon over to my place tonight, Charlie, I’ll have nothing on but the radio!

I’d love to, darling, but I’m washing my hair. You’re gonna have to have Sky TV and offer a hearty breakfast to get me round, Charlie retorted.

Charlie was playing a blinder, balancing between showing a slight interest in Iris, whilst if there was any chance, proclaiming that his main desire was to reconnect with his wife.

Finally, Shirley cracked. She gave way to her emotions. She invited Charlie over for dinner at her house. He did his first sleepover that very night. She proposed that Charlie move in to see how it would work. It had taken her months to get over her pride and sense of failure, but she realised that Charlie had been her past and would now be her future. She wanted to be with him in her twilight years. The living arrangements went as successfully as their showbiz careers. They ended up as a double act on stage at the next show, performing Islands in the Stream. They were once again prepared to tell the world that they were an item.

Once the dust had settled and their co-habitation was permanent, Charlie phoned the pension service to let them know that they were once again a couple:

The voice at the other end of the phone enquired as to when they were reconciled?

Charlie cheekily replied, Twice last night and once this morning.

They were indeed once again alive and kicking.

A Place in History

I remember the first time I met Patrick Potion. He was standing at the bar in the Rowallan Bar. It was a Sunday afternoon. The bar had been full of fans watching a football match, but was now beginning to empty as Celtic had lost and there was no real reason to stay and celebrate a defeat. He was standing on his own, as was I. I had gone to the pub with my brother but he had gone home. He struck up a conversation about football and the bar service or the lack of it. His face was familiar to me as I had seen him in the bar with another group of regulars, so I was comfortable in conversation.

It’s that kind of bar where even if you had never spoken directly with someone, you knew someone who had; there was a sort of common bond with all the drinkers and staff, probably to do with the football.

During the course of our discussion, it turned out that we both had a lot of mutual friends. Patrick was a former member of a writing club called ‘The Eastwood Writers’, and I was a current member of the club. I told him I was a novice writer but that I was enjoying myself making up poems, and now I