The Art Guy (18+) COMPLETE, FREE to READ

What Happens in Small Towns...

Glasgow, 1992

Kippy could tell what they were both thinking. His mother had looked delighted, and Marion McCaskill put a hand on Lillian's arm every time she made a point. Dod's mum shot a glance over her shoulder at him as she did so, eyes as wide as his mother's.

"Is this your girlfriend, Alan?" the unasked question went. "Goodness, she's a lovely lassie."

Lillian had been what she called a boarding school brat, and she was very good at small talk to anyone and everyone. When he'd told her his mother was finally making good on her threat to come and visit him, she clapped her hands.

"I have to meet them!"

"They're no..."

How to explain? When you grew up in a small fishing town, and your mother was the product of generations who'd lived in the same place, working on boats, farms, and in pubs and shops, such people were millions of miles away from Lillian's common acquaintances.

"The mothers love me," Lillian said.

"But you're no–"

This time she cut him off, pressing a finger to his lips. "I can act it if you want?"

It was a tempting offer, but a deception too far for Kippy. Daisy, bless her heart, had never let on that the reason they split up was that she'd found out that the female sex did nothing for him. She could have told all and sundry, and the news would have spread around the streets of Kirkcudbright, people wide-eyed and eager to discuss Alan Kirkpatrick, the just-about only gay in the village.

Daisy didn't even say anything to Katrina, his cousin. As the two of them were very close—they even lived together these days—that was an almighty achievement and something he thanked the stars above for every day.

Katrina wouldn't mind, he knew, but she'd tell someone. She wouldn't mean to, and she'd swear the someone to secrecy, but how do you know you can trust the people you tell the secrets to? The joy of living in a small town was being able to gossip, and know that the recipient listened in delighted awe, half their mind on the topic and the other wondering who they could pass on this delightful gem to next.

"No, dinnae bother," he said to Lillian.

She did so anyway, coming with him to Buchanan Bus Station to meet his mother and Marion. Their journey had taken them three hours, but his mother couldn't drive, and driving in city traffic was something Marion, like most Kirkcudbright people, viewed with suspicion.

"Alan!"

"Lovely to see you, son!" Marion pressed him extra close. She had picked out her best clothes for the visit, he could tell, a printed dress, a silk scarf and a woollen coat worn with court shoes. By the end of the day, her feet would be killing her. They'd always enjoyed a comfortable relationship, but since...The Thing, Marion tried to use him to fill the gap her son had left. Sometimes, the need he felt coming from her was so fierce, he thought it would knock him off his feet.

Marion and his mother looked at Lillian, curiosity killing them, but too reserved to ask.

"Mum, Marion, this is Lillian. My friend from art school."

"Darlings!" Lillian did her best to act like an art school student. "I'm so pleased to meet you. Kippy has told me so much about you."

He hadn't really.

"I expect you'd like a tea, and perhaps a cake?"

She took hold of his mother's arm and gestured that he should do the same with Marion. Neither had assented, but they hadn't said no, either. Lillian steered them in the direction of John Lewis's. The coffee shop in there looked out over the Buchanan Galleries shopping malls and one of the busiest bits of Glasgow.