Chapter 9
One hour later, when the ghost tour came to an end, we swiftly took our cue and exited a dark and gothic pub called The Banshee Labyrinth at the bottom of Niddry Street. We had hastily timed our exit just as soon as the guided tour had finished inside the pub—but not before grabbing our free glass of whiskey, exclusive to the paying customers who had participated.
The tour was good and enlightening. After we'd left the Cathedral, the guide had led us down some dark and seedy-looking side alleyways, hidden away on The Royal Mile, while explaining a bit more about the history of the buildings and the extremely poor people that lived within them in the centuries-gone past.
It seemed that back in the old days, before the building of the New Town, the higher up you lived in the tenement blocks, the more well-off and superior you were supposed to be. The poorest of the poor lived deep down in the hidden basement floors that expanded well beneath The Royal Mile Old Town. Down there were no windows and lights—only candles, if one could afford them—nor any kind of clean water or latrines for sewage waste.
There was such a huge divide between the rich and the poor classes of Edinburgh back then, that most of the poor who inhabited those underground, hell chambers shared their small stone rooms with more than a dozen other folk. Usually, strangers either quickly became friends or foes.
Due to these horrendous living conditions, many of the out-of-work poor started committing small, petty crimes all over the city, at ease with the knowledge that, when they did eventually get caught and arrested, they would most likely end up in a far better place of accommodation than the ones they'd already been living in—a prison cell with their very own bed, a roof, and a few half-decent meals every day for good measure. In some lucky instances their very own cell might come with a small window where they could at least see some daylight.
On the second half of the tour, we were led into some of the preserved underground chambers which were supposed to be haunted by some of the people who'd lived and died down inside those glum and scabby quarters. The entrance into these dungeon-like cesspits was just off the bottom of Niddry Street and directly underneath the pub where we'd hurried out of once the tour had concluded.
Down inside these dirty and disgusting, stone rooms, the guide treated us to more ghastly and hideous tales about the wretched and stinking people who dwelled there and their filthy means of life, most of whom were living that way because they had no other options.
I thought that most of the gruesome stories that the guide came up with were just exaggerated, nonsense tales spoken more for their horrific and dramatic shock value, in order to scare the gullible tourists rather than be taken as fact. Nonetheless, his words worked well in keeping Alex huddled to my side in a bundle of nerves and terror the entire time we were stuck down there.
On the final part of the tour, the guide beckoned everyone to huddle inside the largest and darkest, foul-smelling room in the underground chambers. It was absolutely pitch black inside. I had the slightest of inclinations too that something mildly frightening was about to go down, which was further enforced when the tour guide asked for all the women of the group to stand on one side of the room and for all the men to stand on the other.
Apparently, there was supposed to be some kind of strong poltergeist presence in this particular area. A poltergeist that had a certain dislike for women, probably because he'd been turned down by them, more times than a turtleneck pullover, throughout the duration of his short and miserable life. The name 'John Knox' was the first person who sprung to my mind.
So with the women and their feminine energy all huddled up together on one side of the room, this, in theory, would be enough to infuriate the ghost, just enough to make him appear before us. Now that I come to think about it, why the hell would anyone want to infuriate an already-angry invisible force, especially one who could throw blunt and sharp objects around the room and hurt you?
After five minutes of waiting and waiting and waiting, surprise, surprise! Some assistant to the guide came running in through the dark doorway outside, wearing a tacky white sheet over his entire body while screaming at the top of his lungs, a cheap trick which pretty much ruined a reasonably half-decent yet very informative tour. For the paying customers, I mean.
So we finally sneaked out of the bar, before anyone called us out for lack of payment, and made our way hastily down to the bottom of Niddry Street. Here, the narrow, cobbled path sharply veered out onto The Cowgate, a long stretch of old road which ran parallel to The Royal Mile, but well beneath it.
If The Royal Mile ran along the top of a long, stretching volcanic hill, then The Cowgate would be the lengthy valley at the bottom. But a valley filled with old, grey, and gloomy buildings and countless upon countless grungy yet quirky bars, night clubs, and youth hostels galore, which eventually opened up into the Grassmarket - an old, rectangular, open-market courtyard lying at the foot of the castle's rocky south slope, now filled with a shit load more bars and hotels.
As we walked out The Cowgate and towards its first open archway, which supported the street of South Bridge directly above us, I very soon heard, then saw, an acoustic guitar-playing busker at the far end.
“That was so scary, but also hilarious at the same time,” said Alex, giddy from the ghost tour, and a little tipsy too from the whisky, while still holding on to my arm for dear life.
“I don't think I've been so spooked in my whole life,” continued Alex.
“Wasn't bad for a free tour though,” I continued.
“And I nearly wet myself with fright and laughter towards the end when that fake ghost jumped out on us.”
When we reached the other side of the archway, Alex and I slowed to a halt so we could stand and watch the busker play his guitar and sing for a few moments. I couldn't place the song at first, but when he sang the chorus I knew it almost immediately. I just hadn't heard the tune in a long time.
“'...And nothing ever happens, nothing happens at all. The needle returns to the start of the song and we all sing along like before. And we'll all be lonely tonight and lonely tomorrow...'”
We just stood there, the two of us, listening and enjoying the busker's live concert and soulful singing. He was a talented guy with a good, strong voice. He looked to be in his late twenties, but if he shaved off that ridiculous, scruffy beard and moustache, then perhaps he could pass for much younger.
When he finished the song, Alex clapped away enthusiastically and we dug deep inside our pockets for some change. We threw a couple of pound coins, which we’d saved from the ghost tour, into his hat then continued walking.
“I've had a really amazing time today, Ryan. Thank you so much for everything you've shown me.”
“Me too. And you're more than welcome.”
Another silence crept in as we both held our affectionate gazes while walking. We were no longer arm in arm, but hand in hand.
Alex became the first to coyly glance away as she always did. Damn, I wanted to kiss her again, so bad. To feel her soft wet lips pressed against mine once more, to hold her soft, warm body close to mine.
Back on the tour, I'd desperately thought about trying to pull her into one of the old, dark chambers for a furtive little kiss, but it became so bloody difficult and awkward with so many people around us in such a cramped and compact setting. Right now, I just couldn't hold back any longer. I felt fully compelled to stop right there in the middle of the dimly lit Cowgate and just grab a hold of her.
Alex kept walking of course, not realising at first that I'd stopped dead in my tracks. Once our arms were stretched, with our interlocked fingers near to breaking apart, Alex turned sharply to face me to see why the hell I'd stopped. It was right at that point, before she even had time to say the faintest of words, that I pulled her into my arms.
We were now millimetres apart. Face to face, body to body, and almost lip to lip. I could feel her breath against my chin as I looked deeply into her eyes. Still, without words, I gently brushed my fingers through her beautiful blonde hair while studying her face, inch by inch, taking in all of her as if it were going to be the last time I would ever look upon her face.
“Are you about to show me the difference between sneaky and cheeky again?” Alex said just above a whisper, easing the tension with a faint but luscious smile.
I didn't reply. I was still watching every inch of her face: light brown eyes, pale white cheeks, cute button nose that wiggled a little when she laughed. She searchingly moved her eyes from left to right, as if waiting for something to happen. Slowly, I cupped my hand softly behind her neck, right underneath her hair, before gently pulling her the rest of the way towards me so that our lips finally melded together.
As I tasted her for the second time that day, that burning hunger for Alex deep inside of me, which had been aching so bad to be satiated ever since our first kiss on top of Calton Hill, finally subsided and dissolved as I held her even closer, kissing and tasting her with more passion than I ever thought I’d be capable of. I could feel the fire rising in Alex's body too as her tongue began to explore further and deeper into my mouth.
I had the feeling that we were both about to lose control at any second, right out here in the middle of the almost-deserted Cowgate. We had to stop, slow down, and take a moment. I knew I was crazy to do such a thing, but I pulled away from Alex and broke our passionate and fiery embrace. Her eyes were still closed while her lips remained slightly puckered. I couldn't help but grin. Finally, she opened her eyes and let out a warm smile.
“Well, that was nice.”
I didn't reply. Instead I took Alex by the hand again and began leading her in the direction of the Grassmarket. She took my arm instead and cuddled into me even more. God, I wanted her to come back with me to my place tonight. It wasn't the normal thing to do, but then again, these weren't normal circumstances, were they? And Alex wasn't just any normal girl to me. I really did have strong feelings for her in just the few hours we'd known each other. I would even go so far as to say that I was falling for her. For the first time in my life, I was completely and utterly falling for someone who I didn't just want to sleep with and never see again.
Alex though was only in town for another day, then she would be jetting off back to her life in Czech and I might never see her, again. That's why I was feeling so comfortable in asking her to come and stay with me tonight. I was so contented with her around me, truly, that I felt as if I'd known her my whole entire life, and to spend the night with her became the next natural thing to do. I mean it wasn't even about the sex, if it had, in fact, ever been. Even if we were only to fall asleep on my couch or upon my bed, fully clothed and above the covers, or half naked in our underwear as I held her in my arms and cuddled up against her warm, smooth body and feel her so close. Well, such a feeling would be worth dying for, I imagined. And I'm sure, at various points throughout the history of humanity, some men had indeed risked their lives for such feelings.
We walked underneath the second and largest archway of The Cowgate, which led us underneath the George the Fourth Bridge. All was going well until I noticed a very shady-looking character standing halfway along and amongst the shadows of the dark stone walls. Possibly a homeless person or a drunkard trying to urinate in the darkness, I thought, until he began moving towards us on the footpath.
My instincts took over and I began leading Alex away from the path and out onto the deserted road running beside us. But I wasn't alert enough, to see the strange man's quick and anxious movements, and neither was Alex. The man had grabbed her by the arm, pulled her back against his body, and, before any of us had a clue to what the hell was happening, he held a small, sharp syringe against the side of her throat.
The man was in the light now so I was able to get a better look at the brute. With a dirty, hairy face, his beard looked to be full of bits of food or, maybe, pieces of tissue paper. He wore a long, filthy, brown flasher jacket which looked to be covered in stains of God-knows-what disgusting things. I froze in shock and found myself more than a little aghast that this had happened. I mean, I'd heard about these kinds of attacks happening to other people sometimes, but I had never dreamed of them ever happening to me.
Alex looked shaken too but, to her own credit, she didn't scream or freak out at all.
“Don't try and be a hero pal, eh? I'm HIV positive and so is ma fucking needle here, okay, pal?” the man, who I now realised was a homeless junkie, said in an aggressive, anxious slur and mumble of words that slavered through his broken teeth. None of which seemed to be fully intact.
I backed away slightly and raised my hands to show the attacker I was willing to cooperate. I'd heard about these kinds of muggings before up in Leith but on those occasions, needles recovered from the muggers caught were usually always just full of tap water. I definitely wasn't willing to take the risk and lunge for the scabby bastard just in case I was wrong though.
Alex groaned as the man tightened his grip around her neck and pressed the needle a little harder against her throat. With just the slightest bit more force and the needle would surely break the skin.
“All right mate. All right,” I cried. “Please, don't hurt her. What do you want?”
“Money, phones, jewellery, watches. Anything in your pockets worth a fuck.”
Without question, I searched my pockets and eventually pulled out my wallet. I slipped the silver watch off my wrist and two rings from my fingers and held them out in front of me for the man to see.
“Where do you want them?”
“Come to me, but slowly does it, pal. Put everything intae ma pocket.”
I walked towards the junkie. He backed away a little nervously with Alex in tow.
“Ah said slowly, pal.”
I slowed to a snail’s pace. As I approached the side of the man I couldn't help but look at the intensity in Alex's eyes. I felt she was up to something, perhaps might even try and attempt to fight back. I shook my head. I didn't want her to do anything stupid that might get her seriously hurt or, worse, killed. My possessions were easily replaceable, but her health and life definitely weren't.
I slowly moved my hands right up to the man's large jacket pockets. The jacket was clearly at least two sizes too big for him. Probably so he could steal and carry more things inside while robbing. The man tensed, the needle a little harder against Alex's throat right at the point where I'd opened his pockets. For the first time, Alex let out a painful yelp.
“Make the slightest move, pal, and I will stick this needle right through her neck and oot the other side, so help me God ma friend. We clear, aye?”
“We're clear,” I replied. “We're clear.”
“And when you're finished putting them in ma pocket, pal, you'll go through the ladies pockets and handbag tae and do the same again.”
I opened his large jacket pocket wider, ready to place my belongings inside. I think he must've slightly loosened his grip on the needle because, straining, he peered over her shoulder, seeming to be more focused on me and what I was doing rather than on Alex.
From the corner of my eye I could see Alex had shut her eyes and taken a deep breath. When she exhaled again, she violently rammed her head backwards, cracking the junkie hard in the face and nose.
He didn't see it coming either and instinctively moved his hands away from Alex's neck and body to attend to the blood now spurting out of his broken nose like a burst pipe. He howled in pain, too, like an injured wolf in the night.
Alex ducked forward and, within a split second, I instinctively made a desperate grab for the loose needle in his hand. He tried to make a pathetic attempt to tighten his grip, but he was far too dazed and confused. I wrestled the needle from his grasp with ease. Right at that moment, Alex, completely unexpected, turned and kicked the man at full force right between his legs, hitting him square in the groin.
Bloody-faced and with his eyes still firmly shut tight, the man fell down onto his knees in a crippled heap. He yelped in a breathless whisper-gasp, which I found to be quite sadistically humorous, before falling sideways onto the ground.
“Fucking asshole!” Alex yelled. She looked furious. She went to unleash another kick to the man's stomach as he lay helplessly on the floor, but I grabbed and held her back.
“Please dinnae. No mere. Nay mere I beg you. It was anly a bit of water in the syringe, I swear. I just said it tae scare ya, pal. Please, nay mere,” the man pleaded, feebly and breathless.
Alex continued to struggle in my arms, eventually calming. I turned her away from the wounded junkie and finally released her onto the street. She roared something in Czech out of frustration and up into the night sky. She seemed to calm down somewhat after that.
“Are you okay?"
Alex took another series of deep breaths. I beckoned her to come toward me. “Come here. Let me see your neck.”
Alex approached me, but without meeting my gaze.
“Lift your head.”
“I'm fine, Ryan, I never felt it go in.”
“If it's all the same, I'd like to see for myself.”
Alex raised her head. I couldn't see any marks, scratches, or specks of blood anywhere. It was looking good. I gave her a big warm embrace while the junkie behind us continued to moan in pain.
“You sure you're all right?”
“I am fine. Honestly. I just wish to sit down for a while somewhere, with a stiff whiskey to calm my adrenaline down.”
I smiled at her resilience and lightly kissed her forehead. “You are fucking crazy, Alex, you know that. I can't believe you just did that.”
“I have five bigger and stronger male cousins than this man who have all had me in similar positions over the years, and more times than I care to count.”
I smiled and turned back to the broken man bunched up on the street before us.
“So what do we do about him?”
“Nothing,” replied Alex. “Leave him and let us go.”
“Maybe we should at least phone the police first.”
“Forget that, Ryan, come on. I'm sure he's going to think twice now about doing this kind of thing again. And the police will only waste our time for the next few hours taking useless statements and making stupid reports. And I certainly will not be coming all the way back to Edinburgh as a witness for this pathetic man's court hearing. In which case, they would most likely find a way to make this idiot out to be the victim in all this anyway, maybe even arresting me for assault.”
I couldn't help but chuckle. “You've been watching far too many cop shows.”
“Perhaps.”
“All right, but I'll call an ambulance if it's all the same and leave him in their capable hands.”
“Okay. And then we go for that drink, yes?”
“Sure!”
I then realised that after all the drama and emotion, this would be the perfect opportunity to invite Alex back to my place.
“Actually... I only live a few streets away from here. So why don't we just go back to my place for a bit, chill out, have a wee drink there. Afterwards we can get you a taxi back to your internet student-serial-killer buddies. How about that?”
“That sounds just perfect.” Alex grinned from cheek to cheek, while gently nodding her head.