Another Day in Winter

by Shari Low

  ‘Look, I don’t want to fight. God knows, this time is hard enough. But, for what it’s worth, don’t criticise Chrissie around me. In fact, don’t even mention her, unless it’s to say that you want to see her and beg for forgiveness…’

  ‘Indeed I will not,’ Rosemary spat.

  Tom ignored her, just kept on talking. ‘… For what you two did to her. What I did too. I’m not denying my responsibility in this either.’

  Norry’s expression was one of inner seething, but at least he kept his mouth shut. And so he should.

  Once again guilt tugged at the memories Tom had spent the last twelve years trying to forget. Chrissie. They’d started seeing each other after that night on the step, been a couple in every way, but there was a complication. Norry and Chrissie’s mother, neighbours for over ten years, had started an affair. Chrissie’s father had never been in the picture, but Tom’s mother Catriona definitely was. In fact, Catriona and Rosemary had been friends. Unfortunately, that wasn’t enough to stop Chrissie’s mother from getting intimate with Catriona’s husband. Tom and Chrissie had discovered what was going on at right around the same time as Catriona realised her husband was shagging their neighbour. It had been – to put it mildly – a clusterfuck. Catriona had eventually packed up and left but taking Tom had never been an option. He was sixteen by then, and Norry wouldn’t hear of it. He called the shots, always did. The thing was, Tom could see he hadn’t kept him through love, but through some spiteful, twisted power play. He couldn’t bear to be beaten, even in battles that meant nothing to him.

  At first, Catriona lived in a flat in Glasgow, but she was miserable and the only way to make a new life was to move back to Leeds, where she was originally from, but Norry manipulated her into believing that Tom would be better off staying with him to finish his schooling. Eventually, Catriona conceded defeat and left, on the promise that Tom would join her after sixth year. They didn’t know then that Norry would make sure that would never happen. In the meantime, Rosemary was obsessed with her new boyfriend, worshipping the ground he walked on, the adoring partner his gargantuan ego needed.

  For Tom and Chrissie it had been horrible to watch, but rather than drive a wedge between them it had merely pushed them closer together.

  ‘We’ve got to tell them eventually,’ Tom said to Chrissie, as they sat in the local cinema waiting for the start of The Notebook. It had been Chrissie’s turn to choose. He’d already dragged her to Shaun of the Dead and Hellboy.

  ‘No way. My mother won’t approve. I’m telling you, she’ll go ape shit.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘In case it interferes with her precious new romance.’ She’d leaned over and scooped up a handful of Tom’s popcorn. ‘You really don’t understand such devious minds, do you?’

  ‘Nope,’ Tom replied honestly. ‘If we just all became zombies that mutated into killing machines, life would be so much easier.’

  She’d laughed and then reached over for his hand. ‘Shut up and be romantic, otherwise I’m leaving you for Ryan Gosling.’

  Tom couldn’t remember much about the movie, but he did remember that Chrissie was absolutely spot on with her prediction. The night Rosemary found out had set everything in motion for what would happen later.

  Rosemary and Norry were out at some posh dinner, socialising with the companies Norry dealt with in his engineering company. He was a self-made man, as he never stopped reminding everyone.

  Tom had bought Chrissie a bangle for her seventeenth birthday the month before, and had it engraved on the inside, where only the two of them would see it.

  Chrissie, I love you now and always. T. xx

  Okay, so it wasn’t exactly Ryan Gosling level romance, he decided, but he was doing his best. He’d given it to her at the beginning of the night, and she’d loved it. She’d clipped it on, promised never to take it off. He should have held her to that.

  They’d been hanging out in his bedroom all night, making love, watching TV, eating pizza, when they’d heard Norry and Rosemary come in the front door.

  ‘Shit! I didn’t think they’d be back this early,’ Chrissie had wailed, running around the room, picking up her clothes and throwing them on. She’d kissed Tom, before, shoes in hand, she’d jumped out of his window – thankfully his bedroom was on the ground floor – and climbed over the fence that separated their houses.

  His dad and Rosemary would never have known… if Rosemary hadn’t gone to the bathroom and found the bangle lying by the sink. Chrissie had taken it off while she’d had a shower earlier.

  The slamming of the door as Rosemary charged out had reverberated throughout the house.

  Two hours later, Tom’s mobile phone rang. ‘So I was right about my mother’s reaction then,’ Chrissie had whispered, in the voice she used when her mum was in a nearby room. ‘She threw a complete berzy. Says I’m a selfish cow and I could fuck everything up for her. Apparently, I’m stealing her moment.’

  It was difficult to follow Rosemary’s logic, but basically she took the view that a relationship between Chrissie and Tom could threaten her romance with his father. Nope, didn’t make sense to him either, but there was no arguing with Rosemary.

  There was nothing Rosemary could do about it though, no matter how hard she tried to persuade Chrissie she should end it. They continued seeing each other for another year, until the day that Norry came home and made an announcement that would change everything.

  Tom’s thoughts were broken by a car horn, as he crawled around the hospital car park looking for a space. It wasn’t directed at him, but at someone who had given up hope and stopped their vehicle right in the middle of one of the access rows, deciding to just wait for a space to open up. It was the same every time he came here, but he’d learned to be patient.

  He did a couple more circuits of every floor of the multistorey and eventually snatched a space left by a departing Range Rover.

  Not a word was spoken as Tom guided them through the maze of corridors and lifts at Glasgow Central Hospital, until they reached the calm of the palliative care ward.

  The first person they met when they went through the double doors was his grandad’s favourite nurse. And his.

  ‘You still here, Liv?’ he said, as she looked up from her monitor and smiled.

  ‘I’m doing a double shift today. I’ll stop now for a couple of hours and be back later. Flu always hits staffing levels at this time of year, so we all pitch in.’

  ‘George will be glad,’ Tom said, smiling. His grandad had really taken to this nurse and Tom could see the feeling was reciprocated.

  ‘Liv, this is my dad, Norry, and his wife, Rosemary,’ Tom said, stepping to the side as he made the introductions.

  Liv stood up and shook their hands in turn. Rosemary managed the not insignificant feat of smiling while looking like she’d rather be absolutely anywhere else in the world except right there.

  ‘Lovely to meet you both. Your father…’ she said to Norry ‘… is a remarkable man. It’s been a privilege to care for him. Shall I bring you up to speed on his condition and care?’

  Norry frowned, then switched on the charm. ‘No, no, that’s not necessary. Tom here has it all in hand and he’s already filled us in with the important stuff.’

  It was all Tom could do not to roll his eyes as he saw any hope of a new, caring, sharing, Norry slip right down the sluice drain. The truth was, he just wasn’t interested. George was dying, and that’s all he needed to know. He wasn’t to be bothered with pesky details about George’s care, far less take on any responsibility. Nope, he just wanted to waltz in and be the prodigal son who had travelled back from Australia to see his old man, then he’d waltz right back off again.

  It had been a mistake bringing him here. Tom could see it now, but it was a bit bloody late.

  ‘Oh. Okay then.’ Liv tried to hide the fact that she was a bit startled by Norry’s reply. ‘Well… yes, Tom has taken wonderful care of his grandfather.’ She turned to Tom. ‘I
t’s beautiful to see the bond that you have.’

  ‘Thanks. He’s a special man,’ Tom said, feeling a twinge of sadness that she hadn’t known him when he was younger and vibrant. ‘I’ll take them through to see him,’ he added.

  ‘Of course,’ Liv replied, kindly. ‘We’ll be right here if you need us.’

  Tom led them down the corridor, through two sets of double doors, to his grandad’s room. As soon as he opened the door, he saw that a flurry of snow was now falling outside and some of it sticking to the window. His grandad would have loved that.

  George was lying in the same position that he’d left him, still hooked up to an array of drips and monitors.

  ‘Hey, Grandad, it’s me,’ he said, crossing the room to take his grandfather’s hand. He was glad that he’d shaved him this morning. Grandad always liked to be smart for visitors, even if it was two people he probably didn’t want there. ‘And Dad and Rosemary are here, too.’ It was only then that he looked behind him and realised that Norry and Rosemary were still standing in the doorway, just staring at George, their faces both masks of shock. Tom immediately felt a twinge of remorse. Had he not prepared them enough for the change in George’s appearance? The last time they’d seen him he was still a strapping man, but he’d been fighting cancer for years now and it had taken its toll. The weight loss was the most startling thing. He doubted if George made it past ten stone now, at least three stone lighter than he’d been for most of his life.

  No matter how he looked though, he was still his grandfather, and he didn’t need two onlookers standing gaping at the door.

  ‘Dad? Are you coming over?’

  The pointedness of Tom’s words flipped Norry into action and he crossed over to the bed, leaving Rosemary still standing in the doorway, clearly undecided whether to stay or flee.

  It was the first time Tom could ever remember seeing his father looking like he didn’t know how to act, like he wasn’t in control.

  ‘So how long do you stay here for?’ he asked Tom.

  Tom shrugged, addressing his response to his grandfather. ‘A while, don’t I, Grandad? I come in the morning for an hour, then pop back at lunchtime if I can, then I come back at six and stay until late. This week I’ve been staying overnight too. It’s peaceful. And I think you like knowing someone’s here, Grandad, don’t you?’

  There was no answer from the man in the bed, but Tom didn’t mind. The truth was, he came because he didn’t want George to be on his own. George had been there for him his whole life and now it was Tom’s turn to be there for his grandad.

  ‘And what do you do when you’re here?’

  ‘I talk to him. Read the papers or a book.’

  Norry still wasn’t comprehending the situation. ‘What’s the point of just sitting here?’

  Tom sighed. ‘Because he knows. And even if he doesn’t, there’s nowhere more important to me than this. I don’t get why you can’t see that.’

  ‘There’s a weight of evidence to suggest that even when someone is in this end of life period, they can still hear you.’ That came from Liv, who had entered the room and was now noting down readings on the chart at the side of George’s bed. ‘Isn’t that true, George?’ she said, smiling.

  ‘Do you believe that?’ Norry asked, his scepticism obvious.

  ‘I do,’ she said, simply.

  Rosemary still hadn’t said a word, or moved from the doorway.

  ‘I’ll bring another chair in so that you can sit by George’s bed too,’ Liv offered, leaving and then reappearing a couple of minutes later with another chair.

  Rosemary, somewhat reluctantly, took up a position to George’s left.

  ‘It’s snowing, Grandad,’ Tom said, taking a cloth from the side and patting George’s face dry. His eyes had been watering all day today. ‘You’d love it. Not heavy enough to get the snow shovels out, but just enough to make everything look Christmassy.’

  Norry still wasn’t saying anything and Tom was starting to feel really uncomfortable. He racked his brain for something to say to Rosemary, some way to break the ice, to engage her in conversation.

  ‘I just realised I never asked you the same thing,’ he blurted to her.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You asked me if I’d seen Chrissie. Have you seen her or heard from her?’

  Eighteen

  Shauna

  Shauna’s hands were shaking as they climbed the stairs to the second floor. They could have taken the lift but she didn’t have the patience to wait. Her whole life, she didn’t even know that she had family in Scotland and now she was about to meet her aunt. Or rather, great-aunt. Annie’s sister.

  ‘I may pee myself with excitement,’ Lulu whispered as they got to the second floor landing.

  ‘Just don’t do it on her couch,’ Shauna replied. ‘Not a great first impression.’

  They turned a corner, went through a heavy door, looked left to see closed apartment doors, looked right to see…

  Shauna stopped. She didn’t know what she expected, but this lady wasn’t it. She’d had an image in her mind, a version of Annie, with the flame red hair she’d had in Shauna’s youth, or maybe the salt and pepper grey of her adult years. She’d expected a short woman – Annie was only five foot two – and the pale skin, green eyes and freckles that she’d assumed Flora would share with her sibling.

  This lady had none of those things. She was taller for a start, maybe five foot six, slender, with a sallow complexion and piercing blue eyes, made all the more striking by her bold red lipstick. Her hair was a stunning tone of steel grey, a shade that suggested it had been dark in her younger days. She was wearing a gorgeous claret wool skirt, with a cashmere jumper in a lighter shade, and a long string of pearls hung from her neck.

  She was… elegant, Shauna decided. Elegant, chic with an air of serenity – not adjectives that would be top of the list when she thought of her outrageous, cheeky, hilarious granny.

  ‘Hi, I’m…’ Shauna started to say, holding her hand out to the woman in the doorway.

  ‘You are Annie’s granddaughter,’ she said, staring at Shauna’s face, scrutinising it closely. She paused then, taking a few seconds to gather herself before she went on, ‘Oh, you certainly are!’

  ‘And this is my friend Lulu,’ she added.

  Lulu shook her hand warmly. ‘Lovely to meet you.’

  ‘Lulu?’

  ‘Yes. Not the singer, though.’ She got in there first.

  There was another pause, and it took Shauna a moment to realise that Flora’s eyes had gone to the stairway door, then flicked to the lift, then back to the door, and she realised, with a wrenching pain, who Flora was looking for.

  ‘I’m… I’m so sorry, Annie isn’t with us,’ she said, her voice thick with sorrow. ‘I’m afraid she passed away many years ago.’

  There was a flash of sadness across her aunt’s face, before she stood to the side of the doorway. ‘Come in, come in,’ she ushered. ‘Well, this is certainly unexpected. How in goodness’ name did you find me?’

  ‘Ah, it’s a long story,’ Shauna replied, as she passed her.

  ‘Well, I can’t wait to hear it. Oh my. Just as well this old ticker is strong enough to handle surprises.’

  Shauna warmed to her immediately, despite the fact that she couldn’t yet spot a single similarity between Flora and Annie. Even their accents were slightly different. Annie never lost her Scottish brogue in all her years down south, and it was a more guttural sound, occasionally peppered with profanities if she was riled. Flora’s was a softer, gentler version.

  ‘The lounge is through there, but why don’t we have a seat at the kitchen table and I’ll make a cup of tea.’

  There it was. The first resemblance. All her life, whether with friends or family, Annie had dispensed with formality, preferring to sit at the kitchen table for a good gossip. Just hearing Flora say that made Shauna smile.

  ‘That’s exactly what Annie loved to do,’ she said.

  Flo
ra looked pleased to hear that as she guided them through to an immaculate kitchen with cream units, a deep oak floor and a cream quartz worktop. No old fashioned influences here. Auntie Flora was bang up to date.

  ‘That doesn’t surprise me.’ There was a wistfulness in her voice. ‘When we were growing up, our father and mother would sit in the front room, listening to the radio, and woe betide anyone who distracted them. Annie and I would sit at the kitchen table, sometimes for hours, and while the night away. I’ve always been more comfortable there.’

  As she spoke, Flora flipped on the kettle, and then pulled three beautiful art deco mugs from the cupboard, all of them etched with Charles Rennie Mackintosh’s Glasgow rose.

  ‘Me too,’ Shauna agreed. ‘I have to ask, you seemed so sure when you saw me that I was Annie’s granddaughter, yet I wouldn’t have said I looked very much like her?’

  Flora placed the mugs, sugar and milk on the table, then took a glass dome off a plate of mince pies that were on the counter and brought them over, too.

  ‘You don’t, dear, but you are the spitting image of my mother.’

  A lump suddenly formed in Shauna’s throat. ‘Really? I’ve never been told I look like anyone, not ever. I feel quite… quite…’ she struggled for the words. ‘Overwhelmed. In a great way!’ she added, just to be clear.

  Flora brought a teapot over and let it sit for a moment.

  ‘I have some photographs in my sideboard. I’ll get them after tea. The resemblance really is uncanny.’

  Tears welled up in Shauna’s eyes and Lulu pulled a tissue from her bag and handed it over. ‘I brought supplies, just in case.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Shauna said. ‘Sorry, Mrs McGinty…’

  ‘Flora,’ the older woman corrected her.

  ‘Flora,’ Shauna smiled through the tears. ‘I’m not usually one for crying, but this is… amazing. I was sure we were on a wild goose chase this weekend and all we’d go home with were memories of Glasgow in winter. I don’t think I actually believed we would find you.’

  Flora put her hand over hers, and Shauna could see her eyes were glistening. ‘I feel quite emotional myself. And I’m so glad you did find me. So tell me everything,’ she said, brightening as she broke off to pour the tea.