Page 78 of Little Wing
Dougie was confronted by her eyes; they were glossy, deep, earnest. But he couldn’t remember knowing her at all. He looked at his father.
‘You’d’a been only about three years old, Douglas,’ he said quietly. He turned to Nell. ‘Your mother – Flora – well, she’d bring you here and the bairns’d play while she and my wife would do whatever it is that women do.’
‘I used to come here?’ Nell said. ‘To play? Withhim?’
It sounded comically rude and the other three laughed a little. She looked to Nurse Keaton who nodded.
‘Aye,’ said Gordon. ‘When you lived at Am Bothan Geal – at the White Cottage. And my wife would bring young Dougie to play at yours too.’
Nell and Dougie greeted the fact blankly, regarded each other quizzically, smiled shyly.
‘Of course, Dougie was a bit older. But he loved the little baby – always gave you a present. A train. A stick. A piece of bread. Once – I remember this – a pair of his underpants because he said yours were too big and baggy. I don’t think he quite understood nappies.’
‘I remember that,’ Sophia laughed. ‘I was there that day.’
‘Did I – have hair?’ Nell wasn’t sure why the question was so important to her.
‘Not for months on end,’ Sophia said.
‘Then curls,’ said Gordon. ‘Like curls of butter.’
‘Did youknowmy mother? Flora? I mean – reallyknowher?’
Gordon considered the question. ‘I was at work, you know. But aye – I knew her as our neighbour. I knew her as your mother. I knew her as my wife’s friend.’
‘Was she—?’ Nell faltered.
‘She was very good,’ said Gordon levelly, ‘in all those roles. I’d say she was wise and calm beyond her tender years.’
Nell took her hand to her neck. Her throat was aching with tears under tight control.
‘Doyouremember me?’ Nell turned to Dougie. ‘Do you remember my mother? Do you remember giving me your train and the stick and the bread and the pants?’
They all looked at Dougie who cast his eyes down, deep in thought. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m not sure that I do.’
Gordon put his hand on his son’s wrist and he spoke low and quietly. ‘But you’ll not have forgotten the story, Douglas. About the girl. In Am Bothan Geal. All those years ago.’
Dougie looked at his dad. Then he looked at Sophia. Then he looked at Nell. ‘The one who died?’
His father nodded.
Dougie kept his focus on Nell, his eyes and his voice soft. ‘That was your mother?’
Nell nodded. ‘I only just found out she was my mother at all.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Dougie said. ‘My God – I’m so sorry.’
And it was the first time, Nell realized, that anyone had said how sorry they were that her mother had died. She nodded and suddenly she craved sweet, sweet tea. The other three watched as she spooned in sugar and they let her sip undisturbed until the mug was finished.
‘Gordon,’ Sophia said at length. ‘Would you know who the White Cottage belongs to these days? We’ve been to old Buchanan’s house but there was no one in. I think Nell here would like to see her home.’
Sophia and Nell saw Gordon and Dougie exchange a look and watched as a smile broke from father to son.
‘It belongs to us,’ Dougie said.
‘Well, officially Douglas here bought it maybe ten years ago,’ Gordon qualified. ‘We rent it out – as a holiday home.’
‘Is there anyone there at the moment?’ Nell all but whispered.
