Zoe was trepidatious the following weekend when she left the van behind and took the little green car up towards Inverness, Hari in the back, Patrick having complained vociferously all day about being left behind with Shackleton.
Zoe had gone and had a word with Wilby the gardener, pointing out that it was ridiculous that the boys sat around the house all the time and didn’t know how to garden. Wilby hadn’t found it ridiculous at all; he thought it much more peculiar that the sons of the house would be found working alongside him, very peculiar indeed, and his own father wouldn’t have liked it one little bit, but Zoe was a determined person and despite (and slightly because of) Mrs MacGlone’s constant complaining about her pushy and vulgar ways, found himself agreeing, which is how Shackleton and Patrick found themselves wrapped up in old clothes and out trimming hedges before she left for the day.
‘Get some roses in your cheeks,’ she said mischievously, even as Hari’s eyes filled with tears. The prospect of a day that involved being outside with Patrick, Best Person in the World, and a pair of gigantic scissors in the garden was absolutely irresistible, and he felt bitterly betrayed.
* * *
It was a long way to Inverness, through clouds that seemed to get lower as they went, the colours on the trees still extraordinary but hampered by the low light and the heavy feeling in the air, damp and pregnant, as if the clouds were just waiting to burst.
They parked in the modern town centre car park, a drab multi-storey by the bus station that did no credit to the pretty town around it, nor the dramatic beauty of its setting in the shadow of the high hills beyond, and set off rather anxiously. Mary walked as far away from Zoe as was possible without actually falling off the kerb, and Zoe smiled to herself as she saw so much of the truculent teen she would become, as Hari padded along patiently beside her. She noticed with some surprise that for the first time Hari was keeping up, not pulling and holding her back, or sitting down or looking longingly at other children’s buggies.
The short period they’d spent up here already had, it seemed, strengthened his limbs. He was filling out too – his cheeks were rounder and pink – and he didn’t look quite so much of a frightened rabbit. There was a confidence about the little lad and Zoe was certain it mostly came from one thing – making a friend. Now he looked around him, curious. She wondered if he was thinking they were back in London. It was a ridiculously long time, she realised, since she’d seen a pedestrian crossing. Mary stalked on ahead of them, looking so grown up. Zoe slightly panicked about the concept of Mary as a teen. And where, she thought, would she even be by then? Who knew?
She realised, as the thin girl walked ahead of her, her limp barely noticeable, scowling at the old ladies who had the temerity to get in her way, that she did have something else to think about: what would happen next. Where she would go and what she would do. There was a bit of her that she tried to keep tapped down: by going away, Jaz would see the error of his ways, realise what he was missing and what he’d lost by giving her up; he would be remorseful, so sorry and try and make everything right again.
It struck her that these days that remorse was very thin on the ground. It seemed nobody had to be sorry any more for anything they did; instead they doubled down, were proud of it, never ever admitted to being in the wrong about anything. If she was to be honest with herself, she was sure Jaz had found a way to blame her – blame her for being stupid enough to get pregnant, to want to tie him down, drag him down, stop him fulfilling his DJ potential. There was an excuse for everything these days. Except it meant someone else picking up the pieces.
But what then? If she wasn’t to get back on her feet and go back, what was she to do? She was saving a tiny bit of money from her work with the van and her stipend at the house, but it was perilously small and slow. Although the six-week trial period appeared to be up without anyone mentioning it.
She banished that thought and concentrated on Mary, who was standing in front of New Look with a ferocious look on her face.
‘I hate it all – it’s stupid,’ she said as soon as Zoe suggested they go in and have a look.
‘I know,’ said Zoe. ‘We can start here, hate everything and then see how we get on.’
In fact, there was a nice selection of teen clothes – the fashion was obviously circling round again, because everything looked to Zoe like outfits her mother had worn – A-line skirts and cord trousers in autumnal colours. They tried a mustard-striped top with striped leggings and a burgundy cord skirt. Mary’s long skinny legs and narrow waist made her look lovely, like a graceful raggedy doll, but her face was sullen.
‘Okay, next!’ said Zoe, and they headed on to H&M. As Hari sat patiently and Mary got changed, Zoe exchanged glances with a woman not much older than her sitting outside the changing room. Her chubby pre-teen was marching out wearing a cropped top that said STARLET on it in silvery lettering and a pair of not terribly well advised leopard print leggings.
‘It’s HORRIBLE,’ the girl was screaming at her mother. ‘NOTHING FITS PROPERLY! I HATE IT ALL!’
‘I liked that pretty dress in Marks,’ her mother said weakly.
‘Dresses are stupid! Nobody wears dresses!’
‘Here,’ said her mother, passing over a larger size.
Mary emerged. She was wearing a purple suede pinafore with a red shirt underneath it.
‘That’s lovely,’ said Zoe truthfully. Mary’s face immediately fell. If Zoe liked it, it must be awful.
‘No, no, take a look in the mirror – don’t you think you look nice?’
‘I look stupid,’ said Mary, refusing to catch her own eye.
‘What are they going to be like as teens!’ said the mother conspiratorially to Zoe, who didn’t know what else to do but smile back. ‘I think you look lovely. I wish I could get Tegan to wear something like that.’
‘Something like what?’ came the voice from the dressing room and the girl stuck her head out. ‘Oh,’ she said.
‘It’s stupid, isn’t it?’ said Mary tentatively, looking at the other girl for approval.
Tegan shrugged.
‘’S’all right,’ she said. ‘The colours are nice.’
‘Do you want to try it?’ said her mother hurriedly.
‘Neh,’ said Tegan coming out. The new T-shirt was even shorter than the one before and displayed quite a lot of stomach, over some very tight jeggings. ‘This is fine.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Would you like to try something like that?’ said Zoe. She didn’t like it, but on the other hand she had never liked what her mother had always chosen for her, and was conscious that fashion was both a younger person’s game and feverishly important, although the idea of presenting Mary back at The Beeches with a pair of jeggings and a crop top that said STARLET on it rather brought out an inner snob Zoe hadn’t known was there until now.
Mary shook her head.
‘It looks good on you though,’ she said to Tegan, who smiled and said, ‘Yeah?’
‘They can be nice to everyone but their mothers,’ said the mum quietly to Zoe.
‘She’s not my mum!’ said Mary, whipping round, her eyes black with fury.
‘I was just about to say!’ said Zoe. ‘Don’t get a paddy on! I’m the au pair,’ she explained.
‘Oh goodness,’ said the woman. ‘At least you get paid for it.’
‘You’d think,’ murmured Zoe. Mary was picking up the purple pinafore again.
‘Let’s take that,’ said Zoe briskly. ‘And what did you think of the stripes?’
Mary shrugged.
Eventually, they collected large bags full of clothes, particularly from Primark, containing new underpants, tights that actually fitted her, leggings likewise, vests, tops and two big new chunky jumpers that made her look like a student, and rather cute. One had a fox stitched into it that Hari was so obsessed with that Zoe asked if she could buy one for him in a smaller size and Mary shrugged which was as close to a concession she’d got so far.
Finally, as a real treat, Mary took them to McDonald’s. Hari’s face lit up; it had been a long time. But then it fell again, and Zoe remembered with a start it was where Jaz had often taken him. She pulled him and his chicken nuggets up onto her lap.
‘Are you missing Daddy?’ she said in his ear. He nodded seriously.
‘I know,’ she said. ‘I know. He’s going to come and see you. But I don’t know when.’
Suddenly she was conscious that Mary was watching them with great attention. As soon as she noticed, Mary pretended to be doing something else again; eating chips slowly.
There was a silence as Zoe gave Hari a cuddle and wondered if she should just make Jaz come up here. Or at least ask Surinder to do it.
‘Where is his daddy?’
The question came out of the blue and chimed so strongly with Zoe’s thoughts that for a moment she was confused, until even Mary got embarrassed and tried to look like she hadn’t even asked it.
‘Well,’ said Zoe, going pink. And nervous also. There were two missing parents at the table. ‘I don’t live with Hari’s father; I never really have. Although he loves Hari very much. He’s travelling at the moment, which is why I’m here looking after you.’
‘Then are you going back?’ asked Mary casually.
‘Why?’ said Zoe. ‘Do you want me to?’
Mary shot her a sudden bleak look, and Zoe felt weary and sad.
‘I don’t care,’ said Mary.
‘Okay. Well. I have no plans at present to leave, I’m afraid.’
‘So when is Hari going to see his dad?’
Zoe would have given anything to get out of the conversation.
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘It’s tricky.’
‘Grown-ups always say things are tricky.’
‘Things are tricky,’ mumbled Zoe, going pink. ‘Life is tricky.’
Mary let out a great sigh. Zoe leaned forwards.
‘Do you miss your mum?’
For a long time Mary didn’t say anything and Zoe started to panic, as if she’d done something very wrong. Then eventually Mary pushed the now cold and unpalatable food away and sighed again.
‘Yeah.’
Hari looked up, staring at her face intently. He grabbed his mother’s chin, then pointed to Mary, then back at himself.
‘Yes,’ said Zoe, completely understanding. ‘Like you.’
The sadness of it, of all three of them sitting there, missing someone from their lives, staring at the congealing chips, was the total opposite of the fun day Zoe had planned.
‘She’s going to come back for me,’ said Mary stoutly. ‘She’s coming. Soon. I’ll probably have to go away with her.’
‘Okay,’ said Zoe. ‘Well then. You’ll have some new clothes for when she does.’
Mary seemed cheered by the thought of this, and more cheered when Tegan and her mother entered and sat down. Watching the girls chat – Tegan had a diamanté-studded phone and was showing Mary goodness knows what, but Mary was clearly very impressed – Zoe thought again how deprived of normal girls’ company she was. Listening to the friendly woman babble on about Squishies and Fortnite and sleepovers and birthday parties and dentists’ appointments and all the general mishmash of a child’s life, all she could do was smile and agree, marvelling at the gulf between the girls’ lives, hoping, as things took on a more even keel, that she could push more of this.
‘Where are you?’ she asked the woman finally. ‘Maybe Tegan could come over and play one day?’
‘Stromness,’ said the woman. ‘We’re down for the day. It’s only a forty-five minute flight from here! Where are you?’
‘Three hours south,’ said Zoe, and they both said ‘Ah’ politely, then went their separate ways; but Mary was definitely jollier as they walked away.
‘You’re good at making friends,’ observed Zoe as they went to look at shoes, and – Zoe insisted – to buy small presents for the boys.
For once, Mary didn’t scowl. She looked thoughtful, as if this were a potential characteristic that had simply never occurred to her.