came in. Senga did nothing to make up for it. She obeyed all his orders without a word of complaint. He was a Roman slaveowner defeated by the humility of an early Christian. He tried to make her rebel so that he could batter her. She wouldn’t break. She made his tea, kept the fire going, washed the dishes, cleaned his shoes, washed his socks, and switched the TV on and off and on again whenever he told her from the command- post of his armchair. He waited for his mother.
‘Big Alfy hit me this afternoon,’ he said before she was right in.
‘Him again?’ said Mrs Provan. ‘He’s always picking on you, that man.’
‘Right across the face,’ said Gerald. ‘Hard. His big rough hand.’
Mrs Provan threw her handbag on a chair and hurried to him. She took his chin between thumb and forefinger and turned his face left and right, looking for a bruise.
‘For nothing?’ she asked like one who knows the answer.
‘I bet you were giving up cheek,’ said Senga unheeded.
‘Yes,’ said Gerald.
His mother stopped looking. She could see nothing. She was angry.
‘I’ll see about this. Teachers aren’t allowed to use their hand. There’s no hamfisted brute going to get away with striking my boy.’
‘He called me a rat,’ said Gerald. ‘And he used a bad word. He said I was a so-and-so-king infant.’
‘Oh, he did, did he?’ said Mrs Provan. ‘Well, I’ll call him worse when I see him. And see him I will. First thing tomorrow. Some teacher him, using that language. You leave it to me, Gerald. You’re not an orphan. You’ve got your mother to protect you.’
CHAPTER FIVE
Granny Lyons had a room-and-kitchen near the prison. It was on the ground floor of the Black Building. She sat knitting by the fire and waited for Mr Alfred. The little clock on the mantelpiece ticked away between Rabbie Burns and Highland Mary. Often he just posted the money, not always with a letter. But once the dark nights came in he called about once a month.
‘It’s only a couple of days now till Christmas,’ she remarked to her needles. ‘He’ll come tonight.’
He did. In his oldest clothes. A wilted hat on his head, a muffler round his neck, a stained raincoat hiding a jacket that didn’t match his trousers, shoes needing to be reheeled.
‘You should wear dark glasses too,’ she cut at him, ‘and finish it.’
He smiled. Her he would always conciliate. He spoke flippantly of his appearance.
‘So! You don’t like my disguise? But then you never do.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘That’s a fact. I never do.’
He saw the china-poet look at his sweetheart. He imagined they were avoiding his eyes in case they let him see they didn’t like the way he was dressed.
‘You think your boys won’t recognise you?’ she asked him. ‘Sure they’d know you a mile away.’
‘Not in the dark,’ he answered. ‘And I slip round the corner quick.’
‘I don’t know why you bother at all if you’re that ashamed,’ she said.
‘That’s not a nice thing to say. You know perfectly well I’m not ashamed.’
‘You should get a transfer to another school. Then nobody here would know you.’
‘It’s too late for that. It’s you should never have come here.’
‘I was here before you. It was the only place I could get when I lost the shop. You know that.’
They were both silent then, remembering many things. He spoke first.
‘It’s quite mild outside tonight.’
‘Aye, it’s not been bad at all today. For the time of year.’
‘The street’s very quiet for once.’
‘You mean nobody saw you? I think your trouble is you get frightened coming here.’
‘I suppose I do. But you know what they’d do if they saw me. Hide in a close and yell after me. Something obscene probably.’
‘I had a feeling you’d be round tonight.’
‘Well, I thought, seeing it’s Christmas. I’ve brought you something.’
He gave her a bottle of whisky as well as the usual money.
‘I know you like your dram,’ he said.
‘Not any more than yourself.’
She poured him a drink. The quantity showed she wasn’t a mean woman.
‘You have one too,’ he said.
‘Well, seeing it’s Christmas.’
‘To my favourite aunt,’ he said.
‘The only auntie you’ve got now,’ she replied to his toast, unflattered.
‘The only one I ever really knew. My mother’s favourite sister you were. And it was you helped me when I was a student. Don’t think I forget.’
‘I had money then I haven’t got now.’
‘If you need any more you’ve only to tell me.’
‘No, you give me plenty. You shouldn’t bother.’
‘I promised my mother. Anyway, I owe you it. For the time you paid my fees if nothing else.’
‘Well, as I say, I had it then. It was a good shop I had before all that trouble. And there was nobody else to give it to.’
‘Is your clock slow?’
‘No, it’s right. Are you in a hurry?’
‘Not particularly.’
‘Not particularly? You mean you want to get away round the pubs?’
‘I’m not desperate. I was just thinking. It was you gave me my first glass of whisky.’
‘I always did my best for you.’
They laughed together.
‘I suppose it will be a lot of low dives tonight, in that coat,’ she said.
‘I suppose so. I like to mix with the common people sometimes. You know, go around incognito.’
He laughed alone.
‘You still never think of getting married?’ she asked suddenly.
‘If
