I looked for a sharpness in her features, but there was nothing but light. That same smile. But she gripped Kit’s hand until her knuckles turned white.
‘Tell me about you, Natasha. What is your life like, where do you live?’ She settled back in her chair and gestured for me to sit opposite. She was queenlike in her approach, receiving visitors.
‘London,’ I said slowly, wary of giving too much away. ‘North London. With my husband.’
‘Married! My goodness! And how’s your dad?’ She tilted her head with a smile, ‘Such a sweet man.’
She could have been talking about the postman. Did she even remember that she’d left him, abandoned us both?
I looked to Kit, who shrugged.
‘Um, actually he died, quite a few years ago.’
She raised a hand to her chest, and shook her bowed head. ‘Oh, how very sad. I always said to him, “John, heart disease runs in your family, and if you don’t stop with the smoking or the drinking, you’re going to find yourself in trouble.” Terribly sad.’
I raised an eyebrow at Kit, almost shaking my head in disbelief. My mother, the patron saint of healthy living? She’d smoked like a chimney when I was growing up, and she was no stranger to a drink either.
Kit’s lips quirked and she seemed to tell me to take it easy.
‘He was a good man,’ Nina said solemnly, bowing her head as if in prayer. Then she clapped her hands together, ‘Well, we all get what we deserve. Shall we have some tea, I think you brought cake, didn’t you Kitty?’
The minute I slid into the car, I felt a wave of exhaustion overcome me.
‘It’s hard, isn’t it? When you want to be angry with someone and she doesn’t remember anything she’s done?’ Kit said, eyes on the road, hands gripping the wheel. ‘The thing is, that disease is nasty. I never gave her the cherries on those pastries. Never. They were my favourite bit. And she’d eat hers and then demand mine, and cry when I didn’t give it to her. And yet that brain of hers focuses on that, rewriting history… to tell me I’m a good sister!’
‘It’s a peculiar kind of torture,’ I said, unthinking.
‘For her, maybe. For us, definitely. Since I saw her again, she’s been sweetness and light most of the time. But those odd moments where her mind flutters to the past… it’s like the Alzheimer’s is punishing me for everything she thinks I wronged her for at sixteen.’
‘That’s tough.’
Kit shrugged, ‘We all have our lots to bear. I’m sure I must have done something to deserve my sister.’
I snorted, and Kit’s mouth twitched.
‘So… did I do something to deserve her as a mother?’
Kit looked at me and shook her head.
‘No, kids don’t count. I’m sure you’re being punished for something else.’
Her voice was so deadpan that I couldn’t help but laugh.
‘The staff must love you visiting her. You’re such a sensitive soul,’ I teased.
‘Oh yes, they want me to come in and teach some classes.’
Kit took the opportunity to take me sightseeing, as if I was a child who needed distracting. Or maybe she wanted the distraction herself, I don’t know. But it was welcome. We drove around and stopped at a little restaurant for lunch, Kit chatting away about how she first moved up here and how she’d felt so alone.
It was like she felt the need to make up for Nina, undo the harm she feared she’d caused by taking me to see my mum. But I didn’t mind, listening to her chat away about learning about the farm, travelling around the Highlands with her granny, learning the history of the lands.
There was always a shame, at being not quite Scottish enough. That much was clear. But we ate stew and sipped whisky and looked out at the lush green that surrounded us, and I remembered to breathe.
‘It’s okay, Kit,’ I said when she’d seemingly run out of things to say.
‘Could you not have said that twenty minutes ago? I don’t think I’ve spoken that much all year.’
I laughed, and shook my head. ‘I like quiet. My idea of heaven is a library where anyone who tries to talk to you gets shushed and escorted out by security.’
It was Kit’s turn to laugh, ‘You’re a strange wee thing. Not like Nina at all. Was your da a quiet man?’
I tried to search through my memories for what he used to be like. When you’re a kid you feel about your parents how they feel about you, and it was hard to remember spending any time with Dad. He was the back of the head that I used to see watching TV when I sat on the stairs and peeked through the bannister.
There were a few times he’d pat the sofa next to him and let me sit there, but I knew I had to say nothing, barely move so I didn’t distract him.
Occasionally when I was older, he’d touch my face and his eyes would get watery, ‘God, you look just like her,’ he’d say. Even though I knew it caused him pain, I cherished the moment, because it was a flash of reality before he disappeared back inside a bottle.
I pressed my lips together, ‘You know, it’s hard to remember what he was like before Mum left. I think he was quiet. He worked a lot. He loved her in this way… he was always looking at her like he was starving but she refused to feed him.’
I paused.
‘What was Nina like, when you were growing up?’ I asked, wanting to shift the subject. I didn’t like thinking about Dad. The guilt sat like a creature around my neck, and the tail always fluttered when my father was mentioned. No one should have to die like that. The paramedics tried to comfort us that it was the alcohol that killed him, he bled out because his blood was so thin. If he’d been sober he might have survived.
But if I hadn’t called Daniel, he definitely would have survived.
‘She was spoilt, mostly,’ Kit shrugged. ‘I mean, she had a sweetness about her, but she’d use it, given half a chance.’
‘So she was manipulative?’
Kit paused, and I knew she was looking for a softer way to put it. ‘She was desperate to be adored.’
I waited, and Kit put her glass down.
‘She’d play this game where she’d say, “Would you drink this whole glass of water for me, because you love me?” and I’d say yes, and she’d say, “What if it was poison?” She’d list all these things and ask if you’d do them for her.’ Kit shook her head and started shovelling again. ‘Very strange, always gave me the creeps. And her father, to whom words meant absolutely nothing, used to always say yes. He was that sort of man, “I’d take a bullet for you darling, I’d eat shit for you, I’d crawl along the floor for weeks.” She wanted people to prove their loyalty, I guess.’
‘Do you think she’s still like that?’
Kit looked at me, eyebrow raised. ‘Everyone wants to be loved, hen. There’s no shame in that.’
‘There is if you make them stay out of obligation.’
My aunt paused, and didn’t look at me as she replied, ‘Are we still talking about your mother?’
‘Of course,’ I looked past her to the window, focusing on that beautiful view, ‘who else would we be talking about?’
Kit told stories as well as any tour guide, epic tales of clan warfare and the English as we drove through the countryside. When we finally arrived back at the farm, I went up to my bed and passed out for a couple of hours, completely exhausted.
I had strange dreams, ones where I felt afraid, where I curled up as small as I could, or ran as fast as I could, but I still woke with that feeling of dread. There were no people, no stories, no monsters under the bed. Just the image of my mother, looking like she had that day, stroking my face, calling me her good, beautiful girl. She told me I could have the day off school, and gave me a doughnut. Jam went everywhere, making my fingers sticky. And still the dread remained.
When I awoke, Kit said we’d have dinner down at the pub.
‘Sorry, I should have realised you’d need to rest. Effie told me off,’ she said.
I waved away her concern.
‘Whe
n I first visited your mother I came home and slept like the dead. Right through to the morning. The chickens were angry at me and that bastarding little pony definitely wanted me dead.’
I laughed and sipped at the cup of tea she’d made me. I hovered, unsure if I should change, but Kit shook her head and told me to hurry up. She had fish and chips on a Friday and she didn’t want to be late. I was told Sarah would be there, which was the only thing that allayed my nervousness.
Explaining who I was, why I was there… the thought of it made me sick. But Kit didn’t seem like the type of person who shared of herself and her history. So hopefully her friends would be much the same. Taciturn and unlikely to probe, that’s what I wanted. Except… Effie. Effie was the sort of woman who coaxed gossip from you before you even realised what was happening. And yet, I didn’t mind at all.
Kit drove us into town, explaining that normally she’d walk or cycle, but she couldn’t quite face it. I was relieved, I still felt exhausted. The pub was called The Thistle. It hadn’t quite reached the gastro-pub levels of double-digit gin offerings and fancy high tables, but it had charm. The long, dark wooden bar was not particularly busy just yet, and the banquette seating had a dark tartan pattern. The wooden beams of the ceiling had a wobbly effect, making me slightly fear that the roof might cave in at any minute. Maybe it stopped people from getting too drunk. One look at that ceiling and you’d be convinced you’d had enough.
‘Fraser, this is my niece, Na… Taz. My niece, Taz.’ Kit gave me a look to tell me she was trying, and I snorted, nodding my appreciation.
The man behind the bar looked familiar, like a good elf or kindly wizard, with more white hair coming out of his ears than on top of his head. He wore a white shirt rolled up at the arms, and a tweed waistcoat. Fraser’s face looked like it had been carved out of wax, shiny, smooth and red. He had a lovely smile, and kind eyes. It was impossible for me to know him, but I immediately felt like I did.
He nodded at me, and gestured between the two of us, tilting his hand in the universal symbol for ‘Drink?’
We ordered two pints of bitter, and Kit told him we’d both have fish and chips when the others arrived. We settled ourselves at a table, clearly Kit’s usual, and I asked the obvious question.
‘Can Fraser speak?’
Kit shrugged, ‘He can, when he has something to say. He’s just not much for the chit chat.’
‘Doesn’t that get a bit difficult, running a pub?’
Kit thought about it, ‘Folk round here love him. He’s the kindest, gentlest man I know. Whether he speaks or not.’
‘Yes, of course,’ I paused, ‘but on a practical level, running a pub…’
Kit just raised an eyebrow at me. ‘You’d be surprised how little people are listening. Why waste words that go unheeded?’
‘That’s very mystical.’
‘Well, wait until Sarah arrives and we’ll have ourselves a fun game of Who can talk and be ignored the most? Usually, it’s me.’ Kit sipped her pint.
‘But you won’t give up.’
‘I most certainly will not. I just might try to be a little more patient with the poor girl. Who isn’t a fool when in love?’
I made a face in agreement.
‘Right? Everyone’s a damned fool. Best to let the madness pass and talk sense then.’
‘Who’s talking sense and how many drinks will it take to get them to stop?’ Effie appeared at the table, smiling at me. She gave me a once over, and then seeing that I apparently had no visible injuries, sat herself down and gestured behind her. ‘Taz, this is Jakob. Jakob, sit down love, for God’s sake.’
The tall, dark-haired man seemed a little shy, smiling from under dark eyelashes and clutching a small lemonade in his large hand. He nodded at me and sat down next to his boss, who immediately launched into a story about a wayward group of tourists who were outraged she didn’t have any vegan sausage rolls.
‘And so…’ Effie gestured between me and Kit, ‘how is her highness?’
‘Good, well in herself. Taz was surprised to see her so well, I think?’ Kit turned her question to me, those little lines appearing around her mouth.
I tried to find the words, and seemed to become very formal.
‘I was surprised to find her so… amiable.’
‘Oh, aye, amiable,’ Effie rolled her eyes at me, ‘we speak as we find, hen. You might want to try doing the same.’
How to sum up coming face-to-face with the woman who left without a word one day when I was a kid, and now wanted to know me? How to explain that I came here for a fight that I wouldn’t get to have, and I’d just have to make peace with it?
Or worse, how to share the horrible truth: I had liked that woman I met today. I had missed the idea of a mother, and her compliments had warmed something in me.
‘She wasn’t as much of a bitch as she used to be,’ I said, then made a face. ‘Was that better?’
‘Aye, hen, much better,’ Effie laughed, raising her gin and bitter lemon in a salute. ‘So you’ll be seeing her again?’
‘It would be nice to learn a bit more about her, to see who this new version of her is,’ I said, trying to sound casual. I wanted to go back with a fierceness. I wanted to just keep looking at her and tracing those features for a sign of that harsh, spiteful woman I knew. And I didn’t want to find her. I wanted this new, lovely version of a mother, twenty years too late.
‘I know I won’t get the answers I need, but… I may as well, whilst I’m here.’
‘And you’ll be helping your aunt out with the cost of your mother’s care, now you know what’s going on?’ Effie said it as innocently as if she was asking my views on the latest cinema release, or how I was planning to spend my weekend.
‘I… uh, I didn’t realise, I mean… of course, I should have—’
Kit was clearly furious, her lips pressed together as if to stop herself saying anything. The look she gave Effie was enough to make her put her hands up, and declare she’d leave us to talk in private. Poor Jakob was stuck in the middle, deer in headlights, smiling awkwardly at me as he followed Effie to the bar, greeting Sarah as she walked in. I watched as he lit up, smiling as he took hold of the baby and jiggled him gently.
I turned back to Kit.
‘I do not require any help ensuring my sister gets the care she needs.’ My aunt’s voice was proud and she didn’t look me in the eye. Instead, she focused on Effie, standing at the bar, resolutely avoiding her gaze.
‘It must be quite expensive, and Effie’s right, it’s not just your responsibility. I didn’t know before, but now I do, so…’
Kit looked up, meeting my eyes. ‘I do not require any help, financial or otherwise. I will take care of Nina. It is not Effie’s concern what I do with my money, much as she thinks she has leave to share her opinions on everyone’s activities. I will not accept anything, and Natasha, I do not want you to offer again. I mean it.’
There was a graveness in her tone that almost frightened me. ‘Maybe she doesn’t deserve your help?’
‘Maybe not, but I’m her sister and she needs me. That’s what family means.’
‘Sacrifice?’
‘Being a fool. That’s love, right?’ Kit offered me a small smile and I felt the tension drain away. ‘Don’t fuss. I appreciate it, but I’m serious. This is my burden and I claim it. I will not share it, do you understand?’
I nodded.
‘Good, let’s get the rest of them back, I’m starving.’
And that was that.
Sarah slipped into the seat next to me, whilst Jakob kept hold of Lachlan, seemingly very comfortable. Effie and Kit seemed to exchange a few whispered words and looks which suggested there would be some further conversation, but Kit put an arm around her so all seemed to be well.
‘And how are you finding our fair town, Mrs White?’ Sarah laughed, so different to the anxious, exhausted woman I only saw the night before. She looked older now, wearing an invisible armour. I saw it though, ho
w you could sit and smile and take up space to hide the worries. The only polite thing to do was play along.
‘I’m impressed, and I get an Effie breakfast every morning, so I’m more than spoilt.’
There was a brief look around the table, and I wondered what I’d said, but before I could ask, the food was brought over and everyone began talking in earnest about sauces and cutlery and everything else. Fraser sat down to eat with us, his staff taking over from him behind the bar, and I found I didn’t notice his silence after a while. He nodded and made eye contact and smiled. He listened actively, not as someone waiting for their turn to talk, and something about him comforted me.
‘So, when are we going to get you out on a horse then?’ Sarah asked me, taking her son back from Jakob, who smiled at her with such frank affection that I was a little embarrassed for him. Kit raised an eyebrow at me and nodded. Poor guy.
‘Um… I mean, I fall over when I’m not even off the ground and those horses look pretty high up, so…’
‘Oh, don’t be a wee wimp! There’s nothing to be afraid of! They’re just animals!’ Sarah laughed, her face bright, hair flapping over her shoulders. Lachlan whimpered at the sound, and she tried to hush him. ‘Oh sorry, love.’
‘It’s good, you should try,’ Jakob nodded, smiling at me. ‘Sarah is a good teacher. Very calm, unlike the rest of the time.’
‘Hey, quiet you! You’re not helping.’ Sarah grinned at us both, rocking her son automatically. ‘Jake was already good with horses, I’d have nicked him to help me teach, but Effie can’t spare him. No one makes a fry-up like Jakob.’
‘Or puff pastry,’ Effie added.
‘Or bread!’ Kit chipped in, nodding at Jakob in appreciation. He ducked his head, embarrassed by the attention.
The Things That Matter Page 13
