Iain Colvin - The kings prerogative

Saturday 15th January, 1983.

It was one of those bright, brisk Scottish winter mornings that made everything seem possible. The sky was as crisp and clear as ice. The sun had barely managed to heave itself over the horizon, the effort in doing so draining it of any prospect of warming the air this side of April. Craig Dunlop stood looking out to sea as his dog busily sniffed a lamp post, making the most of its Saturday excursion. In the far distance, the ferry rounded the point that guarded the western approach to Loch Ryan and turned towards Craig. He looked at his watch. 9:10. Bang on time.

He breathed in deeply and the sea air stung his lungs. The cobwebs from the night before slowly began to blow away into the cold breeze. It had been a good party. One of those impromptu nights where hed invited his friends back for a few beers and before he knew it the stereo was on and there had been dancing and more drinking and more laughing. The only thing missing had been his girlfriend, Fiona. His ex-girlfriend, Fiona.

It had been Craig whod broken it off and there had barely been a day since that he hadnt regretted his stupidity. Theyd had a row about something and nothing. No, that wasnt correct. Craig knew exactly why they rowed. Hed seen her talking to another student. Laughing with him. A good-looking student. Better looking than Craig anyway, or so he thought. He couldnt control the overwhelming jealousy that clouded his judgement in the minutes afterwards. He accused Fiona of two-timing him, even though he didnt actually believe that she was. It was just him getting his retaliation in first. He knew she was out of his league, and hed convinced himself that sooner or later shed get fed up with him and move on. Even though the fear was without a shred of foundation, Craig was convinced that sooner or later hed be dumped and he couldnt bear the thought of that. So he contrived the argument. She told him not to be so immature. That only made Craig more aware of his shortcomings as a boyfriend. Hed stormed off in a strop, and didnt look back. And that was that. Fiona had phoned and written but by that time Craig had wrapped himself in the security blanket of his blind obstinacy. And then one day the phone didnt ring any more, and too late he realised with every fibre in his body that he wanted it to. All this happened over a year ago and he hadnt seen her since. But today, like most days, in the quiet moments he found himself thinking about her.

Craig continued to stare at the loch. It may have been the hangover, or his regrets about Fiona, or a combination of the two, but today he felt more than ever that the love-hate relationship he had with his home town was becoming a hate-hate relationship. He looked across at the ferry terminal and smiled ruefully at Stranraers crest above the entrance. The towns Latin motto read Tutissima Statio. It translated as safest of harbours. The irony wasnt lost on him. The hills that provided a finger and thumb of green landscape on either side of Loch Ryan provided shelter from the vagaries of the North Channel beyond. Most people only passed through on their way to and from Northern Ireland. Not Craig though. He wasnt passing through. What was he doing with his life? He was twenty-five, reasonably good looking, doing reasonably well at work, he lived reasonably comfortably, was reasonably happy. Hmmmmm, maybe that was the problem. Maybe in another twenty years hed still be going to the same parties and hed still be reasonably comfortable, reasonably successful, reasonably happy. Safe, living his risk-free life in his little risk-free town. He wondered if Stranraers motto could be more accurately translated as most comfortable of dormitories.

He took a last breath of sea air. Come on Guinness, lets go. He tugged at the lead and the Doberman obediently fell into step beside Craig. They crossed the road and headed towards the centre of town where the promise of freshly baked rolls prompted Craig to quicken his step just a little.

Fifteen minutes later Craig reached his parents house and called a greeting as he opened the back door, allowing Guinness to run past him and straight into his basket at the other side of the kitchen. Although the dog was officially Craigs it had always lived at his parents. When Craig moved out to his own place shortly after starting in the bank, his mum and dad agreed that it made sense not to make Guinness move out too.