Nothing left unsaid, p.11
Nothing Left Unsaid, page 11
I didn’t know my own neighbours in Bristol. I now knew more about Betty and Margaret than I did about anyone back at home. These women had really stuck by each other, and community was very much part of the fabric of their daily life.
That last entry about religion, though, was something that I was glad I had left behind in Glasgow. I hated the Orange Walk: all those drunk and angry folk jostling and arguing. It had been embarrassing passing my Catholic pals in the street. Janet had loved it, as she always said it was the only time that she got to see other big parks in Glasgow. We saw amazing Victorian gardens, huge boating ponds and wonderful old museums on the south side of the city, and as the adults got drunk we would go exploring. The walk home at teatime wasn’t as pleasant. I could recall several times when I’d had to pour my mum and her pals into a taxi that they could ill afford, but there was no way they were getting back to Shettleston otherwise. Wee John had hated all the noise and arguing and often opted to stay at our granny’s house and clean her budgie cage and lie on her couch watching Saturday television, eating pieces of toast with jam.
When I got back to Mum’s room, Betty had gone. Mum opened her eyes and smiled at me. ‘It was easier to keep my eyes shut and hope she’d go home. She got the message eventually,’ she said in a weak voice.
For the first time in days, I laughed out loud, and Mum did too. I hugged her close. I needed to treasure these moments of lucidity and closeness; I didn’t think we’d have many more left.
I remembered that Isa had given me Janine’s details, so I looked up the care home on Google maps. It wasn’t far away, I could drive there one day soon.
Bunty: Philomena, we need to try again to get a look at this fucking diary thing Senga kept.
Philomena: I spoke to Sharon, just
like we agreed. She’s not letting
me see it, made up some excuse
about her family needing to see it
first, but I think she only knows so much. I’ll visit Senga as well to
see if I can talk to her. She’s in the
Infirmary.
Bunty: I mean, why write a diary?
Philomena: Let’s not worry for
now, we don’t know what she’s
written, if anything. We need to
be sure before we say anything
to anyone. Sharon’s trying to find
Sandra and Janine too. I’ve given
her Janine’s details but said I
didn’t have anything for Sandra.
Tell Isa, in case Sharon asks her
too. I could punch Senga for that
diary if she wasn’t already ill.
Bunty: God forgive you, lol.
1977
July
Woke up, smoked three fags, let Laddie out for a pee and put on Radio Clyde and danced around the kitchen to Donna Summer’s ‘I Feel Love’. The kids are still off school for summer but Janet is up early watching Multi-Coloured Swap Shop with Noel Edmonds. She said she wants to swap wee John for a bike and I told her I wanted to swap my life for Bianca Jagger’s and head to a disco in New York on a fucking white horse, but we don’t always get what we want and more often we get what we need.
Sandra came up and I sent the kids out to play. We watched Little House on the Prairie. All happy families and weans in floral dresses behaving well and patting horses as they sing Jesus songs. Sandra said to me, ‘Where the fuck do you get those men that can chop down trees, tame a wild horse and love their wives as they look after the kids?’
I told her, ‘They all came from the olden days in the Wild West apparently, they all died before they could come to Scotland, or shot each other in a saloon.’
We had a laugh, and I was so pleased to see her. She hasn’t been around in a while because Jim doesn’t trust me and won’t let her talk to me. But she needs more birth control pills. It looks a lot like Sandra is recovering from another black eye but she won’t speak about Jim’s behaviour towards her at all. I tried and she said she would leave my house if I didn’t change the subject. She’s being so defensive and mentioned he’s been making good money working with the Devlins in the car business. I don’t trust Jim or the Devlins and I hope the bastard gets knocked down by his own fancy black Ford Capri that he roars up and down our street. Philomena swears he nearly knocked her down outside her work the other day. The man is a danger to us all.
Bunty came up in the evening and I did her hair and we got a Fray Bentos pie and three cans of lager and had a wee night to ourselves. I have the new Rumours album from Fleetwood Mac. The kids sat in the bedroom and gave us some peace. Janet likes to tie John up with her skipping rope and tell him horror stories. It’s no wonder that boy still wets the bed.
We chatted about Sandra and Jim. Bunty said Sandra told her Jim keeps nagging her to get pregnant. He will definitely kill me if he finds out I’m giving her my pills. Bunty looked alarmed at the mention of the Devlins as apparently the last batch of clothes we bought off her were supposed to have been for one of the Devlin wives. She doesn’t know if they know she sold them on and kept the cash.
Isa is away down to Dunoon to see her American boy, Brock. I love his name, it’s a mix of a brick and a rock and he’s bought her a new dress – we laughed for hours saying Brock bought a frock. I hope Isa marries him and moves to Tallahassee and lives like someone from Little House on the Prairie or The Waltons. Mind you, Isa would shock those Yankees with her big loud swearing. She always brings back lots of American sweets and fancy playing cards from Dunoon. I would miss her if she left.
Janet has been in trouble again. She found a bag of kittens and kept them in the bedroom. Laddie went off his head barking and the poor wee things were too young to be away from their mammy. I had to take them up the police, and they just lifted them over the counter and said they would deal with them. I didn’t know what that meant. You never see that on The Sweeney, two men driving about in a fast car with a bag of wee cats, do you?
Watched Coronation Street. Gail is upset that Roger is in love with a nun. Betty shouted at Hilda again.
August
Elvis has died.
Me, Isa, Philomena, Bunty, Sandra and Bridie McBride sat crying in the social club. Bridie was inconsolable. She once paid a whole week’s wages to buy a scarf that Elvis had allegedly worn from a man in America who ran a fan club. Nobody had the heart to tell her she might have been conned.
Some people were screaming up our close, you could hear it through the open windows, it was awful. Davie Dunsmore told us he met Elvis when he landed in Prestwick years ago. We’re not sure if that’s true, because Davie also said he met Bryan Ferry in the whelk shop in Bridgeton.
Saw on the news that another woman has been attacked in Bradford. The cops think a madman is on the loose, like that terrifying Bible John who used to kill the lassies in Glasgow out at the dancing.
Sandra came up last night to tell me she and Jim are moving to a new house in Sandyhills. It’s just a fifteen-minute walk from mine, up behind the Kingco supermarket and over near the old golf course. A lovely council house with a garden and Jim’s been saving money to get it redecorated, like the good husband he is. I don’t believe a word of it – it’s all down to his dodgy dealing. It has a back and a front door and an upstairs and downstairs, and a garden. I am really jealous of her, I would love that. She says we can all go and sit in her garden during the summer. Like Jim would ever let that happen.
I finally went to the lawyers and got divorce papers organised. I can ill afford the paperwork but I hear that Dirty Donna has taken Billy back and is trying to get pregnant, so I want out of that whole mess. I think Billy will go fucking mental when he is faced with divorce papers. He likes to think he can just keep banging on my door to try to pick up the broken threads every time something goes wrong, like nothing has happened. He’s been flying off the handle lately and he can still scare me at times.
Watched Crossroads today. Meg and Sandy had an argument. On Coronation Street Albert made a kite.
CHAPTER 16
2019
Day ten
Sharon
The weather had settled a bit. I woke up early and got some emails and press releases done, then I spent an hour with my accountant working out my and Steven’s pension details and tax situation. I was just preparing for what might happen and I needed to know my financial situation. I had a lovely chat with Louise and Poppy and ordered some online shopping. I can’t keep living on ‘meals for one’ and it was time to make some Senga Soup, as we called it. After a quick visit to the bin shelter to organise the recycling, I headed off to the café for my daily fix of caffeine – and Clyde.
As I arrived at the coffee shop, Clyde held out a small blue plastic box with clips on the side. ‘I’ve been thinking how I can help, so here’s a wee packed lunch for you,’ he said. ‘I don’t want you to feel you’re alone in this.’
What a nice man, how kind was that? I didn’t know what to say.
‘Thanks, Clyde, that’s really kind of you. You shouldn’t have, honestly,’ I said, and I could feel a flush creep up my neck.
‘Hey, we’re neighbours now, we help each other. It’s just some cold meat sandwiches and a scone,’ he said.
‘He’s never made me a sandwich and I live next door,’ an old man with a bunnet, sitting at the window, said loudly.
‘Archie, do you want a sandwich?’ Clyde shouted over to him.
‘Naw, I’m just saying, you have to have nice legs to get treated well round here.’ Archie laughed and started coughing loudly into a hankie.
Clyde shook his head, handed me my recyclable cup full of coffee and held the door open for me. ‘See you later,’ he said.
The hospital car park was so busy, it took ages to find a space.
Mum was sitting up and looking out of the window; for a woman who was dying she seemed to be outliving everyone else on her ward. She’d seen off two old men in the rooms either side of her and the old lady in the nightgown who shouted at everyone.
Shirley gave me a smile and brought me in a coffee refill. ‘She was asking for you today,’ she said as she tucked Mum’s hair away from her face. Shirley was my hero she was always full of chat with Mum when she looked after her.
I gulped back tears, but sure enough Mum was gripping my hand with a degree of renewed strength. Shirley continued, ‘Someone else came to visit last night – a lady called Philomena? Your mum was asleep so I sent her home again.’
I looked at Mum and stroked her hair. ‘Mum, Philomena was here, remember her? She used to do the football cards and kept chickens? All your pals are like wee hens, Mum, they are all coming home to roost and rally round their pal.’
She opened her eyes and stared at me. ‘Where are Bunty and Isa?’ she asked. It was so good to hear her speak, I almost missed what she’d said and I just stared at her.
‘What?’ I replied.
She repeated it in her croaky voice. ‘Where are Bunty and Isa?’
I quickly gathered my thoughts and said, ‘They’ll both be here soon. We’ll all be with you, Mum, just as soon as we can.’
I wasn’t sure if she was alarmed or happy, as she rolled her eyes and shook her head. ‘What about Janet and John?’ she whispered on a cracked breath.
‘They’re on their way too. I will bring them to see you as soon as they arrive.’
‘My weans,’ she smiled. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t do better for you.’
‘You did everything you could, we know that,’ I replied, taking her hand. ‘You were amazing, I wish I had half your strength, Mum.’
‘You’re a good lassie, Sharon, you always were.’
‘Mum, the diary is amazing, I have so much to ask you . . . ’
She shook her head. ‘Not just now, hen,’ she said quietly and stroked my hand.
I played her some Elvis songs and she hummed along. When I went into the café on the way home, I used the Wi-Fi and sent a video on the family WhatsApp so we could all listen to Elvis together.
1977
August
There’s a lookalike singing contest at the social club. Isa and I are doing Abba. We are playing the two women and Davie Dunsmore and Mrs Wilson’s son Derek downstairs are going to dress as the guys in the group. Derek has a surprising number of wigs and spangly, sparkly tops, and I can’t wait. We know all the words and have been practising the dance routine. Derek’s mum is over the moon, she thinks he might finally get a girlfriend if he shows off his singing skills. I can’t believe she really thinks that’s going to happen. My Sharon said she heard her dad and Dirty Donna are going as Rod Stewart (of course) and Elkie Brooks. Bridie McBride is going as Dolly Parton and she has spent a fortune on account of her rhinestone boots, a big bouffant wig and huge fake boobs.
Bunty and all the girls from the menage are coming down to cheer us on. The prize is a £10 food hamper. Janet wanted to dress up as Lena Zavaroni and sing her heart out but we put a stop to that as her singing voice is horrendous. She sounds like a seagull being flung up a lum.
Got another letter from Monica in Canada. Her eldest son Bruce has gone to Los Angeles to work as a cameraman on the movies. It seems like another world. I can’t really believe we are related. My Janet says she wants to work in films and might send him some of her horror stories. Her latest one is about dead cats coming back to life and stalking their owners. Who would want to watch that?
Sharon is doing well at school. Her school reports are saying that she might be top of her year. I don’t know where she gets her brains from – certainly not me or her stupid dad. She has a boyfriend called Terry and he comes from Parkhead. I think he’s a Catholic. She met him on her Saturday job in Mrs Mina’s fruit shop. He’s got bright red hair and that’s all I know about him. I told her not to get ‘up to anything’ as she doesn’t want to fall pregnant, and then explained about the birds and the bees.
She looked horrified and ran out of the house crying. My mammy never had that talk with me. I wish she had done but I would probably have ignored her and carried on being the Mrs Know It All that I am. I don’t regret having kids young but, at the same time, I wish I had lived a wee bit first. I will never get a decent job or a long-term career, and if I had stuck at school I might have had a chance.
But I don’t know anyone who went to university or did a fancy job. I come from a long line of factory workers, shop workers and cleaners. That’s what we did in my family.
Paid the insurance man and the provy man and even managed to catch up with the electricity bill. Loads of hairdressing jobs came in alongside the cleaning, so it’s been a good week. I also heard Father Gloan the local priest has run away with Mrs Coyle who cleans the chapel. What a scandal. Her man is called Holy Joe – he won’t find another woman, will he? Poor Bastard.
It was a great night at the club. Our Abba group won the singing prize and a man from the local newspaper took some photos, I can’t wait to see them. I felt like a star. I haven’t laughed that much in ages and the group let me keep the hamper as I have the weans to feed.
Some awful news, Philomena’s brother Michael has been stabbed to death in a gang fight down the Gallowgate. It’s absolutely terrifying and she is distraught – she’d been trying to get him away from trouble for ages. These are just kids, running about stabbing each other, full of drink and pills. Imagine that! Young people selling tranquillisers and getting off their heads. I hope my Sharon is sensible enough to keep out of things like this, I worry more about Janet, and mind you, half the women round here are still on Valium – the doctors still give them out like sweeties. You don’t see that on Coronation Street, do you? All the women swapping nerve tablets at the steamie.
I was up doing Philomena’s hair for the funeral, along with her mammy and Sandra’s mammy, when Sandra’s mammy let slip that the Devlins are looking for Bunty’s cousins to have a word about the goods that are disappearing. We all know what ‘a word’ means so I had to tell Bunty quick. I couldn’t believe she hadn’t heard already as she’s the Blackhill Transmitter and should know everything.
So, I headed round to see her last night but seems I was too late, she had a black eye and a cracked rib. The cousins gave her a punching at her own door as a warning, poor Bunty. ‘The fact we’re related counts for fuck all when it comes to the Devlins,’ they said. She says she’s fine but I could see they had her rattled. ‘Still made good money, though.’ She tried to smile through the pain as she patted her purse.
Laddie went missing for two days again and the weans were crying for hours. Turns out he’s been living with Mrs Jackson over the way for two days a week and she thought he was a stray. I spotted her walking him on a lead down Shettleston Road, and the animal just ignored me when I approached her and explained he was my dog and has been for seven years. She said, ‘This is Bonnie and he’s mine.’
Bonnie? Fucking Bonnie? I can’t keep a man or a dog it seems. I ripped the collar off him and dragged him home.
CHAPTER 17
2019
Day eleven
Sharon
I went to see Mum early this morning as I have so much to do and I wanted to get the visit in first before I got too distracted with work. She was getting a bed bath from Shirley.
‘She’s had some water and a wee feed on the drip. She’s looking stronger, isn’t she?’ Shirley said as she washed Mum’s face and hands.
Mum did have a wee bit of colour in her cheeks. Maybe she was hanging on for the rest of her weans to arrive.
I spoke to Shirley outside Mum’s room. ‘My brother and sister are coming home soon; do you think she’ll still be here?’
‘Stranger things have happened, Sharon,’ Shirley said as she headed off to the nurses’ station. ‘Your mum is one hell of a woman, and she seems pretty determined to stay for now.’
I’d planned to drive out and visit Janine, but instead I had to spend a lot of my day on Skype with a particularly fussy client who wasn’t happy with a campaign I’d outlined for him. He was the type of person who, when I told him I was in Glasgow, said ‘Oh, I’ve been to Aberdeen. Is that nearby?’
