Jane Renshaw - Watch Over Me

‘I won’t be traumatised. If you don’t take me, I’m going to go to Edith’s and get Edith’s mum to come with me.’

Bairns!

I says, ‘Even if you’re with an adult, they won’t let you in the prison when you get there, because the prisoner has to be the one sets up the visit, not the visitor.’

I’m giving Connor evils.

The wee diddy’s gone and forgot the fucking script.

‘They won’t let you in the prison,’ I goes again, and I’m half turning towards the drawer in the hall table where the letter’s been put.

‘Aye,’ he goes, finally, ‘that’s right enough, eh? But you could give Bekki that letter Flora wrote her, eh Maw? And Bekki could write her back?’

I puff, like this is the last thing I’m wanting to hear.

‘Eh Maw?’

‘A letter?’ Bekki’s eyeballing me.

‘Yes, Flora wrote you a letter, and I haven’t opened it, I don’t know what it says, but I don’t think… She’s not in a good place, Bekki, and I don’t think there’s going to be anything good in it.’

‘I want to see it! I want to see that letter now . Please .’

‘It’s best you don’t. It’s only going to break your wee heart, sweetheart.’

‘No it’s not. I want to read it. Where is it?’

I’m no saying.

‘ Please , Caroline.’

‘You have to call me Nana now, Bekki.’

She takes a breath. ‘Please, Nana.’

I’m choking up. ‘Bekki, darlin’, I can’t let you put yourself through it. I can’t let you do it. I’m not letting you do it to yourself.’ And I get my arse up that stair and in my room with the door shut. Connor better fucking step up to the plate or so help me I’ll swing for the boy. When I was typing the letter he kept giving it ‘That’s well harsh’ and ‘Naw Maw, you cannae’ and I was ‘That bitch’s been turning Bekki against her own fucking family, her own fucking family that loves her to bits, for seven fucking year, bad-mouthing us and making her feart of us like we’re fucking mentalists, seven fucking year, son, so dinnae you start, dinnae you fucking start on what I can and cannae do, right?’

Letter’s a belter.

Dear Beckie

I’m sorry, darling, but I think it’s for the best that we don’t have any contact. You’re safe and happy with Caroline, and it’s better for both of us if you just accept that this is your new life now. I’m sure you’re having lots of fun.

I tried to be a good mum to you, but the truth is that it didn’t come naturally to me. I think nature has a way of deciding who should and shouldn’t be a mum – Dad would agree about that, wouldn’t he? And it wasn’t right that we took you away from your real family, and I think we always knew that, and that’s why Dad and I argued so much about you.

I’ve come to realise that you’re better off with your real family – Caroline has told me who she really is, and although I was shocked at first, it’s all making sense now. It’s making sense why she had an immediate connection with you that I never had. She’s your real family and you’ll be happier with her than you ever were with me. It’s just going to take time to get used to it. Remember when we had to move to Edinburgh? At first you were really sad, but soon you got used to it and everything was fine, wasn’t it?

It’s not as if we were ever a proper family. I know that and I think you do too.

You have to be a brave girl and try your hardest to be happy. I think it’ll be easier for us all if you don’t try to make contact with me again. I’m not a good person, Beckie, and I never have been. I get so angry – I don’t know why. I did some terrible things when I was younger. And worst of all, I killed poor Dad. The prison doctor who’s been trying to work out why I did it says that the strain of looking after someone else’s child, when I’m not a natural mum, was probably what pushed me over the edge.

So please don’t send me any more letters or cards. But I know Caroline loves your drawings – maybe you can make a card for her saying thank you for all she’s doing for you. She’s your real nana and she loves you so much, and I know you love her too.

Goodbye, darling.

Mum

And here she’s running up the stair, and I’ve my door open giving it, ‘Bekki darlin’!’ and she’s in my arms, wee wet face pushed in my chebs.

‘It’s okay Bekki my wee love, my wee darlin’. It’s okay.’

Flora knew it was good news as soon as Charles came into the little room set aside for visits from lawyers. He probably thought his professional demeanour was intact, but his eyes were sparkling. Brian, the lugubrious PI, slunk in behind him as if he were attending someone’s funeral, but Flora suspected he’d look the same if he’d just won the lottery. He was carrying a laptop under his arm.

‘We’ve been granted leave to appeal!’ Charles blurted out as soon as he’d sat down. ‘They really couldn’t not grant it, given the strength of the new evidence – but until you get the word, you can never be quite sure.’

Flora released a huge breath. ‘Thank God. Or rather, thanks to you and Brian.’

‘Ah, but that’s not all.’ He was practically rubbing his hands together. ‘Flora, the even better news is –’

‘Wait,’ she said. ‘Before you tell me…’ Her leg was jigging under the table like Danielle’s. She wanted to reach across and hug them both. Beckie. Soon she would be back with Beckie. ‘Before you tell me whatever it is, I want to show you this.’

She pushed the letter across the table.

‘I know it’s got nothing to do with my conviction, I know it’s not going to influence the appeal…’

Brian, sighing in a ‘What now?’ kind of way, started to read the letter over Charles’s shoulder.

Dear Rachel

I was going to put ‘Flora’ because that’s who you are now, but then I thought no, you haven’t chosen to be Flora Parry, you had to stop being Rachel Clark because people hated her. And that’s my fault.

I’m so sorry.

Really inadequate, I know.

I’m going to tell the police what really happened. But first I have to do something even harder, and that’s tell you. Because I don’t think you know. I think you went into shock and your brain shut down or something. Otherwise, you’d have told them the truth. Like I should have.

I know it’s nearly 40 years too late. I know I could have put things right at any point in those 40 years and I chose not to. Why now? you’re probably thinking.

It was seeing you on TV getting into that van outside court. The look on your face.

I don’t believe you killed your husband. But how were you going to convince the police you were innocent when they knew you were Rachel Clark?

So I’m going to tell the police that Rachel was innocent then, and maybe there’s a chance they’ll see you’re innocent now.

When Tricia gave you that bow and arrow and told you to shoot me, I knew you wouldn’t do it. You were nasty to me, yes, and I hated you for it, but you weren’t evil like Tricia. You were just acting out because your mum made your life a misery. You probably don’t see it that way, even now, do you? You always made excuses for her, like she wouldn’t let you come out to play and made you slave away doing housework because it was good practice for when you had your own home.

Anyway. When Tricia gave you that bow and arrow, I knew you weren’t going to shoot anyone. You just sort of stood there frozen, while Tricia yelled at you to ‘Do it!’ and threatened all kinds of things if you didn’t. Tricia was ‘in your face’ as my kids would say, and you backed up, holding the bow and arrow in front of you to stop her coming any closer, as a kind of barrier, but then you stumbled on a tussock of grass and let go the arrow and it went into Tricia’s eye.