Page 33 of One Night in Edinburgh

‘It’s not possible.’

‘Because?’

‘Financial and logistical issues –apparently.’

‘It would cost thousands, Steph,’ says Connor.

‘That’s what the guy on the phone said – before he laughed his arse off at me.’

Anna cringes, catching Connor’s eye and he puts his arm around me.

‘Stephy, if it’s meant to be, you’ll bump into Jamie again. He might even turn up on your dating app.’

‘Oh, Connor, I love you, but you’re normally the last person to spin me that fate bullshit.’ I put down my fork. ‘I’ve not completely lost it. I swiped through a gazillion online dating profiles last night before I went to sleep, and there was no sign of him. Nor was there anyone on there that I was remotely attracted to. Then I woke up this morning to a bunch of creepy-slash-pervy messages, so I deleted the app.’

‘You know that doesn’t actually delete your account,’ says Anna.

‘Whatever.The point is: no one’s going to match up to Jamie, so I have to find him. There must be another way… something similar to the idea I had, but without the insane price tag and the… oh…wait…I’ve got it. I’m going to print out my own sticky labels and ask all the pubs to add them to that specific beer in their stock.’

Anna does another facepalm.

‘You do realise they might not be up for doing that?’ says Connor.

‘Yeah, maybe, but I won’t know till I try, will I?’ I feel the adrenaline coursing through my body with this sudden boost. ‘I’ll even stick on all the labels myself if it means they’ll let me do it. Come on, eat up you guys, we’re off to PC World.’

By five p.m., I’ve designed and printed my own labels (which included setting up a new email address so that I don’t have to give out my personal one), and I’m on the bus back to The Shore where I will execute my plan – this time by myself, so that no one can talk me out of it, or hold me up. The rain has come on, but it’s light and drizzly, so the only thing that will suffer from the experience is my hair. I’ve got the labels tucked carefully in my handbag, which is reasonably waterproof.

Having decided to start with the places that are furthest away, I hop off the bus just before it turns on to Leith Walk, and hurry along to the pubs and bars on Constitution Street – this being as far as I’d expect anyone who lives at The Shore to go if they were visiting their ‘local’.

Approaching the first pub, I’m momentarily thrown by how busy it is. It may be Saturday, but it’s only late afternoon and the middle of January. Pushing open the door, it’s immediately apparent what the attraction is: there’s a football match on. The noise of the fans and commentators is blaring out of a couple of large screen TVs, with all eyes in the pub glued to them. I fight my way through to the bar, and try to catch the barman’s attention, but he’s as engrossed in the match as the punters.

‘Excuse me,’ I call across to him, but I’m either not loud enough or he’s oblivious. I try again. ‘Excuse me.’

The man briefly glances across at me, then reluctantly makes his way over, eyes still on the screen. ‘What can I get you?’

‘I’m looking for a favour.’ I try and fail again to get his full attention.

‘I serve drinks, not favours.’

‘Very funny.’

‘Sorry. What is it you want?’

‘I’m hoping you’ll help me with something. Do you sell the beer, Serve Minus Pigs, here?’

‘We do.’ He automatically reaches for the fridge for a can, eyes never leaving the screen. ‘That’ll be five pounds sixty.’

‘No, I don’t want one,’ I clarify. ‘Technically, I want access to all of them.’

‘You want to buyallof our beers?’ The man looks at me properly for the first time.

‘No.I’m trying to get a message to someone, and I was hoping you’d be kind enough to add these labels to all your cans of Serve Minus Pigs – including those in your stock room.’ I hold up a plastic pocket containing the printed labels.

The barman takes it from me and reads aloud. ‘“Jamie, what a Hogmanay, Connor is still gay, if you felt what I felt, please don’t leave my heart to melt. Contact: [email protected].”’ He looks up at me in complete and utter amazement. ‘Is this for real?’

‘Absolutely.’ I give him a bright smile, while heat creeps up my neck under his scrutiny. ‘Look, I know what you’re thinking. I’ve heard it all already from my friends. Will you stick them on the cans?’

‘Eh… sure. Don’t think the boss will mind, as long as they don’t cover up the information on the can that has to be displayed by law.’

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