‘We don’t know,’ says Ma.
‘It won’t matter anyway,’ says Granny.
‘Why not, Granny?’ I ask.
‘She’s a lady of the night. The bad sort,’ says Granny.
‘A prostitute?’ I ask.
Granny nods.
‘What’s a prostitute?’ I ask.
‘Never you mind,’ Granny says.
‘But you’re always talking about them,’ I say.
‘I am not,’ says Granny.
‘You say it about everyone.’ And she does. If a woman has a short skirt on her. If a woman wears tight trousers. If a woman has bleached hair. If a woman wears too much make-up and if she sees a woman talking to a man she isn’t married to, Granny goes mad about it and calls her a prostitute. Granny even called Mrs McFadden a prostitute when she was Miss Connor and going to the pub with Mr McFadden.
Da laughs his head off. ‘Boy’s right,’ he says.
Granny is annoyed. ‘You shut up,’ she says to Da.
‘No, you shut up,’ says Da to Granny.
‘Both of you shut up,’ says Ma and then tells me what a prostitute is. I am shocked to death that Granny would call anyone we know a prostitute, especially Mrs McFadden.
‘I still don’t understand why it will be hard to get the man who hurt you in jail, Ma, because one of the other women is a prostitute. She saw him just like you did.’
‘I don’t know either,’ says Ma.
‘The truth is, Michael, it’s going to be hard convincing a jury that a man raped any woman,’ says Da.
‘But why?’ I ask.
‘Because that’s how it is in the world,’ whispers Ma. ‘And it might never change.’
‘You’re wrong, Ma. The judge will see how horrible he is and he’ll put him away for ever and ever.’
Da puts his hand on Ma’s back then. She’s drinking tea and looking sad, but no tears come. Ma isn’t crying too much these days, or maybe she is, I just never see her.
THIRTY-NINE
MA AND DA go everywhere together. He couldn’t save her from the rapist but he can save her from wagging tongues and dirty looks. Of course not everyone gives her dirty looks, some people are very nice and hug her in the street. They ask if there is anything they can do but it is way too late for that now. Other people just smile at her because they have their own business to be getting on with.
Da says the only way forward is to get out there and confront the demon that is gossip and not to hide like a criminal but to face the angry people head-on.
‘We won’t run away from this, Rosemary. What’s done is done!’
Ma nods and listens to Da for the first time in ages. They take Frankie on long walks to the loch or on the shore road and I go along too, but sometimes I don’t. People stare and it puts me off enjoying my ma and da’s company. Anyway I have my keepy-uppies to practise.
Granny is quiet about it all and goes to chapel all the time, cleaning the pews and arranging the flowers. She even knitted the priest a cardigan. It made Mrs Maitland mad with jealousy because she wants to clean the pews and arrange the flowers too and so the priest says they must share the duties of God, who likes really shiny chairs and beautiful carnations.
‘The priest is a great counsellor of sin,’ says Granny, who feels very badly for the secret we have kept. We all do, but like Da says there is nothing to be done about it now, not even if you’re being beaten on a bus driven by Suzanne Miller’s da.
‘Everyone has a fucking opinion. Today it’s this. Tomorrow it will be something else. We have the bastard is the main thing,’ yells Da, who has started to yell about everything to do with the pervert who hurt Ma, so does Tricia Law. It’s the one thing they have in common and together they yell their heads off about judges and juries and ignorance.
‘Tricia is a lion,’ says Granny, who likes her much more now she’s gobbing off at Ma’s workmates for saying Ma did wrong not telling anyone what happened to her in the park, but Ma doesn’t care about them. Ma only cares about Louisa McFadden. Ma is desperate to talk to her but Da says it is a bad idea.
‘There is nothing to be mended there, Rosemary,’ he says.
‘Brian’s right,’ says Granny. ‘Leave the woman be.’
Sometimes I find Ma peeking through the curtains in her bedroom at Mrs McFadden sitting in the garden holding on to her big belly.
‘Rosemary, get away from that window,’ says Da, catching her spying on Mrs McFadden. I’m glad he never caught me when she was Miss Connor.
‘But we’re in the same boat,’ says Ma to him.
‘Rosemary, that poor woman wouldn’t be in our boat at all if we’d all just said something. We did her wrong. She’s not going to fall into your arms for that.’
Ma nods and cries with the guilt and Da holds her tight.
FORTY
THE RAIN COMES in May. A terrible rain. The kind you can hear on the roof. The kind that hits concrete like a stone. The kind that blinds you and smacks you in the face like it hates you. The kind you get lost in.
Mr McFadden went off to the mainland in the morning to get a surprise for Mrs McFadden and the baby. That’s what Mrs Maitland told Granny anyway and Granny was annoyed at her because Mrs Maitland knows of the situation between the Murray family and the McFaddens, everyone does, and Granny hates to be reminded.
‘She was trying to cause some trouble. And in a house of God. Old bitch.’
When the electricity goes off because of the storm I get very excited. We always have brilliant food when there is a power cut. Granny brings out pickles, cheese, yogurts and crackers and jam, anything she doesn’t have to cook, which is brilliant. Granny also brings out her scones, even though we’ll get indigestion if we eat them, but if we don’t we will hurt her feelings and so we spread jam on them and nibble at the edges.
The doorbell rings and it’s Dirty Alice with a broken umbrella. We are all very surprised to see her. Her face is red from the rain and she looks very scared. I am glad she is scared and I hope she might cry so I can tell everyone what a whinger she is.
‘My ma is having the baby,’ she yells and everyone is still. Granny doesn’t say anything, just grabs for her coat. Everyone knows Granny was a nurse. She was a very famous nurse on the island.
‘I’ve wiped a lot of arses around this town,’ she says.
Granny doesn’t have time for brollies or scarves. She only cares for Mrs McFadden.
‘I should come,’ says Ma, grabbing for her jacket.
‘No,’ says Granny and she’s very firm with Ma.
Ma steps away from the coat rack where all kinds of jackets and hats are hung.
Granny runs out the door to Mrs McFadden and leaves Ma all worried and wanting to help. Da takes Ma’s hands.
‘If she needs you she’ll call for you,’ says Da. ‘Let’s go bin the scones before she comes back.’
Ma doesn’t laugh and neither do I. We feel frightened for Mrs McFadden and Da’s joke is stupid anyway.
A long time passes eating cucumbers and yogurts. Ma stares sadly out the window at the McFadden house. She doesn’t even see Dirty Alice running towards us until she’s banging like a madwoman on our front door.
‘The baby is coming. You have to come help my ma. Shirley says so. Mrs McFadden’s screaming her head off.’
I want my ma to say no, but since it’s Dirty Alice’s ma who is screaming and not Dirty Alice I’m glad my ma grabs for her coat.
‘You stay here, Alice,’ says Ma.
‘I will not,’ says Dirty Alice.
‘You can’t help anyone at the house,’ says Ma.
‘You can’t tell me what to do!’ screams Dirty Alice. ‘My da will go mental if he finds out you’ve crossed our doorstep.’
‘Then why are you here?’ asks Da angrily.
‘Because there’s no one else to ask and Michael’s granny says so.’
‘Then do as you’re told,’ screams Ma and then rushes out the door in a great fury.
&nbs
p; This scares Dirty Alice and I’m glad. She can’t talk to my ma like that. No way!
‘Maybe you should go, Da?’ I say.
‘No, son, best leave the baby stuff to the women,’ he says.
‘But I’m a woman,’ says Dirty Alice.
‘You’re a little girl,’ I say.
‘Not too little to kick your head in,’ she snaps at me.
‘That’s enough of that, wee miss,’ says Da. ‘Go into the bathroom and grab yourself a towel, then come into the living room for a bite to eat.’
‘I’m not hungry,’ says Dirty Alice.
‘You’ll have a little bit of something,’ says Da.
And she does. She practically eats us out of house and home. She even eats Granny’s scones. She must have been starving to death.
The next thing Luke comes rushing to the door and tells Da he has to come. It’s a busy night.
‘I don’t think that’s right, Luke,’ says Da.
‘Don’t be a baby,’ says Luke and like a very serious little woman. ‘It’s a desperate situation. She’s in agony. I can’t be fetching water and keeping her cool at the same time. She’s sweating buckets and Rosemary has to sit behind her for support.’
‘For Jesus’ sake,’ says Da and then goes for his coat, but not as fast as Ma or Granny.
‘What about us?’ says Dirty Alice.
‘Stay here,’ says Luke.
‘I don’t want to stay with him,’ says Dirty Alice.
‘I don’t want to stay with her,’ I say.
‘Oh, behave yourself, the pair of you,’ says Luke. ‘This is important. Your little drama will have to wait.’
They run off and leave me with Dirty Alice and Frankie. Frankie is friendly. I am not. I don’t say a word. I hate her and suddenly I hate Frankie.
We just sit there until Dirty Alice, capital D, says to my amazement, ‘I am sorry I kicked your head in.’
I want to slap her face for that but I say, ‘You only won because I let you. Boys can’t hit girls.’
‘If they’re tough they can,’ she says.
‘Shut up,’ I say.
‘I hate you,’ she screams. ‘And I don’t want to stay here with you. My ma is having a baby and I want to see what happens,’ she says.
‘Me too,’ I say and stand up to get my coat.
‘You can’t come to my house,’ she says.
‘All my family are at your house,’ I say.
‘They shouldn’t be there either. My dad will go mad.’
‘We’re helping your fat ma have a baby. He’ll have to lump it,’ I say.
‘Fine. Come,’ she yells. ‘See if I care. God, you’re so immature.’
I hate her for saying this word. Immature. All the girls are saying it right now, like they’re big women or something and all the boys are little lads, but I hate it the most because Dirty Alice has said it. I should call her a daft cow but I don’t. We have to go see Mrs McFadden have her baby and that is more important. I wonder if stupid Christo’s still her boyfriend.
When we get to Dirty Alice’s door we are red in the face and soaked right through. It’s crazy weather. The whole scheme is pitch black, all the lights are off, all the telephone lines are down and everyone is huddling in the dark in their houses hoping the lights will come back on, especially the McFaddens.
Luke opens the door and all we can hear is poor Mrs McFadden screaming like a madwoman.
‘What are you both doing here?’
‘It’s my house too,’ says Dirty Alice and pushes through Luke like he’s a breeze. I wait first. I don’t like the idea of barging about the place like Dirty Alice does and the screaming is scaring me.
‘I suppose you’d better come in,’ says Luke. ‘Go into the living room and wait there. Do not come upstairs or I’ll go mental.’
I wonder what that might look like but I do as I am told.
I have never been in Dirty Alice’s house and it is very clean. She even has brown-and-orange wallpaper and it feels like felt.
‘Don’t touch my walls,’ nips Dirty Alice. ‘Don’t know where your hands have been.’
‘I let you eat our food,’ I say.
‘I don’t care, stop touching things,’ she says.
I put my hands in my pockets while Mrs McFadden screams all kinds of things. I hear Granny telling her to let it all out. I hear doors opening and closing. I hear footsteps walking across the landing and thumping down the stairs, but no one comes into the room. I am trapped in it with Dirty Alice.
Their living room is very nice, I think to myself. Mrs McFadden has made it all lovely because she is lovely. It has more furniture than her last house and she has plenty of ornaments. She likes people in old-fashioned clothes and angels. She also has china dogs. I like the dogs the best because they are very happy and they’re chewing on bones and things.
Da comes in and he’s sweating and looking very ill.
‘What are you both doing here?’ he asks.
‘Alice made me come,’ I say.
‘And if Alice told you to jump in the Clyde, would you?’
Dirty Alice thinks this is hilarious and it makes me annoyed at Da.
‘How is my ma?’ says Dirty Alice.
‘She’s fine. She’s fine,’ says Da, rubbing his neck with a cloth.
The screaming gets louder.
‘She doesn’t sound fine to me,’ says Dirty Alice.
‘That’s what it sounds like when women have their babies. They’re very noisy and say all kinds of things, but then the baby comes and they’re all back to being nice.’
‘Why is it taking so long?’ says Dirty Alice. ‘I want to see the baby.’
‘Baby is taking its time. It has a big head so it’s very uncomfortable.’
‘How big?’ I say.
‘I don’t know, it’s what Granny says. She’s trying to pull the thing out of her.’
‘Did you see?’ says Dirty Alice.
‘Indeed I did not, that’s no place for a man to be.’
‘Then what are you doing up there?’ says Dirty Alice.
‘I am wiping the sweat from her brow,’ says Da.
‘So what are you doing in here?’
‘Toilet break.’
‘Then you must be lost because this is the living room,’ says Dirty Alice.
‘You’re quite the little madam, aren’t you, with all these questions, Alice?’ says Da and with a curl in his voice.
‘What is Luke doing?’ I ask.
‘He’s a good boy, that Luke,’ says Da.
‘But what’s he doing?’ I say.
‘Everything he can,’ says Da.
Ma yells for Da. He has to go back but you can tell he’d rather stay and touch the wallpaper, maybe admire the happy dogs and never go upstairs again.
‘I have to go now,’ says Da and before long he is thumping up the stairs to where Mrs McFadden is having the baby with the big head.
‘Let’s go look,’ says Dirty Alice.
‘We’re not allowed,’ I say.
‘Who cares what they say. Come on.’
I don’t want to go. I am afraid. I don’t want to see a lady have a baby, especially a lady who used to be Miss Connor and danced in her bedroom.
‘OK,’ I say and follow Dirty Alice to the stairs. When we get to the top the door is wide open. I see Granny kneeling with Luke at her side and yelling, ‘Louisa, you’re doing great, give it plenty,’ but poor Mrs McFadden is crying because she can’t. Da is wiping her forehead and Ma is sitting behind her and holding her tight. Ma is telling Mrs McFadden that she can do it, that she can get the baby out of her. There is blood everywhere and Mrs McFadden’s legs are wide open. I feel sick and wish I was blind. I run away, but Dirty Alice stays until Luke pushes her out of the room and shuts the door. Dirty Alice is raging and bangs on the door but nobody cares.
‘I hate him. Acts like he knows it all,’ says Dirty Alice.
I feel ill at what I have seen. I want to go home through th
e rain and to Frankie and the pickles.
That’s when Mr McFadden walks through the door. He took the emergency boat from Gourock and is back in time to hear Mrs McFadden screaming like a banshee.
‘What the hell is he doing here?’ says Mr McFadden, who is wet to the bone and deaf as a post.
‘Ma is having her baby and the stupid Murrays are helping us,’ says Dirty Alice.
When Da arrives at the top of the stairs Mr McFadden is not pleased to see him either.
‘What the fuck is all this?’ Mr McFadden snarls.
‘What do you think it is? Can’t you hear, man?’
‘Of course I can fucking hear. What are you doing up there?’
‘I don’t fucking know,’ says Da.
Mr McFadden has lots of bags and drops them at the door. He runs up the stairs as quickly as he can and then comes out as fast as he went in.
‘Maybe I should wait here,’ says Mr McFadden, who is like Da when it comes to the baby with the big head, but then Mrs McFadden starts screaming for him.
‘I’ll go home then,’ says Da and goes downstairs, leaving Mr McFadden to hate us on his own, but Da doesn’t even get to the bottom of the stairs before the baby is here and starts to cry.
Mr McFadden goes to Mrs McFadden and Dirty Alice gallops like a horse to where her new ma and the baby are.
‘Let’s go, Michael,’ says Da.
‘You don’t want to see the baby, Da?’ I ask.
‘That’s enough for me and babies tonight.’
As we walk out the door the lights come back on. The power cut is over and it almost hurts your eyes with the brightness of it.
An hour later Ma comes home without Granny, who went to the hospital with the McFaddens.
‘Girl or boy?’ Da asks Ma.
‘Little girl,’ she says. ‘They’ve named her Amanda.’
‘Was she mad you were there?’ asks Da.
‘I don’t think she noticed,’ says Ma.
‘I’m sure she did,’ says Da.
‘You think she’ll give me a medal?’
‘You were at hand to help, it counts for something,’ says Da.
‘I hope so,’ says Ma, but you can tell she’s not sure if it should.
FORTY-ONE
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