Gran came to see me today. Eadie told me my mum knows about Jonesy. I’m angry that she hasn’t come to see me herself. Neither her nor Gran came to the funeral.
Gran gives me the biggest hug when she sees me and she doesn’t let go.
We go to the tearoom and she buys me chocolate cake and fizzy pop and tells me about when her brother died. He had a heart attack and just died in the back garden one day. She was doing the washing up with his wife when she saw him fall into the fence and then into the plants. They rushed over but he was face down in the soil. He had been turning over onions with the garden fork and his heart just gave out.
She talks about the days after he died. She says she felt numb and confused. She says there’s no set time for grieving and in a way it never ends, you just get used to it.
Then she starts telling me a funny story about a lady who lives on her street who people thought was carrying on with someone who wasn’t her husband. She has never really told me stories like this before, but I think she is trying to treat me like more of a grown-up. The woman was seen leaving her house at strange times and people had started to talk about her. Anyway, it turns out she was seen in Glasgow city centre, in a bar, and she was kissing another woman, and now everyone on the street knows this apart from the husband and no one will tell him.
The gossip makes a tingle go through me. My first thought is to go back to the cottage and tell Jonesy. I finish the cake and Gran orders another pop for me and another tea for her.
After that we go for a walk around the village. I have never walked so much in my life as I have since Jonesy died. Everyone wants to take me for a walk. I think it might be so they don’t have to look at me while they talk to me.
We walk up to the bridge over the stream at the front of the Homes and stand there watching the water flow underneath.
‘There are some very bad people in this world, Lesley, but don’t ever forget there are some very good people too.’
I say, ‘I think you were born a good person, Gran, and my mum wasnae.’
She looks at me, horrified. ‘I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,’ she says.
‘Why?’
‘Because you don’t know whit your mother has had to go through.’
‘Well, why do you come to see me and no her? If she loves me, surely she would want to see me. You do, but she doesnae.’
‘Your mother loves you very much, so much you’d never know.’
‘I don’t know because she’s never told me.’
‘Lesley, your mother loves you even if she’s never said so.’
‘That’s the thing, Gran, I don’t think she does. I can tell you love me. But I think a lot of talk about love is a way for grown-ups to keep kids quiet.’
Since Jonesy died I’ve begun to realise that grown-ups lie, a lot. They lie to try to make you feel better, they lie to stop you asking questions. They say, ‘It will be fine,’ when it most definitely won’t be fine.
Gran’s face changes and she fixes me with a glare. ‘Now you listen to me, Lesley. I know you’re having a hard time, but I will not listen to you talk like this about your mother. You have no idea how hard it is for your mum to not be able to be with you. Now, let’s get you back to your cottage.’
We walk to Cottage 5 in silence. I feel so alive having said out loud what I have thought all this time. I have never said anything before, to keep people happy. Well now I don’t care about keeping people happy. I am going to say what I think, and no one is going to stop me.