The thief balked. He ran, limping, and Daniel didn’t chase him. Instead he leaned over, hands on his knees, and closed his eyes whilst the adrenaline seeped out of his system. Bent over like this, when he opened his eyes again he saw the money on the ground, littered about his feet. There looked to be about twenty quid. After a moment, he started to pick it up.

“Where is he?” said a voice. “Where’d he go?”

Daniel stood up straight and turned round. The guy in his twenties was still holding his guitar as he came running up. He looked ready to use it as a weapon.

“He got away,” Daniel said.

The guy’s eyes lit up when he saw the cap Daniel held up containing the money. Daniel gave it back to him.

“Thanks,” the guy said, pinning the guitar between his knees to count the money.

“No problem.” Daniel started to walk away.

“Hang on. Some of it’s missing.”

“He dropped some before.”

“No, there’s more missing.”

Daniel sighed. “I’m sorry. He got away.”

The guy shook his head. “No, I should be thanking you. Here, take this.” He held out a pound coin.

Daniel chuckled. “Don’t worry about it, mate.”

“Look, thanks, man.”

Daniel nodded. The guy hadn’t looked at him for more than a second since he’d got his cap of money back.

Daniel stuck his hands in his pockets and strolled away. The guy didn’t say anything more. Daniel combed his fingers through his hair, tucking it away from his face. He wiped his hand across his mouth; the bristles tickled his palm.

I need a drink, he thought.

When he reached the pavement outside the airport building, a man, one of numerous observers, stepped toward him and held out a hand.

“I just wanted to say how impressed I am. You don’t often see people do things like that any more.”

Daniel smiled and kept on walking.

When he reached the taxi rank there was a woman getting out of a black cab with her bags. Daniel sidled round to the driver’s window, which was open; the driver was leaning his elbow out of it.

“You been pre-booked?” Daniel asked.

“Nope. Where you wanna go?” The driver had an accent, Daniel noticed, but it was more Geordie than Glaswegian. He didn’t look Scottish either.

Daniel fumbled in his pocket. He opened the scrap of paper and held it out to the driver. “Do you know where this is?”

The driver pincered the edge of the paper. “Well, I know where Clydebank is.”

“Is it far?”

“It’s this side of the city.”

“How much to take me there?”

The driver shrugged. “Under a tenner, unless we get stuck in traffic. You getting in or not?”

Daniel felt the loose change in his other pocket. There was probably ten quid there. He hadn’t had time to count.

“Yeah,” he said, and climbed into the back of the cab.

The cab pulled away from the kerb and was soon in the exit lane. Daniel watched the tally climb eighty pence before they had left the airport. Once they were on the main road they picked up speed. They hadn’t gone far when Daniel saw the first sign for Clydebank, two miles.

Daniel relaxed and emptied the contents of his pockets into his lap. There was clearly a tenner there, but Daniel also needed to plan for the return journey. The driver wouldn’t be getting a tip, he decided.

As they passed a sign indicating they were now in Clydebank, Daniel found he was clenching his fists. When he opened them again his palms were glistening and his hands were shaking. He was beginning to feel a little nauseous.

All of a sudden, this seemed like a stupid idea.

“Oh, I know where it is,” the driver said, but more to himself than Daniel.

The sun was beginning to set now. A rainy day when he’d left Devon, it was ending, as forecast, with clear skies over Scotland, and an encroaching sunset somewhere between pink and orange.

Daniel looked at his watch. He was already late.

The cab driver took a decisive turn up a narrow uphill street. Daniel saw a church silhouetted against the dusk sky at the top of the hill, and knew instinctively that that was the place.

His stomach bubbled.

The driver stopped the car on the street outside the church and put the hand brake on. “Here we go.”

“How much do I owe you?”

“£6.80, please.”

“I’m sorry,” Daniel said slowly. “I’ll need all the change back.”

The driver didn’t say anything as he took Daniel’s money and gave him the change. Daniel already knew he was several pounds short of having enough for the taxi back to the airport later that evening.

Daniel climbed out of the cab and the driver drove off without another word.

Outside the church, Daniel stopped. He could see why his father had chosen it. The church was about seven hundred years old, built in the same crucifix formation that most churches were, south of the border. An extension had been built later, but that itself looked about two to three hundred years old as well.

But it wasn’t the architecture that had appealed to Daniel’s father. It was the landscape. St David’s church was built on the edge of Clydebank, its graveyard merging with the Strathclyde countryside at some imperceptible point beyond the reach of Daniel’s eyesight.

Between that point and this, Daniel could see the newest grave, unfilled, the heap of brown earth drying beside it in the last of the evening sun.

There was nobody about.

As Daniel approached the door of the church, he heard a hymn beginning to be sung. It was ‘Jerusalem’ by Parry and now he knew for sure he was at the right place.

The door opened with a creak and Daniel went inside. His heart was beating so fast he wasn’t breathing enough to feed it. He felt a little faint, but that was probably unconnected. His hands were shaking again.

There were about thirty people in the congregation, most of them standing up singing before pews in the first four or five rows. They were facing away from him. Nobody saw Daniel as he slipped into the last but one row. Nobody heard him as he trod deliberately softly on the hard stone floor.

On a pedestal at the front of the church was the coffin. It was made of a toffee-coloured wood and there were three flowered wreaths resting on top.

When the hymn came to an end, Daniel sat down. It was the sound of the verger walking up to him with an order of service that finally drew attention to his being there.

“Thank you,” Daniel said quietly.

The verger walked away again.

Three or four people spotted him initially. They tapped the person next to them, who also glanced round, then those sitting in the rows behind also looked back to see what everyone else was looking at.

Only one or two of the faces looked surprised. Most looked angry. Some just regarded him coldly. A few of them were tear-stained. And there were some that were blank, unrecognising. Daniel didn’t recognise all of those who looked either.

Sitting with Thomas in the front row was Aunt Elizabeth. Daniel could see from here that Thomas’s eyes were red with crying. Aunt Elizabeth touched Thomas on the arm, and broke the eye-lock between Daniel and his brother. Aunt Elizabeth stared for a moment, then she blinked and turned back round.

Eventually everyone stopped looking at him and concentrated on the vicar’s reading from the Book of Revelations. After the reading they sand another hymn, another one of Daniel’s father’s favourites, ‘I Vow To Thee My Country’ taken from ‘The Planets’ suite by Holst. Then one of Daniel’s father’s old work-friends got up, a woman with bouffant silver hair and a kindly, well-aged face.

“I was going to write a speech,” she began, dabbing he eyes. “But I knew I wouldn’t be able to read it.” She smiled. Heads nodded supportively.

“I think Robert would have been surprised that so many of us made the effort, but pleasantly surprised. As many of you will know, Robert was born not far from here, in Dumbarton. And even though the family moved south when he was only seven, Robert still thought of Scotland as home.”

She went on to tell them things about Daniel’s father’s childhood, some of which Daniel didn’t know himself, but that just served to remind him that this woman was really just repeating what others had told her anyway.

“When Robert found out he was ill,” she continued. “He took it upon himself to do all the organising for today. That was just typical of him, though, wasn’t it? To get things just right, just as he wanted, he knew he had to do it himself. Well, Robert, I hope you believe we honoured your wishes.”

She nodded and smiled from the lectern. When people realised it was over, they gave muted, polite applause.

After a third hymn, ‘Amazing Grace’, there was another reading from the Bible.

When Aunt Elizabeth stood up, Daniel felt his face flush hot. She made her way up to the lectern, and before she had even started speaking, Daniel got a nervous itch.

“Thank you all for coming. I know some of you have come from as far away as Wales and the Midlands, and I know Robert would have appreciated it. This was only ever meant to be a small family gathering, but so many of you have made such a special effort, I think that shows us just how special a man Robert was: a special friend to all of you, a special brother to me, and a special father to his son, Thomas.” She looked at Daniel as she said it.

Daniel swallowed. ‘His son, Thomas.’ The words echoed inside his brain.

“Robert was a special man, and he wanted a special funeral. I am grateful to Reverand McArdle for being so supportive and allowing us to take over his church so late in the day. Robert loved Clydebank. We had an aunt who lived here many years ago and I remember a holiday when Robert was five. It was the first time he had been in the countryside. I remember the look on his face.”

Daniel wondered how, seeing as she was three years younger than his father. And now she was staring into space.

“The sun sets over the rooftops in Dumbarton almost an hour before it gets dark. Not until we came on holiday here to Clydebank did we see a proper sunset, watching the sky change colour as the sun gradually disappeared behind the level of the land, below the horizon. It was Robert’s favourite time of day. It was a symbol of life, he told me one. The sun went down every evening and the world changed, but it would always rise again, and bring light to the world once more.”

She glanced quickly at Daniel.

“Robert’s special wish,” she went on. “Was that he could be buried here, in his spiritual home, at the setting of the sun. He was quite clear that he doesn’t want us to mourn, but to focus on the beauty of the sun, and let us remind ourselves that though it will be gone soon, it will never truly leave us, and that it’s only ever just around the corner, just out of sight. Just like Robert.”

There were people in the church openly crying now, but all Daniel felt was an anger.

Aunt Elizabeth checked her watch then announced what was to happen next. Everyone was welcome to attend the graveside, but Daniel’s father would not be buried until the last few moments of sunlight. They would say prayers and light candles, and then the coffin would be lowered into the ground.

To conclude the service, they stood up and sang a final hymn, ‘Abide With Me’. The lyrics were in the order of service but Daniel just stood there and looked at the words. His father had probably written the order of service himself, Daniel thought. He swallowed, which he found difficult.

At the end of the song, Daniel looked at the stained glass windows. It was getting dark outside. It was almost time.

The organ played as the coffin was picked up. Aunt Elizabeth glared at Daniel, as if she thought he had designs on being a pallbearer. He stood, hands behind his back, as the coffin came down the aisle. Thomas was one of those carrying it on his shoulder. He wasn’t crying now, he was concentrating on the task, but he looked at Daniel and smiled. Daniel smiled back.

Aunt Elizabeth marched after the coffin. She completely ignored Daniel as she walked past.

Then the rest of the congregation was free to follow. Daniel waited until he was the last person in the church, then followed the crowd into the graveyard.

The grave was about a hundred yards from the path. Daniel watched the line of people file across the graveyard, black silhouettes walking slowly through the twilight. Daniel stayed on the path. He found a memorial bench in the shadow of the church and sat down. It was cool and windless. The rest of the world seemed miles away when Daniel watched the coffin, and all he could see beyond it was the ageless Scottish countryside.

The other mourners stopped at the graveside. The coffin went out of sight. Daniel realised that was the last time he would see his father. They waited. The sky was turning purple. A candle was lit. It was used to light other candles. As darkness fell, all Daniel could see were these dark figures and the dancing flames of their candles. Prayers were said, but too far away from Daniel to hear the words. Then people started to move away; the crowd dissipated.

Daniel stood up. He couldn’t see the faces of those who left the graveside first. Most came back to the path and headed toward the modern church hall built next to the church itself. Others cut across the graveyard and got into cars waiting outside the gate and drove off.

Two figures waited beside the grave longer than everyone else and Daniel knew it was Thomas and Aunt Elizabeth. Eventually Aunt Elizabeth followed the others, leaving Thomas on his own.

Daniel was about to go join him, but he realised Aunt Elizabeth wasn’t cutting across the graveyard to get to the church hall, she was cutting across the graveyard to confront him. Daniel started walking away.

“So now you decide to leave,” she called, following him, stalking him like a predator.

“I don’t want to have this conversation with you today, Aunt Liz,” Daniel said.

She was right behind him now. “What are you doing here, Daniel? Who told you?”

They reached the corner of the church. Daniel stopped. The gate was only a few years away. He turned. “I came for the same reason everyone else came.”

“If you’re expecting something from the will, you’re out of luck. It’s already been read.”

“That’s not what I came for.” He screwed up his face. “He was my father.”

She pressed her lips together. “He may have been your father, but you weren’t his son.”

Daniel sighed. “I know you’ve been thinking about what you’d say to me if I turned up today, and that line’s the best you could come up with, but seriously, Aunt Liz, what’s that really supposed to mean?”

She didn’t say anything for a few moments. “Who told you where and when the service was being held?”

Daniel didn’t say anything.

“I did,” said a voice.

They both turned. It was Thomas. He was standing at the corner, shoulders raised defensively.

Aunt Elizabeth closed her eyes. “Oh Thomas.”

Daniel smiled “You’ve grown.”

“I’m a kid. It’s what we do.” Thomas smiled back, then he left the corner and came and gave Daniel a hug.

“Not so much a kid anymore,” Daniel said.

His younger brother was only a few inches shorter than him now, broad-shouldered, even his face had changed shape.

“You need a shave,” Thomas said.

Daniel flicked Thomas’s chin. “So will you in a bit, I reckon.”

Thomas shrugged coyly.

“Come on, Thomas, let’s go,” said Aunt Elizabeth. She walked past Daniel, ignored him.

“I’ll be along in a minute,” Thomas said.

Aunt Elizabeth turned and looked between the two brothers. “Nothing good will come of this.” Then she walked straight and properly into the church hall.

They watched her go.

“I didn’t know if you’d got my letter,” Thomas said.

“Yeah, it was forwarded to me,” said Daniel. “I got your card as well. Thanks.”

Thomas grinned. “I hope you wore the badge.”

“I’ll wear it next birthday. I’m only thirty-nine.”

“Oops.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Sorry.”

Daniel smiled. “It means you can save your pennies and not bother sending next year, okay?”

“Look, why don’t you come in?”

Daniel started shaking his head.

“You have more of a right to be here than half of these wankers. They’ve got a caterer to do a finger buffet. It’s the same guy who did mum’s...” He trailed off.

Daniel frowned. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

Thomas shook his head.

“I wasn’t in any state to come, even if I’d heard about it in time.”

“I have to go in. Come with me?”

Daniel looked toward the corner. There were still candle flames flickering at the graveside. “I want to go and see him,” he said quietly.

“Okay.” Thomas shifted awkwardly. “I’ll come out again in about twenty minutes, after they’ve all said their piece to me and forgotten I’m there.”

Daniel nodded.

“Will you still be here?”

Daniel smiled. “I’ve got a seat on the 11pm flight back to Exeter, but I had to borrow money I’ll probably never be able to pay back just to buy the ticket. I don’t even have enough for a cab fare back to Glasgow.”

“So I guess that’s a yes, then.”

“I guess it is.”

Thomas nodded. He touched Daniel on the arm. Daniel watched him until the hall door shut behind him.

There were two men in overalls lingering near the grave with shovels. As Daniel approached, they were removing the candles people had lit and planted in the ground around the hole in the earth. The older man tapped the younger one on the shoulder and muttered something gruffly. They left their shovels stuck in the mound of displaced earth and went and waited a discrete distance.

Daniel stooped and picked up on of the candles that had blown out. He took out his lighter and lit it and held it in his fingers. He didn’t stand up.

The coffin rested perfectly flat about five feet down. The wreaths had been removed and in their place handfuls of earth had been thrown on top of the coffin. Daniel took a fistful from the mound and threw it into the hole. He wiped his hand on his thigh.

In his other hand a single hot wax tear bled down the side of the candle and settled on his thumb. Daniel didn’t wipe it away.

He sighed. “See you, then,” he murmured.

Then he stood up. His knees clicked. He blew out the candle and left it by the side of the grave.

He headed back toward the church hall. When he looked back, the two workmen were burying his father in the dark. All the candles had gone out now.

Thomas was significantly longer than twenty minutes. Daniel waited outside the door to the church hall and after twenty-five, lit a cigarette. He was onto his second, pacing back and forth, when Thomas finally emerged.

“Sorry,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Did you have a nice chat with the vicar?” Daniel asked, exhaling smoke downward.

Thomas chuckled. “No, but he had a nice chat with me.”

Daniel laughed quietly.

“Can I have one?”

Daniel threw his butt on the ground. “No.”

“What? I’m sixteen. I’ve got my own. I just don’t have room in these pants for a pack.”

Daniel sighed and opened the packet. He took one out for Thomas and a third one for himself. He passed Thomas his lighter. Thomas knew how to use it.

“I’m guessing Aunt Liz doesn’t know you smoke,” Daniel said, after lighting his own.

Thomas blew out a cloud of smoke. “Oh, no, she knows, but she pretends that I don’t.”

“How’s school?”

Thomas gave him a look. “I haven’t seen you in nearly four years. Can we just skip this part?”

“Okay.” Daniel grinned. “What would you like to talk about?”

“You.”

Daniel sighed as he exhaled smoke.

“You still look like a tramp, brother of mine, but apart from that, you’re looking pretty fit,” said Thomas.

“I am. And I did try having hair as short as yours once, but it cost me ten quid to have it all cut off and my ears got cold without it. I’m used to it long.”

“Where are you living now?”

“Well, I’ve moved. Still in Exeter, though.”

“Got a job?”

“Doing a course?”

Thomas nodded. He concentrated on his cigarette for a bit, looking at the glowing tip between puffs.

“I got everything,” he said finally.

Daniel nodded. “That’s good. Don’t blow it.”

“It’s unfair, that’s what it is.”

“Well, Aunt Liz doesn’t need anything.”

Thomas snorted. “You know that’s not what I mean. But she still got the car, anyway. I mean the money and the house. I got everything that was worth anything, while you got nothing.”

“So what?” He tapped ash off his cigarette.

“Aren’t you even just a little bit bitter?”

“At you? No.”

“At Dad.”

Daniel paused. “No, not really.”

“But don’t you think that he could have made some effort to make it up to you when he knew he was dying?”

Daniel sighed. “Maybe he did. He probably thought I’d just waste it all on getting stoned. By giving it all to you he probably thought he was saving me from myself or something equally profound. I don’t know.”

“Bullshit.” Thomas shook his head angrily. “You don’t believe that.”

Daniel didn’t reply.

“You clean now?” Thomas broke eye-contact.

“Twenty-three months. Almost two years.”

Thomas looked surprised. “You haven’t touched a thing?”

“No.” Daniel shook his head.

Thomas finished his cigarette and stamped it out. Daniel drew on the end of his butt slowly.

“Did you tell Dad?” Thomas asked.

Daniel shook his head again. “I tried that once before, before you were even born. I told him I’d got fried out and it was true, but it didn’t believe it’d last and he was right. I wanted to be sure this time.”

“And you weren’t sure after two years?”

Daniel took a final drag from the cigarette and then flicked it as far as he could. It bounced and hot ash sprayed for a moment and then was gone. He opened the pack and took out another with his teeth. “Want another?”

Thomas nodded and held out his hand.

“What’re your plans now?” Daniel asked after lighting his cigarette and handing Thomas the lighter.

Thomas shrugged, lit his own cigarette and handed the lighter back.

“Where are you living?” asked Daniel.

“I’m still living in the house. Aunt Liz has moved in. She wanted to be my legal guardian, but Dad told her that’s only for under-sixteens. She still acts like she is, though.”

Daniel chucjled. “Well, when she tells you to turn the music down, just remind her whose house it is.”

“Yeah!” Thomas laughed.

“You should use some of that money he left you to pay for university.”

Thomas screwed up his face, and for a moment Daniel saw himself as a teenager standing there in Thomas’s clothes.

“I’ve had people telling me what I should do with the money for two weeks now and we only fucking buried the guy forty-five minutes ago. Just don’t.”

Daniel nodded. “Sorry.”

Neither of them said anything for a while. It was dark now. The two workmen finished on Daniel and Thomas’s father’s grave and went into the church.

“The house has four bedrooms,” Thomas said.

“I know,” said Daniel.

“You can have one if you like.”

Daniel chuckled. “And live with Aunt Liz? I don’t know which one of us would kill the other first.”

“Well, if she doesn’t like it, she can move out. I hate the bitch, I really do.”

Daniel sighed. “Thanks for the offer, but I don’t think it’d be a good idea. Bitch she might be, but Aunt Liz would make a better parent than I could.”

“I don’t need a parent.”

Daniel ducked his head. “Well, I don’t know how to respond to that without sounding patronising.”

Thomas shook his head and smoked.

“What’s the place like where you’re living?” he asked.

“My place? It’s a one-bedroom bed-sit and the walls are so thin I have to listen to the couple next door fuck every night.”

Thomas laughed. “Then what’s keeping you there?”

“It’s not about what keeps me there, Thomas.”

Thomas scowled. “Don’t call me Thomas anymore. It’s what Mum and Dad and Aunt Liz called me. All my mates call me Tom, and I don’t have to ask them to.”

“Okay.” Daniel nodded.

The door to the hall opened. A man in his seventies looked out, looked at Daniel and Thomas, then went back in again.

“See? She’s spying on me,” said Thomas.

“Maybe I should go,” said Daniel.

The door opened again. It was Aunt Elizabeth, looking stern, and Daniel was completely unsurprised.

“Come in, Thomas,” she said. “There are people in here who want to talk to you.”

Thomas very obviously put his cigarette to his lips and sucked a noisy lung-full of air in on top.

“Well, I don’t want to talk to them,” he said.

“People are going to think you’re being very rude.”

Thomas snorted and shrugged. “It’s my dad’s funeral. They’ll forgive me.”

Aunt Elizabeth glared briefly at Daniel. “See, this is why I said no good would come of talking to him.”

Thomas rolled his eyes and sighed. “Actually, Auntie Lizzie, I’ve asked Dan to come and live with us.”

She looked livid, but remained calm. “Well, that’s not going to happen, I can tell you for a start.”

Thomas shrugged. “It’s my house.”

“Not if you let him live in it. You’ll come back one day and find he’s stripped it. And he’ll have vanished. You’d never see him again, but if you did you’d find him in some filthy public toilet somewhere, smacking up with some needle stuck in his arm.”

Daniel was unable to resist. “Shooting.”

She glared. “What?” Then she went back to Thomas. “I don’t know what ideas he’s put in you head, but if you’re listening them, then you’re more stupid than I would’ve given you credit.”

“Oh, fuck off!” Thomas went.

Aunt Elizabeth suddenly went very quiet. “I think you should go now, Daniel.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have enough for the taxi, Aunt Liz,” Daniel said, almost as quietly.

She shook her head. “That shouldn’t have surprised me. If I give you the money, will you go?”

“If you give me the money I’ll probably just spend it on drugs, won’t I? Why don’t you give me a lift to the airport in my dad’s car? I mean, your car.”

She seemed to twinge when he said that.

“I don’t want you to go,” Thomas said.

“I came for the service,” Daniel said. “Not to drag all this crap up again.”

“The service is over,” Aunt Elizabeth pointed out.

Daniel nodded. “Exactly.”

There was an uneasy moment’s silence.

“Daniel, I’ll give you the taxi fare, and then I think you should go before you say something you regret,” Aunt Elizabeth said eventually.

Daniel laughed. “Oh, please. You’re more worried I’ll say something you’ll regret, Aunt Liz.”

Aunt Elizabeth pressed her lips together. “Wait here. I’ll get your money, then you can clear off. You want to spend it on drugs; see if I care.”

Then she pushed through the hall door aggressively and slammed it shut behind her.

“Sorry.” Daniel threw his cigarette away and rubbed his face.

Thomas nodded. He considered his own cigarette, took a final sip, then crushed it underfoot. For a few moments he said nothing, but he was frowning.

“What did you mean?” he asked.

Daniel gave him a puzzled look.

“When you said something she’d regret. What did you mean by that?”

Daniel sighed. “Something about Dad.”

Thomas stared at him, then started shaking his head. “No, I don’t believe that. You’re scratching that bone behind your ear. People say that’s what I do when I’m lying. Dad did it too.”

Daniel stopped scratching his head.

“What did you mean?”

Daniel squeezed his eyes shut and sighed again. “Look,” he said slowly. “Didn’t you ever wonder why your parents were always twenty years older than all your mates’ parents? Why they waited until they were in their fifties before they had a second child; why you didn’t have any brothers and sisters born in the twenty-three years between us?”

Thomas frowned. “I suppose.”

“You didn’t meet me for the first time until you were five years old and Uncle Roger brought you round to see me without either of them knowing.”

Thomas nodded. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Then didn’t you ever wonder why they didn’t have you until after I’d left home for good?”

“They never told me when you left.”

“But do you think it’s a coincidence?”

Thomas blinked. “I don’t know.”

Daniel rubbed his face again. “And now I have said something I regret. I’m sorry.”

The door opened. Aunt Elizabeth carried her purse. A couple of people caught the door behind her and stood just inside the hall, watching.

“How much do you need?” she asked.

“Well, I can get a wrap for twenty quid, but I only need a five more for a cab,” Daniel said.

She didn’t rise to his snideness and opened her purse. She took out a five pound note and thrust it toward him.

“Will you go now?” she asked.

Daniel took it but ignored her. “Can I have a hug, kiddo?” he asked Thomas.

Thomas was frowning, but nodded distantly. He held his arms out and for a few seconds Daniel pressed the boy to him. He was an orphan now, and Daniel didn’t think it had hit Thomas properly yet. Daniel had felt like an orphan for decades. Today was no different.

“How about you, Aunt Liz?” he offered.

“Just go,” she said.

Daniel turned on his heel, winking at Thomas.

“Why were Mum and Dad so old when they had me?” Thomas asked as Daniel walked slowly.

“Not now,” Aunt Elizabeth said softly. “Come on, it’s getting cold out here. Let’s go inside.”

Daniel turned again, walking backwards. “Don’t worry, Tom. You’re the lucky one. Mum and Dad only wanted one kid, and you’re it. Congratulations.”

He nodded at Thomas then turned round. When he looked back from the street, Thomas had vanished, and Aunt Elizabeth was standing alone outside the church hall.

As he walked down the hill, Daniel wondered if it had been a mistake. Maybe he would never hear from his brother again. But something told him he would.

At the bottom of the hill was a telephone box. Daniel had subconsciously registered it from the cab journey. He opened the door and it stank of urine, but the phone was working. Clenching Aunt Elizabeth’s fiver in one hand he found a twenty pence piece in his pocket and called for another taxi. There was a business card stuck to the glass at eye-level.

“It’ll be about twenty minutes,” a woman’s voice told him.

Daniel went and sat on the kerb. He hoped there wasn’t more than one church called St David’s in Clydebank because he didn’t know what this road was called, and his directions had been the phone box at the bottom of the hill on the road leading to St David’s church.

Daniel opened his cigarette packet. He had one left. He took it out and tossed the empty packet through the railing of a fence around some sort of park. He lit the cigarette and had just finished it when a cab appeared at the end of the road.

“The airport, please,” he said, climbing in.

“Got it,” said the driver, an Asian guy with a hybrid Glaswegian accent.

He drove past the church to turn round. It was the last time Daniel would be so close to his father, but he had never felt so far away.

The journey passed in no time. Daniel’s mind was elsewhere. The cab stopped outside the terminal.

“It’s £9.30,” the driver said.

That was almost half as much again as on the way there. Daniel glanced at the time. It was pushing 8pm, so the cab drivers were on Saturday night fares.

Daniel gave the man ten pounds, including Aunt Elizabeth’s fiver, and wasn’t left with so much as to be able to buy himself a cup of tea.

NOTES:
This was always going to be the longest vignette, at some 5000 words long. Unlike some of these stories, which I wrote on the hoof, and later realised there was potential to develop further, this one was actually a longer idea originally, for a story that pre-dated this one provisionally entitled "Second Son" (bit of an obvious title, really). Having written the general thrust of the plot now (two brothers, almost a generation apart, one who went off the rails, which resulted in his parents disowning him and having a second child) I don't think it would work stretched out much further. Originally the second son was going to be the narrator. Aunt Elizabeth in this chapter is the same Elizabeth Crowe who caught a taxi to Gatwick airport; she must have just missed her nephew at Glasgow airport.

Finally, despite how it might look, there isn't a glaring continuity error in this story. After Daniel rescues Andy's money from the thieving Brett, he gives the cap back, which would presumably include the pound coin. Yet the story follows Daniel, not Andy again. The obvious explanation is that Daniel kept some of the money for himself. I did write a line in about him mugging a mugger, but it seemed like it was hammering the point too much: if he hadn't kept the coin, the perspective would have changed.