The Courier & Advertiser (Angus and Dundee)
The Night He Left: Episode Nine
Sunday is the start of a new life. In fact, I thought I’d teach Jamie to fly that big red kite tomorrow
They all stood together. “So, this is where we thought you could sleep, Jamie. “Right at the top of the house,” Dorothy said. “Does that suit you all right?” Jamie tore across the polished floor and straight to the window. “Cool, thanks, Granny. I can see right to the end of the bridge!”
“When we heard you and your mum were coming to stay, Pa said you had to have this room,” said Dorothy, ruffling her grandson’s hair.
“He was converting it into another room for all his drawings, but he can carry on using the study.”
“Thanks.” Jamie turned back from the window and beamed. “It’s huge!”
“About the size of our entire Glenisla cottage!” Fiona laughed.
“Oh, and when Pa gets back, he’s going to set up his old Scalextric set and lay it out for you over there. Remember he had to keep taking up the track when he had it out on the kitchen floor.”
Jamie rushed round the large attic bedroom, opening and shutting drawers and cupboards. “They’re all empty.”
“Just waiting for you to unpack, sweetheart,” Dorothy said, drawing him into her droopy cardigan.
Jamie allowed her a brief hug then extracted himself and started unzipping his bag.
“Lunch in a bit, Jamie. I’m just going to show your mum into her old bedroom.”
Present
Fiona shook her head and laughed. “I’m going to be a little girl again.”
“Oh, I forgot to say. Pa’s left you a present, Jamie.” Dorothy looked around.
“Now, where did he put it? Ah, yes, he said the clue was ‘snakes.’
Jamie frowned and looked around, then his eyes lit up and he ran over to the bed and fell to the floor. He lifted up the edge of the duvet and pulled out a package.
“Snakes?” Fiona turned back to her mother. “Remember Jamie used to be frightened of snakes? Dad said he used to do a weird snake dance for Jamie at bedtime to get rid of any hiding under the bed. “Your father’s more than a little crazy.”
Jamie sat on the floor with his legs apart and ripped off the newspaper wrappings.
“Wow, look at these, Mum!” He pulled out a pair of binoculars and ran to the window.
“I can see the bridge really well. I’ll be able to time all the trains coming across.”
“Maybe not all of them, Jamie,” Dorothy laughed. “Pa said the binoculars aren’t new, but they’re the ones you always used to play with when you were little. He thought you might like them up here.” “They’re great, Granny. I can’t wait to show Jack.” “So what are you going to do about a job, Fi?” Struan walked over to the kitchen window and opened it a fraction before pulling his pipe out of his jacket pocket.
He began to pack it with tobacco then tamped it down and lit it, sucking in and blowing out great puffs of smoke.
“I’m going to see Martha on Monday, she’s at the museum in Albert Square now, says she’s going to put feelers out.
“They’re planning a new exhibition on the Tay Bridge disaster, so they might need help with that.
“Then I need to speak to the V&A people about getting an interview set up sometime in the next few months.”
Fiona took a sip of her wine. “Dad, you’re not going to smoke inside when Jamie’s around, are you?”
“No, Miss Prim, I am not,” he said, puffing as he threw the match into a bin.
“My grandson will see only the clean, fit me, not the old wreck who has taken residence inside me of late.”
Dorothy shook her head. “Ignore him, Fi, he keeps pestering the GP with his imaginary ailments, but he just needs to give up that pipe.”
Inner child
Fiona scraped some risotto to one side and put her fork in the middle of the plate. “That was delicious, Mum, thanks. Good to be home.”
“Good to have you, sweetheart.” Dorothy looked at her plate.
“But why d’you always leave a tiny amount of food on your plate? That’s not the way you were brought up.”
“Sorry, I’ll revert to the inner child soon.” Fiona grinned. “Be swapping my jeans for dungarees next.”
“Nothing wrong with dungarees, I still wear mine around the house, so comfy.”
Dorothy looked down at her thick black tights and poked her finger through a hole at the knee.
“Hand me the sewing basket, Stru,” she said, pointing to a corner cupboard.
Struan walked over to the cupboard, lifting an empty Coke can from the counter and throwing it in the bin.
Dorothy stood up and opened the bin, extracting the can. “Recycling, Stru, how many times do I have to tell you!”
She shook her head and headed for the outhouse. “Tell you what, Fi,” Struan said, studying his daughter while puffing out little wisps of smoke.
“If you promise to give up that hideous fizzy drink you’re addicted to, I’ll think about giving up the baccy.”
Fiona laughed. “Now, let me think, what’s worse for the health?
“A few cans of Diet Coke every day or an entire packet of pipe tobacco inhaled into your lungs?”
“Well, I agree with you about the smoking, sweetheart, but have you seen how bad Coke is for your teeth?”
“That’s why I drink from a straw!” Fiona downed the last of her wine.
Dorothy took the sewing basket from her husband and sat down, leaning back into her rickety chair as she opened it.
“You need to superglue these chairs again, Struan, they’re falling to bits.”
New life
Dorothy shook her chair from side to side then pulled out a needle and black thread.
Struan walked back to the table and gave his chair a shoogle. He sighed then returned to his pipe.
“Okay, how about this, Fi. Let’s start tomorrow after breakfast – no more cans of killer Coke for you, no more pipe for me.”
“So, no more rancid fumes all over the house?” Fiona smirked. “Sounds like a plan.”
“I’ll just nip along to the petrol station for a last pack of Condor then that’s it.
“Sunday is the start of a new life. In fact, I thought I’d teach Jamie to fly that big red kite tomorrow.
“‘It’s been sitting in the garage for ages. We could take it onto the green,” he said, grabbing his coat from a hook by the door.
He put it on and patted his pockets. “Christ, no bloody money, where did I put my wallet, Dot?”
“Dad you’ve got to stop swearing when Jamie’s around.”
“What, like your bloody Aussie fugitive?” Struan said. “First time I met him, I thought he had Tourette’s syndrome.”
More tomorrow.