“I know what you mean. So, if you don’t mind me asking, how come you don’t work up here?”
He sat back on his heels, swirled his own whiskey. “I’ve thought about it. It would have to be a big city, of course, and so far the jobs haven’t come up. Plus, we’re doing more cutting-edge work down there. But yeah, I’ve thought about it. And with Mum getting on a bit, you know.”
Annie really didn’t want him to move to Scotland. “I guess London has more...plays and things.”
“Sure.” He scratched Buster’s tummy, absently. “When did you last go to a play?”
“Um, about six years ago, probably.”
“Me, too. So. Why do we stay?”
“Mum’s there. I grew up there. Work—well, it was there. Now, who knows.”
“The world is your oyster. I’ve never understood that expression. Oysters aren’t interesting, are they? Sort of gloopy and gross.”
“Gloopy and gross sums up my world pretty well.” But not anymore, Annie realized. Right now she was in the most beautiful part of the country, with a good friend upstairs, good food in her stomach and a good scruffy man sitting at her feet. He was close enough that she could have reached out and stroked his head.
“Annie?”
“Hmm?”
“Have you thought about what might happen—you know, after?”
“After?” She didn’t understand at first.
“Polly. She’s still very sick, you know. This is just...this is the last hurrah, I think.” He was speaking very softly. “What will you do?”
She sighed. “I have no idea. She sort of threw a grenade in my life. I’ll have to find another job, and somewhere for Mum to live.”
“It doesn’t have to be London?”
“No, I guess not. Somewhere cheaper would be good. But I need to work, too.”
He raised his glass to his mouth. He was facing away from her, staring at the fire, and she suddenly had the impression he was about to say something important. Her spine tensed. “Well, maybe—”
“Not interrupting, am I?” Polly called from the doorway.
Annie’s heart sank. “’Course not. You all ready for bed?”
Polly was wearing fleecy pajamas with hearts on, and you could see how thin she was, how worn out. But her chin was raised and her eyes bright. “Just about. Dr. Max, can I have a word with Annie?”
“Oh. Sure. I’ll go and lock up the gates. See where the boys have got to.”
Polly came to sit where he’d been, curling her legs up toward the fire. She lifted his glass and finished the dregs, an intimate little gesture that somehow stabbed at Annie. “Yuck. No idea how he can drink this stuff.”
“What’s up?”
“Well, you know how tomorrow is our last day here?”
“I can’t stay any longer, I’m sorry. I know I got fired but there’s still Mum—she has no one else.”
“That’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.” Polly held up the now-empty glass, squinting at the trails left by the whiskey. Legs, Dr. Max had called them. “What if there was someone else?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t be mad.” Polly smiled brightly.
“Well, I’ll try. What is it?”
“When you first told me about your dad, how you’d never met him and so on, I thought that was a shame. Seeing as you’ve sort of lost your mum now, in a way. I didn’t want you to be alone. That’s why I did it. I hope you can see that?”
“What did you do?” Annie sat up straight, panicked.
“Well. All I did was look for your dad, really.” Polly spoke so casually.
“You...what? Polly. Why did you do that?”
“So you wouldn’t be alone, like I said. Look, Annie, we’ve had fun, yeah? But I won’t be around forever. And then where will you be? Back in that flat with your poor mum who doesn’t know who you are, stalking Mike and Jane online, never going out? I don’t want that for you.”
“I...” Annie was speechless. “I’m not a child, Poll. I can look after myself.”
“Can you? You weren’t doing that good a job before you met me.”
She’s dying, she’s dying. With supreme patience, Annie said, “So. You looked up my dad. Did you...find him?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s easy to find people on the electoral register. He lives quite near here, in fact. Well, in Scottish terms.” So that was what her mother had meant about seeing Andrew. He lived here. But...how did her mother know that? A pulse began to beat in Annie’s stomach. Polly was still talking. “So I thought tomorrow, Dr. Max could drive you over while we go for a stroll in the town. Visit the distillery and so on.” She was still beaming.
“Just like that.” She’d handed Annie a father she’d never known, never even thought about finding.
“Yeah, just like that. I’ll clear it with Dr. Max but he’ll do it, I’m sure.”
“Right.” Because transport was the only problem in this situation.
Polly frowned. “What’s the matter? Aren’t you happy?”
Where could she start? It was one thing giving her makeovers, forcing her to miss work over and over until she got fired, making her take part in bizarre dances and go on roller coasters. But interfering in her family, as if Annie couldn’t have found him by herself? “Polly,” she began, hearing the wobble in her voice. Then the door slammed and in came Costas and George, bringing a winter chill with them, hats and coats dusted in snow.
“We saw many, many stars!” Costas said happily. “Cassiopeia, Pleaides...names from Greek!”
“What he said,” George said, also grinning. “Haven’t a bloody clue about stars, but man, it is stunning out there. Still no northern lights, though. Sorry, Poll. What’s up with you two?”
DAY 58
Connect with your roots
“Why have you stopped?” she asked nervously.
The engine had died, and Radio 2 had abruptly been silenced. Dr. Max said, “Because. We’re here.”
Panic shot through her. “Are you sure? The sat nav—”
“I’m sure. It’s the only house on the road.” Road was pushing it; it was more of a dirt track and a lone house. The windows were lit up already. It had never really got light that day, and they’d been driving for most of it, all the way to this little house on its own beside the forest. Her father’s house. Maybe.
Annie scrubbed a patch in the steamed-up window. “I suppose I have to do this.”
“Well, we did drive two hundred miles to get here.”
“In a blizzard.”
“Och, that wasn’t a blizzard. It was only a wee flurry.”
A wee flurry indeed. The sky was cloudy with snow, falling white and sticky, covering the car even as they sat there. Annie took a deep breath. “I bet he’s not here, anyway. It was probably a different Andrew Clarke. It’s a common name.”
“Maybe.” His tone was noncommittal. “I think I better stay here, Annie. Come and get me if you need me.”
“Will you not be freezing?”
He gave a dismissive look. “This isn’t cold. I’ll put my coat on if it gets chilly.” He took out a book.