Corrine smiled. ‘We’ll talk when I get back, yes?’ Whistling for the two dogs Heather and Skye she headed out the door and walked briskly to Heaton Woods, pleased to feel the slight breeze ruffle her hair.
The woods were quiet, so she made her way to the bench at the top. This was the place where the kids sledged from when it snowed. With a view down the hill and over the entire woods, Corrine allowed her mind to replay the memory from when her younger brother had died. They’d lived in tenements in the Gorbals in Glasgow, her, her mum, and Jamie. Her mum had been ‘caught’ by Corrine, whom she’d conceived in the act of prostitution and she never let her daughter forget it. Little snippets of conversations flooded her head. The neighbours talking about her flighty mum.
‘Not surprised that whore Jeannie Cameron ended up with a darkie kid. Left it too late to get rid of it.’
‘I heard she tried a coat hanger, but it never worked. Would’ve been better for Jeannie if it had. No man’ll take her on wi a darkie bairn.’
As a child, of course Corrine had been oblivious to the real meaning of the women’s words, but she’d been in no doubt that she was to blame for the hardship that made her mother the monster she was. A tear of regret rolled down Corrine’s cheek. It was her fault her mum ended up dependent on drugs, alcohol, and prostitution – she was shamed by having a child who was half Jamaican and she never stopped letting her daughter know. Corrine sniffed. She’d been born in a time when racism was casually delivered – and she’d suffered for it. Her lovely little brother, although himself white, had suffered because of his sister’s darker skin. The weight of guilt lay heavy on Corrine’s shoulders and she supposed that was one of the many complex reasons she’d suppressed the memories.
Now, as an adult, she could logically acknowledge that the guilt wasn’t hers to carry, that she’d been a child … an innocent in it all … still, the brother whom she’d loved so much had died because of her. A snippet of a song flitted into her head and she smiled. She and Jamie were snuggled up under a grimy eiderdown blanket. His little hand gripped her larger one tightly. He didn’t seem to care that Corrine’s skin was so much darker than his. He didn’t care. He loved her. ‘Sing it for me, Coco.’
‘Again? I’ve already sung it a thousand times … no, make that a squillion times.’
He giggled and she tickled his skinny little belly and began to sing her own version of the nursery rhyme, the one she’d created for her and Jamie.
Lavender’s blue, Jamie, Jamie,
Lavender’s green,
When you are king, Jamie, Jamie
I’ll be the queen.
‘Hallo there, Mrs McGuire isn’t it? Are you OK?’
Corrine looked up and saw a lad pulling a big Rottweiler on a lead. Behind his mask, his voice was a little muffled and the frown across his forehead told her he’d heard her singing. Probably thinks I’m losing it.
Standing over a metre away from her, he pulled his mask down till it hung around his neck. Corrine wiped her cheeks and forced a smile to her lips. ‘Yes, it is. You’re Zarqa’s young man, aren’t you?’
Her smile deepened when she saw the flush spread up his cheeks. ‘Yes, that’s right. I’m Karim.’ He plonked himself down on the grass, well away from Corrine. ‘We like it in the woods when it’s quiet, don’t we Trixie Belle?’
His dog gave a bark and cocked its head at the boy, before sniffing around Heather and Skye, who lay basking in the warmth of the fading sun.
‘Yes it’s peaceful here. I like that.’
They sat in companionable silence for a while, Corrine aware of the boy casting surreptitious glances in her direction to see if she was crying again. Poor kid probably thought she was going to do something drastic. She cleared her throat. ‘Karim … do you face racism?’
He shrugged. ‘You talking about all the Get off my neck stuff?’ He nodded. ‘Sure. We all do. Anyone of colour gets it at one point or another.’
He looked at her. ‘What about you, did you get it, growing up like, I mean not now.’ He looked horrified at the thought that a woman of Corrine’s advancing years might be subjected to racism today.
‘Yes, yes I did.’ She paused. ‘We mustn’t let it define us though. Otherwise they’ve won.’
Ruffling Trixie Belle’s fur, Karim nodded. ‘True that. Don’t let the bast…’ Remembering who he was talking to, he clammed up and looked away.
Corrine smiled. Zarqa was lucky to have such a lovely caring boyfriend.
Chapter 29
Bradford
He stood watching from outside the window as Corrine McGuire poured milk into a pan and proceeded to heat the milk. It was late. Nearly one in the morning and Gus could tell that his mum was on her own. He wasn’t entirely sure what had made him run this route. Normally at this time of night, he stuck to the park or the main road, but his dad’s text and the image of his mum as a child kept popping into his mind, stealing him of sleep.
If the house had been in darkness he would have reset the alarm and headed back home, but with his mum awake, he had no option but to go in. Rather than tap on the window, he slipped round to the front door, unlocked it, and entered quickly heading to the kitchen.
‘I wondered if you’d come in or if you’d stay loitering outside all night.’ Corrine looked up at him with an uncertain smile.
Taking his cue from her, Gus settled onto a stool by the breakfast bar and returned her grin. ‘I couldn’t miss one of your famous hot chocolates now could I?’
Hot chocolate was the one thing his mum excelled at in
