Until that moment, I didn't know she could sing; the mother of my child is full of surprises. She leaned back in her seat and let it all out, word-perfect on each track, her full, rich contralto complementing rather than fighting with Natalie's sharp soprano.

I didn't say a word; I just drove and listened as we cruised.. .

sedately.. . out of Glasgow and along the motorway that cuts Lanarkshire in half. (Smaller pieces would be even better, a native of that county once said to me.) I didn't want her to stop, but eventually she did, during the long instrumental break on track four.

She smiled at me. "Sorry," she said, almost shyly.

"Don't be. Would you like to make a record? I could fix it."

"I know you could. And if I wanted to be Sharleen Spitieri, that's who I'd be ... but I don't." She leaned back again and picked up on track five, with its simple piano backing, leaving Natalie in her wake as she embellished the song with some added twists that its writer never imagined.

She was into the last track, singing about golden bells, when she stopped, abruptly. I glanced sideways at her, worried that maybe I'd looked as if I was nodding off.

She switched off the music. "Do you think you're up to driving a wee bit less sedately?"

"Probably, but why?"

She gasped, and winced. "I could be wrong .. . I've never done this before ... but I don't think I'm going to make it to your Dad's."

Four.

For a while after that, everything became a bit blurred. I've been in a couple of dangerous situations in my time, and I've managed to stay reasonably cool, to keep thinking logically.

Looking back on that day, all I can remember saying is, "Let's get you to the Simpson; it's nearest." After that my brain went into meltdown; I drove that M3 like David Coulthard with Schumie on his tail, while Susie did all the sensible stuff like getting the number of the maternity unit and calling ahead to warn them.

Words broke in. Susie saying, calmly, "Yes, my waters have broken,"

although that was not news to me by that time. Then there was something about, "Less than a minute."

We got lucky on the outskirts of Edinburgh; I had to stop for a red light and I pulled up next to a police car. I honked the horn, the driver took one look and got the message; we had a blues and twos escort all the way to the new Royal Infirmary.

Even at that it was touch and go. I drove right up to the door of the unit; where a nurse .. . "Hello dear. I'm Sister Mickel. A bit early, are we?" .. . and a porter were waiting for us with a wheelchair. If it had had a motor it would have been revved up. As the midwife helped her into the chair, Susie grunted, "Christ, Oz, she's coming faster than you!" Somewhere behind me, I heard a policeman laugh.

It got blurred again; we were rushed along to a room with a funny-shaped bed. Nurses stripped Susie; just took all her clothes right off and stuck a gown over her head. There was shouting all round; "Go on, that's a lass. Push hard now." I realised that I was yelling as well, and that someone was grasping my hand hard enough to crush it. Then all at once, the pressure eased and there was a great collective gasp of satisfaction, into which intruded a thin wavering cry.

Sister Mickel held her up; a long, sticky, wet, pink, wriggly thing, crying full volume now that she was fully released into the world. I couldn't see her properly though, I blinked and realised that my eyes

1Q.

were full of tears. I held on to Susie, my head between her breasts, and let them all out. The last time I'd cried had been when one Janet had died; now I wept for the birth of another. Cry for sad if you must, but never be afraid to cry for happy; it's better.

"Well, look at you," I heard her say, after a while; Susie as I'd never heard her before. "Look at her, Oz. She's just like you." I did; she was.

Five.

"Don't you ever think about tomorrow, son?"

"I gave that up a long time ago, Dad."

"Maybe you should start again. What are you going to say to Miles and Dawn when they turn up in Scotland for this new movie? When they find out about the baby they're going to run out of sympathy for you bloody quick."

That was a good question; jet-lag and the stress of the day were catching up with me fast, so I gave my brain a few seconds more than normal to come up with a good answer. I looked across the garden and out to sea; it was early evening, and May Island, bathed in sunshine, seemed to be smiling at the life Coast. I've seen a few pretty spectacular things in my life, but still I love that view more than any other. It's a doorway to so many memories, and, once the medical staff had pronounced Susie and wee Janet to be in the best of health, and had bedded them down for their only night in the Royal, there had been nothing for me to do but carry on up the road to Anstruther, to add another to the list.

"Who says they're going to find out?" I asked Mac the Dentist, still looking out to sea. Through the kitchen window, I heard the sound of rattling crockery, as my stepmother resurrected the meal she had readied for earlier in the day. There was a tension between Mary and me; I had expected it, but it didn't make it any easier to take. I'd been her blue-eyed boy for a long time, and she hadn't disguised the fact that she felt let down.

My Dad gave a half-snort, half-laugh. "Will the pram not give them a clue?"

"There won't be any pram around. Susie and the baby will be back in Glasgow by the time they get here. I'll be in Edinburgh. We're not planning to put a birth notice in the Herald or the Scotsman, Dad."

"You might as well. Susie's a prominent businesswoman, and now she's become a single mother. The tabloids are going to want to know who the father is."

"And Susie's not going to tell them. Neither am I."

"Are you not going to acknowledge your child, man?"

"Of course I am; I do already. I'm just not making any public announcements, that's all... not yet, at any rate."

"Not until the new movie's well under way, is that what you're saying?"

"If you like, yes. I'm contracted already, so it would be bloody difficult for Miles to fire me. It would be a wee bit reckless of him too; I've become box office to an extent. Still, better safe than sorry. Once I've done this picture, I can cut myself loose, and look for other opportunities. I have a couple of them in the bag already."

He frowned; I surmised that he wasn't that pleased with me either. "So you have been planning ahead."

"Of course I have." I flashed him a grin. "I might never think about tomorrow, but I'm fucking good when it comes to next week."

"You've changed, Osbert, right enough."

"For the worse?"

"No, I wouldn't say that. For the better, in some ways. For all your luck, for all your success, you've had too much grief in your life, too young. Your eyes have been opened to the evils of the world, okay.

You've grown hard, and you're devious, but you don't seem to be bitter and you're not living in the past. You'll survive, and one day you might be happy again."

"Today's not bad." I told him.

"True," he grinned. "I canna wait to see my new granddaughter. I still wonder about you and her mother, though. Is that it for the two of you? Your ships have bumped together in the night and now you're going your separate ways?"

"No, that's not it. I'll be a good father to wee Jan. I'm on the board of the Gantry Group, and I'll be a support to Susie that way."

"But what if another father comes along? What if Susie meets someone else? What if you do? What if you find you miss Prim after all?"

"I never did miss Prim, Dad, any more than she missed me, really. We settled for each other; that's where we got it wrong. I'm not going to do the same with Susie. If she meets someone else, I'll handle that.

I'll protect my daughter's interests, but I'll handle it."

"Aye, son, I guess you will, in your own way, like you handle everything else. You know the thing that gets me about you?" I looked at him, but he didn't give me the chance to hazard a guess. "You've never even had bloody toothache, not once in your life. Toothache is nature's way of letting the mightiest among us know that we're fallible after all, yet as far as I recall you've never had as much as a twinge."

"D'you think Jesus had it, then?"

"Maybe not, but he had plenty in its place .. ." He stopped short.

"And so, I mustn't forget, have you."

My father laid one of his massive hands on my shoulder. "Don't be afraid of settling for Susie, son, if you want to put it that way, and if that's what's right for you. You and Prim should never have got back together, and if I'd been up to my job I'd have told you that. But you and Jan should never have drifted apart, and I kept that truth to myself too.