The Serial: The Green Years, Day 42

Kenny paced up and down the kitchen. “A couple of days!” he exclaimed, “I can’t wait that long. I need to see her NOW

The police could wait until Tuesday to check his documents, Ian decided and if Fiona could give him a lift to his mother’s then everything else could wait. He felt his self-control returning. He watched from the window as Rebel pulled Fiona through the snowy pavement back home. How could he have been so cutting to her and how could he have been so wrong when he called her a snob?

Girl and dog came through the door in a flurry of snowflakes and cold air. “It’s freezing out there,” Fiona said, her face flushed with the sudden heat in the flat. She unchained Rebel who immediately ran to his drinking bowl.

“You look better,” she said, smiling at the difference in Ian’s demeanour. “I feel better,” he said, “thanks to you.” Fiona beamed with pleasure. “ME,” she squeaked, “I’ve just walked Rebel, that’s all. No need for thanks.”

Ian found himself smiling back at the girl in front of him. “I’m going to mum’s for her Boxing Day tea later,” he began, but before he could ask her for a lift, Fiona offered.

“Let me drop you off,” she said, quickly. “I don’t think there are any buses running and with your own car out of action, it’s the least I can do.” Gratitude Ian felt a surge of gratitude. “Would you?” he asked, amazed at her generosity. “Sure,” Fiona said, “but only if you forgive me first.” Ian shook his head in disbelief. “Me forgive Fiona waited. “Well?”

“You’re forgiven,” Ian said, officially, “and can you also forgive me for calling you names.”

It was Fiona’s turn to silence him. “Forgiven,” she said, “and can we be friends again?”

Ian had an almost overwhelming urge to hug her. “Friends,” he said, unfastening Rebel’s lead.

Tomorrow, he would go to the hospital and find Maisie and prove to her he loved her, but for today, enough was enough.

The drive to Ian’s mother’s house at Invergowrie was slow and cautious, but Fiona was a good driver and finally stopped safely outside the small bungalow.

Ian was conscious of the long drive she would have back to Broughty Ferry with the daylight fading fast.

“Will you be all right,” he asked, “it’s a bit of a drive back for you?”

Fiona smiled at him. “I’ll be fine ,” she said, “especially now that we’re friends again.”

Once again, Ian had the urge to hug her. He’d never really let himself get to know her before now and found himself wondering why?

“Friends again,” he said, leaning over and kissing her on the cheek. “And thanks again,” he added warmly, “for everything.”

He stood for a minute watching the red tail lights disappear from view before walking up the path to his mother’s door.

“Ian,” his mother smiled. “I was wondering if you’d manage to come to see me,” she said, “what with the weather and everything.” She leaned past him as he went through the door into the warmth of his childhood home.

“Where’s your car?” she asked, concern in her voice as she looked up and down the street.

“At home,” Ian lied, “I got a lift, so you’ve got me for the night.” “A lift?”

“Yes,” Ian said, “a friend of mine was coming this way, so dropped me off.” He took of his coat and hung it on the hallstand. “Friend?” his mother quizzed. “Anyone I know?” Ian hugged his mother. “Happy Boxing Day, mum,” he said, “and her name’s Fiona Campbell.”

Mrs Brown smiled to herself. “Fiona Campbell,” she repeated, “nice name.” Visiting hour Rab relayed the news about Maisie, back to Kenny. “So, she’s fine,” he said. “She should be out of hospital in a couple of days and Chrissie says you’ll be able to see her then.”

Kenny paced up and down the kitchen. “A couple of days!” he exclaimed, “I can’t wait that long. I need to see her NOW.”

“Well you can’t” said Rab patiently. “It’s Boxing Day and there are no buses running and you’ve missed the visiting hour anyway.”

Kenny dropped into a chair, his legs stretched out and his hands linked over his cropped hair.

“She needs me, Rab,” he said tightly, “and I need to see her, see she’s all right.”

“Tomorrow,” Rab assured him, “we’ll go and see her then.” “We?” said Kenny, “Who’s we?” “You, me and Chrissie,” Rab said, forgetting for the moment that Kenny hadn’t been told yet about Chrissie and him ‘going steady’.

“Sorry Rab,” Kenny said, “but this is something I need to do alone.”

He unlinked his fingers and leant forward in the chair. “There’s things I need to talk to Maisie about, personal things,” he added, “and I can’t do that if you and Chrissie are ear-wigging.”

Rab felt wounded. “We wouldn’t be ear-wigging Kenny,” he said, hurt in his voice. “It’s just that we need to tell Maisie something too.”

“There’s that ‘we’ again, Rab,” Kenny snapped. “We who?”

Rab’s lips tightened. He tried to understand that Kenny was upset but it still hurt when his friend spoke angrily to him.

“Me and Chrissie,” Rab shouted back. “That’s the we I’m talking about. And want to tell Maisie and you, if you’d listen, that we’re going steady, officially.”

“Whut?” “You heard Kenny Wilson,” Rab said, scowling at him and crossing his arms defensively.

“Well, I’ll be blowed,” Kenny whistled, leaning back again in his chair, “officially, like, getting engaged, like?” he asked. Respect Rab nodded. “I’m going to propose to her at Hogmanay.” For once Kenny was lost for words.

“But what about the T.A. thing?” Kenny said. “Isn’t she expecting you to turn up in your uniform”? “Nope.” “You’ve told her you’re not joining and she’s still wanting to be your lass?” Rab grinned to himself. “Yep.” Kenny was impressed. It looked like Chrissie loved the big man, in or out of uniform, and his respect for Rab increased.

Rab was a lucky man, but how would Kenny fare when he came face to face with Maisie. Would she too accept him in or out of uniform? Just as he was? Tomorrow he would find out.

A thaw had happened overnight, the pavements were wet with slush but the buses were running again.

“Busy day?” Mrs Brown asked over breakfast. Ian had slept in his old room last night and it was good to have him back home again, even if it was only for one night.

“One or two things I need to do,” he said, without mentioning anything specific, “so I’ll clear off after breakfast.”

More on Monday.

Sandra Savage