♪
I stayed with my head under the pillows till I smelled the tea cooking. I guessed sausages. I was hungry and crying made me thirsty. But I didn’t want to see Granpa. He would make me say sorry and I didn’t want to. If he said sorry to me, maybe that would be okay. But the house was gone and his job was gone too. It was done. He was the one in charge. There was no one to complain to. I would just need to get used to living in Portree, forever. But if he’d only asked me first, I might’ve felt better. I didn’t have to forgive him. I could pretend to, but still be angry deep down.
The lights were on in the kitchen. It was still bright outside, but when they were making our tea, Granpa and Iain liked all the lights to be on. It was one of their funny grown-up things that they did every time.
‘You all right there, Mary?’ Iain asked. ‘I want you to know that I’m a neutral party in all of this.’
Granpa was looking at the pan and not at me. I was right. It was sausages.
‘I’m okay,’ I said.
My mouth felt weird when I spoke. I had cried so much it felt funny to be talking again.
‘Take a seat, hen,’ Granpa said. ‘Tea’s nearly ready. Get the tomato sauce oot for me.’
I got the tomato sauce out the fridge. In Stirling, we kept it in the cupboard, but Iain kept it in the fridge. It was cold when you squeezed it over your sausages, but it still tasted the same. We weren’t going back to Stirling; it would be cold tomato sauce, forever.
Granpa was acting like nothing had happened. I thought his eyes looked quite red, but that was probably from the steam off the frying pan. I couldn’t see any of the Scrabble tiles. He must’ve picked them all up. I felt bad. His back would’ve been really sore doing it.
‘Let me tell you a story, Mary,’ Iain said.
I sat down next to him and listened while I picked off the label on the sauce bottle.
‘In March,’ he said. ‘I was sitting at this very table looking at the Stirling Observer. I’ve got a cousin in Stirling who sends me his copies when he’s done with them. There was a name I recognised. An old friend of mine I hadn’t seen in a long, long time. Your granpa. Two idiots had turned over a bookies in Stirling and given him a right whack on the shoulder. So, with a little investigative research, I got your granpa’s phone number.’ Iain looked chuffed with himself. ‘It was me who told your granpa how great it was here in Portree. Your granpa said, “Would Mary like it? That’s the most important thing”. I said, “Of course, what little girl wouldn’t love seeing those harbour houses every day?” Mary, hand on heart, it was me who convinced your granpa to bring you here. I even offered up my spare room for you, didn’t I?’
He took his hand off his heart and was rubbing his bald head and smiling.
‘You promise it was you?’ I said.
‘Mary, if you should be angry with anyone, it’s me.’
‘It’s okay. But you should’ve told me ages ago that I was staying for good. Both of you.’
‘That’s true. You can blame your granpa for that one.’
Granpa came over with the plates for all of us. I liked how he could carry all three plates over his arms and not drop anything. It was sausages and chips and beans, again.
‘Sorry aboot earlier,’ Granpa said. ‘I lost my temper. Ye ken I didnae mean any of that. I’ve made ye my special dish. They’re called “Sorry Sausages”.’
I couldn’t help but smile. That was the stupidest thing I’d heard in ages. But still quite funny. Because I laughed, he thought I’d forgiven him. I had a little, because it was Iain’s fault as well, but not completely. He could’ve stood up to Iain and told him how I didn’t want another music teacher. I liked Mrs Stafford and didn’t want to change to a new person. The new teacher wouldn’t know that I had smaller hands than most people and couldn’t play ‘C’ and ‘A’ at the same time with my right hand. Mrs Stafford knew all the things I wasn’t good at already. I didn’t want to disappoint a new teacher.
‘Iain,’ I said. ‘Have you pulled the strings about getting me a ticket for the ball?’
‘I’m working on it, Mary. But I’ll up my efforts since you’ve had the bad news of having to stay in my house permanently.’
‘I might not need them. Grace might take me because Tom cannae dance with his stookie.’
‘What an ordeal,’ Granpa said. ‘It’s a bloody dance. Invite only, my arse.’
‘It’s a ball, Granpa, not a dance. And, and… I dinnae want to risk not getting in, like last time.’
‘I ken, I ken. Disnae change, does it? No matter where ye are. Rules, rules and more rules.’
‘You know how these teuchters are, Arthur,’ Iain said. ‘They’re set in their ways. They love the exclusivity of it all.’
‘I say ye go, even if ye dinnae get a ticket,’ Granpa said. ‘Bloody teuchters.’
‘But they’ll stop me, Granpa.’
‘Ye’re only wee. I’m sure there’s somewhere ye could slip in. I’ll create a distraction for ye.’
‘I dinnae like the sound of that. Oh, and you swore there. That’s 50p you owe me.’
Plan A was going with Grace and Mr and Mrs MacLeod.
Plan B was Iain getting me a ticket.
Plan C was sneaking in. I really didn’t like thinking about Plan C, but it was better than
Plan D: not going at all.
‘That’s amazing news,’ Grace said.
‘I suppose,’ I said.
‘It is. You don’t have to go away at the end of summer now. We can hang around at playtime and lunch at school.’
‘But then you’re going to high school next year so you won’t be able to.’
‘I’ll come down at lunchtime.’
‘High school people don’t hang around with primary school people.’
‘Well, I will. I don’t care that you’re younger, Mary. You’re the same age as Thomas, but you’re like fifty times smarter than him.’
We were at the harbour. Grace had brought lots of bits of paper from her dad’s printer. We were folding them up into planes and chucking them towards the boats. But Grace didn’t know how to fold them properly and I was copying her. None of our planes were getting very far. Some went straight down in a nose dive. Some went right to one side like the wind had taken it, even if there wasn’t a wind blowing. Some gave the seagulls a fright.
I tried getting one on top of the pink house. I didn’t have enough strength in my arms and the wind wasn’t letting me, anyway. My plan was to get it to land on the pink house roof, then it would sit there for years and years. I could find it when I owned the pink house and say those were the days.
That was one good thing about staying in Portree forever. There was more chance of me being able to live in the pink house if I actually lived in Portree, just down the road. I would be there when the FOR SALE sign went up and I could tell them to take it down because I wanted it. They’d ask, “How are you paying?’’ and I’d say, “Is money okay?” and I’d open my briefcase filled with one hundred pound notes. They wouldn’t need to count it because they trusted me and they could see the Queen’s face staring out from all the notes.
‘You’re lucky you’re not in Thomas’s class,’ Grace said. ‘He’s in the P5/6 this year. He’s not happy having to go with the older ones. Dad said, “Do you want to be with the older ones or be in my class?” and he chose the joint class straight away. I would’ve too.’
‘If he was your teacher, would you call him Mr MacLeod or Dad?’
‘I dunno. Mr MacLeod I suppose.’
‘I call him Mr MacLeod anyway, so that’s fine.’
‘You’ll need to tell me whenever he gets something wrong and I can make fun of him.’
‘He’s a teacher, he willnae get anything wrong.’
Grace threw a plane which went all the way past the red buoy. Granpa told me I was allowed to call them guirls if I wanted to.
‘You’ll be one of the oldest in the school next year,’ I said.
‘It’ll be good. I might be your wet playtime monitor. We can play Monopoly. As long as I’m the top hat.’
‘Your dad probably thinks I’m a bit mad,’ I said. ‘When he told me I was in his class, I told him there was no chance.’
‘I’m sure he’ll just think it’s funny.’
I walked Grace back to her house. I liked walking around Portree because it didn’t take long to get to anywhere. I would need to get to know everyone since I was staying for good. The more walking about I did, the more people would see me and think, “there’s Mary walking past, wonder what she’s up to? Probably being nice to people like usual”.
I went into Grace’s house for a bit. I wasn’t staying for tea though. If Granpa made my tea and I wasn’t back for it, he’d not be happy. Mr MacLeod told Grace to go through to the kitchen and wash her hands.
‘Mary,’ Mr MacLeod said. ‘Is everything all right at home?’
I knew what that meant. That meant they thought Granpa wasn’t looking after me properly. I had heard Mrs Lithgow ask James Hamilton the same question after home time one day. He had worn the same jumper every day for weeks. You could tell by the muddy patches on the elbows. It wasn’t even a proper maroon Braehead jumper. It was a bright red one. It was unofficial. He was crying and he had to go to a foster home after that.
‘Aye, it’s fine,’ I said. ‘I was only pretending I didnae know about the school.’
He looked confused, like I must’ve looked when he first told me about the school.
‘You were?’
‘I was kidding you on. I’m looking forward to it, Mr MacLeod.’
‘So you and your Granpa, you’re all fine? Everyone’s happy?’
‘Aye, he’s the one who taught me how to play jokes on people. I was only playing a joke on you, Mr MacLeod. Sorry if you got upset.’
‘Not a problem, Mary. You were very convincing. You’ll need to audition for the school play.’
Tom came down the stairs. He slid his crutches down before him and they made a big clatter once they reached the bottom. Tom went down the stairs on his bum, one at a time. Bump bump bump.
‘Is Mary staying for tea?’ Tom asked.
‘Afraid not,’ Mr MacLeod said. ‘Get those crutches picked up, Thomas. Your mum’ll be in soon and she’ll go ballistic if she sees you launching them down the stairs again.’
He picked up the crutches and swung into the living room.
‘Look who signed my stookie, Mary,’ he said. ‘One of your pals, eh?’
I crouched down to see, but not too close, I didn’t want that strange smell up my nose again. The names on it from before were still there. Mum, Dad, Grace, Mary. There was one new name. Craig.
‘I thought Craig went away?’ I said.
‘He was going to, but he missed his bus the night I broke my leg.’
‘I think your mum’s a little bit in love with him,’ Mr MacLeod said. ‘She was very thankful for him taking care of Thomas after his accident. We both were.’ He tidied up the magazines on the living room table and put the remotes in a nice, straight line. ‘Turned out Craig had dropped out of university, so Linda got him an interview in the chippy at the harbour and he got the job. She set him up with Kelly too, a friend of hers from the hospital.’ Tom made a face behind Mr MacLeod’s back like he thought Kelly was disgusting. ‘He’s still staying at the hostel,’ Mr MacLeod went on. ‘But he’s planning to save up and rent somewhere nearby. His whole life changed because he helped our Thomas when he was in need. It’s a nice story, really. I should send it in to one of the papers.’
‘I need to go,’ I said. ‘Granpa’s waiting on me.’
All my worries came back. Craig wasn’t going anywhere. He was in Portree for good and so were we. It was up to me to keep Craig from finding out Granpa was the man he was after. He wasn’t looking for his friend. His friend was made up. He had already met Granpa and hadn’t known Granpa was the man he was looking for. That meant it was okay for them to see each other walking through town. But that was the only worry I could get rid of.
I had to make sure he never saw Granpa’s real handwriting. That wouldn’t be too hard, but it was still a lot of pressure. I was only eight. But I had to handle it. It was my cross to bear. Instead of Jesus with his cross, it was me with Craig. He would’ve been way too heavy for me to carry, though.
If I thought about Craig and his bit of paper, which was really our bit of paper, too much, I got stressed and wanted to curl into a ball on the floor. But I couldn’t do that. It was still my summer holiday and I wouldn’t let anything ruin it.