Jane Renshaw - Watch Over Me

‘But sometimes.’

‘Aye,’ I puff, ‘but Flora told me she did it.’ I’m no gonnae lose it with the wean. It’s only natural, eh, that she’s in denial. ‘That appeal, sweetheart – that’s not going to work out. Flora’s going to be in that jail for ten years at least. You’re going to be nineteen years old by the time she gets out of there, and Bekki, I’m not going to lie to you, I’m not confident she’s going to want to see you when she does get out. She kept going on about how you weren’t hers. How you weren’t her real daughter.’

Bekki’s wee finger is stroking they lemurs.

I coory her. ‘But don’t you worry, sweetheart, don’t you worry, because I’m here for you. I love you to bits. We all of us love you to bits. And there’s one good thing Flora said.’

Bekki flicks her eyes at me.

‘She said I can adopt you if I want. And I’d be that made up if I could, sweetheart, if you could be part of this family that would be wonderful, wouldn’t it?’

Bekki doesnae say nothing.

I pat her wee leg. ‘You have your Fanta and crisps, eh, and watch your programme.’

And then I leave her be. Comes round six o’clock, Connor’s back from his shift and he’s feeding wee Willow in her high chair in the kitchen, and Willow’s girning away and I cannae blame her, wee soul, Connor boils up carrot and sweet potato and that and purees it for the wean and it’s pure boggin’ so it is. And now here’s wee Bekki giving it, ‘On the internet it says there was this little boy called Nathan and his mum died and the mum’s best friend wanted to adopt him but they didn’t let her. They might not let you adopt me.’

She’s standing there so straight, God love her, like she’s gonnae be a brave lassie, and she’s breaking my fucking heart.

‘Bekki, it’s okay, no one’s going to take you away from me. Now, I’m going tell you a secret, right, but it’s really important you don’t tell anyone, not Mia or Edith when you’re Skyping them, right, and not anyone else?’

‘Aw Christ Maw,’ goes Connor.

‘It’s okay son, it’s time. Right, Bekki?’

She’s nodding.

‘My real name’s not Caroline Turnbull. It’s Lorraine Johnson, and I’m your nana.’ I can hardly get the fucking words out I’m that choked up. ‘I’m your grandma, sweetheart, and you’re our wee lassie that was lost and that we love to bits, and now you’re back safe and sound, eh, and no one’s ever gonnae take you away again.’

Bekki’s giving it rabbit in headlights. ‘You’re – you’re the Johnsons ?’

‘Aye, Bekki.’

‘But you can’t be. You’re Caroline .’

‘That’s not my real name.’

And she’s running, she’s out the room and in the lounge and she’s snatching up Connor’s phone, she’s going, ‘I’m calling the police!’ and I’m grabbing the phone and going, ‘You call the polis and they’ll put you in a children’s home, and bad things happen to kids in children’s homes, Bekki, real bad things. I don’t want you going in one of they places. If you don’t want to stay with us, you can go and live with someone else, maybe a friend of Flora’s or a relative – as long as they’re nice, as long as you’re happy, I’m not caring. But I’m not having the polis taking you to a children’s home. I’m not having you put in care like that wee boy Nathan, because kids in care get hurt. That’s a fact.’

Bekki’s gulping.

‘Okay, you don’t want to stay here, that’s fine. You’re breaking our hearts, but we just want what’s gonnae make you happy, Bekki, and that’s the honest truth.’ I hold out the phone to her. ‘Go ahead and call whoever you like, sweetheart, but not the polis because they’ll take you to a children’s home.’

She just stares at the phone. She doesnae take it.

‘You can’t be the Johnsons,’ she goes. ‘How can you be my grandma? You’re not old.’

I’ve got out a tissue and I’m wiping at my face. I give a wee chuckle. ‘Thanks Bekster, but I’m forty-two years old. Willow’s my wee granddaughter, eh? And so are you. I was young when I had my kids, right enough, but I’m your nana. Eh Connor?’

Connor’s standing by the door with a face on him. ‘Aye, Bekki, Maw was just a lassie, fifteen year old, when she had your maw and R–’

‘That’s right,’ I goes before he can say it. It’s been hard enough for Bekki getting her wee head round Carly and Connor being my weans, and now she’s hearing I’m her nana? She doesnae need Ryan and Travis in the mix. No yet.

‘The Johnsons are bad people,’ she goes again.

‘Is that right?’ I give her a wee smile. ‘When you thought my name was Caroline, did you think I was a bad person? I thought you and me were pals.’

Bekki bites her wee lip.

‘Do you think Connor’s a bad person?’

She looks at Connor. Then she whispers: ‘No.’

‘What about Carly and Willow?’

‘No!’ Bekki’s greeting. ‘You’re not bad, but those men – those men who tried to snatch me, who followed us in the street…’

‘They didn’t try to snatch you. Jed – he’s my husband. He’s your granda. He’s got mental problems, like I said. He’s got depression. He didn’t mean to scare you, just like Edith’s mum didn’t mean to not give her enough to eat.’

She takes in a massive breath and goes, ‘I want to go home. I want Mum.’

Fucking hell.

‘Home, is it?’ I puff. ‘This is your home, sweetheart, and we’re your real family that loves you, right? Not Flora. Aye, it’s gonnae be weird at first, but you and me and Connor and Carly and wee Willow, we’re going to have a magic time. But you can’t tell anyone about this, aye, especially not the police and not social workers, or you’ll maybe get taken off of us and put in care.’

‘Aw Christ Maw –’

‘She needs to hear it like it is, son. Kids in care get treated like shite.’

Bekki goes, ‘Is human resources even your job?’

What the fuck has that got to do with it?

But I dinnae lose it with the poor wee bairn. ‘Not exactly, unless you count this lot as either human or any sort of resource, eh? But – okay so my name’s not Caroline, but everything else about me – except the human resources shite – that’s me, Bekki. I’ve not been putting on an act or nothing.’

‘But you even speak differently now.’

I puff. Right enough, it’s no easy being Caroline now I’m back with my weans and they’re pushing my fucking buttons. ‘It’s what’s on the inside counts, eh? And what’s inside is that I love you to bits. When you were wee – you won’t remember, but me and you, we were that close. Eh Connor? Bekki was my wee princess, eh?’

‘Aye,’ goes Connor. He goes and puts his arm round Bekki. ‘You were our wee princess right enough.’

‘Still are, sweetheart. You still are.’

‘I want to talk to my mum. I don’t believe you. I’m going to the prison to see her and you can’t stop me.’ And she’s out the door.

‘Right son, here we go.’

Connor’s giving me evils.

‘Right son?’

‘Aye.’

I’m after her. ‘Bekki. Bekki!’

She’s putting on the puffer jacket, her wee face that determined.

The bairn’s something else so she is.

‘They don’t let kids in the prison unless they’re accompanied by an adult.’

‘Connor can come with me. We can get the bus. I can use my savings to get the bus tickets.’

Connor’s got a right face on him.

‘That’s not happening,’ I goes.

‘You can’t stop us,’ goes Bekki.

‘If she wants to go, we should take her,’ goes Connor, finally.

‘Aye, and have her end up traumatised?’