Chapter 41

"There's nothing wrong with the stuff I have already." Marcus explained, again, pressed up against the brown, stone wall of the shopfronts, a hundred yards or so from the large shopping centre. Streams of people bustled past on their way in and out of the underground, and he closed his eyes and bounced his head gently off the wall behind him, seeking solace in the reassuring grittiness of the surface.

"Honey, it's just a shirt, that's all." Shawna told him, easing back against the wall on one side as Hope looked on. "We did this at Christmas."

"And it was a nightmare." He pointed out, quietly. "What's wrong with what I have already?"

"Nothing," she offered, despite Hope's disbelieving stare, "for sort of everyday wear, I suppose. Although, even... No, look, we're going out, we don't want to embaress Tony and Briana, do we?"

"So there's nothing wrong with it, but I'm an embaressment?" Hope laughed, and Shawna shot her a loaded look and flopped back against the wall.

"Look, Marcus," Hope started in, "what are you trying to say with what you wear?"

"Excuse me?" he looked confused, turning to face her.

"When you went out and chose that t-shirt, say... what made you choose that?"

"I didn't, Ally got it for me."

"Well, alright, when you last went clothes shopping, why did you choose what you chose?"

"I don't shop for clothes. I tell Ally what I've worn out, and she replaces it."

"Really?" Shawna confirmed it with a nod, and Hope's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Well, then... OK, how does she know what to get?"

"Replaces what's worn out." He shrugged, as though it were obvious.

"Which basically means black jeans, black t-shirts — with or without slogans - and very occasionally a light jacket." Shawna expanded the list.

"How do you see yourself, then?" Hope pressed on, determined not to be beaten. "When you close your eyes and imagine yourself, what do you look like?"

"Like me." He finally managed, when he'd come to the conclusion that the question was as foolishly stupid as it sounded.

"You've got no image of yourself in a suit, or... Anything?"

"What's the point?" he shrugged. "I'm not going to turn heads with my looks, so I focus on other things."

"Marcus, people make an impression of you based on what they see. First impressions are just that; first."

"If someone's going to judge me without talking to me I don't really care what they think." He pointed out. "Why should I care what someone so shallow decides?"

"It must be a guy-girl thing." Shawna offered, after a moment. "Lorraine was having a terrible time with Tony getting him to dress up tonight. As he put it, his parents had already made their impression of him, it wasn't worth making the effort."

"But people — your family — are going to see you tonight for the first time, and their impression is going to be of some scruffy student who couldn't be bothered."

"People shouldn't judge," he began, but Hope cut him off again.

"But they do, Marcus. People judge."

"Then I want to be judged on who I am, not what I'm wearing. I want them to listen to me talk, to understand what I have to say, and to judge me based on who I am and what I do, not what I ironed. Isn't that the point?"

Neither of them had an answer to that, so Shawna shrugged and resorted to her second string of attack.

"How about, Marcus, if you didn't do it for them, you did it for me?"

"You've already made your impression of me, though."

"Right." She admitted. "And you already know I like you, and that I'd do things for you — I even asked if you'd like to see me wear any..."

"Shawna!" he flushed, furiously as Hope suppressed a giggle, and Shawna tried to stop the smile spreading across her face.

"Alright, but you get my point. I'm willing to dress to please you, at the right time, and in the right place. Would you do that for me?"

"Yes." He admitted, after a moment.

"And it doesn't matter when? Or where?"

"Of course it does."

"Why?" Hope asked.

"I'm not going to dress like an idiot for public ridicule."

"But, I didn't think you cared what people thought?"

"I didn't say that." He shook his head. "It's... I don't want people to think I'm the sort of person that spends all that time choosing something to wear. It's not that important to me — I wear serviceable, neat, clean stuff. I don't wear stuff with holes in, or stuff that hasn't been washed. Sure I have a consistent wardrobe, but that's just so that I can pick whatever's first on the rack and be happy with it."

"So you don't want to look like you've worked at it?" Hope's smile broadened. "In that case, I think we can probably come to some sort of arrangement." Shawna joined her in the smile.

"Then all we have to is find something for us to wear." Shawna pointed out.

"Let's get something to eat, first." Hope pointed across the square, seeing Marcus' expression.

"MacDonalds?" Shawna grimaced. "McFood. You're as well eating the plastic container."

"They're still selling breakfasts, anyway." Marcus pointed out, and Hope checked her watch disbelievingly to see it was true.

"Alright, where did you want to go?"

"Burger King." Shawna gestured along the street to where she knew the restaurant was out of sight.

"I can't have the fries there." Marcus pointed out.

"I thought you were off the wheat-free diet?" Hope said, already a step away.

"I am, but I'm still avoiding a lot of the additives."

"Oh, right." She paused. "Three Cooks?" The three of them stared across the road at the little bakery.

"How bloated would we be by tonight?" Shawna finally managed.

"How about Subway?" Marcus finally managed.

"There's a Subway here?" Hope turned, a light in her eyes. "I love Subway, I've not been there in years."

"There's one on the other side of the St Enoch centre." Shawna admitted. "I don't mind Subway."

By the time they finally reached the restaurant, they'd already been sidetracked by three shoe shops and a discount clothing outlet, and the afternoon promised to be everything Marcus had worried about.

Wrapped up in her robe, hair wrapped in its own towel, Shawna shuffled into the kitchen stood on top of her slippers to find Marcus hunched over something at the table.

"Is the kettle boiled?" she asked, quietly, getting a distracted nod in response. "Is there any chance of a cup of tea?"

"Not for me, thanks." He muttered, reaching across to a toolkit he had open and taking a different tool before going back to his work.

"Honey, my nails are wet, could you... please..." she punctuated the request by leaning over the table, letting her robe droop open enticingly to catch his attention. "What is that?" she finally demanded, when the ploy had no effect, and he finally sat up, pushing himself back from the table slightly.

"I have absolutely no idea." He admitted, putting the cover back on his modelling knife before putting it down. "I thought it was some strange sort of slug or something, at first. I found it by the washing machine."

Shawna settled herself, leaning significantly to stare past him at the cupboard where the tea was kept, and he turned to make a start.

"You picked it up, thinking it was a slug?" she wondered.

"No, I'd ruled that out by then — it's not an animal at all."

"So what is it?"

"I'm not sure. It's kind of like those gel wrist-rests you get for a computer keyboard, but there's no backing for it."

"And why, exactly, did you cut it open?" she stared down at the pieces for a moment.

"I couldn't work out what it was from the outside, I thought there might be a clue inside." He returned to the table with her tea, settling himself back into his chair.

"What did it look like, originally?"

"Like this..." he pushed some of small, jelly-like slivers back into the slit in the plastic cover and turned it over.

"It's a chicken fillet." Shawna blurted, suddenly realising.

"A what?"

"Ah... Oh." She found herself giggling, gently, wondering how to phrase her answer when Hope leant in.

"Hey, Shawna, have you seen..." Her eyes went to the table, and she frowned slightly. "What are you doing with my... erm..." she flushed slightly, looking over at Marcus, then stepped in to snatch it off the table, squeezing the slivers through her fingers and all over the floor. "What the hell did you do?" she finally managed.

"I cut it open." Marcus answered, then caught Shawna's warning stare, but it was too late. "I... I was wondering what it was. Shawna says it's a chicken fillet."

"Is that what they call them down your way?" she slumped a little, squeezing even more of the filling out between her fingers.

"They called them Dorises at school." She admitted, "and I'm not sure the women in Stornoway even have a name for them, they're probably considered sinful."

"What is it?" Marcus finally managed, when it became clear the two women had fallen silent: Hope in introspection, and Shawna caught between embaressment and humour.