Being Emily. Anne Donovan
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Fiona.
Twins. They’re thirteen.
Lovely. I’d have liked to have a daughter but it was not to be. She shrugged. But I am blessed with my two wonderful boys. Though of course we don’t see so much of Amrik now he is in London.
My brother Patrick lives in London too.
I mind the night he tellt me he was gaun, just afore the Easter holidays when I was in third year.
D’you have tae go?
You can have my room when I’m away.
I’d rather have you.
Got tae get out, Fiona. This place is daeing my heid in.
Some pal of his had a job in a restaurant doon there and Patrick started aff in the kitchens, making desserts. He’d come up every three month or so, and every time he looked a bit different; smoother, shinier, his hair blonder, his accent flattened out just a bit mair. There was always something new he was intae. First he’d taken a part-time class in design then got intae food styling for magazines.
That one got Da to take his eyes fae the box.
Food styling. Whit in the name of the wee man is food styling?
It’s for cookery books and magazines. Sometimes it takes ages to take the photies and the food melts or congeals, so there’s things we dae to make sure it looks right in the pictures.
And they pay you for this?
Better money than making desserts in the restaurant.
What kind of world dae we live in?
Gie the boy a break, says Mammy. You should be glad he’s daeing so well.
Aye, but could you no just have stayed here and done really well being a baker, son?
Da, maisty the folk I worked with are redundant noo.
It’s just, when my pals ask me how you’re daeing I really don’t want tae say my boy’s a food stylist.
Patrick had moved on fae that noo, something else in the magazines but higher up, daeing occasional wee bits for TV too. He never seemed tae stick at one job but always had something that was good pay.
I missed Patrick. At first I thought he’d get fed up wi London, but as the months passed there was nae sign of it and I suppose I just got used tae it. I mind one time when he was just off the phone, saying to my mammy, D’you think our Patrick will ever come hame? And her looking at me straight and saying, No hen, I don’t think he will.
How no?
I just have a feeling Patrick needs the space. Glasgow’s too wee for him.
I couldnae understaund what she meant – Glasgow seemed huge to me. After all it was the biggest city in Scotland. I’d never been tae London except tae change flights on holiday when we couldnae go direct, but I knew it was dirty and busy and full of traffic and folk all jumping on and off the subway they called the tube.
I mind that was when I realised Patrick had changed, no just his clothes or his job, but hissel – when he used that word insteidy subway. Said something about the tube and my da saying, Who you calling a tube? and Patrick hesitating for a minute afore he smiled.
Would you like milk in your tea, Fiona?
Thanks, Mrs Singh.
Here you are. She passed the cup tae me. But it’s Kaur, dear. Some Sikhs do use a family name too but in our tradition, boys are always named Singh – it means a lion. Girls are Kaur, which means princess. So you don’t have the same name as your husband.
I think that’s brilliant. I’d never change my name if I got married.
See, Fiona, said Jas. Sikhs were the first feminists.
I don’t think I’d put it quite like that, though we do believe everyone is equal. Mrs Kaur smiled. Have a chocolate biscuit, dear.
IT WAS WHEN I asked Jas tae come for his tea I realised how much things had slipped. He’d been to the door when he walked me hame but just for a minute. Looking round the house, imagining how it would look to him, made me see it clearly. I’d tried tae keep things tidy, cleaned the kitchen and bathroom every week, but compared to the way it was when Mammy was alive, it was a pure midden; corners where dust had accumulated, insides of cupboards in the bathroom sticky with spilled shampoo and ringed fae the bottom of shaving foam cans.
He was due at six efter his work in the shop, so I had time. I spent the Saturday gutting the place, even put bleach round the taps and plughole, scrubbed at them wi an auld toothbrush like Mammy used tae. I had just enough time tae jump in the shower and throw on my clothes afore he arrived.
The twins arrived hame fae their usual Saturday ritual of traipsing round the town texting their pals and meeting up in shops and cafés. Da or Janice or Patrick were always slipping them cash which they spent in New Look or Claire’s Accessories and there was usually enough left over for a hot chocolate. It was hard tae believe the twins were still only thirteen – they could easily of passed for two year aulder – and I worried aboot them. I knew if Mammy’d been around there was nae way they’d be allowed to go out the house showing their bellies and wearing skirts that barely covered their bums, but they wouldnae listen tae me. And ma da, well, he didnae even seem tae register it.
Ah’m starvin – whit’s for tea? Mona lifted the lid aff the pot. Yuch! What is that?
Veggie chilli – there’s rice and pitta bread with it.
We don’t like vegetables. Rona nearly spat the word out. Only tomatoes.
You like chilli.
Con carne, with meat. Duh.
Jas is coming round and he’s vegetarian.
We live here and we urnae, in case you hadnae noticed.
Ah can dae burgers for yous – there’s some in the freezer.
Cool. Mona flicked her hair back. The twins had wavy hair like mines but you’d never know it as they used hair straighteners about fourteen times a day.
What time’s the boyfriend arriving?
Should be here any minute noo.
So like, are you no gonnae get changed?
I just did.
She looked at my baggy jeans and sloppy tee shirt.
Sis, you really need tae make mair of an effort if you want to keep this guy.
He likes me like this.
She gied me a pitying look. He may say that but what men say and what they dae are two different things.
She followed Rona out the room.
Jas ate the veggie stew – even asked for seconds – but I knew by the slight tightening round his lips that he was being polite. The chilli was mushy and bland and every noo and again there was a hot nip fae the spice somewhere on the roof of my mouth. I wasnae sure what veggie chilli should taste like, had never had vegetarian food afore except for salad or macaroni cheese, but I guessed this wasnae it.
Would you like some yoghurt with it? I asked. It said in the recipe yoghurt could be an accompaniment to the chilli, cooled doon the spicy food.
Aye, please, said Jas.
I jumped up and rummled in the back of the fridge, pulled out a pack of four.