“Don’t just stand there catching flies,” sniffed Mo-Maw, “come and gie us a hug.”
Mungo went to his mother. She pulled him on to her lap and she cradled him like the Pietà. He was almost sixteen now, much too tall to be babied, but he let her mollycoddle him anyway. He wrapped himself around her and sank his face into her hair. It smelled like sausage grease and loamy peat, cigarettes and Juicy Fruit, all the familiar smells he had missed. Yet as he snuffled into her crown, underneath it all was the scent of another person’s soap, and there at the base of it, the smell of Jocky’s house, the musk of a stranger’s bath towel. Mungo tried to ignore it. “I really thought you might be dead.”
“Ah-HA!” She shrieked and threw her arms wide like an Egyptian mummy. “Nae luck pal. It’s alive!”
Mungo couldn’t laugh yet. “There’s been stories on the evening news. Some teenage lassies went missing and it turned out they were murdered. I was worried about you.”
“Och. That’s a lovely thing to say.” She tilted her face towards him. There were creases on her face that were not there the last time he saw her. Old make-up was ground into her fine wrinkles, it made them seem like veins. “If ye were a mad murderer yerself, do ye still think I could pass for a teenager?”
Mungo scratched his face. “Oh aye.” He knew she would like this lie.
Mo-Maw stamped her small feet in glee. “Och. Ah forgot how much better ah always feel when ah’m around you.” She kissed his cheek. It was a strange open-mouthed kiss. He could feel the wet tip of her tongue. She was already drunk. “If only ah could find a man as good as you. Ah don’t know how ah never managed to make a mess of ye. Not like ah did with those there two.”
“Jodie’s awright,” said Mungo. “She’s gonnae be a doctor, or an astronaut. I think you should be proudest of her.”
Mo-Maw made a disgruntled sound, then she grinned conspiratorially. “Disnae matter. Who likes a wummin that’s no fun?” She poured a galloping stream of whisky into the wine glass. Mungo wondered if Tattie-bogle would come tonight, the dull-eyed monstrous side of her. He watched her closely, she looked like she was enjoying herself. Maybe it would all be okay. “Don’t ye hate being cooped up all day here with her? She’s no fun at all. Ah swear that scunner came out of me with a to-do list.”
“We always have a laugh when we’re the gether.”
“That’s another thing ah’ve never liked about that one. As soon as she was big enough to hold ye, she was running all over this scheme like ye were her wee baby.”
“Mungo, you can’t be burning all the lights …” They hadn’t heard the key in the lock. Jodie was standing before them with a soggy pizza box in her hand. “What in God’s name are you doing here?”
“What a way to greet yer own mother.”
Jodie put the pizza box on the table. She took Mungo roughly by his arm and pulled him off Mo-Maw’s lap. She dropped him into a seat of his own and pointed at the cold box. “Here, eat that.” Mungo did as he was told. Jodie used her index finger and dipped it into Mo-Maw’s elegant glass. She winced when she sucked it.
Mo-Maw’s eyes were glassy, the whites were steeped in redness as though she had been too long in the local pool. Her jaw was set at a funny angle and she was scowling at Jodie as she hovered over Mungo. The boy ripped a hunk of battered pizza and handed it to his mother. She reached out to take it, but Jodie drew back Mungo’s wrist. “When you are full and if there is some left over, then she can eat – not before.”
Jodie started gathering the dirty dishes. “So, to what do we owe this great honour? Haaah-ha.”
“Ah just thought ah would come and see ma weans.” Mo-Maw was sitting upright in the kitchen chair, trying to gather some dignity in her own house. “What’s the harm in th—”
“Spare me your nonsense, Maureen.” It was cold, but without meanness. Mungo looked up at her – Jodie looked worn through. “What’s happened with Jocky?”
“Nothing. Nothing’s happened with Jocky. It’s aw candy floss and winching in the moonlight. Ah just wanted to come see ma boy. My only true love.” She reached across the table and interlaced her fingers amongst Mungo’s. They mooned at each other like they were sweethearts.
“Great. So, this is just a flying visit then? I’m glad you could fit us into your diary.” Jodie’s hair was scraped away from her face; her ponytail hung down her back, thick as a hawser rope. The tautness made her stony-faced. Rummaging through the kitchen drawers, she produced a stack of papers and dropped them in front of Mo-Maw. There was angry red ink everywhere like the letters were shouting at them. “They’re threatening to cut off the electric, the gas, and the phone. The housing association has written to us three times about the fact there doesn’t seem to be an adult in the house. If you don’t show yourself, they will call the Social and your precious boy here will be put into care.”
Mo-Maw roared. “Ah wonder what grassin’ basturt telt them that.” She cast the red letters to the floor. “These fuckin’ tenements! Ye cannae walk the length of the street without every clipe knowing yer business.”
“You need to go in first thing on Monday morning and talk to the council.”
“Aye, I’ll get to it.”
“No, you will go in first thing on Monday morning.”
Mo-Maw put her hand up to cover her lips, she leaned across the table to Mungo as though Jodie was not even there. “See, ah telt ye she was no fuckin’ fun.”