I don’t like the baby because it screams all through the night and Mrs Ainslie cries all the time. The bairns are nicer sometimes though they are always hungry and cry for food. I am also hungry most of the time. I am never having a baby.
Deb had never known that Grandma Elise had lost her brother as well as her parents. She’d never even known that her grandma had a brother; that meant Deb had a great-uncle, somewhere, if he was still alive. Or, she had had a great-uncle, and he had passed away now before Deb had ever had an opportunity to know him. That was an awful feeling: to think that there was a member of her family out there who she had never known, and that she might already have lost him.
Deb felt choked up, thinking about this and imagining what it must have been like to have been abandoned by your parents, and then to lose the only family you had left. No wonder Grandma Elise had been sad, and raised Janice to be as fiercely independent as she had. What other option was there, given the life she had?
She took her phone out of her pocket and called Janice, but her mother didn’t pick up her landline. Deb frowned for a minute, then remembered that her mum was likely on her way to a dialysis appointment. She would call tomorrow and see how it went, and talk to Janice about the diary. There was no point calling later today, as her mum would be too tired to chat.
Deb still felt bad that she wasn’t there to take her mum to her appointments like she usually would, but getting over to Glasgow and back in a day would be a challenge if she was to do it more than once every so often. Still, she missed Janice, and itwas hard not being around to look after her mum, despite the fact that Janice resisted any notion of ‘being looked after’.
She picked up the phone and called her mother, but the landline rang and rang. Deb tried her mother’s mobile phone, but it was – of course – switched off.
Deb sighed. She really wanted to talk to Janice, now that she’d read the diary.
She needed to see if Janice had known about Grandma Elise going into foster care, and being abused. She needed to know if Janice had known about Tom. Had she ever made an effort to find him, or had she known him and just never told Deb? That seemed unlikely – Deb hoped that wasn’t the case, because it would have been a huge betrayal on Janice’s part, and she didn’t think her mother was capable of that. Still, Janice had alluded to things that Deb didn’t know, related to her past and Grandma Elise. There were things that Janice had refused to talk about. Was this what she’d meant?
Had Grandma Elise ever reconnected with her brother, or had they always remained lost to each other? There was so much Deb wanted to know, now, and she had a million questions for her mother. Why wouldn’t she pick up the phone?
THIRTEEN
‘Hello, dear. Ah, now, don’t tell me…’ The elderly black woman with the lined face and bright, inquisitive eyes held up her finger as if waiting. ‘Debbie? We met at the demonstration the other day, didn’t we? June Hyland.’ She held out her hand and Deb shook it.
‘Deb. Yes. Hi, June.’ Deb looked around her at the community centre, which seemed to be a hive of activity that day. On one trestle table there were a few open Tupperware boxes containing a variety of cakes: as they were labelled with clear, hand-lettered cardboard signs, Deb could see that there were oatmeal cookies, chocolate and beetroot cupcakes with a cream cheese frosting and lemon curd slices. Her belly rumbled: breakfast seemed a long time ago. There was also a hot water canteen, a stack of mugs and a tub of tea bags as well as a carton of milk and a sugar canister.
Her phone buzzed, and she grabbed it from her pocket, hoping that it was a reply from Janice about the diary. She was desperate to talk to her mum about Elise, but so far, she hadn’t had a reply to her texts and voicemails. Instead, she was surprised to see a message from Dan.
Missing you. Can we chat?
I don’t think so,she thought, deleting the message.
Deb wasn’t ready to talk to Dan yet. She didn’t know what to say. What could she say? That she was sorry for having an operation? That she was sorry for leaving home and coming to work in Loch Cameron? Neither of those things were true.
Deb couldn’t think about that now. Instead, she looked curiously around the little community centre: it was a sweet little place, with white walls covered with children’s finger paintings and crafts and colourful displays.
Most of the activity seemed to be centred around the other tables, where groups of women were painting more protest signs like the ones Deb had seen them carrying up at Gyle Head. There were more women sitting in plastic chairs in the corner, sewing. Deb couldn’t see exactly what they were doing, but they all seemed to have a corner of something large that bowed in the middle of the group, like a tablecloth.
Again, Deb thought of Janice. She knew that her mother was terrible at responding to texts and calls, but it could be hard to have to reassure herself that her mum hadn’t passed out or fallen over in the bathroom.
Deb wished she could bring Janice here, to have a bit of company, some cake and some gossip. She knew that her mum would enjoy it.
‘Welcome! You’re just in time to paint a sign. Oh, and help yourself to cake. We do ask for a small donation, but it’s for charity.’ June nodded towards a teacup that held some loose change.
‘Of course. I’d love a lemon slice in a minute, I think.’ Deb looked back at the cake table. ‘I wanted to talk about catering for the May Day party, though. If you were all still interested.’
Deb had walked past the centre a few times on her way up and down the high street, but after meeting the demonstrators a few days ago she’d meant to come and check out their weekly meeting, since June had mentioned that they’d helped with the May Day party food in previous years.
She’d had a spare hour in her diary that day, between seeing the florist for decorations and a chat about themed corsages and buttonholes, and meeting with the band to make sure they were happy with the space they’d have in the Great Hall, and to talk about the ceilidh.
‘Oh, yes, of course. Let me wave at Mina and Sheila. Hang on.’ June gesticulated at two of the women who were in the sewing circle. ‘We’re doubling our efforts for the demonstration at Gyle Head, as you can see. That Kyle Abernethy’s got another think coming if he continues with construction up there. Which I suppose he will.’ June pulled her lips into a tight line of disapproval. Deb smiled politely, glad that she hadn’t mentioned her upcoming date with Kyle – not that it was anyone’s business – and trying to swallow the feeling of awkward discomfort. She felt like a liar, which was ridiculous, because she had no responsibility to tell any of these women about her love life.
You’re just here for a few weeks, she reminded herself.You’re allowed to have dinner with a hot guy and for it not to be some kind of career-killing incident. If you were a man, you wouldn’t be worrying about it.
That was true. Deb thought that was something Gretchen might say, and it made her feel slightly better.
‘Mina, Sheila, you remember Deb, from the protest? She’s helping Hal organise the May Day party.’ June introduced the two women, both of whom Deb remembered. Mina waved.
‘Hi, Deb! Nice to see you. I don’t think we said hello, but I did see you there. Having a few words with that evil property developer,’ shetsked.‘Very happy to supply snacks for the party,though. My husband and I have a food business. We can do dips, chutneys, that kind of thing? It’s been nice before with a cheese board?’
Deb balked atevil, but chose not to pick Mina up on it. Like June, she struck Deb as rather no-nonsense and direct, which was a wonderful quality – but both of them felt like women she’d rather have as friends than enemies.I’m going out with Mr Evil, she thought.Save me.
