Body and Soul

  RODDY MURRAY

  Body and Soul

  © Roddy Murray 2013

  Roddy Murray asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or

  transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the written permission of the author. Acknowledgments

  I would like to thank everyone who has encouraged me to complete this book. In particular I would like to thank my brother Sandy for patiently correcting and sub-editing the manuscript. John Orr and Margaret Rustad for their assistance. Ewan Cameron, for his time, resources and a roof over my head when I needed it. My mother, Margaret Murray and my children Sebastien, Camille and Elliot for their encouragement. Also a special thanks to Pauline MacGillivray for believing.

  By the same author:

  George Milne – Cat Detective For my parents and for my children. Chapter One

  Frank Chisholm rounded the final corner of the perimeter running track in his local park at a fierce pace. He was angry, as usual, but it gave him strength. Or at least it distracted him from the effort of pushing his 50-year-old body to perform the way it had when he was a young soldier. Anger was useful. This time his anger was directed at his second wife, who had set the bastard lawyers on him again looking for money. Okay, he thought, he hadn't paid her this month or the month before but that was nothing new. He simply didn't have the money right now. He knew she had a part time job, was living with some suit and wouldn't let their son speak to him, so why should he pay a penny to her? The bitch!

  He had been married three times now. Looking back the marriages all followed a similar pattern. The women had fallen for Big Frank Chisholm the Para with rugged good looks and a body like a boxer which, of course, he was. He had fallen for them and popped the question at some point whilst drunk. Sober he felt obliged to go ahead with the process. After a year or so of physical bliss the women would try to change him to their liking. Specifically, each time they would want him to leave the army. Miffed at his refusal they would fester and eventually leave him while he was away on an operational tour somewhere or on a training course. After a while he managed to stop short of getting married each time but the pattern remained the same.

  Twenty-two years in the Parachute Regiment, finishing as a sergeant, then out into the real world. What a shock that had been! All his pension swallowed up by his three ex-wives for his four ex-children, and no mates around to keep his spirits up. Three years with seven dead end jobs then two with a succession of bottles as company till he was in shit state. He had always pictured himself going out in a blaze of glory; outnumbered and outgunned by the enemy but facing them anyway with a gun in his hand. Just like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. He had never expected to make it to middle age. But he had. No shoot-out with overwhelming odds had popped up during his service to strike him down in his prime. If his old Company Sergeant Major hadn't appeared on the scene Frank would have drunk himself to death.

  Appeared on the scene was an understatement. Paddy Dickman had left the army three years after Frank but had done well for himself. Always the scholar, he had acquired all sorts of social work qualifications while serving and was now heading a department that attempted to intervene in time to prevent suicide in men. Flavour of the month in this area of low employment, it was a well-funded department. Paddy needed role models that vulnerable men contemplating ending it all could open up to and get help. Paddy had been Frank's best man at least twice and knew he was the right kind of role model. He also knew that Frank was drinking for Britain and needed help himself.

  On the basis of preventing two birds from being killed with one stone he had tracked Frank down to the Bed and Breakfast shithole he was living in. After getting no reply from a loud but civilised knock on the door he had kicked it in. Frank was lying face down on a bed that hadn't been washed or made up properly for months. The room smelled of alcohol, vomit and stale urine. Paddy didn't bat an eyelid. He had seen worse.

  After failing to wake Frank he dragged him into the shower which conveniently only produced cold water and turned it on full. The effect wasn't immediate, but slowly the old fighting, kicking Frank began to re-appear, curse the first house guest he had had for six months and try to throw him out. After an initial but futile attempt to punch Paddy's lights out Frank calmed down enough to recognise his visitor.

  After being ordered to wash, dress and come out for breakfast they had talked for a long time. As ever they had talked about the old times, the good times and the bad. Old friends, old enemies and how, if they had their time again they wouldn't have changed a thing, with the exception of Frank going out shooting in a blaze of glory. Paddy wanted Frank to get back to the Gym, visit various men's clubs giving presentations on spotting the first signs of depression etc. and look for anyone needing help. The aim of Paddy's department was to halve the suicide rate in three years amongst adult males in the region. It was fully funded for that term and possibly beyond. Frank said it sounded gay, but he realised it was the best and indeed the only offer he had had for a long time. Nobody else would give him a chance in his current state.

  He had reluctantly agreed, doubting his ability to kick the booze and face the fresh challenge at the same time. Paddy knew him well enough to share his concern. To avoid any chance of slipping back into his old habits, Frank had been forcibly relocated by Paddy that day to the spare room of Paddy's house. Unlike Frank, Paddy had married once and for life. His wife Mary was one in a million and she had known Frank forever. That didn't necessarily count in his favour but he was an old enough friend of Paddy's for Mary to accept his arrival in her house with good grace.

  On pain of death, or at least on pain of pain, Frank had promised not to drink for three whole months and had agreed also that if he did it wouldn't be in Paddy's house. After asking him to promise, Paddy had stared him in the eye as Frank took the pledge.

  "You better commit to this body and soul," he'd said with a genuine hint of menace.

  Alone in his bedsit he would have failed but with Paddy, Mary and their kids about he had felt obliged to keep his word. It was very difficult at first. He couldn't remember a time in his life when he didn't drink anything and it took a while to adjust to getting through a day without something to look forward to in the evening.

  Paddy had re-established a routine. Frank was reacquainted with the alarm clock. Not too early at first but slowly going off at an earlier time each day. He went back to having a shower each day, although now a nice warm pleasant power shower. He would walk to the corner shop and buy milk and bread each day as his contribution to the household food bill. Soon he was walking the long way there and back. Then he would take a second walk with the household dog, an ageing spaniel called Para. Para was up for an extra walk initially but as they extended to three then five and eventually ten miles he began to look ill and lose weight. In the end Paddy had to stand Para down and Frank would walk alone. Then he would walk with a rucksack full of clothes. Then one with bricks wrapped in blankets and eventually a rucksack with exercise weights wrapped in blankets.

  Also, after a few weeks he would run each day; not far or fast at first, but every day. Unlike most of the people he passed out running, Frank was putting on weight again and felt better for it. His legs began to take on the chunky tree trunk shape they had once had and his upper body was regaining the powerful V-shape which had scared many an opponent in the boxing ring.

  Mary increased the quantity of food she cooked accordingly and took pleasure in seeing Frank's recovery. She and Paddy had no secrets and he had given her a no holds barred account of Frank's initial state. Her first
concern was for the kids. She didn't want them to witness a drunk staggering about the family home, old friend or not. Paddy had assured her that if he so much as smelled alcohol on Frank’s breath he would be history. A promise he relayed to Frank in no uncertain terms. But Frank had been as good as his word and better. As he progressed he started reading bedtime stories to the youngest son, an unplanned but very welcome little boy who was seven; twelve years younger than his sister and fourteen years younger than his brother. Young Daniel accepted Uncle Frank automatically as children do and loved the way he had time to play football with him or build stuff with Lego when his parents did not. Frank even had vague feelings of regret at not spending more time - in fact any time - with his own kids.

  Chapter Two

  The plant was easy to find. Even for a stranger coming from Glasgow Airport it was easy to find. Take the M77 out of Glasgow till you reach the bypass at Ayr. Go right round the bypass till the end and turn left. Keep going until you are depressed. That's you in Old Cumnock.

  The plant itself was the larger of the two new, shiny buildings in the town, the other one being the health centre where most unemployed residents in this exmining village went to be treated for respiratory diseases, mental health problems or benefit friendly, non-specific ailments. The factory was much bigger and was purpose built ten years ago to house a workforce of up to 450 with the regularly exercised option of reducing this to just over 200 whenever work was slow. Although many of the major international employers had packed up and left Scotland's silicon glen when the subsidies stopped, Nebus had not. Big names had relocated to new sources of subsidies around the world in the Far East or had moved volume production to the cheap labour pools of newly independent Eastern Europe or China. Nebus had not, for the simple reason that depressed Ayrshire itself had become a low cost manufacturing area and subsidies from panic-stricken local authority and Scottish Government agencies had replaced the traditional ones other companies had seen dry up. So their factory in Old Cumnock had become a rare beacon of employment opportunity in the town and its surrounding area and had also continued to provide high paid employment for some of Scotland's leading engineers in the field of printed circuit board manufacturing. They had migrated to it like large fish trapped in an ever shrinking backwater, often travelling the length or breadth of the country daily in car shares or at the ends of the week to retain their earning levels from better times. Those who couldn't travel daily, or chose not to, or couldn't face going home each night to their wives and families, lived in a variety of temporary accommodation arrangements in anywhere but Old Cumnock during the week.

  To its corporate owners in Omaha, Nebraska it was The Nebus Corporation of America's Old Cumnock Subcontracting Manufacturing Facility. Ownership confirmed by a well maintained, illuminated sign at the entrance proclaiming 'Nebus Corp'. To everyone who worked or lived there it was simply known as The Corpse.

  For senior management in the Corpse the high point for their blood pressure during the calendar year was the annual visit of the Chief Operating officer of Nebus, Blaine McCoard and his European understudy. He would visit every one of Nebus' plants worldwide to brief all the staff personally on the state of the company and its plans for the coming three 12-month fiscal periods. Or the next three years as Bob, Old Cumnock’s boss, would translate during his part of the presentation to the few interested souls amongst the large assembled groups. A segment of the presentation which contained only enough American Corporate jargon to confirm his understanding of Blaine’s requirements of him and thereafter sufficient plain English to let the Ayrshire workforce know exactly what was going on. Or at least for the ones who cared. Everyone attended the briefings; three per plant where necessary to cover all the shifts, in a total of 13 locations worldwide in regions as culturally diverse as, Malaysia, Eastern Europe, Nebraska, China, Mexico, Thailand and Old Cumnock. Blaine enjoyed these trips for a number of reasons. He was genuinely committed to keeping the workforce of Nebus informed of the exciting plans they had for growth over the next three 12-month fiscal periods. He felt a personal visit from The Chief Operating Officer of Nebus Corps, to thank them for their recent efforts, showed they were a caring, family-like employer: Values he was keen to promote as an alternative to higher wages. The visits also gave him a chance to meet the real people who turned the corporate vision into a reality day after day and to listen to their thoughts and ideas for the company, the best of which he could steal. But above all else it gave him the opportunity to travel the world for almost two months continuously, sleeping with his stunningly attractive PA Delores McPhee. Delores' surname was of Irish extraction but the rest of her was a subtle blend of black and Cajun.

  All the sources of her ethnicity had sent along of their best and the result was the most beautiful woman who ever visited Old Cumnock. She was tall and slim with perfect dark skin and jet black hair. All the locals agreed she was even prettier than Jean Blackmore who ran the hairdressers. Blaine would have agreed with them wholeheartedly if he had had a clue who Jean Blackmore was. He hadn't exactly stopped loving his wife Beth but had certainly started loving Delores. He enjoyed home life within the narrow confines his timetable allowed. School productions with his children were a particular pleasure, as were the two camping holidays they took each year in the National Parks. He and Beth still made love, but more out of habit than for any other reason. It was, however, not in the same league as six weeks on the road with Delores.

  Delores was as enigmatic as she was beautiful. She came from a dirt poor family as far as Blaine was aware but had made it through college on the strength of scholarships and sheer determination. Did she love him, he wondered at times? She never used that word to his face which he found unusual in a woman but put it down to her sense of propriety with him being a married man. Was she simply using him to climb the corporate ladder? Perhaps, he would admit to himself. He regularly mused as to the true motivation for Delores having an affair with him over the past three years. But he always arrived at the same conclusion: He didn't give a monkey's as long as she continued to sleep with him.

  The Manufacturing Associates watched the increased tension and apprehension amongst senior managers prior to each visit with a mixture of amusement and

  resentment. Amusement, because the stresses of the impending visit did not affect them personally one iota. Resentment because they had to clean, tidy and polish every square inch of the plant in the week leading up to the visit in order to create a good (if slightly inaccurate) impression of its normal state. On balance though most of them were happy to watch the stress levels rise amongst the senior management rather than to be paid higher wages at times like this. Many had worked in the plant since leaving school, some of them through a number of name and ownership changes as Silicon Glen rose and fell. Others had been blown in by the recession from other industries, other local employers or as their own businesses failed. Most were just pleased to have a job if they had families and mortgages to support. For those who had known high pressure jobs in the past this was a time of relief and occasional mild amusement.

  Whenever Blaine arrived at a plant for a visit he never failed to be intrigued by the notice boards. Not the showy corporate one's designed to impress the customers. No, they were the same in every plant and he knew them by heart. He had written a lot of the content. It was the staff notice boards he always took the time to read. In particular the staff association notices in each plant. He would find himself reading intimations of forthcoming events like barbecues, concert trips and even paintballing wondering what it must be like to have the time and opportunity to go on these outings. Being poor, that was what it was like he would remind himself. But still he would find a certain jealousy remaining as he swept on with his world tour, focusing always on the next three, 12-month fiscal periods. Photographs on the noticeboards of people having fun together, smiling and laughing would sometimes haunt him on the longer haul flights when his work was up to date or Delores was asleep. Was he
as happy, he would wonder? Did he have any real friends in the same way? Probably not he would conclude. Still, he did have a seven figure salary, share options worth millions and Delores to look forward to so how bad could his life really be? And when all was said and done if you didn't have money you were nothing. Just one of the little people he had spent his life leaving behind.

  All in all Blaine loved his job. If not necessarily the day to day nitty gritty of the problems to be solved, at least the power and trappings of his position at the top of the corporate ladder. Visiting Scotland and the Old Cumnock plant gave him an enhanced feeling of that enjoyment and certainly his own power. Someone had once joked to him that the Royal Family believe everywhere smelled of fresh paint. For him everywhere he visited in Nebus was freshly cleaned and tidy. A clockwork machine earning millions for its shareholders and more importantly, for Blaine McCoard. He knew it was all done immediately prior to his visits, but then that was part of their purpose. The staff and engineers watched printed circuit boards come off the production lines. For him every one was a little, or sometimes very big bundle of money.

  Chapter Three

  After three months of recovery Frank felt good. Not just physically but mentally he felt better than he had for a long time. He had surprised himself (as he had Paddy and Mary) at the way he had managed to stop drinking and, somehow, didn't miss it. At this stage Paddy had organised a formal job application for him. After three days of intensive coaching Frank had shown up at the interview in one of Paddy's suits, looking the part. An in depth interview chaired by Paddy had resulted in a second and then a formal offer of employment with the local authority as Men's Health Outreach Worker. It still sounded a bit gay to Frank but it was a job. A good job, that he could do. Included in the package was unlimited use of the council's gyms and a car. Frank was on a roll.