Iwanted to hide.
Dad was gone and never coming back, and Mum was acting strange. When she looked at me, it was like she was looking through me. Like she wasn’t there. It was really scary. It was scary enough with Dad gone. I couldn’t stop crying. I wanted to. But it felt like that time when Mum and Dad took us to the mainland, and I got lost when we were in a big shop. No one’s face was familiar, and I didn’t know where to go. I thought I’d never see Mum and Dad again. I did, though. They found me.
Now Dad couldn’t find me.
He’d died.
He had a block in his heart no one knew about, Laird said.
I didn’t understand. Dad had the best heart ever.
Mrs. McQuarrie’s living room was filled with lots of folks. Our neighbors. Friends.
They kept coming up to Mum and speaking in quiet voices. She looked right through them, just like she looked rightthrough me. Yesterday was my birthday, but she’d forgotten. Everyone had forgotten. I wasn’t mad. I didn’t care about my birthday if Dad wasn’t here. But I was scared. It wasn’t like Mum to forget me. Laird sat next to her, holding her hand, which was weird because he usually got grumpy when Mum tried to hold his hand. She said he was such a teenager. The last week, though, he’d been nicer. Still bossy. But nicer.
I wish he’d hold my hand.
I wiped at the wetness on my cheeks, even though more spilled out of my eyes.
“Enough of that.” Ms. Crookshaw stomped her cane in front of me, making me jump.
She lived next door and was always blaming Laird whenever her cat went missing.
Laird never touched her cat.
Her cat kept running away because its owner was Ms. Crookshaw.
She terrified me. I always darted past her house because if she saw us, she would shout for being too close to her garden.
Ms. Crookshaw was dressed all in black like everyone else, but it was in her usual uniform of trousers, shirt, and thick cardigan. She bent her wrinkly face to me and slammed her cane down on the floor again.
“I said, enough of that.” Her spittle flecked on my cheek. “The last thing your mother needs is you crying like a wee bairn all the time. You need to be strong now, lassie. Your faither isna coming back, so noo it’s up to you and Laird to look after your mither. I said enough.”
I wiped frantically at my tears, wishing I could disappear because they wouldn’t stop.
“Children today.” She tsked. “Spoiled brats, the lot of you. Now is the time your mettle is tested. No crying. You should behome making sure the house is fit for your grieving mither to return to. Have you been looking after the house?”
I shook my head because Mrs. McQuarrie had been looking after us. She and Mum were good friends.
“No? I bet you dinnae even know how to make your own bed or a wash a dish. I bet you let your poor mither do everything for you …”
As she ranted in my face, I could feel my skin flushing as I started to get mad. It was like when Laird threw my old baby dolls out without asking me because he needed space in the shed to store his new bike.
Why was this old woman angry at me about making my own bed?
Didn’t she know my dad was dead?
Didn’t she know he’d never hug me again or kiss my forehead and tell me I was the prettiest lass in the world? Didn’t she know he couldn’t save me from the lady ghost Laird said haunted our house at night? Didn’t she know he couldn’t wipe my tears and cuddle me close and make me feel safe anymore? I wanted Dad! Dad would yell at Ms. Crookshaw for being mean. He’d take my hand and pull me away.
I didn’t understand why I’d never see him again.
“Ms. Crookshaw.” Mrs. McQuarrie suddenly appeared. She scowled at my neighbor. “Why don’t we get you a slice of Madeira cake and a cup of tea?”
“Well, I?—”
“Taran.” Quinn, Mrs. McQuarrie’s son, stepped around his mum and took my arm. “Come with me.”
Surprised, I let him lead me across the living room and into the hallway. He opened the front door, and the next thing I knew, we were outside. I stared at him as he frowned out at the street.
