Watch Over Me (11 page)

I was getting soaked. I started walking up to the workshop, shoulders hunched against the cold and damp. I’d think about it there.

I had changed my mind.

Jamie would have probably said no anyway. Also, what if they came to rely on me? I couldn’t possibly stay here forever. It was just temporary, until I started to feel a wee bit less wobbly and vulnerable. Then I’d go back to Southport. There wasn’t really anything for me there but I couldn’t rely on working in the shop forever or keep living with Peggy.

Although she seemed to love having me around – I could see she had been lonely before I arrived, she didn’t like living on her own. Also, the more I worked in the shop, the more I realised how much hard work it was for a sixty-seven-year-old woman, even with Jim doing the odd jobs. But still – this was not my life, I mean, not my
real
life. I only intended to stay until Christmas, maybe a little longer.

On the other hand, that would have been enough to see Jamie and Maisie through until Mary got better. And Maisie was a wee star, it would have been so good to go and collect her from school and have the rest of the afternoon together. A bit like old times, when I used to work in the nursery, surrounded by children all day.

I kept talking myself in and out of it, I was exhausting myself. I decided to think about it over a cup of tea and some tablet. Tea and tablet is just the best combination. I’d been at the tablet a lot, these last few weeks. My jeans were a bit tighter around my waist and my face had lost some of its hollow look. Even my hair seemed that little bit shinier. I was eating more and nearly always sleeping at night, I seemed to cry a lot less and I felt a whole lot stronger. Strong enough for a full-time job, to keep my afternoons busy as well as my mornings.

I knew that Peggy wouldn’t have wanted to give up her afternoon shift at the shop, she enjoyed seeing people and having a chat. Maybe it was time to look for some sort of part-time job in Kinnear.

Or maybe it was time to ask Jamie if he needed a childminder for a while.

If I found the courage.

‘Good work, everybody. Let me see …’ said Mrs Hill, sitting on her chair in the carpet area, with the Primary One boys and girls at her feet in their navy and grey uniforms.

She had a pile of sheets on her knees, all titled ‘Today’s News’, in her lovely, careful handwriting.

‘This is a great picture, David. Very tidy, well done. Would you like to show it to everybody?’

The children made room for David to take a few steps over tangles of wee hands and legs, until he stood beside Mrs Hill. He held up his sheet.

‘Tell us what this is, David.’

‘It’s my dad’s new van. It’s green. Me and my sister went for a drive but she’s only wee and she didn’t wake up.’ David’s cheeks were bright red, his hair was standing on end and half his shirt was out of his trousers.

‘That’s a brilliant story, David. And look at this lovely writing. What does it say?’

‘My. Dad. Has. Got. A. New. Van,’ he explained, pointing proudly at the unintelligible, rune-like scribbling.

‘Well done, lovely work, isn’t it, children?’ said Mrs Hill, passing the piece of paper to the classroom assistant, who bluetacked it onto the writing display. David sat back down, all pleased with himself.

‘Who else, let me see … Maisie. Tell me about your picture,’ Mrs Hill said, handing her the sheet.

Maisie stood up confidently in her navy pinafore, white shirt and navy tights, her blonde hair kept tidy with two hairpins at each side of her face. She held her sheet for everyone to see.

‘This is a horse. Not an imaginary one, a real horse. Her name is Shazad. I went riding yesterday and I had boots and a helmet. And this is Auntie Mary. She has a sore leg. She can’t look after me. Eilidh will look after me and play with my mini ponies.’

‘Well done, Maisie, and what a lovely horse. What does your story say?’

‘It says, “Eilidh likes roni cheese.” And here it says, “Maisie”.’

Mrs Hill stifled a smile. ‘There you are, Mrs McHarg, I think this should definitely go on the writers’ wall.’

Oh, for Heaven’s sake, will you make a decision the two of you!

It’s pouring today. I love being water, rain and loch, all mixed together. It’s so peaceful.

Eilidh hasn’t found it yet. She wore her jacket this morning. The black coat she had on when she took Maisie riding is still hanging in the hall, untouched. When she wears it again, she’ll find it and hopefully return it.

And that’s the last thing I will do for a while. They better sort themselves out; I can’t keep going around tripping people down the stairs! Now it’s up to them.

I had a distraught child on my hands. One of the ponies was gone, her favourite, the pink one. She had looked for them as soon as we arrived home because she said they had to get their snack and do their homework. The lilac one was on her bedside table but the pink one had vanished.

She was now sitting in front of the TV, her eyes puffy from crying, clutching Bog the wee red dinosaur. She hadn’t even touched her toast with jam. I had tempted her with chocolate buttons, the white ones that she loves, but no joy.

I promised her we’d go to Kinnear at the weekend and buy a whole new set but she said it was no use, that Pink Pony was all alone somewhere, lost and without dinner. She was inconsolable.

I was brushing my coat, trying to get rid of the horse hair and dried mud – what possessed me to wear it while out riding in the first place? – when I felt something in one of the pockets.

One of Maisie’s ponies.

I immediately realised the gravity of the situation. Maisie slept with the ponies. She’d told me she can’t fall asleep without them. I had to return it right away. I remember once, when Jack was about three, he’d forgotten his Beddy Teddy at my mum’s house. Katrina told me that he refused point blank to go to bed and they had to fix a makeshift bed for him on the living-room floor.

I threw a jacket on and walked up to the McAnenas’. Jamie opened the door.

‘I found this in my pocket,’ I said, handing him the pony. ‘Sorry, didn’t mean to steal it! I promise it was an accident!’ I said smiling, standing on his doorstep.

A little blonde head appeared behind him. When she saw the pony, Maisie’s face lit up, and before we knew it, she had brushed past Jamie and jumped into my arms. She held me tight, pressing her wee face into my tummy, her arms around my waist.

‘Thank goodness. It was awful,’ said Jamie, without a hint of sarcasm.

And then it just came out, before I could start thinking and analysing and stopping myself from living.

‘Jamie. I was wondering if I could look after Maisie for you.’

My first appearance at the school gates to pick up Maisie was quite eventful. Keira’s mum came up to me with a great, big, thoroughly insincere smile and a glint of curiosity in her eyes. I had never met her before, she’d only been in the village for a few years. I took an instant dislike to her.

‘Sooo … you are Maisie’s new childminder?’ she said, eyeing me up and down. I suddenly felt quite unkempt, in my pale blue jacket, jeans and trainers, my hair loose around my shoulders and messed up by the wind. She was immaculate, her blonde hair – fake, I thought, and then was shocked by my own bitchiness – in a perfectly blow-dried bob, a stylish light pink cardigan, high heeled boots and manicured hands clutching her car keys.

‘Temporarily, yes. I’m Eilidh,’ I answered, offering my hand.

She took it limply and quickly.

‘Sharon says you and Jamie are childhood friends,’ she said, fishing.

‘Yes, we went to school together.’

‘And you are back here after your divorce,’ she added, with an exaggerated sympathetic look.

‘Well, I’m not divorced yet, just separated.’

‘How lucky for you,’ she went on. ‘In fact, Jamie could have easily asked me. It wouldn’t have been a problem to help poor Maisie …’

Poor?

‘Yes, well, no need now,’ I cut her short and walked away. Heavens above. I’d heard about the so-called ‘mummy mafia’ but obviously never experienced it myself. Well, that was a nice introduction.

‘Hello!’ said a confident voice from behind me. I turned around and was faced with a smiling woman of about forty, holding a brown-haired toddler in her arms.‘I’m Ruth. You must be Eilidh.’

I nodded. Fresh from the encounter with Keira’s mum, I wasn’t going to give anything away.

‘Nice to meet you. Helena told me about you. I’m Ben’s mum. And this is Jack,’ she said, juggling the wee boy who was trying his utmost to free himself.

‘We must get together sometime. Maybe you could come up to the house one day?’

‘I’d love to. That’d be good.’

‘We get together quite a lot, we do these mums’ gatherings where the kids run around and we can have a cup of tea and a chat – and vent!’

Mums’ gatherings. With me as one of the mums? Strange. A glimpse of a world I always looked at from the outside but was never allowed in …

‘Maisie was hardly ever there, you know with Mary being an older lady, she preferred to do her own thing … It’s a chance for Maisie to come and play with Ben and the others … here they are!’ she said, as the children started running out. ‘I’ll give you my mobile number … bye!’ and she was gone, walking away with one last wave and a smile, a boy by each side, holding her hands. Well, Ruth had just reconciled me with the world of school gate mothers.

I watched the boys and girls run down the steps, giddy with freedom and pent-up energy, until I saw a wee blonde head bobbing up and down.

‘Eilidh!’ Maisie ran to me and gave me a cuddle. I waved to her teacher who was watching by the steps, checking that each child was safely picked up.

‘Hi baby, how was your day at school? Come while I meet your teacher.’

I walked up to her, a kindly looking woman with grey hair and glasses.

‘I’m Eilidh. Maisie’s dad must have told you about me,’ I said, holding out my hand.

‘Yes, hello, I’m Mrs Hill, Maisie’s teacher. Maisie’s dad told me you’ll come and collect Maisie for a few weeks. How’s Mary?’

‘Aye, doing ok, it’ll be a while I’m afraid.’

‘I’m so glad they found you, then. Maisie was so excited today, weren’t you, darling?’

‘Yes! Eilidh has a shop!’

‘Well, not exactly …’ I began.

‘And I can work in the shop today!’ Maisie added.

‘Well, not work in it, just sit there and do your homework,’ I added hastily. God. They’ll think she’s going to be put to work. Child labour or something.

But Mrs Hill laughed. ‘You’ll be a great help for Eilidh, I’m sure! See you tomorrow!’

A chorus of bye-byes followed until we were alone on the steps.

‘How was your day, sweetheart?’

‘Good! We are growing frogs. But they look like commas. Lots of commas swimming. But then they have their lifecycles and become frogs. Like butterflies. Are we going to your shop?’ She was jumping up and down with excitement.

‘Yes, you’ll have a snack, then you’ll do your homework, then we’ll walk up to your house and wait for your dad. Sound good?’

‘Can I help in the shop?’ she asked, excitedly.

I smiled. I used to love helping in the shop when I was a wee girl, it made me feel all grown up and responsible. To see Maisie so keen, it was like seeing a memory of me coming to life.

‘Of course. Peggy will be grateful for the help,’ I said solemnly.

She nodded, all serious. We held hands and walked in silent companionship, the wind playing with our hair, a hint of darkness in the sky already, in spite of it being just early afternoon. Winter was closing in.

‘Hello!’ I called as we entered the shop.

‘Hello there, girls!’ Peggy answered from behind the counter, her light blue eyes smiling at the sight of us.

‘Can I help you? Can I wear a apron?’

We laughed. ‘You sure can, pet, go and get your snack and Eilidh will get an apron just for you. Eilidh, it’s like seeing you all over again!’ she said to me, a wistful look passing on her face quickly, like the shadow of a cloud on the moors.

‘I suppose you can do your homework later on at your house,’ I sighed. I had been outnumbered.

She downed her jam sandwich at the speed of light, champing at the bits to go and help Peggy.

‘A apron! A apron for me!’ she said happily, as I fastened the strings behind her back. It was a bit too long and too wide for her, but not too bad. She looked so pretty, her hair held back with a white hair band, her wee legs in grey tights sticking out of the burgundy apron, her grey eyes sparkling with excitement.

‘I’m ready!’ she declared, stepping out into the shop.