We Float Upon a Painted Sea

2063 Three years earlier

Bull took a taxi from his narrowboat at Maryhill Locks to the Cenotaph in George Square. It wasn’t strictly in accordance with the specifications in Saffron’s note, but he stopped off for a drive-through breakfast en route. At the Cenotaph a small group of animal rights protesters had gathered. Some were still drawing up poster signs when one of them, a young woman, approached him and requested if he insisted on eating his mortified flesh, could he do it where they didn’t have to be subjected to the smell. Bull snorted defiantly and then he bit into his hamburger, sending a spout of tomato ketchup towards her sandals. He smiled and then turned his back on the muttering group.

One of them shouted, “Fucking deceiver! “Shameless liar!” shouted another and more bizarrely, “Put your big fake tits away!” Bull turned but quickly realised they were directing their abuse at a news presenter, her digitalised image beaming from the City Chambers. Bull ignored the emergency announcement concerning further terrorist attacks, fuel shortages and the riots ensuing last night’s Protest in the Park. This could all wait, he thought. Nothing would be allowed to spoil his day. He stood motionless, planning his time with Saffron. If the rain held off, he imagined them walking to the Botanic gardens and taking lunch at the Willow Tea rooms. He had always wanted to sit on one of those replica Charles Rennie Mackintosh designed chairs, or if she preferred, visiting the Winter Gardens at the People’s Palace. Later they would go for dinner in the Merchant City. He didn’t care, as long as they woke up the following day in each other’s arms back at his narrowboat. When Saffron arrived in her electric camper van she jumped out and waved with a beaming smile. Bull waved back and turning to the group he said,

“I’d love to stay and chat but I’m meeting a beautiful young woman, so laters.” To his astonishment the group approached Saffron and one by one they hugged her. Saffron walked up to Bull, climbed two steps of the Cenotaph and kissed him on the cheek. She said,

“I hope you don’t mind. I wanted to introduce you to my friends. We’re going to an anti-vivisectionist rally outside an Ayrshire laboratory? Scientists are testing a new synthetically engineered virus on apes. Are you sure you are alright. You don’t have to come. I could meet you later?” Bull watched the bodies file pass him and into the van. He whispered,

“I think one or two have already taken a shine to me.” Saffron smiled. She got back into the driver’s seat and turning to her friends she said,

“This is Bull? He’s going to join us at the rally today. I’ve got a good feeling you’re all going to love him. He’s got a wicked sense of humour.”

When they arrived at the laboratory, the anti-vivisection protest was already underway. Bull picked up a banner and watched in silence. Saffron and the crowd chanted slogans and sat on the road, in front of scientist’s cars as they left their workplace. The police attempted to disband the protest, peacefully at first and then the electronic batons were withdrawn and a sonic boom cannon was deployed. The crowd dispersed but not before a splinter group, wearing ear protectors and balaclavas, hurled a petrol bomb at the police line. They left the scene and retreated to a grubby brew shack and ordered some cheap poitín to restore some warmth to their bodies. Saffron’s friends were discussing the possibility the balaclava wearing anarchists were indeed the ELF. Saffron asked them to lower their voices and then she updated them on how her social media campaign was progressing. The landlord approached and asked them to leave. As they walked out the door one protester called him a fascist and skilfully flicked a pickled onion at his head.

A week later, they took a train to Cheshire to visit Bull’s brother. Patrick was attempting to fix one of his children’s bikes in the workshop. Saffron wandered off to inspect the flowers in the garden. Patrick could hardly believe what he was hearing.

“So this lass Saffron, who is currently walking around my garden picking my flowers, is moving in with you? Just like that? She’s an artist and doesn’t have a reliable source of income, but even worse, to celebrate your impetuous decision, you visited a local pet shop and bought a cloned diamond backed terrapin?”

“His name is Boris.”

“His name is irrelevant. Pets are a prelude to having children?” Patrick pointed out to the garden. “It’s a test. She’s testing you. Look at her, she’s at the it’s now or never stage of life. Check out those hips, they’re ripe for having babies. She wants to see if you’re a capable father and if you can look after a pet, you have the megerest foundation for caring for a child. But when the baby arrives the pets have to go. They’re no longer Boris the tortoise, it’s a disease ridden flea bag. Don’t do it man. Take the tortoise back to the shop and tell them they should be ashamed of themselves for trying to trick you into marriage and fatherhood. But I can see by the look on your big gormless face that I’m wasting my breath. Love has an astonishing ability to make the protagonist deaf. What’s happened to you recently? You don’t seem yourself. Are you in some sort of trouble again? One day you up sticks and move to Glasgow to work on some defence contact for BAe Systems and then you are in jail and now you’re released and working on a flood prevention scheme.” Bull was peering over his shoulder towards Saffron who was now sitting on the grass, brushing the hair of Patrick’s eldest daughter. Finally he returned his brother’s stare and said,

“Look, don’t mention jail or BAe to Saffron. Promise?

“Ok, but soon enough she’ll find out what you really are.”

“All in good time, but when you meet the right person it’s instinctive. Other opinions only reflect the limitations and insecurities of the critic.”

“Are they your words of Saffron’s words?” Bull grimaced and said,

“Does it matter? You can’t own words or concepts, but she might have said something like that at some point.”

“Do you actually believe this old bollocks Faerrleah? Or are you just playing the fool again? You don’t know much about relationships do you? You hardly know her and to be honest, this is your first true relationship I know about, if you don’t count Deirdre’s plastic mannequin doll which you used to practise kissing with. Even that didn’t go well for you after Deirdre found out and put a stop to the romance.”

“It was a forbidden love. The relationship was destined never to work out. We were different star signs. I’m Taurus and she was Zylon. We can add Poly to the list of things Saffron can’t know about.” Patrick laughed,

“Poly? Like polystyrene? Is that what you called the doll? I never knew. Priceless.”

“Anyway, what would you know of love Patrick? You’re an accountant for fuck’s sake and accountants know nothing about emotions such as love.” Patrick stopped laughing, sighed exasperatedly and said,

“We know about the price of love and love is for fools. So in that respect you’ll do just fine.” Bull took the spanner from his brother’s hands and proceeded to fix the bike.

Later, Bull and Saffron took a train to Salford, to meet Bull’s sister, Deirdre at the family’s local brew shack, the Squealing Pig. Saffron went to the bar to get a round of drinks. Bull said,

“Well, what do you think of my new girlfriend sister of mine?”

“Give over Faerrleah? She’s been your only girlfriend not counting my mannequin...”

“Why is everyone obsessed with that mannequin? It’s ancient history. In the past. Over.”

“If you must know, on first impressions, I find her a bit jolly hockey sticks but I might be wrong.” Bull tried to disguise his displeasure at Deirdre’s frankness.

“You need to get over that chip on your shoulder. She’s just preoccupied with the more spiritual aspects of life. Did you ever stop to think maybe your chat is a bit prosaic for her?”

“Well, I can see what appeals to you, she’s obviously a great beauty, but I can’t, for the life of me, figure out what she sees in you?” Bull brushed his sister’s cheek with the back of his hand and with a playful smile said,

“We communicate at a metaphysical level, free from the one-dimensional perspective apparent in the modern myopic society you are familiar with.”

“You’ve changed since you moved up to that Glasgow and you even talk differently. Patrick has also changed since he moved down south.” Bull grunted,

“South? Wilmslow is hardly down south.”

“It’s south of Salford. I’ll tell you another thing, both of you are spineless and know nothing about women. Mark my words, as with Patrick, it won’t be long before she’ll have you wrapped around her finger and treating you like a troublesome puppy. Before you know it, she’ll be making you take a piss sitting down.”

“Patrick pisses sitting down?” Deirdre’s head nodded up and down and they burst out laughing. Saffron returned from the bar with some drinks. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing. It’s just a family joke,” replied Bull, smiling warmly. He got up to go to the toilet, leaving his sister alone with Saffron. Deirdre’s laughter faded and she caught Saffron’s gaze. She looked back into her large dark brown eyes and shuffled uncomfortably, believing Saffron was reading her thoughts. Saffron said,

“You have your brother’s eyes.” Deirdre mimicked a comical voice,

“I hope not, he’s blind without them.” She cringed with embarrassment on realising her quipped reply sounded like something Bull would unwittingly say.