Before her thoughts could go any further down that particular path, a shadow fell over her. She looked up, ready to be sharp with whoever wanted to intrude on her. John, she said wearily.
I thought Id find you hereabouts. This is the third place I tried, he said, sliding into the booth, awkwardly shunting himself round till he was at right angles to her, close enough to touch if either of them had a mind to.
I wasnt ready to face an empty flat.
No, I can see that. What did they have to say? His craggy face screwed up in anxiety. Not, she thought, over the consultants verdict. He still believed his precious son was somehow invincible. What made John anxious was her reaction.
She reached for his hand, wanting contact as much as consolation. Its time. Six months tops without the transplant. Her voice sounded cold even to her. But she couldnt afford warmth. Warmth would melt her frozen state and this wasnt the place for an outpouring of grief or love.
John clasped her fingers tight inside his. Its maybe not too late, he said. Maybe theyll -
Please, John. Not now.
His shoulders squared inside his suit jacket, his body tensing as he held his dissent close. So, he said, an outbreath that was more sigh than anything else. I suppose that means youre going looking for the bastard?
Wednesday 27th June 2007; Glenrothes
Karen scratched her head with her pen. Why do I get all thegood ones? Why did you leave it so long to try to trace your father?
She caught a fleeting expression of irritation round Mishas mouth and eyes. Because Id been brought up thinking my father was a selfish blackleg bastard. What he did cast my mother adrift from her own community. It got me bullied in the play park and at school. I didnt think a man who dumped his family in the shit like that would be bothered about his grandson.
He sent money, Karen said.
A few quid here, a few quid there. Blood money, Misha said. Like I said, my mum wouldnt touch it. She gave it away. I never saw the benefit of it.
Maybe he tried to make it up to your mum. Parents dont always tell us the uncomfortable truths.
Misha shook her head. You dont know my mum. Even with Lukes life at stake, she wasnt comfortable with me trying to track down my dad.
To Karen, it seemed a thin reason for avoiding a man who might provide the key to a boys future. But she knew how deep feelings ran in the old mining communities, so she let it lie. You say he wasnt where he was supposed to be. What happened when you went looking for him?
Thursday 21st June 2007; Newton of Wemyss
Jenny Prentice pulled a bag of potatoes out of the vegetable rack and set about peeling them, her body bowed over the sink, her back turned to her daughter. Mishas question hung unanswered between them, reminding them both of the barrier her fathers absence had put between them from the beginning. Misha tried again. I said -
I heard you fine. Theres nothing the matter with my hearing, Jenny said. And the answer is, Ive no bloody idea. How would I know where to start looking for that selfish scabbing sack of shite? Weve managed fine without him the last twenty-two years. Theres been no cause to go looking for him.
Well, theres cause now. Misha stared at her mothers rounded shoulders. The weak light that spilled in through the small kitchen window accentuated the silver in her undyed hair. She was barely fifty, but she seemed to have bypassed middle age, heading straight for the vulnerable stoop of the little old lady. It was as if shed known this attack would arrive one day and had chosen to defend herself by becoming piteous.
Hell not help, Jenny scoffed. He showed what he thought of us when he left us to face the music. He was always out for number one.
Maybe so. But Ive still got to try for Lukes sake, Misha said. Was there never a return address on the envelopes the money came in?
Jenny cut a peeled potato in half and dropped it in a pan of salted water. No. He couldnt even be bothered to put a wee letter in the envelope. Just a bundle of dirty notes, thats all.
What about the guys he went with?
Jenny cast a quick contemptuous glance at Misha. What about them? They dont show their faces round here.
But some of them have still got family here or in East Wemyss. Brothers, cousins. They might know something about my dad.
Jenny shook her head firmly. Ive never heard tell of him since the day he walked out. Not a whisper, good or bad. The other men he went with, they were no friends of his. The only reason he took a lift with them was he had no money to make his own way south. Hell have used them like he used us and then hell have gone his own sweet way once he got where he wanted to be. She dropped another potato in the pan and said without enthusiasm, Are you staying for your dinner?
No, Ive got things to see to, Misha said, impatient at her mothers refusal to take her quest seriously. There must be somebody hes kept in touch with. Who would he have talked to? Who would he have told what he was planning?
Jenny straightened up and put the pan on the old-fashioned gas cooker. Misha and John offered to replace the chipped and battered stove every time they sat down to the production number that was Sunday dinner, but Jenny always refused with the air of frustrating martyrdom she brought to every offer of kindness. Youre out of luck there too. She eased herself on to one of the two chairs that flanked the tiny table in the cramped kitchen. He only had one real pal. Andy Kerr. He was a red-hot Commie, was Andy. I tell you, by 1984, there werent many still keeping the red flag flying, but Andy was one of them. Hed been a union official well before the strike. Him and your father, theyd been best pals since school. Her face softened for a moment and Misha could almost make out the young woman shed been. They were always up to something, those two.
So where do I find this Andy Kerr? Misha sat down opposite her mother, her desire to be gone temporarily abandoned.
Her mothers face twisted into a wry grimace. Poor soul. If you can find Andy, youll be quite the detective. She leaned across and patted Mishas hand. Hes another one of your fathers victims.
How do you mean?
Andy adored your father. He thought the sun shone out of his backside. Poor Andy. The strike put him under terrible pressure. He believed in the strike, he believed in the struggle. But it broke his heart to see the hardship his men were going through. He was on the edge of a nervous breakdown, and the local executive forced him to go on the sick not long before your father shot the craw. Nobody saw him after that. He lived out in the middle of nowhere, so nobody noticed he was away. She gave a long, weary sigh. He sent a postcard to your dad from some place up north. But of course, he was blacklegging by then, so he never got it. Later, when Andy came back, he left a note for his sister, saying he couldnt take any more. Killed himself, the poor soul.
Whats that got to do with my dad? Misha demanded.
I always thought your dad going scabbing was the straw that broke the camels back. Jennys expression was pious shading into smug. That was what drove Andy over the edge.
Whats that got to do with my dad? Misha demanded.
I always thought your dad going scabbing was the straw that broke the camels back. Jennys expression was pious shading into smug. That was what drove Andy over the edge.
You cant know that. Misha pulled away in disgust.
Im not the only one around here that thinks the same thing. If your father had confided in anybody, it would have been Andy. And that would have been one burden too many for that fragile wee soul. He took his own life, knowing that his one real friend had betrayed everything he stood for. On that melodramatic note, Jenny got to her feet and lifted a bag of carrots from the vegetable rack. It was clear she had shot her bolt on the subject of Mick Prentice.
Wednesday 27th June 2007; Glenrothes
Karen sneaked a look at her watch. Whatever fine qualities Misha Gibson might possess, brevity was not one of them. So Andy Kerr turned out to be literally a dead end?
My mother thinks so. But apparently they never found his body. Maybe he didnt kill himself after all. Misha said.
They dont always turn up, Karen said. Sometimes the sea claims them. Or else the wilderness. Theres still a lot of empty space in this country. Resignation took possession of Mishas face. She was, Karen thought, a woman inclined to believe what she was told. If anyone knew that, it would be her mother. Perhaps things werent quite as clear cut as Jenny Prentice wanted her daughter to think.
Thats true, Misha said. And my mother did say that he left a note. Will the police still have the note?
Karen shook her head. I doubt it. If we ever had it, it will have been given back to his family.
Would there not have been an inquest? Would they not have needed it for that?
You mean a Fatal Accident Inquiry, Karen said. Not without a body, no. If theres a file at all, itll be a missing-person case.
But hes not missing. His sister had him declared dead. Their parents both died in the Zeebrugge ferry disaster, but apparently their dad had always refused to believe Andy was dead so he hadnt changed his will to leave the house to the sister. She had to go to court to get Andy pronounced dead so she would inherit. Thats what my mother said, anyway. Not a flicker of doubt disturbed Mishas expression.
Karen made a note, Andy Kerrs sister, and added a little asterisk to it. So if Andy killed himself, were back with scabbing as the only reasonable explanation of your dads disappearance. Have you made any attempts to contact the guys hes supposed to have gone away with?
Monday 25th June 2007; Edinburgh
Ten past nine on a Monday morning, and already Misha felt exhausted. She should be at the Sick Kids by now, focusing on Luke. Playing with him, reading to him, cajoling therapists into expanding their regimes, discussing treatment plans with medical staff, using all her energy to fill them with her conviction that her son could be saved. And if he could be saved, they all owed it to him to shovel every scrap of therapeutic intervention his way.
But instead, she was sitting on the floor, back to the wall, knees bent, phone cradled in her lap, notepad at her side. She told herself she was summoning the courage to make a phone call, but she knew in a corner of her mind exhaustion was the real reason for her inactivity.
Other families used the weekends to relax, to recharge their batteries. But not the Gibsons. For a start, fewer staff were on duty at the hospital, so Misha and John felt obliged to pile even more energy than usual into Luke. There was no respite when they came home either. Mishas acceptance that the last best hope for their son lay in finding her father had simply escalated the conflict between her missionary ardour and Johns passive optimism.
This weekend had been harder going than usual. Having a time limit put on Lukes life imbued each moment they shared with more value and more poignancy. It was hard to avoid a kind of melodramatic sentimentality. As soon as theyd left the hospital on Saturday Misha had picked up the refrain shed been delivering since shed seen her mother. I need to go to Nottingham, John. You know I do.
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his rain jacket, thrusting his head forward as if he was butting against a high wind. Just phone the guy, he said. If hes got anything to tell you, hell tell you on the phone.
Maybe not. She took a couple of steps at a trot to keep pace with him. People always tell you more face to face. He could maybe put me on to the other guys that went down with him. They might know something.
John snorted. And how come your mother can only remember one guys name? How come she cant put you on to the other guys?
I told you. Shes put everything out of her mind about that time. I really had to push her before she came up with Logan Laidlaws name.
And you dont think its amazing that the only guy whose name she can remember has no family in the area? No obvious way to track him down?
Misha pushed her arm through his, partly to make him slow down. But I did track him down, didnt I? Youre too suspicious.
No, Im not. Your mother doesnt understand the power of the internet. She doesnt know about things like online electoral rolls or 192.com. She thinks if theres no human being to ask, youre screwed. She didnt think she was giving you anything you could use. She doesnt want you poking about in this, shes not going to help you.
That makes two of you then. Misha pulled her arm free and strode out ahead of him.
John caught up with her on the corner of their street. Thats not fair, he said. I just dont want you getting hurt unnecessarily.
You think watching my boy die and not doing anything that might save him isnt hurting me? Misha felt the heat of anger in her cheeks, knew the hot tears of rage were lurking close to the surface. She turned her face away from him, blinking desperately at the tall sandstone tenements.
Well find a donor. Or theyll find a treatment. All this stem cell research, its moving really fast.
Not fast enough for Luke, Misha said, the familiar sensation of weight in her stomach slowing her steps. John, please. I need to go to Nottingham. I need you to take a couple of days off work, cover for me with Luke.
You dont need to go. You can talk to the guy on the phone.
Its not the same. You know that. When youre dealing with clients, you dont do it over the phone. Not for anything important. You go out and see them. You want to see the whites of their eyes. All Im asking is for you to take a couple of days off, to spend time with your son.
His eyes flashed dangerously and she knew shed gone too far. John shook his head stubbornly. Just make the phone call, Misha.
And that was that. Long experience with her husband had taught her that when John took a position he believed was right, going over the same ground only gave him the opportunity to build stronger fortifications. She had no fresh arguments that could challenge his decision. So here she was, sitting on the floor, trying to shape sentences in her head that would persuade Logan Laidlaw to tell her what had happened to her father since hed walked out on her more than twenty-two years earlier.