Where the Heart is...

It was October in Scotland, of course it was raining, why wouldn’t it be? Well, more drizzle than downpour, but still, rain.

Robert looked up the High Street, quiet. Pedestrianisation, economics, shopping parks, internet, it all contributed. Perth, “The Heart of Scotland” the slogans said, he wondered if it was still beating quite as strongly as it once had?

Robert carefully exited the vehicle – kilt decorum demands a certain dexterity – he straightened and tugged the jacket, fingering the collar from his neck, hating the tightness.

‘I want to stay out here and cool down a bit, I’ll overheat and sweat buckets in there. There’s time.’ His weight came with inbuilt central heating. A fat furnace.

John looked across and nodded. He was trim, comfortable in his formal attire and exuded elegance. He reached back into the car and produced two umbrellas, he passed one to Robert with a look, one that said, I know you’re Scottish and it’s just a trickle of rain, but don’t be an idiot, just take it.

Robert smiled and extended the brolly, he walked towards Tay Street and the river. John followed.

Robert shoogled in discomfort.

‘You look fine, Rob. Stop fidgeting. It won’t be long.’

‘It’s impossible not to look fine in this get-up, even for beached whales like me. Which is all well and good, but you look excellent. I’m a sack of potatoes,’ he shrugged, ‘but presentable.’

They stood at the railing, looking at the swirling water, soft droplets of the stuff peppered the black protectors they both held.

Robert gestured, ‘The building behind you was my first job – insurance. Long since swallowed by Norwich Union.’

‘Aw, and you just a laddie! Fond memories?’

‘Ha!’ said Robert. ‘A lifetime ago, a different person. And no, it was crap. You addressed certain staff members as “Mister”, very hierarchical. For me in particular, singularly side-lined.’

‘Minorities, eh?’ John chuckled.

‘Unimaginable. Being out in Perth in those days was ill-advised, less closeted, more straightjacket. Very parochial, and I was a product of that parochial past. There was no future for me here, I knew that.’ He pondered. ‘There was someone when I was young, I’d see him when doing my paper round. He had one of those man-bags, everybody called him “bent-Boab”. Now? Laptops, backpacks, messenger bags galore.’

‘That’s your definition of progress, Rob?’ John smiled.

Robert nodded. ‘Fair enough. Good point.’ He sighed. ‘I like being here, but I resent that I had to leave to become me, because of how it was. I know I couldn’t have stayed, it’s an odd feeling, being rejected by the place you call home.’

‘I’ve always liked that. You’ve lived south for thirty-five years, and still refer to home being here. You call Hampshire “going back down” or “coming back”, never home, although you actually live there.’

‘This has always been home. Hearing Scottish voices and accents, even down there, it jars, it’s immediate recognition. When we drive up, there’s a weird feeling when we cross the border, I always have a stupid grin.’

‘No, that’s because we laugh at the name “Ecclefechan”, and the fact we can pronounce it!’

They both laughed, just as they always did enroute.

‘True. But think where we’ve been, John. Paris, Rome, loads of places. I know you didn’t like New York, but I loved it. And the Pyramids and the Acropolis, they’re spectacular. But I don’t get that glow inside anywhere else, only when we are back here. I didn’t appreciate it when I was young and lived here, but it really is beautiful.’

‘You always said about coming back. It’s very picturesque.’

Robert snorted incredulously, ‘What, Perth? Not a hope! It’s lovely and great to visit family but no way would I live here.’

John looked slightly puzzled, ‘So, home?’

‘Scotland, yes. Perth, no, as nice as it is. Too many ghosts and too close to family. We need distance.’

The rain stopped and they closed the brollies. It was dank and dreich, a sultry sort of air which mirrored Robert’s mood. Even today.

John digressed, ‘We didn’t have to do this here, Rob. You could have invited them all down, had it in Portsmouth where we did the civil partnership.’

‘Yeah right, remember the grief we got for that. A private ceremony, with two witnesses and no family. We loved it, they really didn’t!

We promised they would be at the next one. Besides, I really wanted it here, it somehow means more.’

‘Oh thanks. I thought it didn’t matter where, as long as we’re together,’ he teased.

‘Goes without saying. But, seeing as we had the choice, it’s nice to do the upgrade here, where I was born.’

‘Uh-uh, the registrar hates that term, remember? It’s a conversion, not an upgrade.’

‘Of course. So why was it not set up that way from the word go? Equality? It only became that when the term was the same for us all.’

He drew in a breath contentedly, tasting the air, even that felt different from the south coast.

‘You know, you are much calmer up here, less stressed.’

‘I suppose it’s the pace of life. The stresses are the same wherever you live, it’s just… less intense up here, somehow.’

‘So you definitely want to come back then, like we always said?’

‘Yeah. Whenever you’re ready. Retirement, transfer, job change, whatever. I think it’s inevitable. This is home.’

‘Then maybe we should start organising when we get back. It’s a big step moving country and we each did it once before, moving south. And we were both much younger then. If we have to do it again and start all over up here, we should do it sooner rather than later. But, it’s where we belong, isn’t it? And we have the whole of Scotland to choose from. Except Perth!’

Robert grinned and nodded.

John smiled. ‘Shall we go an’ get married then?’

‘Might as well… seeing as we’re here.’