Diamonds

By Brian Ritchie

In 1989 I wrote this story to honour my many friends - all Female, all Platonic and every one a 'Diamond'.

It cronicles various relationships between them, myself and others between 1977 to 1989 and situations in which my friends often found themselves.

I spent many hours listening to their tales of ecstacy, woe and fantasy, offering my assistance whenever relied upon.

I have altered situations to mask 'actual' deeds + changed names to protect the innocent (and not-so-innocent) + added a few fantasies of my own.

Among these girls - one Jewish, one lesbian, one nymphomaniac, one became a Nun and one twice my age and a 'bit of a girl' in her youth - although there was never anything sexual between us - everyone fascinated me as I loved everyone in my own special way.

I married in 1991 and have not seen or heard of any of them since and often wonder how they are getting on.

There are 28 chapters - any suggestions to improve it would be very gratefully appreciated.
Hope you like it - please let me know you do - or what's wrong if you don't

Much appreciated - Please enjoy
Brian Ritchie

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brian Ritchie
• Release date: Jan 8, 2012
• ISBN: 9781310920103

Brian Ritchie

I am a Bookkeeper from Glasgow, Scotland and wrote this novel over 20 years ago to honour my friends - all female - all platonic and every one a Diamond.I sincerely hope you enjoy my book and if you have work requiring review I would be very happy to do so if you would give me feedback on mine in return.Drop me an email to [e-mail] with any comments (put DIAMONDS in the title please)and I will be very happy to respond.Please enjoy DIAMONDS and accept my sincere gratitude & thanks for visiting.Brian Ritchie

Book preview

Chapter 1: Emily’s Quest.

It has been about four weeks since I received a telephone call from my little sister, Louise.

She called to ask for my help as her teenage daughter, Emily, my goddaughter, is at university studying journalism or media studies (or whatever) and has been assigned to gather a story that will ‘showcase’ her investigative skills.

Louise has often told Emily about the time I moved from Glasgow to Edinburgh beginning a period that would shape my entire life.

Although Louise had been present at various times throughout this episode she has always longed to be told the full saga and Emily’s assignment has given her the perfect excuse to get all the details she has sought for over 20 years.

During these past few weeks I noted all my jumbled memories from the period and gathering a few photographs I am now eager to impart the facts to my niece who was on her way to meet me.

This Friday evening I was, again, deeply engrossed in yesteryear, where I have been frequently these past few weeks, when the doorbell sounded at 7 p.m. as expected.

I opened the door to be greeted by the beaming, perfect smile I instantly recognised.

"Uncle Brian." Emily extended her arms to hug me.

Gathering the teenager into my arms we hugged and kissed tightly.

I filled my nostrils with the sweet aroma of her perfume for a few seconds before engaging my brain again and motioned for her to enter the flat.

"What a great room," she enthused surveying the lavish décor and expensive furnishings as she skipped into the flat with her blond, curly hair bouncing as she went.

I closed the door as she deposited a large canvas bag, which hung from one shoulder onto one of the leather sofas in the centre of the room, and what a fantastic view.

She could hardly contain her admiration of the landscape from the French windows as Edinburgh slowly became illuminated before us.

"Your mother tells me you’re looking for a story, I asked to begin conversation, what exactly is it you’re looking for?"

This teenager - a fairly thin girl of average height and weight - I have known from almost the moment of her birth, and since being given the honour of becoming her godfather, have regarded her with a great deal of affection.

She wore a faded denim jacket, a short flowery-patterned skirt, and thick black leggings down to an unbelievably cheap pair of canvas sneakers, which, were white when they left the factory of origin many months earlier and looked like they hadn’t been cleaned since.

Removing her jacket Emily threw it over the back of a sofa to reveal an off-pink tee shirt and I was pleasantly surprised at how beautiful she had become since our last meeting many months earlier.

I silently marvelled at the way this very pretty girl was blossoming into an extremely attractive young lady, having all the right curves in all the right places, as she delved into her bag to retrieve several notebooks, pencils and electronic equipment as our minds resumed our mission.

"Mum has often told me about the time you first moved to Edinburgh and the legend that is ‘My Uncle Brian and ‘Diamonds’." She laughed as she crossed to lay her things onto the large glass table by the window, which tinkled as each item descended.

"I hardly think my story is the stuff of legend," I laughed,

"I was just an ordinary bloke who decided to venture into the big bad world hoping to find some excitement along the way."

"If the legend is anything like Mum’s been telling it, she sniggered, I’m quite sure you found some." She lifted her Dictaphone.

"I hope you don’t mind if I record everything?" She asked and I consented with a smile.

"Emily’s interview with Uncle Brian – tape one" she announced into the machine before laying it onto the table before me.

She was so enthusiastic as she pleaded.

"Almost from the moment I was born I have been told snippets of how my godfather’s life suddenly changed all those years ago.

But all these disjointed fragments in my head don’t tell me about the kind of man you were and how these events shaped you into the kind of person you are today."

She used her hands expressively as she spoke.

"So, I want to know all about the legend of ‘Diamonds’ and how they became involved in your life.

My assignment has to start with a single occurrence sparking a chain of events that culminate in an unusual conclusion."

"I see, I laughed, I hope this will fit the bill then."

More matter-of-factly she continued,

"What we’ll do is get ‘the bones’ of the story, then, I’ll type it up and when I reckon I’ve got the bulk of it I’ll send it to my tutors for assessment.

They’ll then advise me to take out any bits irrelevant to the plot, mark anything that needs expansion, jazz it up in all the right places, add a bit of ‘gravy’ here-and-there if needed, then they’ll give me an A+ for it.

Job done!"

"If only it were that simple, I laughed reviewing my notes hoping I had the kind of thing she was looking for, if only."

"I will, of course, email you a copy throughout the process, she assured me, it will take several weeks, perhaps several months, before anyone gets to read it, but we’re an awfully long way from there at the moment… so, the sooner we get started..."

As Emily continued to describe the information gathering process my mind switched to my lifelong philosophy.

Throughout my life I have always thought of life as a journey, which, we all involuntarily undertake and none of us choose to travel, and, along life’s highway we have many decisions to make as each path twists and turns ahead of us.

From the moment of our birth our parents, family, teachers, and friends attempt to equip us for our travels by helping us make the correct choices required to navigate our way in life.

Some people choose to believe that with sure and steadfast footsteps we can manage the road, briefly stopping to rest and smell the flowers as we pass.

We encounter many fellow travellers that share our triumphs and comfort us when we despair.

Some companions stay with us mile after mile and some we choose to leave behind allowing then to fall by the wayside.

Some catch up with us again further down the road and we are happy to renew their friendship.

Many we never encounter again, and we speculate sometimes as to how they are progressing.

Others we never give a thought to.

All along the way we pass many milestones, which, do not tell us how far it is to the end of the road… these ‘milestones’ only tell us how far we have travelled.

There are also many signposts urging us to deviate from our chosen path tempting us with promises of more pleasant prospects by alternate routes.

At each milestone and signpost we have time to reflect on what has gone before, and assess if choices made were the correct ones… or otherwise.

There are also no maps to point us in the right direction and no satellite navigation positioning systems we can employ.

Much of the way the highway is well maintained and well lit, with many opportunities to stop, rest, and take sustenance.

Sometimes, though, the road is less defined and less easy to negotiate.

We blindly feel our way along seeking a distant light on a dark night with nothing but the stars to guide us.

As dawn breaks, the highway becomes clearer and we carry on regardless, hopefully with little incident.

"My story, Emily, begins in the late 1980s, when at 28 years, I had lived a fairly easy life compared with many and had recently been promoted to the company’s offices in Edinburgh.

Having long since thought of leaving the family nest, choosing to fly on my own, I hadn’t the nerve to try my wings yet and commuted 50 miles each day from Glasgow Suburbs to Edinburgh City Centre for about six months."

I lit a cigarette, after asking Emily if she minded.

"This single event could have been the promotion bringing me to Edinburgh leading me to think about leaving the comfort of my parent’s home?"

Emily leaned forward hanging on my every word as I continued.

"It could also be the day I saw an opportunity to leave all I knew and make enquiries about a flat with people who were to have a profound effect on me emotionally, morally, ethically and romantically leading to some ecstasies, some tragedies, some happiness and, unfortunately, some heartache."

As it was a very calm evening I opened the French windows to ventilate the room.

"This ‘event’ could also be the day I moved into a house with five beautiful females in it and although I already had a girlfriend I secretly speculated if there could be any hint of romance with my new flatmates."

I looked at my notes.

"I began to get to know and love my new flatmates and as long as they treated me like a brother I felt I could treat them like sisters.

I passionately believed that as I already had three sisters I didn’t think there could be any problem with that plan."

Locating a photograph, taken at the time, I presented it to Emily hoping for her understanding as it depicted me surrounded by a group of a dozen smiling females.

"There I am with my new friends."

I named each of the girls pointing with a smoky digit.

"You’ll find out all about each girl as the story unfolds." I assured her.

"I believe the single most profound occurrence would be the night of 6th May, two months after I moved in, when I found out that Debbie, as well as everyone else in the house, had a secret."

I pointed to one of the blonde girls in the photograph. That one’s Debbie.

Chapter 2: Wednesday 6th May.

This was the night before Debbie’s banking exam, and, she was, as usual, seated at the table surrounded by her textbooks and notepads.

Lynda had gone to bed earlier, as she was feeling unwell.

Marcie had gone out to work.

Ayesha and Rachel were out with friends leaving me alone with Debbie in the living room.

I was trying to concentrate on the television, but the thumping from Debbie’s calculator grew louder and louder distracting me until she suddenly threw it violently towards the kitchen door and cried, Shit, I can’t do this!

I sprang to my feet rushing to hug Debbie as she covered her head with her hands.

I can’t do this anymore. She sobbed quietly as I cradled her head upon my shoulder stroking her blonde hair to comfort her whispering. Of course you can.

"You’re only tired and trying to cram too much in at the last minute making yourself confused, so, get off to bed, switch your mind off and in the morning you’ll wake refreshed, and, with a clear head, you’ll sail through this exam.

If anybody can do it - you can." I assured her.

She stared deep into my eyes for reassurance then kissing me lightly on the lips she sighed, I suppose you’re right.

Slipping from my embrace she then left the room.

Resuming my place on the sofa I realised I had a deep affection for Debbie as I thought about her warm kiss for a few minutes until the door clicked open and she slowly re-entered.

Debbie crossed to the kitchen door where I noticed she had removed the clasps that held her hair in place and as she stooped to pick up her discarded calculator, she sighed.

I’m really sorry about that. She checked there was no damage before placing it onto the table beside her textbooks.

Leaning onto the back of the sofa, making her chest stand out, she gazed down at me.

I really appreciate the help you’ve given these past weeks, she whispered as she crossed to stand by my side,

I really, really appreciate it.

You’re very welcome, I mumbled as she leaned forward to cover my mouth with hers kissing me passionately.

She placed her right hand, to steady herself, onto my left shoulder as I massaged her neck with my right hand, and, while we kissed, Debbie moved slowly around the front of the sofa gently coming to sit into my lap.

We kissed passionately for a few minutes until I, reluctantly, removed my lips from hers whispering, We shouldn’t be doing this.

You’re right, she whispered breathlessly, indeed, we should not.

A few minutes of kissing later, I came up again for air.

I mean, I tried more forcefully, We really mustn’t.

You’re so right, she agreed, we really mustn’t.

I was so enchanted by her I held her very tightly, and just, could not let her go.

We have to stop now, I breathlessly protested, Stop it now!

Why? she asked.

There were more than a million reasons why we shouldn’t be kissing, but I really could not think of one valid reason why not at that precise moment.

We can’t do this here. I pleaded.

You’re so right, she giggled, Let’s go to your room.

A few moments later we made our way, hand in hand, towards my room trying not to make a sound should someone overhear.

Inside my quarters Debbie became possessed with a wild frenzy and, seemingly, in one movement she quickly discarded her blouse and skirt.

I fumbled with a button or two of my shirt, but my hands trembled so much I couldn’t get any purchase on any of my buttons as Debbie’s soft lips, again, met mine.

I was breathless, as she stood naked before me kissing me while helping to loosen my shirt buttons.

Within a few moments my shirt joined her blouse on the floor, and Debbie hastened to undo my belt to remove the remainder of my clothing.

When my trousers were loosed they dropped to my knees as Debbie stepped backwards to settle upon the bed. I found I couldn’t move as my ankles were bound together and I clumsily tried to force my socks and shoes off while attempting to appear suave and seductive.

Debbie smiled as she watched me struggle.

Within a few minutes we were making love, and I realised I was deeply in love with her, and, within a further few minutes she started to scream.

I put my hand over her mouth to stifle the noise, and then, grabbing my pillow forced it over her face to smother the sound should someone overhear.

Then - the weirdest thing happened!

The screaming abruptly ceased.

Her legs loosened their grip on me, and fell heavily onto the bed with a thud.

Her hands fell limply onto her chest as… HER… BREATHING… STOPPED!

My God, I’ve killed her, I whispered removing the pillow from her face, and began to panic easing myself from her wondering what to do next.

She can’t be, I sobbed in disbelief feeling her neck trying to locate her jugular vein, but my fingers trembled so much I couldn’t feel anything, so, I grabbed her left wrist, to check if she had any pulse, but, I abandoned that idea for the same reason.

I lifted my face to hers - to see if I could feel any breath, but, as I was breathing heavily this proved to be another pointless exercise, so, I placed my hand between her breasts hoping to find her heart.

I had no difficulty in locating my own heart, as it pounded loudly, but I could neither feel any beat, nor any pulse by placing my palm under her left breast.

I was convinced that she was dead until I altered my position to listen between her breasts, when, she gasped, and I could feel them gently rise and fall as she breathed very peacefully.

I let out a long sigh of relief as I rolled from her thanking God that she was still with us, and the panic began to subside.

I believed she had just passed out and was now in a deep, peaceful sleep as I lay on my side looking at her chest gently rise and fall for a few minutes speculating Debbie’s breasts were quite a few pounds heavier than, my lover, Tracey’s.

I gently adjusted her small silver crucifix onto her chest and as I did so I noticed her whole facial expression change back to the Debbie I knew and loved. I realised, with horror, that the girl sleeping soundly beside me was not the person with whom I had made love.

A great feeling of remorse came upon me as I figured that she must have some kind of split personality and this was the only possible explanation for our encounter.

The insane panic I felt earlier grabbed hold of me again.

‘If she wakes up tomorrow in my bed and doesn’t remember a thing about this, I’m dead’.

Oh my God, I mumbled as I examined the possibilities.

I will be done for rape - Tracey, my girlfriend, would kill me - Rachel would knock me senseless and then sue me - Marcie would throw me out into the street.

I stared in disbelief at the girl beside me who was very still and peaceful except for the rhythmic rise and fall of her breasts, and an insane resolve possessed me.

If I carry her to her own bed I might just be able to deny it all happened.

In the absence of any other suggestions this plan sounded plausible. I quickly donned the dressing gown Tracey had given me and gathering Debbie’s skirt and blouse I gingerly crept along the hallway to her room quietly opening her door.

As I switched on the light by the door, the sight greeting me left me horrified.

The entire room was a mass of furry animals of all shapes, colours, and sizes – Teddies, Koalas, Frogs, Pandas and an assortment of stuffed dolls and toys.

This entire room was a shrine to Debbie’s childhood, and I felt an uncontrollable feeling of guilt at making love with this 22-year-old girl who I now regarded as no more than a child.

Behind the door I found her bed, which was littered with more dolls and teddies, which tumbled to the floor as I turned down her quilt, before returning to my own room to retrieve her body, which still slept soundly.

Debbie was as light as a feather when I scooped her up into my arms and cradled her while I crept silently to deposit her into her own bed.

After covering with her duvet I kissed her forehead lightly, and, then crept back to my own room to spend an extremely uncomfortable night.

Thursday 7th May.

The following morning I had convinced myself that it was all a nightmare and almost believed I had dreamt the whole thing by the time I joined Marcie, Rachel, and Lynda at the living room table as they crunched on their Cornflakes.

I fetched a bowl and poured my breakfast into it ignoring them.

All was quiet, except for the radio reminding us of the time and the occasional spoon on china, when the door suddenly burst open and Debbie quickly entered calling. Has anybody seen my shoes?

I almost choked on my cereal as I wondered if she had them on when she entered my room last night?

Ah, there they are,

Debbie sighed as she spied them beneath her chair and hurriedly put them on.

Marcie was the first to speak, Today’s the big day then?

I’m afraid so. Came Debbie’s reply as she poured her breakfast into a bowl.

I hope you do well. Marcie continued, patting her arm.

Rachel looked up from a magazine and smiled. All you need is confidence in your own ability - you know you can do it.

Course you can, Lynda agreed, best of luck kid.

I mumbled my best wishes as she thanked us all saying.

I can only do my best.

Driving to work that Thursday morning I revelled in the presumption that I had gotten away with my ‘crime’ undetected, but no sooner had I reached my office desk than the telephone rang.

Meet Me. the mysterious female ordered.

Where?

Under the clock in the Waverley Centre at Noon. Came the reply.

I asked who she was, but, she was gone, and this phantom caller preyed on my mind all morning.

The voice sounded familiar, but was distorted beyond my recognition, and I could hear very loud machinery in the background confusing me.

At noon, as instructed, I arrived at the Waverley Centre as the striking of the clock ran down my fate like a toll bell.

I looked around for the face behind the voice and lit a cigarette to calm my nerves.

After a few minutes I finished my cigarette and turned around to read the festival billboards, when, there was a tap on my shoulder.

I turned to find myself looking into the pair of emerald-green eyes I feared.

Lynda stepped back from me and landed a punch on my left cheek with such force that she almost broke my nose and glasses.

As I regained myself, holding my cheek, I innocently asked,

What the hell was that for?

How could you? She snorted, how, the hell, could you?

I felt the same remorse I had the previous evening return as she glared down at me and I frantically sought some explanations for my actions… but none came.

All I could say was I’m sorry.

Lynda turned - she walked away a few paces - then turned back.

Sorry! she shouted, "I’m not the one you should be sorry to.

The kid you want to feel sorry for doesn’t know a thing about what you did to her last night, you bastard."

She turned her back to me covered her eyes and wept uncontrollably.

All eyes of the busy shopping mall were on me, as I stood dumbstruck, until a police officer appeared by my side.

Is there a problem here, sir?

I felt a tear roll from my eye as I whispered to him. You’d better ask the lady. expecting Lynda to lodge a complaint against me,

Is there a problem here, miss? He enquired.

She raised her head, took a deep breath, and sighed,

You wouldn’t understand - Nobody would.

Well, continued the officer, would you mind confining your arguments to the comfort of your own home?

Lynda let out a loud Huh! whilst walking quickly towards the exit.

Your wife, sir? I shook my head. Girlfriend? Sister? Lover?

Like the lady said, officer, I sympathetically sighed as I ran after her,

You wouldn’t understand, and nobody would.

I found Lynda seated on a bench in Princes Street weeping into a handkerchief beside two elderly vagrants.

I slowly walked up to her not knowing what to say to remedy the situation as one drunk was asking her if she was alright and showed his concern by offering her his bottle concealed in a brown paper bag.

To my amusement she accepted the bottle taking a mouthful of whatever, and, handed it back to him saying. Thanks.

The drunk sympathetically asked Lynda if she felt better as she raised her head from her handkerchief, took a deep breath, opened her glazed green eyes, and noticed me standing before her.

She sobbed, How could you?

Is that the bastard? he asked concerned, Don’t you worry hen, I’ll get him for you.

He staggered to his feet for a fight, but Lynda grabbed him by an unsteady arm and held him back saying. Don’t bother yourself, he’s not worth it.

The drunk sat back down, as he had great difficulty remaining upright anyway, as Lynda sniffed wiping her nose repeating.

How could you? She blew her nose into the handkerchief.

Rachel told you the day you moved in that we all have our weaknesses and problems, - Well, now you know somebody else’s problem.

I have no idea what you mean. I pleaded as I tried to comfort her, keeping one eye on the drunk who was still willing to ‘have a go’ at me.

That kid, she cried, "is the sweetest, kindest, most considerate kid that God ever made.

By day it would be exceedingly difficult to find a more adorable honest, or loveable angel, but sometimes, at night, she becomes possessed by a devil controlled by a lust that can only be satisfied by a sexual climax."

The drunk listened intently - he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, as I sat down on the other side of Lynda holding her hand, while she continued to explain.

Her mother died the day she was born, and her father always blamed her for his loss, so, ever since she was a little girl he continuously raped her.

She sniffed continuously.

"The only way she could come to terms with the sexual abuse was to switch her mind off during the act, so much so that, now she can’t control it.

If she feels frightened in any way her devil takes over until she climaxes - and then leaves her not knowing anything about it."

Tears began flowing down Lynda’s cheeks as she spoke, so I squeezed her hand to comfort her.

Up ‘till now, she continued, "I’ve managed to contain her devil and I have managed to protect her from doing something that could land her in a serious heap of trouble.

Last night when I heard her screaming I knew I was too late to help her, and I lay there in tears while I heard you putting her to her bed."

My heart bled for the poor kid.

Debbie must have gone through hell at the mercy of her father since the day she was born, and I could feel tears of sympathy trickle down my cheeks as I stared into Lynda’s emerald-green eyes.

She’s a really good kid, she continued, and I know you wouldn’t harm her, but, if her devil appears again will you remember that it’s not her, and send her devil to me, please.

I pulled Lynda towards me, hugged her tightly and promised I would not harm Debbie, but, a thought had occurred to me,

Tell me, I asked quietly, what about the times when you’re out or when you’re ‘entertaining’.

Lynda taking a deep breath, forcing her from my embrace, leaned backwards to take another mouthful from the bottle.

My God she cried, tasting the contents for the first time, what, in the name of God, is that? She peered into the bag to read the label. Christ almighty! she exclaimed, as she handed it back to the drunk who mumbled his gratitude as she turned towards me again.

I don’t know if I should tell you this - but, that’s how we got into this mess in the first place - by nobody telling you.

She paused to lick her lips, sniff, and shudder as she tasted a droplet from the bottle, then she gazed deeply into my eyes and whispered quietly.

I feel obligated, Lynda continued, There was a murder I was involved in in my youth that I may tell you about later. It’s extremely complicated, but I feel I need to help her… and when I’m not there, or busy, I rely on somebody else to watch over her.

Who? I enquired.

Rachel. Her reply

Rachel?

Now I was beginning to get confused as the drunk leaned over asking, Who?

Lynda ignored him as she continued.

Whenever I am out of the house we have to make sure Rachel is there for her, but she also has a secret. She is a…lesbian.

I was speechless as we stared deep into each other’s eyes for a few seconds, until the silence was shattered by a loud BANG, as the one o’clock gun rang out from Edinburgh Castle.

Causing us to jump back into reality and causing the drunk to drop his bottle, which, smashed as it made contact with the concrete paving.

Shit, Lynda shouted as she ran off, Must get back to work, I’ll see you later.

We watched her until she disappeared amongst the shoppers of ‘the royal mile’.

I took off my glasses, wiped my face with my palms and put them on again to look at the very confused drunk who stared forlornly at his shattered lunch before he sighed to his sleepy friend THEY think WE’VE got problems, Charlie.

Charlie, woken with a start at the sound of the cannon, had missed the entire conversation. He had no idea to what his friend was referring as I took a ten-pound note from out of my pocket and handed it to him saying,

"This was for my lunch; you might as well have it.

Get yourself and Charlie something to eat."

As I walked away they shouted their gratitude with Thanks big man - you’re a real gentleman - I’ll say a prayer for you and your young lady tonight, son - I’ll light a candle for you on Sunday, Chief.

All afternoon as I sat at my desk my mind reviewing what Lynda had revealed as feelings of sympathy for Debbie, admiration for Lynda, and shock at Rachel clouded my thoughts.

"I knew from the start, Emily, that I would experience life in the ‘real’ world when I moved into this flat. I had no idea my eyes would be opened to the problems others have in this world."

"This was the start of ME living in the ‘real’ world, Emily and it frightened me, Emily, it really frightened me."

"I realise these people don’t mean anything to you yet, I apologised to Emily, so I’ll fill you in on what has happened up until this point and at the end of each chapter will attempt to justify my actions."

Chapter 3: Tuesday 10th March.

It all started out a fairly normal, boring spring day.

Emily listened intently, staring at the darkening city from the window, whilst drumming a yellow-coloured pencil against her lips, occasionally using it to scribble notes, into her notepad.

After a very boring morning I, as usual, made my way to buy something for lunch.

Picking up a sandwich and a soft drink I usually made my way towards Princes Street, where I often could be found around midday, watching the world go by while I recharged my batteries in anticipation for an equally boring afternoon.

Today, however, I noticed a small postcard in the window as I queued to pay for lunch.

ROOM TO LET

VERY REASONABLE RATES

5 MINUTES FROM CITY CENTRE

‘This looks interesting’ I thought ‘This could solve a lot of problems’.

Noting the contact number onto a piece of paper I crossed the busy street to spend a quiet hour on a park-bench in the midst of the chaos of Edinburgh City Centre.

I can usually be found spending my lunch hour in this small park off Princes Street, beneath Edinburgh Castle, near the large warehouse where I worked and often took the opportunity to switch my mind into ‘neutral’ after a hectic morning in readiness for an equally gruelling afternoon.

However, today my thoughts were on other things as the rest of the world rushed by.

I had worked as Finance Controller in Hunter’s Drapery Warehouse in Edinburgh for the past 6 months and figured it was costing me a lot of unnecessary time and petrol to commute each day from Glasgow. ‘It was time for me to leave my parent’s home after 28 years and become more independent.’ I thought.

My job here looked pretty secure and as there were no family ties in Glasgow I felt nothing would be lost in, at least, enquiring about the room.

My mind was made up deciding to call the number when I returned to my office.

There was nothing about this postcard suggesting anything other than a few like-minded people sharing the expense of running a small home near the City Centre.

I decided the experience of living within the ‘festival city’ would stand me in good stead later in life as I had seen extraordinarily little of Edinburgh nightlife and the sights and sounds of Glasgow had long since become very predictable.

All afternoon I weighed up the advantages of living in both cities and reckoned a move to the capital was becoming a very intriguing prospect.

Having dialled the number, it was apprehensively answered by a young female. I immediately detected a distinct African accent.

I am calling about the room for let, is it still available? I enquired.

In broken English came a very apprehensive reply yes, it available - you have to speak to Marcie about the room. Could you give your details, and someone will call to arrange a view of the room?

A little while later I received a call from the African, who asked if I could view the room tonight, so, at 8 p.m. I found myself in the doorway of a large Victorian tenement house in the city suburbs and after pressing the doorbell I turned around to survey the quiet street before me.

Although the tenement had stairs ascending to a central stairwell, the ground floor flats at either end of the red-sandstone building have separate main doors from the upstairs apartments.

Seems like a very nice area. I heard myself say, until I heard the door click behind me and turning around, saw a young woman in her early 20s standing in the doorway.

Hi. She smiled politely, breaking the silence.

Hi, I’m Brian, I stammered, putting my mind back into gear.

I called earlier about the room.

From my phone call I had expected to find the household to be of African origin, but even from the one word she had uttered, I could instantly tell this girl was distinctly, Scottish.

She stood around 5 foot 5 inches with wavy, long blonde hair down to her bust, held in a ponytail with gold-coloured plastic clasps behind each ear.

A few strands of blonde hair had strayed to the front and blended with her pale-yellow blouse.

I stood mesmerised for a moment surveying her bare neck, which, had a small silver crucifix supported by a thin silver chain.

Her blouse, which highlighted her bosom, was gathered at the waist by a black skirt, which just covered her knees, and shiny, little, black court shoes containing white stockinged feet.

Oh, yeah, she smiled, opening the door fully, Please come in.

Once inside the girl disappeared behind me for a moment to close the door and I found myself in a dimly lit, uncarpeted large hallway with a framed print of a rather uninteresting bowl of fruit on the wall to my right and around four doors spaced unevenly along each wall.

I followed the girl to one of the doors directly ahead of us, amid the sound of both sets of feet, which were amplified when echoed by the bare walls on either side of us.

She opened a door calling out Marcie! as she ushered me inside.

This was a fairly large room, nicely decorated, with two sofas and two armchairs at the centre pointed towards a large coal-effect gas fire giving a warm glow to the room, and a large colour television in the far corner.

The only other pieces of furniture in, what I figured was the main sitting room, was a wooden table, with six chairs around, and what looked like a sewing cabinet which wasn’t being used at the moment.

The two other people in the room both immediately turned to look at me.

One got up from one of the armchairs coming towards me with her right arm outstretched announcing Hi, I’m Marcie.

Leading me to the table I took a seat at the end of it.

I noticed the table had six placemats upon it, two along each side and one at either end.

A silver wire thing at the centre contained several pieces of cutlery and a jug of water with some small glasses next to some women’s magazines.

Quite frankly she began, once she had seated herself at the far end of the table opposite me, "we are looking for a female to share.

As you are the only person to answer the ad in the past few weeks I thought it would do no harm to see you first."

I mumbled a few words about the postcard not specifying ‘females only’, or I would not have enquired about it.

As you have taken the time to come… I’ll tell you a few things about the set-up we have here. She continued.

Marcie looked to be in her mid-forties, with shoulder-length fair hair, which had recently been layered. She wore a sweatshirt several sizes too large for her, which did nothing to hide her massive bust, which swayed freely beneath.

Marcie obviously took great pride in her appearance as she had well-groomed fingernails, the whitest teeth, and a pair of light blue eyes, which reflected the light from the television.

This house has six bedrooms, she continued, five of which are presently occupied by young ladies, which is why we were looking for another female to share. She stated, frankly.

You look like a decent enough guy, so, it would all depend on what the others have to say on the subject of a fellow moving in… if anyone raises any objections then I’m afraid it would be ‘end of story.’ I do hope you understand?

I could tell she was trying hard not to cause me any offence nor discrimination against me as I raised my palms from the table in confirmation of my understanding.

I decided to say as little as possible at this stage.

Okay, she continued, The other tenants are myself.

She slapped herself upon her chest with a thud,

Debbie, her arm pointed towards the girl who had shown me in, who had seated herself in one of the armchairs.

At the mention of her name she looked over, smiled, and gave a little wave.

Lynda, an arm with plastic bangles arose from one of the sofas and shook, making the plastic rattle, then disappeared from sight again.

There’s Rachel and Ayesha who aren’t home at the moment.

We try to live here as one big happy family, Marcie continued, "and we try to live in harmony with each other, which, can be a little bit trying at times.

We try to help each other out as much as possible, but, at the same time try to keep out of each other’s way as much as we can."

What can you tell me about you? she enquired.

My name is Brian, I’m 28, and work in the accounts department at Hunter’s warehouse in the City Centre.

I had, over the years, been for several job interviews and had memorised a short speech, supposed to impress any future employer with my various talents, but this was a whole new ball game. I had never tried to sell myself as a person to impress five women before, and I certainly didn’t want to blow any chance of sharing a flat with these young ladies, so, decided to proceed cautiously.

I’ve recently been transferred to the Edinburgh office and figured the travelling between Glasgow and Edinburgh is costing a small fortune each week, I continued.

I reckon I am quite an easy guy to get on with as I tend to keep myself very much to myself and having three sisters, it shouldn’t cause any problems as far as your girls are concerned.

I figured at this point I shouldn’t say too much as I was bound to say the wrong thing, and, reckoned I was probably onto a loser anyway. Surely, one of these girls would object to a male invading their female domain, and, I would probably have to chalk this one up to experience.

Okay, Marcie smiled, I’ll show you the vacant room.