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Authors: Cathy MacPhail
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nodding his head. ‘Naw, Col. You go. You can’t turn down somethin’ like that.’
That was all the encouragement Mam needed. ‘I think it might be good for Col as well. As you so rightly say, Mungo, an experience.’
Now, Col managed a smile. ‘You’ll enjoy it, Mam. London. You can go to the shops there.’ He looked at Mrs Sampson. ‘My Mam loves shopping.’
But Mam was already shaking her head. ‘No. Not me, Col. I’m not a great one for travelling. I never go on holidays or anything.’ She looked at Mrs Sampson. ‘I know Col will be fine with you.’
And nothing Col said would persuade her to change her mind. Mungo joined in the plans and listened to all the talk of travel arrangements and hotels. Col had seldom seen him so affable. When they had finished, he rubbed his hands together. ‘Right, Mam, what about those pancakes then?’
It turned out to be a very enjoyable afternoon. Mungo was at his very best, and their Mam had Mrs Sampson giggling with laughter with her tales of bingo.
By the time they left it had all been arranged. Col would go to London with the Sampsons.
* * *
‘What made you change your mind, bruv?’ Col asked Mungo later. ‘I mean, you were so against it, and then, suddenly …’
Mungo only shrugged. ‘They seemed OK. She seems really nice, actually. And she’s right. There isn’t any point if you don’t go.’ He smiled. ‘You really did want to go all the time, didn’t ye?’
‘No, if it meant us two fallin’ out.’
Mungo patted him on the back. ‘Good boy.’
‘Good boy indeed,’ Mam said. ‘Nothing should ever come between you two boys.’
She looked long and hard at Col.
‘What are you thinking, Mam?’ he asked.
‘I’m thinking about what you’re going to wear at this do.’
Col had got a new suit for his granny’s funeral only last year. ‘I’ll wear that,’ he said.
His mother shook her head. ‘No, indeed. You’re not wearing a funeral suit to something like that. No. I’ll tell you what you’re going to wear.’
She hesitated dramatically. Col waited.
‘You’re going to wear the kilt,’ she said.
Chapter Thirteen
‘I am glad you are going. You did really want to go, didn’t you?’
Klaus sat on a box in the shelter, his face hidden in the shadows. Col couldn’t understand how he could live here and he told him so.
‘I have no choice, Col.’
‘But it’s horrible and it’s smelly and it’s …’ Col blew a cloud of breath into the dark air. ‘ So cold.’
It was all of these things, and more. It was scary.
This time, Col had brought Klaus sandwiches and some left-over chicken. ‘But I’ve got to take the flask back. Mam missed it.’
Klaus had the duvet wrapped around him. ‘This too?’
Col thought he looked comical wearing the red-checked duvet. ‘No. Forget that. I’ll tell her I took it to Oxfam.’
‘Do you wish your mother was going with you?’ Klaus asked him.
‘I sometimes think you’re a mind reader,’ Col said. ‘Yeah. I wish she was. I wish someone was. Somebody, just for me. But …’ He hesitated, because he didn’t want to talk about his mother. It was as if he was betraying her. ‘But I understand. My mam’s really quite shy. I mean, she kids on she’s loud and dead cheery and everything, but she gets really nervous meeting new people. And she’s scared stiff of flyin’.’
But he didn’t really believe that. His mam always preferred to be with Mungo. Her favourite. He hated to admit it, but had always accepted it. Until now, when he wanted her with him so much.
Klaus was smiling, there in the shadows. He didn’t look well, Col thought, watching him. It couldn’t be good for him sleeping on a cold stone floor night after night. ‘I think you should go to the cops, Klaus.’
Klaus was suddenly on his feet, the duvet slipping to the floor. ‘No, Col! Promise me you won’t tell about me. I trust you.’
Col was offended. ‘I’m hardly likely to tell on you after all
That was all the encouragement Mam needed. ‘I think it might be good for Col as well. As you so rightly say, Mungo, an experience.’
Now, Col managed a smile. ‘You’ll enjoy it, Mam. London. You can go to the shops there.’ He looked at Mrs Sampson. ‘My Mam loves shopping.’
But Mam was already shaking her head. ‘No. Not me, Col. I’m not a great one for travelling. I never go on holidays or anything.’ She looked at Mrs Sampson. ‘I know Col will be fine with you.’
And nothing Col said would persuade her to change her mind. Mungo joined in the plans and listened to all the talk of travel arrangements and hotels. Col had seldom seen him so affable. When they had finished, he rubbed his hands together. ‘Right, Mam, what about those pancakes then?’
It turned out to be a very enjoyable afternoon. Mungo was at his very best, and their Mam had Mrs Sampson giggling with laughter with her tales of bingo.
By the time they left it had all been arranged. Col would go to London with the Sampsons.
* * *
‘What made you change your mind, bruv?’ Col asked Mungo later. ‘I mean, you were so against it, and then, suddenly …’
Mungo only shrugged. ‘They seemed OK. She seems really nice, actually. And she’s right. There isn’t any point if you don’t go.’ He smiled. ‘You really did want to go all the time, didn’t ye?’
‘No, if it meant us two fallin’ out.’
Mungo patted him on the back. ‘Good boy.’
‘Good boy indeed,’ Mam said. ‘Nothing should ever come between you two boys.’
She looked long and hard at Col.
‘What are you thinking, Mam?’ he asked.
‘I’m thinking about what you’re going to wear at this do.’
Col had got a new suit for his granny’s funeral only last year. ‘I’ll wear that,’ he said.
His mother shook her head. ‘No, indeed. You’re not wearing a funeral suit to something like that. No. I’ll tell you what you’re going to wear.’
She hesitated dramatically. Col waited.
‘You’re going to wear the kilt,’ she said.
Chapter Thirteen
‘I am glad you are going. You did really want to go, didn’t you?’
Klaus sat on a box in the shelter, his face hidden in the shadows. Col couldn’t understand how he could live here and he told him so.
‘I have no choice, Col.’
‘But it’s horrible and it’s smelly and it’s …’ Col blew a cloud of breath into the dark air. ‘ So cold.’
It was all of these things, and more. It was scary.
This time, Col had brought Klaus sandwiches and some left-over chicken. ‘But I’ve got to take the flask back. Mam missed it.’
Klaus had the duvet wrapped around him. ‘This too?’
Col thought he looked comical wearing the red-checked duvet. ‘No. Forget that. I’ll tell her I took it to Oxfam.’
‘Do you wish your mother was going with you?’ Klaus asked him.
‘I sometimes think you’re a mind reader,’ Col said. ‘Yeah. I wish she was. I wish someone was. Somebody, just for me. But …’ He hesitated, because he didn’t want to talk about his mother. It was as if he was betraying her. ‘But I understand. My mam’s really quite shy. I mean, she kids on she’s loud and dead cheery and everything, but she gets really nervous meeting new people. And she’s scared stiff of flyin’.’
But he didn’t really believe that. His mam always preferred to be with Mungo. Her favourite. He hated to admit it, but had always accepted it. Until now, when he wanted her with him so much.
Klaus was smiling, there in the shadows. He didn’t look well, Col thought, watching him. It couldn’t be good for him sleeping on a cold stone floor night after night. ‘I think you should go to the cops, Klaus.’
Klaus was suddenly on his feet, the duvet slipping to the floor. ‘No, Col! Promise me you won’t tell about me. I trust you.’
Col was offended. ‘I’m hardly likely to tell on you after all
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