Another Day in Winter

by Shari Low

  The boy is mid-shave when the question the nurse asks him sinks in to my fuddled brain. ‘Are your parents on the way?’ she says.

  I try to focus on the answer so I get it right. I hear him say, ‘Yeah, my dad and stepmother. They’re halfway here. They touched down in Dubai a couple of hours ago and their connecting flight took off on time. They should be here about three o’clock.’

  Bloody hell. So Norry and that wife of his are coming. I must be close to dead if they’re making the effort, because they didn’t bloody come when I was alive and kicking, or when my darling Betty was sick and passed away.

  And of course, it wouldn’t be Tom’s mother, Catriona, that would be with Norry. That poor lass was treated terribly by my son and he forced her out of their lives when Tom was sixteen. To be honest, for her sake I was glad she got out of that marriage. She had a lucky escape. I was only too glad to give her as much help as I could to start her new life down south. She kept in touch with me right up until she passed, a few years ago. Cancer. This bastard of a disease. I was only grateful that the lass found happiness with a man who treated her well. I never met him, but Tom would visit them and he told me he was a decent chap. That made me sleep a bit easier at night. I felt it was the least she deserved after being married to my son.

  Norry had barely batted an eyelid when she left. He’d never admitted it to me, but I had a fair idea that he was already up to no good with the next one. Rosemary. She wasn’t like Catriona. This time he’d met his match and someone who was as contemptible as he was. They’d tied the knot as soon as his divorce was final – went off to Bali or someplace like that. Didn’t even invite us. Not that I’d have gone. Not after their antics. Next thing we knew, Norry sold up his business and off they went to Australia, taking our Tom with them. Norry said it was about work-life balance and enjoying the fruits of his labour, or some nonsense like that. The truth was, he’d made a killing and reckoned he could live like a king down under and he had so much in the bank that he got a visa to live there without a problem. That Rosemary one encouraged him every step of the way. Fancied herself living in a big house in the sunshine, with no ties or commitments, so off they went, and damn everyone else. Losing Tom near broke my Betty’s heart. It was one of the happiest days of her life when the boy came back to live with us a year later. He’d never settled out there and we were glad of it.

  Through the haze of the buggering pills, I can hear the beeping from the monitor beside me getting faster. That’s what I get for thinking about those two. It wouldn’t surprise me if the bloody thing exploded when they walk through the door. I can only hope their plane gets delayed and I get to spend another day without them here.

  Days.

  Hours maybe.

  That’s all I’ve got left. I’ve accepted it now, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have the odd moment of sadness.

  What’s that song? “My Way”. Regrets. I’ve had a few. More than a few.

  I don’t trust anyone who says they’ve got no regrets. All that stuff about learning from mistakes is bollocks – far better not to make the damn mistake in the first place.

  If I could change anything, it wouldn’t be the life I lived with my Betty. No, that was as good as any man could wish for. I wouldn’t even change the estrangement with Norry. In fact, I’d have told him to sling his hook long before he did and kept Tom with Betty and me, instead of letting them drag him to the other side of the world in the first place. But then…

  The heartbeat monitor speeds up again and I can feel the tension across my chest. It’s the shame that does it. Pure shame. You see, I did the boy a disservice. While he was away, I found something out that could have changed the whole course of his life, and yet I didn’t tell him, not then, and not afterwards when he came back to us.

  It’s the biggest regret of my life. All these years, I still haven’t told him the truth. And why? Because I was too bloody terrified that he would never forgive me and I’d lose him too. Selfish old bastard that I was. Maybe there was a bit of my father in me after all.

  If there’s such a thing as heaven, I’ll have to account for what I did then. I’ll have to explain why I didn’t tell the truth, stand up and be counted.

  It wasn’t the first time either.

  No, it was the second time in my life that I’d failed when I should have done the right thing for the folk I loved.

  Years before, when I was younger than our Tom is now, my actions cost us all so much. None of it was my doing, but I should have stepped in, should have stopped life tearing us apart.

  Us.

  Annie. Flora. Me.

  Strange that I still think of the three of us as a group, despite the fact that we were only together for the first twenty-odd years of our lives.

  My thoughts are interrupted by Tom. I can feel that he’s finished shaving me now, hear the clink of the glass as he shakes the razor in it to let the water clean the blade. He picks up the sponge that I know sits beside my bed and he dabs it on my lips to moisten them. My mouth is always so dry now.

  I want to open my eyes and speak to him, but they’re heavy.

  Later. I’ll talk to him later.

  I can hear him moving around, following the same routine that he’s kept to every morning without fail. He’ll be getting his jacket now, and his bag, and then he’ll…

  ‘I’ll be back soon, Grandad. I just need to go into the office and take care of a few things,’ I hear him say. He’s such a good man. More than I ever was. I just wish I’d told him more often how proud I am of him. I try to open my eyes, to speak to him, but the body isn’t responding. Maybe later. I feel his breath as he leans down and kisses my cheek. It wasn’t something he ever did before I was in this hospital bed, but he does it every time he leaves now. To my surprise, as I hear the door open, a single tear escapes from the corner of my left eye and drops on to my pillow.

  Foolish old man I’ve become, bloody weeping for no good reason.

  Liv, the nurse, comes into the room and as always she chats away. I’ve met her husband, he’s a doctor here and he came to see me when I was first admitted. Showed me the scans that proved this bastard thing had spread to my brain. He seemed like a decent enough man. I just hoped he realises he’s lucky to be married to this nurse. She reminds me of my Betty. Same calm manner. Same knack of caring for others. Same twinkle in her eye that suggests she doesn’t mind a wee bit of mischief. For the second time in minutes I can feel a moistness under my eyelids. Jesus wept, what’s happening to me? Must surely be whatever was in that drip that was connected to my arm.

  At least, that’s what I’m going to tell myself instead of admitting that I’m just getting soft in my fading days.

  Enough of this.

  I try to distract myself by rewinding my thoughts.

  Where was I?

  That’s right. Annie. Flora. Me.

  Today might be my last day on this earth, or it may not. But I’m going to spend as much of it as I can with people who have loved me.

  Even if most of them are only alive in my memories…

  10 a.m. – 12 noon

  Five

  Shauna

  ‘Here’s to Annie, to a weekend away, and to alcohol for breakfast,’ Shauna toasted, laughing as she clinked her glass against Lulu’s champagne flute. ‘I feel completely rebellious drinking gin at ten in the morning,’ she added, after she’d taken her first sip.

  ‘Then you really need to get out more,’ Lulu teased. ‘Actually that’s not exactly a newsflash. You really do need to drop the hermit status.’

  ‘I have a social life,’ she argued.

  Lulu’s comeback was swift. ‘Taking Beth to Pizza Hut doesn’t count.’

  Shauna surrendered. There was no defence and arguing would only make Lulu more insistent that she was right. Which, of course, she was. The problem was there was no manual for losing your husband at the age of thirty-nine, no natty step-by-step guide to rebuilding your life and planning a new future that wa
s very different to the one you had envisaged. All she could do was go with the old clichés, recognise that she’d have good days and bad days and just do the best she could. It was a process, she’d decided. The last two years had been about surviving, and she’d just about made it, so perhaps this was the first step to finding a way forward.

  ‘Anyway, I’ll resume nagging you about that on the plane home, but I’m suspending being critical of your life choices for the next twenty-four hours,’ Lulu announced.

  ‘Excellent. And I’ll try to refrain from mentioning that you’re way too old and way too married to have been flirting with that barman when you ordered our drinks,’ Shauna countered, playfully.

  ‘I’m just spreading festive joy,’ Lulu said, grinning. ‘It’s a public service.’

  Shauna was unable to suppress a chuckle. Lulu would never change. She’d been with Dan, Colm’s best friend, for nearly twenty years, married for half of that, and yes, they had the most tumultuous relationship in the history of mankind, but somehow they were still together despite several break-ups, affairs on both sides, and Lulu’s insatiable need to flirt with every good looking man she encountered. She claimed it was a genetic flaw. It was only since Colm had passed away that Lulu and Dan had finally put their energies into making their marriage work. Realising that life really could be too short had been a catalyst for them to get their act together. Although, Lulu had clearly decided that a bit of harmless flirting didn’t compromise the marriage vows.

  ‘To us. And to morning drinking!’ Lulu said, holding up her glass for another toast, while making sure her back was straight, her porcelain white teeth were flashing and she was giving the barman her best nonchalant smile.

  When they finished their drinks, Shauna pushed herself off the bar stool. This had to be one of the most beautifully decorated hotels she’d ever seen, from the lavish garlands that wound around the majestic front doors, to the grand tree in the foyer and the subtle silver and white lights in the bar. It would be impossible not to get into the festive spirit here. It would have been so easy to just stay in this haven of bliss and while the day away drinking cocktails, people watching and laughing with Lulu but there was a point to this trip and Shauna didn’t want to lose sight of that.

  As she stood up, her phone buzzed with an incoming text.

  ‘Right, come on, that’s the taxi outside.’

  Lulu reluctantly slid off her chair, pulled on her hat and scarf, grabbed her gloves and bag and followed her.

  ‘Morning, ladies,’ the driver greeted them with a cheery grin. ‘Where to, then?’

  Shauna pulled out the first letter and read the address out to him. She’d looked it up on Google Maps and she knew it was in the south side of the city.

  ‘No problem at all,’ he announced, then proceeded to chat all the way there. By the time they arrived at the destination, they’d discussed the weather, Shauna’s reason for being in Scotland and he’d revealed every detail of his family’s plans for Christmas.

  ‘Aye, fifteen of us for lunch, God help us. Ma Agnes makes Brussels sprouts that are so hard they could take a man out at fifty feet. Honestly, if we ever go to war and run out of bullets, I’ll make a fortune as an arms dealer.’

  Shauna was still laughing when they pulled to a stop.

  ‘Do you want me to wait here?’ he asked. ‘I won’t put the meter on. You two ladies are far better company than junkies needing a lift to their dealers.’

  Shauna didn’t need to think about it twice. ‘That would be great, if you’re sure?’

  ‘No problem. You take your time and I’ll just park up here.’

  ‘In fact, could we hire you for the whole day? We’re going to be going to loads of places and it would make life so much easier if you’d stay with us.’

  He thought about it for a moment, making some calculations in his head. ‘How about £150 for the day, until, say, seven o’clock, and £200 if you keep me until midnight?’ he offered, almost apologetically. ‘I know it’s high, but it’s the Friday before Christmas and that’s always a good earner for me.’

  ‘Done.’ Yes, it was a lot of money, and she could have hired a car for less, but he knew the city, and Shauna had no time to waste looking for places or waiting on ten different cabs. ‘I’m Shauna. And this is Lulu, by the way.’

  ‘I’m John. Pleased to meet you, ladies. And did you say Lulu? Like the singer?’ he asked, referring to the Scot who’d had a huge hit back in the sixties with her song, ‘Shout’. It was one of those tunes that was ingrained in Scottish culture, up there with anything by the Proclaimers or played on bagpipes.

  ‘That’s the very one,’ Lulu said, chuckling. ‘Tell me, is everyone I meet today going to mention that?’

  He nodded. ‘I’d bet a week’s wages on it.’

  ‘Excellent,’ Lulu grinned. ‘Right, come on,’ she said, opening the door.

  Shauna got out the other side and gazed at the row of dark stone terraced houses in front of her. They were just off a main road in Shawlands, a suburb of Glasgow. This was the sender’s address that had been on Flora’s letters to Annie: 32 Parkland Street, Glasgow. And since Flora had been a young woman at the time, Shauna assumed that this had been their family home, where Annie had lived too.

  There was a plaque, carved into the stone at the top of the end house’s wall, that said 1904. Over a hundred years ago. The terrace had worn well. Some of the windows had been replaced by new ones, apart from one or two that still had the old wooden sash frames. There were Christmas trees in most of the large bottom windows, their lights waiting for darkness to twinkle. The gardens that were there were neat and tidy, but a couple of them had been taken away to make off-road parking spaces for cars.

  Shauna stood, staring straight at the middle house, number 32, trying to imagine a young Annie opening the wrought iron gate, walking up the path to the heavy wooden door, opening it, calling out that she was home.

  ‘Are you just going to stand there?’ Lulu asked, fidgeting from foot to foot to keep out the cold. ‘Only, I’ve just realised that I’m only wearing four pairs of socks and this is clearly sixteen sock weather. I’m pretty sure if I could feel my toes I’d realise that they were falling off.’

  Shauna ignored her, suddenly falling into a deep well of emotion. She felt sure that Annie had lived here. Her Annie. The most precious person in her world, until she was joined on that podium by Colm and Beth. Someone who had given her a lifetime of love and whom she’d loved right back. Someone who had died in her arms, without warning, on the most traumatic night of her life. When Colm had passed it had been peaceful, and they’d known for almost two years that it was coming. Not that that made it any easier. But with Annie there were no red flags. They’d had a brilliant night, out with all Annie’s pals at their line dancing session, showing off their talents to the soundtrack of “Achy Breaky Heart” and – much hilarity – “Honky Tonk Badonkadonk”. They’d just got home and Shauna was making a cup of tea when there was a loud crash. One minute Annie was sitting in a chair, the next she was on the floor. A massive stroke. Shauna’s heart was decimated.

  ‘Oh Jesus, you’re crying. Bugger. I didn’t come prepared. Here, use this…’

  Shauna glanced down to see that Lulu was holding up the edge of the cashmere scarf Shauna had bought her last Christmas. The laughter came as quickly as the tears.

  ‘That’s true devotion there, Lu,’ Shauna said, wiping away the tears with her sleeve instead.

  ‘Not really. I’d have charged you for the dry cleaning,’ Lulu retorted, but softly, and Shauna knew she was kidding. Humour was Lulu’s default position for dealing with all emotional situations – along with shopping and vodka. ‘So what do you want to do now?’ Lulu asked.

  ‘I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought through a plan. I just wanted to see where Annie had lived. At least, I’m guessing it was their family home. It was the address Flora’s letters were sent from.’

  Shauna had done some basic searc
hes on the Scottish ancestry website, Scotland’s People. She’d found records that indicated that Flora Butler, George Thomas Butler and Bethany Butler had all been born in Glasgow, in the thirties: George in 1933, Bethany (Annie’s full name, which had, according to her grandmother, been discarded in childhood in favour of “Annie”) in 1934 and Flora in 1936. She’d planned to get copies of their birth certificates, but this trip had been such a spontaneous decision that she hadn’t had a chance yet. What she did know was that, according to the ancestry website, neither George nor Flora had death certificates registered in Scotland. Of course, that meant that they could have moved abroad, or even like Annie, down to England, and passed away there, but it still gave Shauna a glimmer of hope that somewhere out there was a family. Her family.

  ‘Right, no point standing here freezing our tits off…’ Lulu declared.

  ‘You’re right,’ Shauna said, suddenly feeling inexplicably anxious. She didn’t want to lose the image of Annie being here by meeting the current owners and having reality get in the way of her imagination. ‘But it doesn’t look like anyone is home and there’s no way Annie’s family will still be there after all these years. I’m happy just to see it and picture her here. There was one other address on a later letter, so we’ll just go there now.’

  Lulu rolled her eyes. ‘You’d be a crap private investigator. I’m coming over all Cagney and Lacey and you’re giving up without even trying. I’m going to go and knock the door.’

  ‘Lulu, you can’t just…’

  Too late. Lulu was up the path and banging on a heavy brass knocker on the front of the black door.