by V Clifford
Mand and Mac sat at the kitchen table and munched into bacon rolls, ignoring Viv’s snippy protestation.
Getting the message she went upstairs as quietly as possible and began to throw things into her rucksack. She pulled the duvet back and was about to strip it from the bed, but instead crawled under, and with her knees tucked into a foetal position she closed her eyes and allowed sleep to come. A tap on the door woke her with a start. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and rubbed her eyes. ‘Come in.’
Mac stuck his head round the door. ‘I’ve had a call. We can go and see her.’
‘Right, I need to have a shower to wake myself up. Give me five.’
When she appeared in the kitchen it had been cleaned and Mand and James had their coats on ready to go.
Mand said, ‘We’re all packed. I’ve got mum’s things in the car and I’ll go straight to her flat.’
Viv, astonished at how much had been achieved while she slept, rubbed Mand’s arm. ‘Thanks for doing that.’ She glanced around the immaculate kitchen. No evidence of all the activity of the previous few days.
‘I’ve left the beds for you to deal with.’
‘Sure, I’ll be back to see Moll later. In fact I’ll just ring Brian. Let him know we’re decanting back to Edinburgh.’
She took off and made the call.
Mac said, ‘No children allowed where we’re going. In fact no civilians.’ He glanced at Mand, who frowned but said nothing.
Viv said, ‘I thought she was in a hospital. I mean like the Western General or something.’
He shook his head. ‘No, she is in a clinic. You’ll see when we get there. D’you want to go in one car? I’ll leave the Audi here if you like.’
She hesitated. ‘Okay. Let’s get an update on the roads and weather.’
‘I’ve already checked. Main roads are clear. No more snow forecast. Icy conditions coming, but not until tonight.’
‘OK, let’s get going then.’
Once they reached Edinburgh Viv drove back the same route she’d used for Fettes, but continued towards the Botanical Gardens and beyond to Dundas Street. Mac directed her to turn onto Northumberland Street, then up a lane heading south. She stopped outside what looked like a typical mews property, with a garage door at ground level and a suite of rooms above. Mac jumped out and rang a buzzer at the side of the building. The garage door opened automatically and he jumped back into the Rav.
She drove in and Mac opened his window then said, ‘Switch the engine off.’ He pressed a series of buttons on a panel and they began to move. Viv couldn’t help herself from smiling.
‘What the hell is this?’
‘It’s a lift taking us down to the lower level.’
He grinned. He enjoyed showing her new places. They reached their destination with the slightest of bumps. Another door opened and Mac gestured for her to drive out into a huge underground car park. Rows of dark coloured cars filled most of it. She backed into a space furthest away from the only door she could see. Mac sauntered to the door and laid a card against the sensor. It hissed aside and she followed him through. He knew his way around, so he’d clearly already been here before. She realised you would need special clearance to get in here. This was no concrete bunker built in a rush for dignitaries of the Cold War. It was built with state of the art materials, more like a corporate building. After a short, wide corridor Mac used his card again to open another door. She guessed top grade bullet-proof opaque glass and steel.
‘This place is amazing. We must be walking beneath Abercrombie Place and . . .’
‘Yeah, you guessed it. Queen Street Gardens.’
‘Bloody hell. It’s massive.’
He turned and grinned at her. ‘Love it when I’m able to surprise you.’
‘Well, you’ve succeeded. Look at me, how surprised am I? Totally. But is this where the clinic is?’
He nodded. ‘It’s only one part of the complex ,but yes it’s where people from all over the country . . .’
She interrupted him. ‘By people do you mean agents?’
‘Yes, but there are also people who work in Intel who are not. So many different things to do these days. Anyway, there are always a few of us who need medical attention somewhere out of the public glare. Too difficult to explain if we were taken to an ordinary hospital.’
This made complete sense to her, but she’d been hurt a couple of times, needed the odd stitch or check-up, and never been brought here. ‘How come I never made it here?’
‘The public always saw or got wind of your involvement. If you’d been brought here too many questions would have been asked about your whereabouts. Your treatment in a public hospital kept this place under wraps. There’s always someone following up on details. No one,’ he glared at her ‘and I mean no one can know about this place.’ He gestured with his hands expansively.
‘Spare me the histrionics.’
Finally they reached another entrance which took them into a space like a proper hospital reception. Polished tiled floors and the smell of antiseptic and cleanliness confirmed that they’d swapped one kind of officialdom for another.
Mac walked toward the desk holding up his card, which Viv thought unnecessary since they couldn’t have got this far without one. A tall woman, with her hair scraped back into a ponytail, wearing scrubs, stood behind a high counter. She pointed to a door. ‘They’re expecting you.’
Mac knocked then pushed the door open. Viv’s mum sat on a bed. Ruddy and a woman with a clipboard stood either side of her. They all looked round as Viv and Mac entered. Viv got a flicker of recognition from the woman, but couldn’t remember where she’d seen her before.
Viv went to her mum, but an almost imperceptible movement of her eyes stopped Viv from hugging her. How quickly and subtly we receive these signals. Her mum took her hand and said, ‘None of this was meant to hurt you.’
Viv, horrified, felt tears prick her eyes. This was no place for an emotional reunion. She squeezed her mum’s hand and turned to Ruddy. ‘Is there an explanation?’
He said, ‘Always, but not usually what you want to hear.’
‘Try me.’
The woman stepped forward and introduced herself as Dr Arbuthnott. ‘Your mum’s had a bit of a knock, but she’ll survive.’
‘What kind of “bit of a knock”?’
‘Mainly bruising. Probably a cracked rib.’
‘How come only probably? Surely an x-ray will show you?’
‘She has an old injury and we can’t tell whether the hairline fracture is new or not.’
‘So you’re saying she’s had a cracked rib before?’
The doctor turned to Ruddy as if checking what more she could say.
He gave a tiny shake of his head. ‘I’ll take it from here.’
The doctor walked toward the door, but stopped right next to Viv. ‘She’s fine. I wouldn’t mind being in that kind of shape now, never mind when I reach her age.’ She touched Viv’s arm and whispered, ‘CC’s.’ A current ran between them and they stepped apart.
Viv said, ‘What a strange place this is. How can people work without daylight?’
Her mum smiled and stretched her hand to Viv. ‘That’s my girl.’
Ruddy said, ‘She can go home, but’ll need meals on wheels for a bit.’
Her mum protested. ‘I will not. I’m perfectly capable of putting something in the oven. I concede that I wouldn’t mind a hand with some shopping though.’
Viv shook her head. ‘Mand’s already on it.’
Mac looked at Viv. ‘Don’t know why you’re shaking your head. You’d do exactly the same. Won’t let anyone help you.’
Viv began to protest, but he held up his hand, ‘Don’t pretend . . .’
She interrupted, ‘I’ve let you help me. More than anyone else I know you’ve come to my rescue.’ Mac had always been there for her; she mustn’t take him for granted.
The door clicked closed as the doctor left.
Mac s
aid to Ruddy, ‘Is this about politics?’
‘Everything is about politics, sometimes with a large P, sometimes with a small one. This episode was in danger of becoming the larger variety. But thanks to Trude we’ve got the information we needed and it’s already been passed to . . .’
‘And will we ever know who that is?’ Viv said, staring at Ruddy.
He shrugged. ‘You know the score. The fewer people who share information the safer it stays.’
Viv’s mum stood up. ‘Come on, Vivian, I’d like to get home. I’ve got a bridge four tonight that I don’t want to miss.’
Viv raised her eyebrows, She had no idea her mum played bridge. ‘When did that start?’
‘Oh, my first week in the Pound.’ She shot Viv a knowing look.
Viv, slightly rattled to hear her mum calling it that, smiled and went to open the door.
Mac got there ahead of her. ‘Nice work, Mrs Fraser.’
‘Oh Marcus, you can call me Trude.’
He said, ‘I wouldn’t dream of it, ma’am.’
As they passed through reception on the way back to the car, the doctor was hovering. She stepped forward and handed Viv a card. ‘If you need anything.’
Viv took it instinctively and glanced at what was written on it – very little other than a name and a mobile number.
She tucked it into her jacket. ‘Thanks, but hopefully she’ll be fine now.’
Viv caught Mac and her mum smiling at each other.
‘Something funny?’
Neither answered.
As they exited onto the lane at the back of Northumberland Street, Viv wondered at nosey neighbours who might question the goings in and out of this innocuous garage door. If she lived with a view of it she’d definitely have investigated it. She drove her mum back to her flat where Mand and James were waiting. Still no emotional reunion.
Viv said, ‘I’ll leave you to settle in, get a cup of tea with Mand.’
Her mum said, ‘Come by tomorrow when James is at soft-play.’
Mand said, ‘Ten ’til eleven-thirty.’
‘Fine. See you then.’
As she and Mac walked toward the Rav he said, ‘Are you guys for real? If my mum had been through such an ordeal we’d be all over her . . .’
‘Aye, you hot blooded Italians cannae keep it to yersels.’ She tapped his arm. ‘Different strokes for different folks.’
‘But you must feel like hugging her, surely?’
‘It’s not our way. However much one of us feels like it, it’s not encouraged.’
He blew out a long breath. ‘My God, in our family we almost kill each other with physical contact.’
‘Can’t be good for you.’ She laughed. ‘For your information, I did want to hug her, but she wouldn’t have it. What was it you said about “old school”?’ She glanced over at him in the passenger seat. ‘Back to Doune?’
He said, ‘Why not? Might as well get this thing wrapped up.’
‘You know what I’ve learned from this?’
‘No, tell me.’
‘That I’ve got two mums; one who used to tell me that if I didn’t pull my socks up I’d never play for Scotland, and the other who calls me Vivian in public and wouldn’t let me touch her with a barge pole unless she was drowning. We are talking weird.’
‘I never knew you played for Scotland.’
‘I didn’t. I literally wouldn’t pull my socks up to full length or wear elastics to keep them in place, so I was dropped from the team. A sorry tale, but by that time I had other things on my mind.’
‘Like what? What could be more important than playing for your country?’
She grinned at him. ‘Oh God, use your imagination, I was eighteen.’
‘How odd that I had no idea about any of that.’
‘Look, if I know so little about my own mum, why should you know stuff about my teen years. You were with the big boys strutting your stuff.’
He snorted, ‘You’re confusing me with someone else. I’m a Marconi remember. Didn’t make it into any of the strutting clubs. Longstone was such a divisive place.’
‘Places can’t be divisive, only people do that. Who kept you out? Anyone in particular?’
‘Ironically, the Kellys. Nothing like a convert to light the evangelical torch. Mrs Kelly joined the Wee Frees. All things Catholic became the devil for her and boy did she massage that hatred into the boys.’
‘Wow, I didn’t know any of that was going on. So you see how much we don’t know about each other, or those we thought we knew?’
‘What d’you think she’ll tell you tomorrow?’
‘Who knows, but whatever it is will be a sanitised version of the truth. Pinch of salt and all that.’ She shook her head. ‘Did these last few days actually happen? Or did I dream it?’
He rubbed her arm. ‘Oh, it was for real all right, you’ve even got the bruises to prove it.’
She sighed, ‘What a marathon.’
‘Imagine what life would have been like if you’d known what she was.’
‘We probably wouldn’t have believed it anyway. We’d have still told people she was a secretary. Come to think of it I don’t think I ever told anyone that anyway. No one asked, not that I remember. Not convinced that my memory is up to much. I mean if I don’t . . . if she had a broken rib how come we didn’t know about that?’
‘Might have been before you were born. She did have a life before you and Mand.’
She snorted, ‘Yeah, we were late to her party . . . Just not getting my head round it. Maybe tomorrow will make a difference . . . but I doubt it. By the way did you ever get your own back on the Kellys?’
He laughed. ‘Not me, but my sisters. They were, still are, supreme at humiliation. I’d never have dared do what they did.’
‘Don’t stop there, tell me.’
He shook his head. ‘It’s a punishable offence now.’
‘Aw, please tell me.’
‘No way. They’re my team. A man never lets his team down.’
‘I thought I was on your team.’
‘You are, but a different one. Team Marconi . . .’
The nostalgia in his voice was comforting. Everyone needed people who would watch their back no matter what. Mac was probably as solid in himself as he was because of his family. She felt a stab of envy. She’d always thought of herself as having a good family, a good childhood, but maybe it had just been good enough. She needn’t complain. So many people had a lot more to grumble about than not getting hugs.
Chapter Seventeen
Eventually back at the West Bow Viv had crawled into bed hoping that sleep would come. What she couldn’t get her head around most was that her mum had, until the last week, behaved as if she was on a downhill trajectory; as if she was becoming a doddery old woman. Had that been an act or had that been Viv’s interpretation of her life? They didn’t see each other very often and when they did it was more often than not fractious. Maybe it was like that because Viv had made assumptions that riled her mum, or because they were too alike. No way. What about all those movies that she stared at? John Wayne for God’s sake, who watched his films? She lay in bed and stared as the glow of car headlights scanned her walls. Her dad had watched any kind of action movie, so her mum probably watched them out of nostalgia, a way of staying connected to him. She punched her pillow into shape and tucked the duvet round her feet. Why were relationships more complicated than they looked, especially family ones? She’d made reasonable assumptions about her mum based on her behaviour. It had been a long time since they’d gone anywhere together. They didn’t go out for lunch or on day trips. Mand was always doing stuff with her, even more since James came along. It was as if when she went to live in the Pound she’d given up. And why had she moved there anyway? Had she felt unsafe where she’d been? If so why? Was it to do with the work she’d been doing? The more Viv thought about all this the more distant her mum seemed. What had it cost her to have a double, perhaps triple life? She mused on
her own situation. Having Sal, someone who worked in the same line of work, in her life eased the complication of having to hide what she was doing, although there were still some things they wouldn’t talk to each other about. Had her mum and dad lived like that? Wow! The world was topsy-turvy. How could her family story have been so off the mark? The answer was of course because that was how her parents had wanted it. Normal, they wanted their kids to have as normal a life as possible, and the only way to do that was to build and maintain a narrative of ordinariness.
Wednesday
When sleep came it was fitful. She rose early and went out for a run. It was good to get out before she had to dodge the school kids on the streets. The Meadows had a few joggers and since the sun was making an effort to come through there were many ‘good mornings’ as they passed on their laps. She was a clockwise woman but there were those who were more comfortable with the opposite. Even in the most basic things folk were different. She smiled and increased her pace; it was okay to be different. How dull was sameness? Maybe she didn’t need to know about her mum. Maybe it was best for her to go to her grave with those stories. After all they were her memories to keep.
When she arrived at the Pound Mand’s car was already parked at the back door, so she pulled in behind it. Her mum answered the buzzer and the door clicked open. The warden was chatting to another resident and glanced at Viv, almost smiling before she realised who it was. Viv nodded and took the stairs. Her mum’s door was ajar.
‘Tea?’ her mum said.
She’d have preferred coffee but said, ‘Great.’
Mand shot her a look that she couldn’t work out. Then she shrugged and Viv got the I’ve-no-idea-what’s-going-on-here message.
Their mum brought a tray through with mugs, a pot of tea and a plate of plain digestives. ‘Right, I suppose you want me to tell you all about my life in the service? Well, that’s not going to happen. But what I will tell you is that during my time,’ she poured out the tea and handed them each a mug, ‘I had to look after an agent from another service. She for some reason left me a legacy in her will.’
Viv snorted. ‘A bit of a . . .’
