‘Mary! What have you been doing?’
‘I had to tell them. But the mattress was too heavy.’ Tears filled Mary’s eyes.
‘Tell who what?’
‘About the leader.’ The tears were rolling down her cheeks now. ‘L is for the long-lost leader,’ she said.
It felt like a losing battle, but Finlay kept trying. ‘Remember the rejuvenation,’ he said.
‘Aye, rejuvenation.’ Mary was smiling through her tears.
Hastily, Finlay spread a sheet on to the mattress. Then, ‘You don’t want your tea to get cold,’ he said, patting the bed.
Surprisingly meekly, Mary sat on the bed and swung her feet up. Finlay placed the duvet on top of her and handed her her cup of tea. She took a sip. Maybe, just maybe, she would actually drink it all, and then doze off. Finlay thought that was more likely if he wasn’t in the room.
‘I’m just going to get some more milk for mine,’ he said.
He closed the door softly behind him. Now what?
Then he remembered Squirrel, asleep on the sitting-room floor.
‘Squirrel! Wake up!’
‘Uh?’ Squirrel sat up blearily. ‘Whasser time?’
‘It’s half past five.’
‘Must do my shift. Did I tell you I’d got a job? I’m on the Tesco trolleys.’
‘But, Squirrel – I’m worried about Mary.’
‘Aye, I know, she’s away with the fairies.’
‘I’m worried she might hurt herself or set fire to the flat or something. Maybe she should be in hospital.’
‘Och, she’ll be all right. But she should be having the tablets. Has she not been taking them?’
‘I don’t know. What tablets, anyway?’
‘Carbo-something. She’s not very keen on them.’
‘Should we try and find them?’
‘No, you’re best leaving that to the CPN.’
‘Who’s that?’
‘The community psychiatric nurse. You could try giving him a ring. Anyway, I must do my shift. I don’t want to get fired after only two weeks.’
‘What time do you finish?’
‘Midnight. But I’ll drop by tomorrow and see how she is.’
Finlay was sorry to see Squirrel go, especially because now he could hear Mary muttering inside her bedroom. It was quite a soft muttering, but his guess was that it wouldn’t stay like that for long.
Should he phone someone? He didn’t know who Mary’s doctor was. What about this CPN person that Squirrel had mentioned? But where would the number be? In any case, he wasn’t sure that he wanted to invite someone in authority round to Leo’s hiding place – not without consulting her.
Leo. He must find Leo. She would know what to do.
Finlay crept to the front door. He didn’t want to alert Mary that he was going out; she would just become agitated all over again. But as his hand touched the handle, Zigger bounded up to him. His lead was in his mouth.
‘All right then, Zigger. Let’s go walkies,’ Finlay whispered.
Leo – Running on the Cracks
‘He’ll come round to you,’ says Kim, yet again. ‘It was just the shock, I’m sure.’ She pours me out some more tea – it must be my sixth cup. I’ve lost track of how long I’ve been sitting in their kitchen.
‘Anyway,’ says Jacqueline, ‘you’ve got us. We’re not disowning you!’
They’re being so nice to me. But they can’t rub out the picture in my mind of the old man in the armchair and the look on his face. No, not a look exactly – not a proper expression; rather, the absence of an expression. It was as if he was looking straight through me, as if he couldn’t see me.
I don’t think I’d feel so hurt if he hadn’t looked so like Dad. And now it’s Dad I want to see. I want to talk to him, to shout at him even – ‘Why did you have to quarrel? Why were you so proud? Why couldn’t you even teach me Chinese?’
But of course I can’t talk to Dad. Instead, I ask Kim and Jacqueline, ‘Would it be hard for me to learn Chinese?’
‘What kind? Mandarin or Cantonese?’ asks Jacqueline.
I feel foolish. That was something Dad did explain – about the different languages – but I was never very interested. ‘Whatever kind you speak,’ I say. ‘Is that Cantonese?’
Kim laughs. ‘If you mean Jacqueline, it’s bad Cantonese. She hardly speaks it at all.’
‘Well, it’s your fault, Mum. You shouldn’t be so good at English! Anyway, at least I’m better than the others.’
Kim sighs. ‘I tried and tried to get them all to keep it up, but once they went to school they only wanted to speak English.’
‘Stop grumbling! Look, you’ve got a willing pupil at last – you can teach Leo!’
‘Do you really want to learn, Leo? Is it so you can speak to your grandfather?’
‘Yes. I just thought …’ My voice trails away as I try to picture the scene. All I can see is that non-look on the old man’s face.
‘Actually, he doesn’t speak Cantonese. He can understand it, but he speaks a different language – it’s called Hakka. Lots of the old people from the countryside speak Hakka. My mum – your Auntie Luli – grew up speaking it, but she changed to Cantonese when she got married.’
‘Oh.’ It’s all rather confusing and daunting. Anyway, I bet Grandfather still wouldn’t want to know me even if there were a hundred different Chinese languages and I spoke them all.
As if on cue, Auntie Luli shuffles into the kitchen. She smiles at me and does a chopstick mime.
‘See? Who needs language?’ says Jacqueline. ‘Yes, you will stay and eat with us, won’t you, Leo?’
But seeing the old lady has reminded me of Mary. Poor, agitated Mary. Is she alone or is there a motley collection of friends with her, eating, drinking and smoking away her benefit money? Squirrel had arrived before I left.
I look at my watch. I can’t believe it’s after six already.
‘I must get back,’ I say.
Jacqueline sees me down the stairs and gives me a hug. ‘Come again soon! And don’t worry about Uncle Jing. I’ll work on him!’
It’s nearly dark outside. Shall I walk or take the bus? The bus is scarily public, but walking is longer and colder. And Mary will be missing me. Suddenly I really want to be with her again. So what if she’s not a relation? She cares about me as much as if she was my grandmother. I shouldn’t have stayed away for so long.
I turn left, towards the little square. Beyond it is the main road and the bus stop.
I glance across the road, at the last house in the row. That’s where Grandfather’s flat is. He must be back there now. Is he thinking about me?
There’s a car parked outside it, and someone is sitting in the driver’s seat.
Maybe one of the social workers from the Elderly Centre has just dropped Grandfather back home-but no, it’s too late for that;Jacqueline told me the centre closed at about 4.30. The car is probably nothing to do with him.
I walk on.
I hear the car door opening. I won’t look round. I won’t speed up. It’s nothing to do with me. I must stop being so jumpy all the time.
‘Leonora!’
I know that voice.
And now I do look round, but only for a split second. That’s enough. I know that flat hat and that man. It’s Uncle John.
My legs spring into action, almost before my brain has time to give them the message. Run, run! Faster, faster! You’ve got away before and you can get away again! Just don’t run on the cracks and you’ll be all right.
Round the corner of the dark square. Which way now? Ahead is the main road, the bright lights, the bus stop. On my right are railings, and a little gate. It’s open!
He hasn’t turned the corner yet. I make a quick decision.
Through the gateway, across the grass, under the bare sycamore tree. There are some dark bushes ahead – evergreens. I guess there’ll be another gate behind them, the other side of the square.
The ground is soft, sog
gy even. That’s good – he can’t hear my footsteps.
But I can hear his. They’ve rounded the corner. They’re running past the gate!
Yes. I crouch behind a prickly bush with berries on it and wait, my heart thudding.
He’s stopped. He’s running back again.
No more footsteps. He must have seen the open gate. He must be here, in the grassy square. I can’t see him, I can’t hear him, but I know he’s here somewhere.
What shall I do? Keep still and wait, or run again? I’m right beside the railings. There must be another gate, there must!
I can’t see one. And I can’t risk moving between the bushes. I’ll have to climb over the railings, here where I’m hidden by the leafy branches. The railings aren’t very high. I can do it.
If only I hadn’t brought this bag with me. Shall I just dump it? No, it’s got my sketchbook in it. I don’t want him to find that. The bag won’t fit between the railings, so I fling it over.
Now me! What to grasp? How to do it? Somehow, in an awkward mixture of hands, knees and feet, I lever myself up. Now I’m standing at the top, wobbling, ready to jump. But a spike of the railings is caught inside my trouser leg. Still wobbling, I crouch and try to free it.
‘Let me help you.’
He’s there, in front of me, the other side of the railings.
‘No!’
It’s too late. He’s grabbed my knees. I’m toppling forward.
‘Leonora, it’s all right.’
But it’s not all right. Somehow I’m on my feet, on the pavement beside him, and he’s got hold of my wrists, one in each hand. My bag is over his shoulder.
‘Let me go!’ My voice comes out as a fierce whisper. Should I shout? Scream? But what would he do then? And what would I say if someone did come?
‘Don’t be a silly girl. You know I wouldn’t hurt you.’ His voice is horribly soft. He has that soppy smile on his face. ‘I’ve got some sandwiches in the car,’ he says.
‘I don’t want them. Go away!’ Now my voice is rising.
His grip tightens. ‘I haven’t done anything to you,’ he says, still in the same murmuring voice, but without the smile. ‘I haven’t done anything to anyone. And you’re not to tell anyone that I have.’
I’ve got to think of something! Suddenly it comes to me. His car is parked nearly opposite the Yeungs’ house. I’ll let him take me towards it, then yell their names.
‘Maybe I am a bit hungry,’ I say.
The smile is back. ‘There’s a thermos of tea, too,’ he says. ‘I know you like tea.’
But he obviously doesn’t trust me. He’s still gripping one wrist as we walk back round the square towards Burn Street.
I must try to make him relax, lose his guard. If he loosens his grip, maybe I could even make a run for the Yeungs’ front door. ‘How’s Aunt Sarah?’ I ask.
Does he hesitate a second? ‘She’s very worried about you, of course. We all have been.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I say. His grip remains tight.
I can see the car now. This is the moment.
‘Jacqueline!’ I shout. Why won’t my voice come out louder? It’s like one of those dreams where you can’t make yourself heard. ‘Jacqueline! Kim! Andy!’
Now his hand is over my mouth. He’s dragging me by one wrist towards the car.
I tug, struggle, kick. I try to prise off his fingers with my free hand. They’re clamped tight.
‘Don’t make a silly fuss,’ he says. His face is right up to mine now. His mild-looking brown eyes are magnified behind his thick glasses.
His glasses! He can hardly see without them. I manage to snatch them, then fling them into the road. Instinctively, he removes his hand from my mouth and reaches down to grope for them.
‘Help!’ I yell, and the hand is back.
‘I’ve got another pair in the car,’ he mutters.
We’re at the car now. The Yeungs haven’t heard me.
But someone’s coming, from the direction of the square.
‘Leo!’
I can’t believe it. It’s Finlay. And not just Finlay. The dog is with him.
‘Get him, Zigger!’
Zigger growls and makes a rush. He seizes Uncle John’s trouser leg.
‘Get him off !’ Uncle John yells. He staggers and lets go of me.
‘Quick, Leo!’ Finlay takes my hand and we’re both running.
Finlay – Escape
‘This way!’
Finlay let go of Leo’s hand. He hurtled ahead of her down a flight of stone steps.
So many steps! ‘Don’t speed up or you’ll fall,’ came Leo’s breathless voice behind him. ‘Don’t slow down or he’ll find us,’ said the voice inside his head.
They reached the bottom and turned the corner, out of view.
He couldn’t hear the shouting any more. Did that mean that Zigger had left off?
Ahead, cars raced over a concrete flyover.
‘We’re near that Chinese supermarket. There’s a subway somewhere,’ he panted. Leo had caught up with him now. She looked so white.
Their footsteps echoed in the tunnel under the motorway. He was pretty sure there were only two sets of footsteps.
They emerged at the edge of a godforsaken stretch of litter-strewn grass. If only it wasn’t so open! But at least the sky was dark now. A light rain was falling.
They ran past a deserted bench and a children’s slide plastered with graffiti, towards some bleak-looking flats. Finlay looked wildly round for cover.
‘Here.’ They darted into a passageway between two red-brick blocks. In the wall were cavities for enormous communal bins.
‘I hope this isn’t a dead end,’ he said, but they turned a corner and found themselves in a car park.
‘Where’s Zigger?’ said Leo, panting by his side.
The same question had been nagging Finlay. ‘I expect he’ll find us.’ He tried to sound more confident than he felt. They couldn’t afford to slow down or turn back.
They followed a maze of small roads and alleyways through a housing estate. Left, then right, then left, then right. Finlay tried to keep his sense of direction.
On and on they ran. His lungs felt like bursting. The red-brick houses and flats gave way to grander, older stone buildings with bay windows.
‘We’re in posh land now. There’s a river near here.’
‘What, the Clyde?’
‘No, the Kelvin.’
A tall gate in some iron railings bore a notice: Kelvin Walkway. They ran down a path which led them through woodland to a wider track beside the river.
‘Let’s stop here for a bit – I’m sure it’s all right now.’
They sat on a bench, the drizzle refreshing on their hot faces. The river glinted in the darkness. Finlay felt his heart thudding furiously and then beginning to slow down.
Neither of them said anything at first. They were listening, listening for footsteps, tense and wary as birds on a twig ready to fly at the slightest sound. But it was quiet here. Just distant traffic, and the whirring of wings as two ducks rose from the water.
‘My mum used to take me here to feed the ducks,’ Finlay said at last. And then, ‘What happened? It was him, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes. He was sitting in his car outside my grandfather’s house. He must have seen me come out from Jacqueline’s. Oh, Finlay, now I can never go back there!’
‘I bet he won’t want to go back there. Zigger really went for him, didn’t he?’
‘But what’s happened to Zigger?’
‘I don’t know.’ Again, Finlay tried to keep the worry out of his voice. ‘Maybe he’ll catch us up.’
They listened again. This time there was something – a jingling, and a soft panting. ‘He has!’
But it was a different dog, a brown-and-white spaniel proudly bearing a stick as big and branching as a deer’s antler. ‘Good evening,’ said the owner, nodding to them as they shrank back instinctively on their bench. Then dog and man passed and there
was silence again.
‘Maybe Zigger’s found his way back to Mary’s by a different route,’ suggested Finlay.
‘Oh no! What if Uncle John follows him?’
‘Don’t you think he’d be more likely to be running away from Zigger?’
‘I don’t know – I don’t know anything any more. Oh, Finlay, he’s got my bag! He’s got all my sketches!’
‘Well, at least he hasn’t got you.’
‘I hate thinking about it. What if you hadn’t turned up, Finlay!’
‘But I did, didn’t I?’
Finlay would have liked an outpouring of gratitude at this point, but he realised Leo was still in a state of shock. ‘I thought you were going to have an evening in,’ was all she said.
He knew he had to tell her why he’d come to find her, how ill Mary was, how they had to get some help for her, maybe even get her into hospital. But it wasn’t easy to start. Leo was supposed to be the capable, protective one, the one who would know what to do, but now she was in need of protection herself. Still, the Mary problem wasn’t going to go away just because Leo’s situation had got worse.
A squirrel ran out from a bush, froze, then approached them with small splay-legged steps and inquisitive eyes.
‘They’re really tame here,’ he said. ‘Everyone feeds them. Once one climbed on to Mum’s shoulder.’ That felt like yesterday, yet it felt like a hundred years ago. The river, the autumn leaves, the squirrels, they were all just the same, but everything in his life had changed. Suddenly he wished he hadn’t quarrelled with Mum.
Leo reached out a hand to the squirrel, who investigated it, found it was empty and retreated again.
‘That reminds me,’ she said, in a flat voice. ‘Squirrel came round to Mary’s today, just before I went out.’
‘I know. I’ve been round there,’ he said.
He had started now. He had to tell her sooner or later, and so out it all came.
To his relief, none of it was a huge surprise to Leo. ‘She’s been getting more and more like that. I suppose I must have been growing used to it. Let’s get back there now – is it very far, Finlay?’
Running on the Cracks Page 11
