The wee girl squeezes my hand, drags me back to the winter sun.
‘I remember you,’ she says.
‘I dinnae think so, Alice.’
‘Aye, aye. I saw you playing on our roundabout in the middle of the night. You were with that guy back in there. He was wearing a dress.’
I laugh.
‘Aye, that was me. The guy in the dress is called John.’
‘So d’ye get tae leave soon and get a house?’ She squints up at me.
‘Hopefully.’
‘Why hopefully?’
‘Well, they want me tae stay on a few years, maybe until I’m eighteen.’
Alice is horrified. ‘Why?’
‘Cos. I did some bad things.’
‘Did you say some bad words?’
‘Aye.’
‘Like shit?’
‘Dinnae say that!’ I laugh at her.
‘Like fuck?’ she asks me, her eyes going round. ‘Did you say cunty-balls?’
‘Uh-huh, stuff like that.’
‘I bet you didnae mean it, though,’ she says, and picks up a stone and throws it. ‘I can tell you didnae mean it. D’you want me tae tell them for you?’
‘No, it’s okay,’ I say.
She leans in against me.
‘Maybe you could just leave and, like, get a house and I could come and live with you? I’d like that,’ she says shyly.
‘That would be cool, ay?’ I say and wipe my face.
‘Can you bake a chocolate caterpillar cake?’
I shake my head.
‘Oh well. Could you learn tae bake a chocolate caterpillar cake?’
I squeeze her hand and she puts her arms up, so I let her clamber over me. I hug her. We rock like that on the porch. I can feel the strain in her. Her muscles all tense and her mind always searching around her to see who’s safe and who’s not. She knows about rooms without windows or doors. She knows I do as well — it’s not a thing you need tae say.
Snow begins to fall, light as ash. Alice sticks her tongue out to catch it.
‘Yum, yum, yum,’ she says.
‘Have you seen Britney?’ I ask her.
‘Who’s Britney?’
‘You’ve not seen Britney? You haven’t seen our resident owl? Well, that’s shocking. Next thing you’ll be telling me you’ve never met a flying cat?’
‘Cat’s dinnae fly, silly!’ she says.
‘Oh, they don’t, do they? C’mon, let’s go and see who we can find first: Britney, the gargoyle, or — Malcolm, the Panopticon’s secret flying feline!’
She’s grinning and totally excited to meet a flying cat, or an owl. I pick her up, sit her on my hips and we walk down the drive to see Malcolm.
36
SHORTIE WENT TO the jeweller’s earlier and picked up my domino. I’ve hung it on a chain and it’s hidden under my dress. I keep checking it’s still there. I bought my Twenties coat, and a new dress. I now only have £517.26 left. I got my allowance, Pat’s cash. Shortie sold some deals for me at her school, and John must be turning tricks again, cos he gave me two hundred and told me he’d stab me if I didnae take it. I’m almost ready. I ate chicken at dinner tonight, I dinnae ken why — I think I’m losing it. Nerves, ay. It was fucking minging. I’m never eating dead flesh again.
John Kay’s rang the staff earlier. They’ve reserved me a single room. There’s eight people in the unit, an intensive anger-management course every day, group therapy, gym class, lessons, and if there’s nobody tae take you for weekend release, you dinnae get out.
Wee Dylan is booting the head off a snowman on the lawn. Me and Shortie are eating popcorn and watching from the window. It’s dark out there, and the lights from the porch are illuminating the wee circle where the snowman is, but everything else is dark.
‘D’you think Tash will be there tomorrow? She might make it back, ay — she might have heard?’ Shortie asks.
I shake my head.
‘How’d you know?’
‘I just do.’
Angus comes along with some chocolate bars.
‘What are you two cooking up?’
‘Fuck-all!’
‘D’youz want some chocolate?’
‘Aye.’
It’s great to watch Dylan being happy, kicking the fuck out of a snowman. Steven is out there as well, but he’s not bothered about kicking anything, he’s getting out next week. His mum’s cancer is in remission. Dylan is gonnae be lonely, he’ll be one of the only ones in here at Christmas.
‘John cannae wait tae move intae his supported accommodation place in town,’ Shortie says.
‘Aye?’
‘Aye. It’s dead good. It’s like a bedsit, but it’s his own.’
‘Sound.’
‘He’s gonnae make me a meal,’ she says.
‘Is he now?’
‘Aye.’
My heart flip-flops, and I think about the last time we kissed, but she doesn’t look at me; she’s looking out the window.
‘Good. So. We’re agreed then?’ I ask her.
‘Exactly how we said,’ she says.
John comes swaggering downstairs.
‘It’s never too early tae start,’ Shortie whispers.
‘What have you done?’
‘Angus!’ the night-nurse hollers from somewhere.
‘You know how Brian grassed you — for battering that cunt in the village, ay?’ John says to me as he kisses Shortie on the cheek. She takes his hand.
‘Aye,’ I say.
‘Well, we thought that was naughty of him.’
The night-nurse emerges out the front and Angus follows her out there. We go out and look up. Brian is hanging upside down from the bars of the top turret window.
‘What are you doing, Brian?’
‘He’s just hanging about,’ Shortie says.
‘How did you get up there?’ Angus calls.
‘We have to get him down! I’ve called the fire service,’ she says.
‘Noh, you dinnae, just fucking leave him,’ John says.
‘Joan has the only keys for that floor. I dunno how he got in there,’ Angus says.
‘Can you get Joan in, with her keys, then?’
‘She’s away on a training course!’
‘We called for help. Just hang on, Brian!’
‘What the fuck else is he gonnae do?’ John snorts.
‘You know what this reminds me of?’ I grin at Shortie and John.
‘What?’
‘A few years ago I used tae nick the Christmas lights off the tree outside the church. They were all different colours and we’d put them in the rooms in the home. We were lit up like a fucking fairground in there that Christmas.’
A fire engine rolls down the drive. Firefighters put ladders up the front of the building, and two unfold a net at the bottom. The other firemen go to see if they can try to drag Brian up into the building — they appear upstairs.
‘Just chop his thing off while you’re there — do the world a favour!’ Shortie shouts.
‘That’s enough,’ Angus says.
‘We’re gonnae have tae cut through, or it’ll be the blowtorch!’ the firefighter says.
‘Ooh, get the blowtorch,’ Shortie shouts.
‘Blowtorch, blowtorch, blowtorch!’
‘Inside, all of you, now,’ Angus snaps.
We shuffle inside. I am so tired. I keep thinking about Isla in the morgue, and Tash. Click, click, click.
When I get into my room I look out my window. A red light flashes on and off from the fire engine and I can hear them firing up a blowtorch. A few minutes later sparks fly by — I guess the cutters didnae do it after all.
37
‘THEY’VE SAID YOU will be driven to John Kay’s after the wake, Anais, okay?’ Angus says.
‘Aye.’
I didnae eat breakfast this morning. I dinnae think anyone did, other than Brian and Mullet. The chef made porridge and most of it is congealing in a big plastic tub on the table. I didnae sleep last night. I thought about how Isla used tae smile, and how she never let anyone feel sorry for her; she’d be taking her HIV meds and visiting the twins and worrying about Tash — but she would never worry anyone. She’d never lie. She’d always try. It was just the cutting, she couldnae stop, then she cut too deep. I miss her. It still doesnae seem real that she’s not here. I keep expecting her to stick her head out the bedroom window at night, or to see her and Tash walking back from the village.