I puff. ‘I’m sorry, Bekki. I never meant you to see that.’ I fold up the paper. The headline’s barry:
Flora Parry was Child Killer
It’s all coming out now, eh, they couldnae report on her previous conviction until the sentencing and that, but now it’s all over the fucking press.
‘It’s not true.’
I get my arse on that settee and pull her down next me. I smooth her hair where it’s coming out the French braid. ‘Sweetheart… You’re going to have to be a really brave girl, okay? Because there’s some things I have to tell you.’
Bekki’s no leaning in. She’s sitting there twisting the wee bracelet she got from Connor for her Christmas, made of lemurs all pulling each other’s stripy wee tails.
‘Flora… Last time I saw her, she told me… I’m sorry, sweetheart… Just remember that I’m always going to look after you, I love you to bits and nothing bad’s going to happen to you, okay?’
She’s biting her lip.
‘I wish I didn’t have to tell you this, but… You have to know.’
She’s nodding. The wee soldier.
‘Flora told me she killed Neil.’
Bekki’s shaking her head. ‘No. That’s not true. Why would she say that?’
‘She didn’t mean to do it. She says they were arguing, and she just snapped.’
Bekki’s going, ‘No.’
I grab her hand. ‘Bekki, you’re going to have to be really brave… I wasn’t sure whether to tell you this or not, but I think it’s important to know the truth, isn’t it?’
She swallows and whispers: ‘Yes?’
‘They were arguing about you. Flora wanted to give you back to the Johnsons, and Neil didn’t.’
Bekki doesnae say nothing. She doesnae look at me.
I go to coory her but she pulls away.
‘I’m so sorry, Bekki. I didn’t believe it either when Flora told me, but the more I think about it… Well, the police are sure she killed him, and the jury were as well, and there had to be a motive, eh?’
‘But she didn’t kill him.’
‘Aw sweetheart. She’s been convicted, after all those smart people sifted through the evidence for months and months, you know? The justice system in this country, Bekki, the way it works, anyone who’s really innocent isn’t going to get convicted, or hardly ever.’
‘But sometimes.’
‘Aye,’ I puff, ‘but Flora told me she did it.’ I’m no gonnae lose it with the wean. It’s only natural, eh, that she’s in denial. ‘That appeal, sweetheart – that’s not going to work out. Flora’s going to be in that jail for ten years at least. You’re going to be nineteen years old by the time she gets out of there, and Bekki, I’m not going to lie to you, I’m not confident she’s going to want to see you when she does get out. She kept going on about how you weren’t hers. How you weren’t her real daughter.’
Bekki’s wee finger is stroking they lemurs.
I coory her. ‘But don’t you worry, sweetheart, don’t you worry, because I’m here for you. I love you to bits. We all of us love you to bits. And there’s one good thing Flora said.’
Bekki flicks her eyes at me.
‘She said I can adopt you if I want. And I’d be that made up if I could, sweetheart, if you could be part of this family that would be wonderful, wouldn’t it?’
Bekki doesnae say nothing.
I pat her wee leg. ‘You have your Fanta and crisps, eh, and watch your programme.’
And then I leave her be. Comes round six o’clock, Connor’s back from his shift and he’s feeding wee Willow in her high chair in the kitchen, and Willow’s girning away and I cannae blame her, wee soul, Connor boils up carrot and sweet potato and that and purees it for the wean and it’s pure boggin’ so it is. And now here’s wee Bekki giving it, ‘On the internet it says there was this little boy called Nathan and his mum died and the mum’s best friend wanted to adopt him but they didn’t let her. They might not let you adopt me.’
She’s standing there so straight, God love her, like she’s gonnae be a brave lassie, and she’s breaking my fucking heart.
‘Bekki, it’s okay, no one’s going to take you away from me. Now, I’m going tell you a secret, right, but it’s really important you don’t tell anyone, not Mia or Edith when you’re Skyping them, right, and not anyone else?’
‘Aw Christ Maw,’ goes Connor.
‘It’s okay son, it’s time. Right, Bekki?’
She’s nodding.
‘My real name’s not Caroline Turnbull. It’s Lorraine Johnson, and I’m your nana.’ I can hardly get the fucking words out I’m that choked up. ‘I’m your grandma, sweetheart, and you’re our wee lassie that was lost and that we love to bits, and now you’re back safe and sound, eh, and no one’s ever gonnae take you away again.’
Bekki’s giving it rabbit in headlights. ‘You’re – you’re the Johnsons?’
‘Aye, Bekki.’
‘But you can’t be. You’re Caroline.’
‘That’s not my real name.’
And she’s running, she’s out the room and in the lounge and she’s snatching up Connor’s phone, she’s going, ‘I’m calling the police!’ and I’m grabbing the phone and going, ‘You call the polis and they’ll put you in a children’s home, and bad things happen to kids in children’s homes, Bekki, real bad things. I don’t want you going in one of they places. If you don’t want to stay with us, you can go and live with someone else, maybe a friend of Flora’s or a relative – as long as they’re nice, as long as you’re happy, I’m not caring. But I’m not having the polis taking you to a children’s home. I’m not having you put in care like that wee boy Nathan, because kids in care get hurt. That’s a fact.’
Bekki’s gulping.
‘Okay, you don’t want to stay here, that’s fine. You’re breaking our hearts, but we just want what’s gonnae make you happy, Bekki, and that’s the honest truth.’ I hold out the phone to her. ‘Go ahead and call whoever you like, sweetheart, but not the polis because they’ll take you to a children’s home.’
She just stares at the phone. She doesnae take it.
‘You can’t be the Johnsons,’ she goes. ‘How can you be my grandma? You’re not old.’
I’ve got out a tissue and I’m wiping at my face. I give a wee chuckle. ‘Thanks Bekster, but I’m forty-two years old. Willow’s my wee granddaughter, eh? And so are you. I was young when I had my kids, right enough, but I’m your nana. Eh Connor?’
Connor’s standing by the door with a face on him. ‘Aye, Bekki, Maw was just a lassie, fifteen year old, when she had your maw and R–’
‘That’s right,’ I goes before he can say it. It’s been hard enough for Bekki getting her wee head round Carly and Connor being my weans, and now she’s hearing I’m her nana? She doesnae need Ryan and Travis in the mix. No yet.
‘The Johnsons are bad people,’ she goes again.
‘Is that right?’ I give her a wee smile. ‘When you thought my name was Caroline, did you think I was a bad person? I thought you and me were pals.’
Bekki bites her wee lip.
‘Do you think Connor’s a bad person?’
She looks at Connor. Then she whispers: ‘No.’
‘What about Carly and Willow?’
‘No!’ Bekki’s greeting. ‘You’re not bad, but those men – those men who tried to snatch me, who followed us in the street…’
‘They didn’t try to snatch you. Jed – he’s my husband. He’s your granda. He’s got mental problems, like I said. He’s got depression. He didn’t mean to scare you, just like Edith’s mum didn’t mean to not give her enough to eat.’