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Shona McGrath’s feet burned with tiredness, but that was usual after a waitressing shift. The afternoon rush at the restaurant had tapered off early and her train from the centre of Edinburgh hadn’t been the usual peak hour crush.
Thankfully.
She trudged up the street to her family home, a terraced house in a row of six along the street in the outer Edinburgh suburb of Wester Hailes. Dogs barked as children played on the swings in the playground nearby. The rain-soaked, over-grown hedge wet her shoulder as she brushed past walking through her gate and up the path to the front door.
A smoke haze filled the hallway and she walked through it with the theme music of her mum’s favourite television drama blaring from the living room.
“Hi, Mum.” Shona peered into the dark room lit by flickering images from the television, which was on twenty-four-seven.
“Oh, hello darlin’. Ye hame early?” Her mother paused mid-drag on her cigarette. “What’s wrong?”
“The afternoon slowed. The crash and all.”
“What crash?” Her mother leaned forward on the sofa, her belly jiggling with her effort. “Anyone hurt?”
“No, Mam, the stock market crash. Have ye no’ been watchin’ the news, like?” Shona stood at the doorway, pushing off her work shoes from the heel with her toes. “It looks bad.”
Her mother returned a blank stare.
“’Cos I’ve finished early, I’m plannin’ to go to the protest later, aye?”
Her mother crossed her arm over her ample belly and placed the cigarette in her mouth, taking another long pull. She blew out after a moment. Two plumes of smoke flew out, one from each nostril. Shona stopped herself from making the fire-breathing-dragon comment her wee brother loved to say.
“Ye’ll still get me ma supper, aye?” Her mother asked.
“Aye, Mum.” Shona walked to the kitchenette and dumped her bag on the table amongst the junk mail and post.
On the fridge door, a large blue fridge magnet with ‘Yes’ in bold white letters held an overdue Scottish Power bill in place. A dark-blue magnet encircled by yellow stars stating ‘bugger brexit’, sat next to it. Shona opened the freezer section.
“Pizza or pasta, Mum?” she yelled into the living room.
“Pizza.”
Shona left the kitchen with the microwave heating dinner and walked across the hall to her bedroom. The saltire hanging in her front window gave the room a bluish hue. Shona stripped out of her uniform and changed into jeans and jumper. She lifted her denim jacket from her chair and picked up a badge from her dresser. She pinned the Scottish flag next to her Equality badge, brushed her hair and touched up her lipstick. The microwave pinged in the kitchenette.
“You goin’ tae eat something, Shona darlin’?” Mum asked as Shona handed her the pizza on a plate.
“No, I think I’ll go back to Edinburgh and grab something on ma way to this protest outside parliament.” Shona stepped to the kitchenette and grabbed her bag from among the clutter on the small table. She cleared it often, but it always returned to its usual state.
“What’s this about, now? This protest?”
“Mum, the stock market has crashed again.”
“Aye, well, that does nae bother me. I’ve nae money.”
“It could, Mum. Banks are closing. The Government’s got tae do somethin’ about it, like.”
Her mother raised her eyebrows. “Oh, aye. Good luck wi’ that, lass.”
“Well, if we all just sit in front of the TV, they’ll no do nothin’ for sure.”
Her mother’s hand stopped on its way to her mouth. The pizza she held dropped its cheese and tomato topping back onto the plate. Shona’s face heated at the pained expression on her mum’s face.
“Sorry, Mum. I ken you’d work if ye could.”
EastEnders continued to fill the room with its dramas for the day. Her mum took a bite of the topping-less pizza. Shona shuffled her feet.
“Can I get you anything?”
“No.” Mum took another bite.
Shona turned to go. “Goodbye, then.”
“Ye wud nae have any cash on ye, like, darlin’?”
Shona’s shoulders slumped. It was her payday, and her mum knew it.
“Aye. How much do ye need?”
“Och, a tenna wud do.” Her mother’s face brightened. “Your faither will be hame soon and he’ll be needing some things at the wee shop, like.”
Aye, the shop next to the betting agency.
Shona handed her mum the ten-pound note, pecked her on the cheek, and strode out the door, sighing heavily as it closed behind her.