Being Emily (19 page)

MONA WAS DUE
in a couple of weeks and, as the time grew closer, the baby dreams returned. There were recurring ones of a baby wrapped in a shroud-like cloth and once I dreamed about the white coffin, floating away doon a river. Sometimes the dream was of the face of Janice or Mammy, a face filled with joy then crumpling tae grief in slow motion. I’d wake, sweating, rubbing my eyes to try to escape the image. But this morning, waking with a start, the face was still there, a real face, and a haund shaking me awake.

C’mon lazylumps
.

Rona, what you daeing here?

Your flatmate let me in, wan wi the funny name
.

Clytemnestra
.

Whatever
.

Suddenly the cloudy dream-fear shrank and sharpened to a real fear and I clutched Rona’s airm.
Is Mona OK?

Course she is, she’s doonstairs – you don’t think she’s gonnae climb
three flights unless she has to, dae you? Ah’ve been trying tae phone
you but you never replied. We’re gaun intae toon so we thought we’d
drop in
.

My phone’s charging. What time is it anyway?

Ten
.

You’re awful early for a social call
.

Mona cannae sleep too well the noo. Anyway, no everyone keeps
student hours
.

Rona sat on the bed.
We just wanted tae let you know about
the baby shower
.

Baby shower? Mona’s been refusing tae buy anything for the baby
cause she said it was bad luck
.

Well, I guess she’s changed her mind then. Janice offered tae have
it at her house. The morra night. You comin?

Course I am, but it doesnae gie me much time tae get her a pressie
.

Rona turned on her way out the door.
Well, you could always
finish aff wanny they baby hats you knitted for thon mad thing you
done at the Art School show
.

The baby shower was a strictly all-female affair so Mona arranged for Declan tae keep my da company. As soon as he arrived Da led him intae the kitchen where the Scrabble board was set out.

I cannae play Scrabble, Mr O’Connell
.

I’ll teach you, son. You’ll love it
.

Rona had roped me intae decorating Janice’s living room.
You’re the wan at Art School – at least you could dae somethin useful
with it for a change
.

She haunded me a couple of bags filled with pink and blue streamers and balloons with cutesy teddy designs on them.

And nae funny stuff – don’t want tae come back tae a room fulla
broken Barbies
.

I pinned the streamers round the walls, tied bunches of balloons in the corners and covered Janice’s long coffee table with a white plastic tablecover. It looked a bit bare so I placed some of Evie’s teddies on it. One of them was a white bear with a black bowtie, who had a melancholy wee face – no the kind of teddy you’d gie a wean. I looked at him and he looked back, and all the fear and panic I’d been trying tae keep locked inside me, surfaced.

Janice came in fae the kitchen where she and Rona were preparing food.

That’s nice, Fiona. We’ll need more seats in here but we can get
some from the kitchen when they arrive. And there’s big cushions and
a beanbag in Evie’s room
.

Janice
, I said.
Can I ask you something?

What?

Did you have a baby shower?

No my scene, really
.

I don’t mind Mammy having one either
.

It’s usually just the first baby. I think she had one for Patrick
.

Do you no think it’s a bit
…

What?

I dunno, too much like a celebration, when you don’t
…

I didnae want tae say the words, felt as if even saying them out loud would be a horrible curse on Mona.

Janice put her airm round me.
I know, I know. Sometimes I
get scared too. But we have to assume it’ll be all right, it’ll be
wonderful. And I think that’s what Mona’s daeing
.

The doorbell rang.
Can you get that, Fiona?

Mrs Kaur stood on the doorstep, a couple of huge bags in her haunds.
I hope your auntie won’t mind but I thought she might
like some food
.

Thanks very much. Come on in
.

She started tae put plastic containers on the kitchen table.

That’s wonderful, Mrs Kaur, really kind of you,
said Janice.

Rona opened one of the boxes.
Samosas – yes!

There are a few more things in the car
.

She wasnae kidding. It took us two mair trips and the boxes were piled up all round the kitchen. Between Mrs Kaur’s food and the stuff Janice had got, it looked as if we had far too much, but when the guests arrived, it was just as well because there were far mair of them than any of us had expected.

I never realised Mona and Rona had asked so many of their pals
, said Janice, while we were in the kitchen pouring drinks.
I
hope this Cava doesnae run out
.

I’ll nip out for more,
said Angie.

We were all squashed intae the living room – on seats, on cushions, on each other – when we raised wur glasses and Janice said a toast tae Mona and the new baby. Declan’s ma and auntie, Mrs Flanagan, Mrs Jackson, Jean and Betty were there, with what looked like hauf Mona’s class at school, as well as Mrs Kaur and a few of Janice’s friends. Evie had been allowed tae stay up late and given the job of helping Mona to unwrap each present. Angie refilled glasses as the parcels were opened, each one passed round, greeted appropriately.

Aw, would you look at that? Isn’t that gorgeous?
A babygrow, a pack of muslin cloths, a cup and bowl wi Peter Rabbit on it, a tiny silver bangle.

Mines was the last to be opened. I’d shoved it to the bottom of the pile when I was decorating the room. When she pulled
it out the wrapping, Mona squealed.
Oh my God, Fiona – did
you make this yoursel?

A white shawl, crocheted in an elaborate pattern.

It was Rona gied me the idea
. After that crack about the hats I thought of making something really nice, really traditional for the baby. I’d nae idea if Mona would like it – she’d probably think it was dead auld-fashioned – but I knew we’d had a christening shawl my granny made so I’d rushed out tae get the wool and spent the whole of yesterday and hauf the night on it, crocheting away till my haunds ached.

Mona fingered the shawl, placed it against her cheek.

It’s dead soft
.

Special wool, meant for newborns
.

She put her airms round me.
Thanks, sis. It’s cool
.

A week later Mona went intae labour at four o’clock and the baby arrived at six. Nae drugs apart fae gas and air. Mona’d had her heart set on an epidural but the midwife said the baby was coming so fast there wasnae time.

See this is what nature intends, dear. A young healthy body like yours,
all that dancing you were telling me about, and it just pops out
.

And there she was. Eight pound two ounces with dark matted hair and eyes like the ocean. Skin so soft I was feart tae touch her, my haund felt that rough against her cheek. Grace. She couldnae have had any other name.

In the hospital, in her wee white sleepsuit, in the plastic box they called a cot, she looked like an alien, dropped fae some distant star ontae our planet. A miracle. She seemed tae have nothing to dae wi Mona or Declan or any of us, was part of some vast plan of the universe we couldnae understaund. But once she was hame and the weeks passed, an even bigger miracle started to happen. We all changed.

First it was Mona. I’d never admitted it tae anyone else, and only hauf to mysel, in my meanest moments, but I’d assumed Mona would be a fairly crap mother. In fact I’d sometimes imagined me taking over the motherly role, looking after the baby when Mona got sick of it, like the kitten the twins had begged for years ago that got run over when they let it out on the road.

But fae the first day they came hame, the white shawl wrapped round the pair of them, Mona just knew how to be with this wee person. She held and changed and rocked her with such confidence, talked baby-talk tae her wi nae embarrassment. She even breastfed, apparently without any of the hassles I’d read about in the baby magazines.

Miss Starkey was well impressed.
A natural mother
, she said, putting away her clipboard to dangle the baby awkwardly.

Every baby should have a team of adults to look after them. With Rona and Declan always there and Declan’s folks and the rest of us often around, Grace never lacked attention.

Then there was my da. The baby seemed to have wrought a magic transformation on him. He watched her insteidy
Countdown
, danced her up and doon, his muckle haunds haudin her secure. Patric flew up fae London to join in the adoration. He had tae go back the next day and seemed distracted, though happy.

Sorry we won’t have time to go out for a drink, Fiona – I’ve got
loads to talk to you about. Next time
.

ART SCHOOL STARTED
back in October. I’d kept on a few shifts at the supermarket every week to make sure I could afford the flat, but that left me plenty time tae get back to my work.

It was hard but. For a whole summer I’d done nothing, never even thought about what I’d dae. The ‘Oh Yes You Are … ’ exhibit hadnae been sold by the gallery (hidden away in the back room it would of been a miracle if anyone had seen it) and at the end of the month I got a call from Bored Girl whose name I discovered was Jessamine.

Will you be popping in over the next few weeks?

Don’t think so
.

Don’t you come up to town much then?

‘Town’ presumably did not mean Sauchiehall Street or the Buchanan Galleries.

No. It’s four hundred miles away
.

Oh, right. Well d’you want us to parcel it up and send it to …
Glasgow?

The way she said it made it sound as if Glasgow was on the moon and she was unsure if Parcelforce delivered there. In the end Patric agreed tae look after the box, which was a relief as I’d nae idea where I’d keep it. I didnae want tae start cluttering up my room at Clytemnestra’s when I’d only just moved in.

The room was a blank canvas. No that I work on canvas, but still. Painted white, even the floorboards, with only a bed, an auld wardrobe and chest of drawers, which had been painted white too. Nae curtains, but the flat had the original wooden shutters. Janice bought me a fluffy bedspread in mossy green which was the only colour in the room. Peaceful. I put my stuff away, had nothing out on the surfaces, hoped the emptiness would gie me inspiration. But it didnae. My mind was empty too.

One day, after footering about at Art School, I came hame and took out the album that held photies of all the work I’d done. I flicked through, examining them, hoping I’d get some idea of the next step. All the books claimed there was a progression in an artist’s work; one thing led tae another, there was organic development, change and growth. I didnae have a scooby about all that but I knew one thing. Nae mair Barbies.

With only the vaguest of ideas in my mind, I started to collect shoe boxes. I went round to my da’s and rummled about, made mysel open his wardrobe, though it felt as if I was prying. His only box held good shoes, stiff and new, for Sundays and special occasions, and I replaced them carefully in the
tissue paper. I could get some fae the twins who never put anything away in boxes anyway.

For weeks, as the piece slowly developed, I hardly looked at anything except to weigh up whether it could work in some way, and in the flat I kept picking up things that might be useful. Eric went mental when I took the top aff the washing up liquid.

Sorry, I need it for my artwork
.

We need it for doing the dishes
.

It still works without the wee bit at the top
.

Yeah, but it pours in too fast, you end up using twice as much
.

Clytemnestra came in on my side but. She had it in her heid that anything I did was because I was an artist. Nae doubt if I’d started drinking the washing up liquid it’d be because I was an artist.

Fiona’s an artist, Eric
, she said, pronouncing the word ‘artist’ in that precious way.
We’re so lucky to have the opportunity of
living with an artist, seeing how the creative process works. I think
it’s worth putting up with a few little inconveniences, don’t you?

Eric grunted. He obviously didnae think that but it was her house after all.

Each box represented the front room of a house with a hedge protecting it. The first one worked out quite well but the hedge at the front was rubbish – I’d made it out of scrunched-up tissue paper and it flopped all over the place. Then I remembered the wee hats I’d knitted for the last piece. The texture of the wool would make a nice contrast wi the card and plastic. Angie had recently started knitting since it had become trendy. Last time I seen her she was making an enormous furry jumper for Janice.

Gwyneth Paltrow and Kate Winslet do it on the sets of their films.
You know, when they’re hanging around
.

Bizarrely, Angie took a keen interest in the lives of young women film stars. Gwyneth and Renee and Kate. She could always tell you what diet they were on and which designer label they dressed their weans in. I couldnae figure it out – Angie was definitely no the frivolous type.

But she let me go through what she described as her stash, and I picked out oddments of wool. She was right – it was therapeutic, though I wasnae knitting jumpers or even something for the baby. After a day at Art School I’d sit on my bed knitting hedges out of green wool and covering the furniture I’d made out of matchboxes.

I was just as besotted with Grace as everyone else, but I found it hard to be natural when there were other folk around. They seemed tae coo and baby-talk so much easier than me, their fingers were not clumsy when they changed her nappy or wiped babygunk aff her cheek. It was only when she and I were alone thegether I felt at ease. Sometimes I’d take her out in her buggy – just me and Grace, gaun through the park. I kept up a running commentary about the flowers and trees, while she cooed away tae hersel. One day in November when the sky was cloudless and the trees swayed wildly in the wind, I sat on a bench with the buggy beside me. I looked at Grace’s smiley wee face and something inside me cracked. Tears ran doon my face.

I wish it was a special moment of being at one with the universe but it wasnae. It was shame. In that moment, looking at Grace’s innocence, I realised how awful I’d been. Who was I judging Mona and Declan? Who was I, thinking I was better than them? What had I done with my life compared to what they had, producing this perfect being? I wanted to start over, be cleaned out.

I wiped my eyes on the corner of a crumpled tissue. I’d nae mirror so I hoped there wasnae any make-up or smudges on my face. Though I still went to mass on and off, I’d no been tae confession for ages, no since the time I’d copped out, no since Amrik. I had a lot to say.

I set aff doon the hill, a lump still screwing up my stomach, but feeling if I could only get tae confession, everything would be all right. I knew it was on at St Clare’s afore ten o’clock mass the morra but I didnae even want to wait that long. Mibbe I could go and ask the priest – they would gie you confession any time if you asked – but that was a daft idea, too complicated and embarrassing. Naw, I’d need to go the morra; I’d just try tae hold this ray of hope inside till I could really, truly start over.

I pushed the pram towards the gate, paying nae attention to the crowds of folk attracted intae the park by the unexpected weather. Then I heard a voice say,
Fiona
. I turned and there he was, Jas.

It was barely a year and a hauf since we’d seen each other but he looked different, thinner in the face and with a solitary white hair growing among the black, just above his left ear.

Is this Mona’s baby?

You heard?

Ma said she’d had a wee girl
.

We stood staring into the buggy, something to look at that saved us fae having to look at each other.

She’s lovely
. He bent doon, held out his finger which Grace grasped firmly. She stared at him, as if she was summing him up.

How old is she?

Ten weeks
.

Such lovely eyes. What did they call her?

Grace
.

That’s nice
.

I bent over and settled Grace’s dummy in her mouth.
Are
you back hame for the weekend?

I try to get back every two or three weeks unless I’ve an assignment
due. Thought I’d catch this festival of light thing in town as
well. How’s your da?

Better. The baby’s made a huge difference to him
.

That’s great. She’s really a lovely baby. Say congratulations to
Mona
.

Sure
.

We were standing in the middle of the path at the front gate. A woman in a wheelchair weaved her way round us.

I think we’re kind of blocking the entrance
.

Yeah
. We moved over to the side a bit, still hesitating. I didnae know what else to say.

I think I’d better go. Ma will be expecting me
.

And I better get Grace hame
.

See you
.

In the heat of the moment, overcome by Grace’s innocence and the light in the park, it had seemed like a good idea, but at nine-thirty next morning on a hard wooden pew in a gloomy church hoaching wi statues, it didnae seem that hot.

The only other folk waiting were a wee wifie in a rain-mate, an auld guy in a sour-smelling sportsjacket and a mum with two wee boys. I kept my eyes downcast, and tried, really tried, tae conjure up some sense of how I’d felt yesterday but I was numb. Worse than numb – stupid. When it came my turn to go in I almost got up and left but the wee wumman dunted me in the ribs and I found mysel in the confessional afore I knew it.

Bless me father for I have sinned. It is nearly three years since my
last confession
.

I’d written it all doon last night in case I was overcome with emotion. But I never felt anything as I went through my list:

I missed mass many times, I slept with a man many times, I felt
hatred for my da, contempt for my sisters, I was selfish, I hurt other
people, I lied
…

When I stopped there was a small silence. Then an unfamiliar voice, high-pitched, thin.

My child, your father in heaven is rejoicing that his lost sheep
has come back to him
.

I still felt nothing but mibbe it didnae matter, mibbe it was daeing it that was important, no the feeling.

Can you say an act of contrition?

I stumbled out the words, stumbled out the box, out the chapel, blinking intae the grey light of a November street.