‘Listen, pet, just think about what I said. Your mum loves you and I honestly think she was trying to protect you. You know, I’ve made loads of mistakes as a mum…’
Ava’s sceptical expression was back, so Netta reinforced her point.
‘I promise, I have. And the thing I’ve learned is that the only way to fix something is to talk about it.’
That’s why she and Mandy felt like strangers. Because they’d never sat down and talked. It was amazing how someone else’s problems could give so much insight into her own missteps. But, again, that was a reflection for later.
‘I’m happy to sit here with you for as long as you want, but why don’t you go on into the theatre? The show will be starting soon, and you can sit down at the front with your friends until your mum gets here. I’m sure she’ll be on her way.’
‘I don’t want to speak to her yet. And I don’t know if I want to watch the show now either.’
It was like watching her sixteen-year-old Mandy all over again. The upset getting channelled as anger. The fear and nervousness about what would be in the show, making her excited but also want to run for the hills. God, it was tough being a teenager. Although, Netta was heading towards seventy and she was still figuring it out.
She decided to go for reverse psychology.
‘Well, I tell you what then – why not stay here and help me with the bar, and that way you don’t have to watch the show?’
It only took about two seconds for that one to work. ‘No, it’s okay,’ Ava said, a little sheepishly. ‘I’ll go on through. And, Netta…’
Netta was thrown off guard when Ava threw her arms around her. ‘Thanks for listening to me.’
‘Any time, pet. Any time at all. I’m always here.’
With that, the young one headed for the door, to the sound of ‘Money, Money, Money’ and a chorus of laughter coming from the other side of the canteen.
Netta watched as she swung open the door and then held it open as she greeted another familiar face coming the other way.
‘Netta!’ Ginny shouted, as she made a beeline for the counter and spotted the open Prosecco bottles. ‘Is that wine you’ve got there?’
‘It sure is, pet.’
Ginny glanced heavenwards as she whispered ‘Thank you’, before her gaze lowered back on to Netta. ‘Can I have a glass please? In fact, can you make it a bucket? You’ll never believe the day I’ve had today…’
As Netta poured her a drink, then settled down, ready to listen, she knew that setting up the bar had just been pushed down the priority list yet again.
‘Tell me all about it, ma love…’
23
KIKI
Sweat was making Kiki’s T-shirt stick to her back as she gazed at the two rows of houses on either side of the street in front of her. She knew the person she was looking for was in one of those homes. The problem was, she had no idea which one.
She fanned her face as she scanned the street, searching for any kids that were out playing. In her experience, children, especially the street-smart ones she encountered at school, were the fonts of all knowledge when it came to tracking people down. Kai Barry in Primary three had given her the inside scoop about what hotel Robbie Williams was staying in last time he came to Glasgow because his auntie’s boyfriend’s cousin’s wife was working there, and wee Kai had overheard their conversations. But that kind of intel wasn’t available here today because there wasn’t a single child playing in the street. Not a football match happening. Or a game of rounders. Not even any older ones hanging around chatting or getting up to no good, like they would have been when she was a kid. Now, they were probably all inside playing on PlayStations and watching YouTube.
How had this become her day? Just how? How had she ended up standing in the middle of an unfamiliar street, searching for someone she barely knew?
An hour or so ago, she’d thought that the worst thing that could have happened was Ava storming out, but then Mr Tavish collapsing had taken that to a whole new level of panic. She’d dashed over to him and somehow managed to catch his head right before it hit the concrete floor of the landing, but then she was stuck, torn between holding him and getting help. She’d called out, hoping that someone in another flat on the landing would hear her, but no joy. Meanwhile, Mr Tavish’s colour was quite literally draining from his face. More rising panic. At that point, her training as the official school first aider had kicked in and she’d had an out-of-body experience while following the steps that had been drilled into her by the medical team that toured the schools, making sure the staff were equipped for emergency situations.
Puffing with the exertion of it, she’d manoeuvred around him and checked his breathing. Okay, there was still a pulse, and she could see his chest rise and fall. That had earned a prayer of thanks to whatever twisted universe had done this to the poor man.
She’d laid his head down gently and put him in the recovery position. Next, she’d raced back into her flat, grabbed her phone, a pillow, a bottle of water and her bag with her front door keys in it, then sprinted back out. She’d dialled 999, then put the phone between her shoulder and her ear, as she’d gently lifted Mr Tavish’s head again and slipped the pillow under it. As soon as the emergency services operator had come on the line, she’d asked for an ambulance and described the situation, trying her best to be as calm and specific as possible. Then she’d waited. And waited. For what seemed like a lifetime.
The clock on her phone had told her that it was twenty-five minutes later when she heard the siren come into the street, and another ten minutes for two red-faced, exhausted paramedics to climb the ten flights of stairs to get to them, carrying a portable stretcher and their heavy bags.
‘Jesus, they didn’t warn us about the broken lifts. I’ll be needing a paramedic myself,’ the older one of the two gents in uniform had declared as he’d come round the corner, before immediately springing into action. In seconds, he was down by Kiki’s side.
‘Can you tell me his name please? Is this your dad?’
