I’m in the kitchen on my own after school. I’ve just finished the crumble and custard that Cook left out for my tea.
The moment I finish the last spoonful Mrs Paterson taps me on the shoulder. I didn’t hear her come in. ‘Can I speak to you for a moment?’ she says.
I sense trouble but I stand up and walk after her into her sitting room. ‘Sit down,’ she says, and I do.
I have the feeling I get when I know I’m going to get told off. I feel like I’m frozen and can’t move, but I have to.
She sits down next to me and puts her knees together. ‘Do you see my fringe?’ she asks, pointing at her hair. ‘Have you ever seen my forehead?’
I shake my head. I never have seen it as she always wears her hair the same way, ponytail at the back and fringe at the front. She lifts the fringe up, revealing her forehead and, up by the hairline, a four-inch jagged scar.
‘Do you see this?’ I nod. ‘It was done by Peter Montrose. The other scars are behind my hairline so no one can see them, but I have to hide this one.
‘It’s not a nice story. He dragged me off the side of the road behind some bushes and hit me with the hammer. He hit me so hard my skull was fractured in three places. He didn’t manage to knock me out, though he thought he had. As I was lying on the ground, he started to pull at my dress so I kicked him, as hard as I have ever kicked anyone in my life, then I staggered out into the road and was saved by the driver of a passing car. So that’s what happened. And I keep those newspapers because I want to be sure they got him, and I want to be sure they hanged him. And when I get scared or have nightmares, I read them again. That is why I keep them. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, miss,’ I say.
‘And I don’t want you ever snooping through our belongings again. We let you sleep downstairs because you have had a hard time, but don’t try it on, Lesley.’
‘Yes, miss,’ I say, drenched in shame.
‘Also, Lesley …’
‘Yes, miss?’
‘There’s something else I want to talk to you about.’
The shame is now joined by fear as I wonder what else I could have done wrong.
‘The Andersons, the adoption – I wanted to talk to you about that.’
I look at her eyes to try to guess what she is going to say. I feel relief as I know nothing can hurt me any more with regard to the adoption, I’ve already had the worst news I could get. This is something I’ve learnt this summer; sometimes things are so bad that it’s simply impossible for them to get any worse.
‘I gather no one has told you why it was stopped.’
I nod.
‘I think that is unfair, Lesley. So I’m going to tell you, but you are not to tell anyone. Do you understand?’
I nod again.
‘It was your mother. Your mother put a stop to the adoption; she says that she still wants the option to take you to live with her. If you go with the Andersons then you are unlikely ever to be reunited with your real family. So what she’s done in cancelling it, she’s done from a good place. She wants you back with her.’
‘But I dinnae want to go with her,’ I say. ‘I want to be with the Andersons.’ I try to breathe slowly. ‘If she wanted me to live with her she’s had years to do that, or is it only now someone else wants me? Why did she change her mind? What about what I want?’
‘She’s your mother, Lesley, and until you are sixteen, she gets a say.’
‘Sixteen is ages away. Sixteen means I’m stuck here for ever.’
‘It will go quickly, Lesley, I promise.’
‘Well, the moment I’m sixteen I’m choosing never to see her again.’
‘I understand.’
‘What about the Andersons? Whit did they say?’
‘They were obviously disappointed, they really liked you and were hoping it could be worked out, but ultimately they understood.’
I nod again. ‘Can I go now?’ I say.
‘Yes, Lesley.’
I go upstairs to my room. The girls are all in there talking. I lie down on my bed and look at the wall. The others barely notice.
My head has too many thoughts in it again. To be wanted by someone you don’t want to be wanted by. By someone who you did want to want you way back, but now you don’t want them to want you and it’s only now that they do want you. The people who do want you and you want back can’t have you.
Is this going to be my life?