by Linda Huber
Janine was on duty at the clinic reception desk and waved when Liane and Frith appeared. ‘You’re well on time! We’re running about fifteen minutes late. Have you sent in your application, Liane?’
‘Not yet. I’m dithering about the third referee. I was wondering about asking Mr Wilson?’
Janine put her head on one side. ‘Do you have an alternative?’
‘Yes, the local baby clinic nurse.’
‘Right – ask her, and I’ll have a chat with Mr Wilson and see if he can put in an unofficial word for you. That way, you’d have four people.’
The perfect solution. Liane took Frith’s clinic card and went to sit in the waiting area, where Frith was already setting out miniature cups and saucers at the play table. You could almost imagine you were at the kids’ corner in a restaurant or shopping centre here. Almost. Liane rubbed her chest as a poor little boy with blue lips came in with a thin woman and a frowning man. That had been them, last year. Except Tony never came on clinic visits. She heaved a sigh, inhaling warm and heavy hospital air imbued with the peculiar sharpness that came from antiseptic or something and brought tears to your eyes. Get yourself a coffee, woman, and be happy. You have nothing to howl about today.
‘Want a drink, Frithy?’ Liane fished in her purse for coins for the machine.
Frith scrambled to her feet. ‘Can I have cola?’
Blimey, she was going to have to be Bad Mummy again. What would it be like when Frith hit puberty?
‘You can either have cola here or with your hamburger later. Come on, we’ll see what the machine has.’ Clinic days always included having dinner out, to make up for the blood tests and other less comfortable parts of the experience, and Frith usually chose McDonald’s.
‘Hot chocolate, then.’ Frith ran over to the machine in the main hallway.
Liane handed over the coins and pointed out the correct buttons to press. She’d have hot chocolate too. It was better than the coffee.
Steve popped up beside her in biking gear. ‘Hi there. I hoped I’d catch you before I started my shift. Applied yet?’
‘I’ll send it in today. Thanks for your help.’
‘No probs. I’m on in ten – see you around.’
He gave her a wave as he strode off, and Liane waved back. He’d been staff nurse in children’s cardiology before his promotion to head of A&E in the adult hospital next door. How many times had she dashed in with a blue and panicking Frith and found him there? A dozen at least, and he’d helped every time.
They started back to the waiting area, sipping, and a tall, thin woman on a chair further along the hall drifted into Liane’s field of vision. She was staring at them – or more specifically, she was staring at Frith. Nothing like having a stranger ogle your child, was there? Liane treated her to a sniffy look – oh, wait. She knew this woman; they’d been in the same class for some subjects when they started secondary school, in fact they’d been pretty friendly for a while, but the friendship had petered out when Daria moved away two or three years later. Hot choc in hand, Liane made her way over, Frith following on.
‘Hi there, Daria. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?’ Liane tried not to stare. The other woman looked shocking, pale and drawn, though the splinted foot and crutches might be the reason why. But why was she here in Children’s, all alone?
‘Liane! Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. Your little girl reminded me of someone, that’s all.’
Daria’s voice was gravelly and not quite steady, and Liane sat down beside her. Frith was blinking up at Daria and Liane stroked the tousled hair back from her daughter’s forehead. ‘Same cheeky face, huh?’
To Liane’s astonishment, Daria reached out and put the palm of her hand on Frith’s cheek, gazing hungrily at the child. Oh, no. Surely ‘someone’ hadn’t been ill here, or worse?
Daria leaned back in her chair again. ‘More her manner – the happiness in her eyes when she was sipping her drink.’
Fortunately, Frith wasn’t fazed. ‘It’s hot chocolate. It’s my favourite, after cola. We’re going to McDonald’s later, aren’t we, Mummy?’
‘It’s your clinic day treat, isn’t it?’ No need to let Daria think she fed her child junk food as a regular thing. Liane hesitated. This wasn’t the place for a complicated conversation. Whatever was going on with Daria, it wasn’t good. She gestured at the crutches. ‘I guess you had an accident? We must get together sometime and catch up.’
Daria smiled briefly, then pulled herself to her feet. ‘I’d like that. I have to go, though. I have an appointment next door. I thought I’d come in here first to – to see the place.’
‘Liane! Frith’s up next for bloods!’ Janine was standing at the corner, waving to them.
Liane got to her feet. ‘Daria – can I help at all? Look.’ She scribbled on an old shopping list in her bag. ‘Here’s my mobile number. And I’m on Facebook, Liane Morton.’
‘I’m Daria Geddes on Facebook. I’ll be fine, thanks. My husband’s picking me up afterwards.’
Liane frowned, giving her old friend’s shoulder a little pat. Daria didn’t look well enough to be wandering around all alone. What was her husband thinking? Liane hurried back to the cardiac clinic with Frith, who was still slurping her hot choc.
Janie, one of the clinic nurses, was waiting for them at the desk.
‘Your turn, Miss Frith. Let’s get you through and measured.’
Liane put Daria to the back of her mind and walked after Frith and Janie. Clinic now, then she’d get her job application sent in and check out the flats-to-let advertisements. And she had a friend to find on Facebook. Superwoman was needed again.
Day Five – Tuesday 21st April
Chapter 10
She’d been here for days and days and she was better, except for her arm, and still Mammy wouldn’t let her go home. It wasn’t fair. And Mammy’d told her a lie, too – Mummy wasn’t here after all.
Evie waited in her room until Mammy heaved herself out of bed in the room next door and into the bathroom with her usual cough and an ‘Uff!’ Now it was safe to go downstairs, and maybe she could sneak out and find Mummy. She wouldn’t be too far away; she never was. Evie crept downstairs, slowly because she still couldn’t fasten her trousers with one hand and they kept falling down.
The cats were prowling around the kitchen miaowing and waiting for Mammy – they wanted their breakfast. Evie counted them: Marmaduke, Topsy, Daisy, Demelza, Tallulah, Ermintrude, Tabitha and Socks. Everyone was here. She bent to stroke Marmaduke, but he was busy pacing up and down to get into position for breakfast. Evie tried the back door. It was locked, so she clambered onto a chair to wait too.
Mammy’s kitchen was nothing like Mummy’s. Mummy had black and grey cupboards and a shiny sink and a black table and chairs. Everything here was old and bashed. Big fat tears welled up in Evie’s eyes and she bent forward, holding onto her poor sore arm with the other hand. Tallulah was watching her. She had a piece of one ear missing; that must hurt too.
‘Tsk, is no one except me allowed to make breakfast?’ Mammy barged into the room, coughing, and rummaged in a cupboard. ‘Here, maid, you can fill up the food bowls while I make toast.’ She handed over a box of cat food.
Evie shook it and immediately all the cats were swarming around her feet, miaowing up at her. She giggled. ‘They’re hungry!’
‘Give them some food, then. These two bowls by the sink. Don’t fill them all the way up.’
Evie shook cat food into the bowls. It looked yukky, just little brown blobs, but the cats couldn’t wait. She was nearly knocked down in the rush for the first bowl.
Mammy laughed. She poured milk into a glass for Evie, then lifted the cats’ water bowls – they had two of these as well – and filled them at the tap.
‘That’s the li’l rascals happy, now let’s have ours.’ She put a plate with toast for Evie on the table.
Evie sat up again. Mammy only ever put butter on the toast, but that was okay. Better than the yu
kky marmalade Mummy had sometimes. The sun shone in the kitchen window and glinted off a pile of empty glasses that were waiting to be washed. Evie moved her head back and forwards, making little sunshine rainbows dance on a glass with a broken bit.
‘Can I go outside after breakfast?’ She nearly said, ‘Before I go home?’ too, but that would have made Mammy cross. But one day Mammy would say, ‘This is the day you go home, Evie.’ Except Mammy called her Bridie, or maid. Evie licked her fingers. She’d seen a bride once, at the church up the road from home, a lovely bride with a long white dress and a big bunch of pink and white flowers. It would be nice to be a bride one day. But for now, she was too little.
Mammy was frowning. ‘You’re still flushed. Let me feel your head.’
A hand scraped over Evie’s forehead.
‘Much too warm. You can rest in your room this morning and have a nap before lunch. Tabitha can go with you. I’ll bring you some medicine.’
Evie scowled. ‘I don’t feel too warm. I feel fine. Except for my arm.’ She pouted at her arm, lying still as still against her tummy. It hurt whenever she tried to move it, and her fingers were all big and stiff. ‘I want to go outside. I want to go home.’
Mammy thumped her hand on the table and Evie jumped.
‘We’re not going back to Ireland, do you hear? And don’t you remember what happened when you went out to the beach with Aiden too soon after you had measles, and I was that busy nursing Maeve through it I didn’t see you’d sneaked out?’
Evie shook her head. She didn’t remember any of that.
‘Well, I remember. Pneumonia, you got, and it was nearly the end of us both. We’re not letting that happen again, are we? It’s precious, you are.’ Mammy coughed and banged her chest.
Evie sat, swinging her legs and pouting at the floor. It was much, much dirtier than Mummy’s floor ever was. The cats had made muddy footprints everywhere and there was a splodge of brown sauce or something under the table. She didn’t want to be the end of anyone. It might be best to stay inside until she was all better.
Mammy was taking little sips of tea that must be too hot because she was pulling a face at every swallow. Evie slid down and went around the table. ‘Can you fix my bandage? It came loose in the night again.’
Mammy bent over to peer at her arm. ‘Fingers still swollen, eh? I think that needs a splint, you know. We’ll see what we can do.’
A splint? She’d never had one of those before. ‘Will it hurt?’
‘Bless you, child, it’ll take the hurt away. Upstairs with you, and I’ll come in a moment with your medicine.’
Evie went to the door, holding her trousers tight with her good hand in case she tripped over them.
Mammy laughed. ‘Come here with you!’ She did up Evie’s trousers and gave her a little push towards the stairs. Evie went up, holding her sore arm again. It was good Mammy wasn’t cross any more. Tabitha and Socks both came up with her, and Evie went over to the window to wait for Mammy.
The garden down there had lots of dandelions. Was it Mammy’s garden? Behind the dandelions was a whole lot of bushes and a couple of trees, and on the other side of that was a house. The windows of the other house had no curtains so maybe nobody lived there any longer. Maybe new people would come soon.
Mammy came in with the medicine bottle and a handful of spoons. ‘Let’s have this arm, then.’
Evie sat down on the bed beside Mammy and they took the bandage off and looked at her arm. The bruises were getting better.
Mammy held a big spoon close to Evie’s arm, then put it down again. ‘Too wide. Let’s try this one.’ She lifted a wooden spoon.
A wooden spoon? How funny. Evie barely moved a muscle while Mammy held the wooden spoon under her arm so her hand was in the spoon bit.
‘Perfect. Don’t worry, this will let your arm rest while it’s getting better.’ She wound the bandage round Evie’s arm and the wooden spoon, and when she was finished, Evie lifted her arm. It did feel a little better. She gave Mammy a smile.
Mammy smiled back. ‘Let’s get that medicine inside you where it’ll do most good.’
Mammy used the plastic spoon that came with the bottle for that, and Evie swallowed. Mammy gave her more pink medicine than Mummy did.
‘You lie down on top of your bed beside Tabitha and Socks and have a rest.’
A scratchy hand stroked Evie’s cheek, then Mammy was coughing her way downstairs again. Evie stroked Tabitha’s soft back. She didn’t mind resting when she had cats to keep her company.
Margie leaned on the table downstairs, catching her breath. This cold was settling in her chest; she was wheezing away like an old steam train today. She put the Calpol bottle into a high cupboard where the cats wouldn’t get at it, and pulled out the bottle of aspirins. This bottle had lasted her for years, but there were only two left. She swallowed them both with the dregs of her tea. There.
Upstairs, all was quiet. Margie went through to the living room and dropped onto the sofa to close her eyes for a moment. Poor li’l Bridie with her bad arm. But the splint would help, and she could get some cream at the chemist’s next time. She’d need to go for more aspirin anyway, it wouldn’t do for her to be ill and not an aspirin in the house, would it? The chemist was expensive, but she had a stash of spare cash in the kitchen for emergencies. She’d been keeping it for Tabitha; those kitties would need kitten milk when they were a few weeks old, but time enough until then to save up again. Though somehow, her pension wasn’t lasting very well this week.
Disturbed, Margie went back to the kitchen and opened the drawer where the stash was. Good, that would do for cream and aspirins. And some chocolate for the maid, too, she was being such a good girl. Memories of Bridie running wild along the beach at Bantry Bay slid through Margie’s mind. What a tomboy she was. And that showed you the child wasn’t quite right at the moment. Rest and medicine were exactly what Bridie needed and at least she was being cooperative, not like Aiden and – actually, where was Aiden? She hadn’t seen him for a while, nor Sammy or Maeve. Margie grabbed hold of the drawer as the kitchen wavered briefly.
And Ned – but Ned was gone, wasn’t he? They’d come to Glasgow and for a while everything had been fine, but then – Ned wasn’t here any more. Margie’s head throbbed, and she massaged her temples, stumbling through to the sofa again. Close your eyes, Margie, and dream.
Their cottage in Ireland. Her and Ned and the babies… then before they knew it the babies had grown into children, and imps they all were. Those cheeky little faces round the table, how they’d laughed. They’d never had cash to splash, but the good times had made up for that. You didn’t need money to laugh and love.
Now they were in Glasgow, but it was all so hazy, it was better not to think too much. Things often came back to you when you were busy doing something else. Margie circled her shoulders to relax her breathing. There! She’d make sausage and egg for lunch, Bridie liked that and an extra sausage or two would go down well with the kits, too. Marmaduke loved sausages, and so did Sammy and Maeve and – where was Aiden?
Margie swung herself round until she was lying along the sofa, her head pillowed on Bridie’s jacket. Topsy came to cuddle in by her chest, and Margie smiled.
A little sleep before lunch would do her good too.
Day Six – Wednesday 22nd April
Chapter 11
Liane was pouring boiling water down the kitchen drain, which had blocked yet again, when a message pinged into her phone. She abandoned the kettle and grabbed her mobile. Theoretically, she wasn’t going to hear anything about her job application until the end of the week at the earliest; she’d only sent the application off on Monday, but you never knew.
It was Steve. Is this a good time to call? Golly. What was this about?
Sure. Liane poked her head into the living room, where Frith was busy with her Lego, then sat at the kitchen table, waiting for Steve’s call. It came half a minute later.
‘Liane, hi. My break’s alm
ost finished so I’ve only got two seconds, but I’ve just had a phone call you might find interesting.’
Liane jerked upright. ‘About Frith’s test results?’ Oh, my giddy aunt, were the bloods okay? They took a sample from Frith at every clinic appointment, but the results needed a day or two to come back. If everything was fine, they heard nothing – was this bad news?
‘Hey, don’t panic, it’s nothing like that. Sorry. The call was from the chief administrator, about your application for the creche job. This is completely off the record, but you’re on the interview list. I gave you a glowing reference and mentioned you’d already left your previous job and could start any time. I hope that was okay?’
‘Wow! Yes. Thanks, Steve.’ He was going to a lot of trouble over this.
‘I reckon you’re in with a really good chance.’ His voice in her ear sounded warm and confident. ‘It’s my afternoon off – I was wondering if you and Frith would like to go for a coffee? I could give you some hospital tips and info that might help at the interview. There’s a good café near Boswell Park.’
Liane’s brain was still racing. He was asking her out. For a coffee. With her daughter. To talk interviews. And – why not? It wasn’t as if she was inundated with coffee invitations. Almost everyone she knew had jobs to go to on Wednesday afternoons.
‘Sounds good – some tips would be great. I’m what you might call out of interview practice.’
He laughed. ‘You and me both, but we’ll work out a strategy for you. It’s the Rock Café – three o’clock okay?’
‘See you there!’ Liane ended the call and grinned at her phone. Was this a date?
‘Why aren’t we going to the café at the hospital with Steve?’ Frith’s face was one big question mark as they walked past the park gates on the way to the Rock Café.