Watch Over Me (12 page)

‘Very well!’ said Peggy. ‘Your first job is to tidy up this shelf,’ she said, handing her a cloth. ‘Look. You move the boxes, then you dust underneath and then you put them back, all lined up nicely.’

Their heads were bent together over the cereal boxes, a blonde one and a grey one, as Peggy crouched to show Maisie the ropes. I could see myself all those years ago, bending over the exact same shelf, tidying up cans and boxes.

The bell tinkled, once, twice. The door opened and a young woman walked in, a train of cold air following her.

There was something exotic about her that made me do a double take. She had short black hair, cropped in the back and longer in the front, with bright blue highlights, a multicoloured jumper that looked hand knitted and a miniskirt over long, lean legs in bright pink tights. I had seen her somewhere before. Then I remembered. I had met her in the pub once.

‘Hello, Peggy, hello,’ she added, with a smile towards Maisie. Her voice had a foreign lilt.

‘Oh, hello there, how are you, Silke?’ said Peggy, standing up. ‘Haven’t seen you in a while.’

‘Very well, thank you. It’s been crazy, with the gallery opening and all that.’ Her English was perfect, with just a hint of German behind her Scottish intonations.

‘This is my niece Eilidh, I’m not sure you’ve met …’

‘Not formally, no,’ she said and extended her hand to me with a big, friendly smile. I took it. Her handshake was warm and firm.

‘Jamie said you’ll be looking after Maisie. Just as well, Eilidh, cause you must know, I’m going to put Jamie through his paces with the gallery project!’ She laughed.

‘How is it coming on?’ asked Peggy.

‘Great, thanks, it’s brilliant. The opening is next month. There will be music and catering, and lots of fancy people from Edinburgh and even London. Will you come?’

‘Ach, Silke, I’m too old for these things, but Eilidh …’

‘I’d love to. It sounds great,’ I said and I meant it.

‘And you’ll come for a bit, won’t you, sweetheart?’ Silke added, bending to stroke Maisie’s hair.

‘Yes. I’ll wear my fairy outfit,’ Maisie said, perfectly serious.

‘Cool! Do you have wings as well?’

‘Uh-huh,’ she nodded, ‘and a wand.’

‘Brilliant. Just what we need.’ Silke was equally serious.

‘Will you come as a fairy?’ Maisie asked.

‘No, I’m actually a witch. A good one though.’

‘A witch?’ Maisie’s eyes were two round saucers.

‘Yes. But don’t tell anyone. Can I leave these with you?’ she added, handing Peggy a wad of leaflets and a poster.

‘Sure. We’ll let everybody know,’ said Peggy, going over a leaflet. ‘“Glen Avich Art Gallery” – it has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?’

‘Thanks! Right, better run, I’m driving up to Kinnear to hand these in. Bye, nice meeting you,’ she said and, with a last wave to Maisie, she went out into the twilight. With her bright blue hair and pink tights, she was a little beacon as she crossed the road and disappeared.

‘Peggy? Is she really a witch?’ asked Maisie.

Peggy laughed. ‘There’s no such thing as witches, pet. Except at Halloween!’

‘If she’s a witch, she’s a good one. She seems lovely,’ I said.

‘Oh, aye. A great lassie. Very … unique.’

I smiled. Bet her blue hair caused quite a stir when she first moved to Glen Avich.

‘We’ll need to get a move on, my love, you still have to do your homework and your reading.’ Homework in Primary One. I had my own opinion about that but it had to be done.

‘Ooook …’ she said sadly, giving the cereal boxes one last pat. ‘Will you keep my apron safe?’ she asked Peggy.

‘I certainly will. Maybe you can come back tomorrow? There’s a lot to be done.’

‘Can I? Can I, can I, CAN I?’ she asked me, imploringly.

‘Of course. Come on, baby, jacket on, your dad will be home in just over an hour,’ I said, escorting her to the back room.

A few minutes later, we were walking up St Colman’s Way. The air was purple, the sky slowly turning to black, the smell of late autumn in the air. Early November, the days of the dead.

‘Did you enjoy helping in the shop?’

‘Loads. My granny was smiling too.’

‘Your … your granny? You mean my aunt Peggy. I’m sure you can call her granny, if you like. She’ll love that.’

‘Nooo, not Peggy. My granny Elizabeth.’

I felt a chill run down my spine.

‘Your granny Elizabeth … was there?’ I asked. My mouth was dry.

She nodded, skipping happily. I didn’t ask anything more. I wanted to be out of the darkness, I wanted to be home in the light and warmth, the TV on, the kettle on, all the safe, prosaic sounds and sights of daily life around me, to bring me back over to this side of reality. I shivered, holding Maisie’s hand a little tighter.

When I saw the lights on in my house, my heart skipped a beat. Then I remembered Eilidh was there with Maisie. I stood at the window for a second and looked in. Eilidh was standing at the stove, stirring something, her back turned, her brown hair in a ponytail. Maisie was sitting on the sofa, clutching her ponies, watching a
Charlie and Lola
DVD.

So this is how it feels like. To come home to a warm house, the fire on, the lights on.

And someone there.

I was exhausted. It’d been an incredibly full day with no time for lunch or even a cup of tea. All I wanted was to put Maisie to bed and sit in front of the fire, with some mindless film on, and close my eyes.

‘Daddy!’ I felt the usual rush of joy whenever I saw Maisie after a separation, however short.

I looked up from over her head as she hugged me and saw Eilidh standing there, a smile on her face, but a shy expression, slightly awkward. Like the whole scene was too domestic, too intimate, for two people who, after all, hardly knew each other.

‘The kettle’s on. What do you take?’ she said, with that soft, warm voice of hers.

And I said the wrong thing. Completely the wrong thing.

‘It’s ok, Eilidh, thanks, you must be tired. I’ll make my own tea and see to Maisie.’

Why, WHY did I say that? When what I wanted to say was, ‘Milk and one sugar, thanks, come and sit with me you both. Tell me all about your day.’

I could have kicked myself.

‘Sure. Bye Maisie, see you tomorrow,’ she said, forcing a smile.

‘Are you not going to give me my dinner?’ asked Maisie, clearly disappointed. ‘And my bath? And a story?’

‘Your dad is here now, baby, I’ll get you tomorrow at school.’

I was speechless, overwhelmed by my own awkwardness. It was as if there was this invisible thread between them and I had just cut it, and they were suffering for it.

‘See you, Jamie,’ she said and was out the door before I could speak.

I slapped my forehead in frustration as Maisie sat back on the sofa, silent. I took my jacket off and went to make the tea.

On the stove was a pot of roni cheese. She had remembered Maisie’s favourite dinner. The oven was on, too. I opened its door and a delicious smell hit me. A pasta bake, enough for one. My own dinner. My heart sank.

I went to get a mug, then I saw that Eilidh had two cups ready, each with a tea bag in.

I’m an idiot.

Days and nights fell into a pattern, a whole new life – a gentle, unhurried one. It felt so easy and natural, like I had never known any different. The mornings in the shop, the afternoons with Maisie, the evenings at home with Peggy or, very occasionally, out for a drink with Helena, Ruth or Silke.

The last couple of weekends, I had helped Silke with the opening of the gallery, unpacking artwork, cleaning, making phone calls and all the odd jobs that needed done. I had also been convinced by Silke’s charm and Peggy’s enthusiasm to do a reading at the opening. Silke had mentioned to my aunt that they had found a harpist to do a solo and a singer to perform some traditional Gaelic songs. To that, my aunt had mentioned my reading of ‘Hallaig’ all those years ago and how it reduced half of Glen Avich to tears, or so she maintained.

Jamie had asked me to read ‘Lucy’, a poem by George McKay Brown. I had chosen the one by Sorley MacLean, ‘The Choice’, a poem about love and loss that called to me.

Once that had been decided, I had to do something very important: choose what to wear. I’d left all my nice clothes in the house that Tom and I shared and brought up only jeans, t-shirts and jumpers. I prefer to dress casually, it was Tom who liked seeing me in evening dresses, complete with make up and jewellery, and go out to expensive restaurants or dinner parties. It felt like dressing up, literally. Like opening a chest full of fancy clothes and putting on a costume. I didn’t enjoy it much.

However, I couldn’t go to the gallery opening in jeans and a t-shirt. Even Silke was going to dress up, in a black mini dress and tartan tights, with her newly dyed pink hair. Not to mention Maisie and her fairy costume. No, I needed something.

‘Shona? It’s Eilidh, how are you? Good. Yes, all is well. It’s a pleasure. She’s a wee star, isn’t she? Anyway, you know the gallery opening? You’ll be there too won’t you? Well, I’ll be doing a poetry reading and I have nothing to wear. Yes, exactly. You guessed. Oh. Does he know? Good luck with that! Tomorrow? Yes, I can, but not if you are busy … ok. Ok. I’ll text you the time. Thanks. See you then.’

Phew. Shona had it sorted already, of course. Is there something she doesn’t think of or plan for? She said Jamie was going to get a new outfit, too. The idea made me smile. To prise Jamie out of his jeans, t-shirt and faded grey jacket combo was no mean feat, one that only Shona and her bossiness could accomplish.

The train arrived in Aberdeen station at 11.23 on the dot. Shona was there already, a Starbucks cup in each hand. She kissed my cheek with no arms, laughing, and pressed one of the cups into my hand.

‘You need energy for our shopping expedition. Come on. Oh, Eilidh, I just love your hair,’ she said, running a hand through my freshly washed hair. ‘With hair and eyes like that, you’d look amazing in a rag. Not that we are going to buy a rag, of course. Debenhams first, I think, then we’ll have a look in Hobbs.’

I was smiling as the cold Aberdeen air hit my face, the tall granite buildings all around us. We walked into Station Square, the neon lights shining on the polished tiles, the shop windows all lit up. It looked lovely. It was so good to be out and about again, thinking of nothing important, nothing deep. Just having fun with a good friend.

I stepped out of the dressing room with a bright red wrap dress. We both shook our heads. Then it was the turn of a deep green silk dress, then a black trouser suit – very job interview. Next, an empire style dress, so low cut that I would have been arrested – and I would have frozen to death as well, on a cold November night.

‘Shona! I look like … I look like a … you know what I mean!’

I gasped, looking at my reflection in the dressing room mirror. I had a black corset on, the tightest, tiniest, most revealing thing I had ever worn in my life. My breasts overflowed from it.

‘You don’t look like
that
! You just look sexy. My brother would have a heart attack,’ she added under her breath.

‘SHONA!’ I said, shocked. ‘What on earth …’

‘Sorry!’ She laughed. ‘Right, get it off. Try this one.’

Half an hour later, still no joy, so we went for lunch in Debenhams.

I attacked my tuna and cheese melt like I hadn’t eaten for a month, I was so hungry after all that hard work and the cold air.

‘Goodness, Eilidh. You are nearly eating the plate!’

‘I know,’ I answered, a big smile on my face. ‘It’s like I haven’t eaten in years. Actually, if I think about it, it’s true. I haven’t eaten properly in years.’

‘Yes, I could see that when I met you that day at the pub. You were skin and bones. You look so much better now. Oh, Eilidh … I wish you had come to us earlier. I mean, for a change of scene, at least …’

‘I wish that too. Well, I’m here now.’ I was determined not to think of the past. It was too good a day to spoil it.

‘So you are. And to be honest, it wasn’t only good for you. Peggy looks happier, less tired, since you moved in. And as for Jamie …’ She took a sip of her cappuccino. ‘Well, you know he needed some help.’

‘Mary will be back on her feet soon.’

‘Yes, I know. But apart from that. I mean, he needed help with Maisie. Not only practical help. They needed someone in their lives …’

I looked away. Shona sensed my uneasiness.

‘That looks good!’ she said, pointing at my carrot cake.

‘Oh, it is. Carrot cake is just
gorgeous
with a hot chocolate.’

‘You need to watch it, Eilidh, if you keep going on like this you might even become a size ten!’ she said sarcastically. Shona is a curvy, full-bodied sort of woman and it suits her. Obviously, like most women, she doesn’t see her own beauty. She doesn’t see how luscious and soft her body looks, how lovely her wavy blonde hair, her milky skin and her light blue eyes are. She had inherited her fair, northern looks from Elizabeth, while Jamie got the black hair and grey eyes from his dad.