‘I’m no eating that, I hate mince.’ I shout through tae the kitchen whar Mum’s dishing up platefuls. I signal ower tae my twin sitting across the table.
‘C’mon.’
Wi belt up the stairs twa at a time. The smell o the cooking maks me want tae puke. Joe laughs and says, ‘We’re no eating it, and that’s that.’
I open the linen cupboard door and Joe hoists me up and I land in the pile o blankets on the tap shelf. Joe climbs up ahent me and drags the door shut. It’s dark and close in this wee space, safe awa fae the world ootside. Yi could climb up tae the attic fae here and walk alang the beams, but yiv tae be careful no tae put yir foot through tae the room alow.
‘She’ll no get us in here,’ Joe says, then wriggles intae the ither corner and hunkers doon,
‘It’s a shame though, its rhubarb crumle and custard fir pudding, mibbee she’ll leave us some.’
But I didnae care cos Mums custard wis aye lumpy.
Dinners wir a battle in oor hoose. Mum wis a terrible cook and if Dad wis hame wi’d hae tae eat it or tak what we’d git, but he’s aff golfing wi pals the day. I mind the time he threw a plate at my heed cos I gagged wi the mince in my mooth. I yelled oot that night when the bone comb scraped ower the lump, but I wis stuck in Mum’s lap an coudnae git awa.
Joe says, ‘We’ll sit here till she forgits aboot us, she aye gits mixed up.’
‘Hey Midge,’ that’s his nickname fir me, ‘What are yi gonna be when yir big?’
‘I dinnae ken.’
‘I think yi’ll be a ballerina, yir good at that.’
‘Mibbee, I kin stand on my taes noo.’
I got ballet pumps fir my birthday. I’d nagged tae git them fir ages, they’re red and saft, the best present ever. Lorna Drake fae the ‘Princess’ comic shows me aw the moves. There’s aye a rammy on Saturday mornins when it’s pit through the door. Even the laddies want tae read it. I’m definitely gonna be a ballerina.
‘What’ll yi be?’
‘I’m gonna be a fitbaw player fir Celtic and score aw the goals.’
‘Bet yi will.’
Joe loved fitbaw, he’d been picked fir the scale team even though we wir only in primary five. Wi played twa touch atween the greenie poles in the back gairden, he aye won, but I wis pretty good tae. The fitbaw pitch wis oor grass and the wuman’s next doors tae. Her sons wir aw grown up so they didnae need it. They wir pert o the ‘Huns’ gang that knocked aboot in the ‘Atila Cafe’ doon at the shops. It wis scary tae pass them when yi’d been sent fir a message but Joe said they’d niver bather us as wi bided next door tae twa o their leaders, I felt better then.
Dad ran the church fitbaw team and sometimes we’d sneak the real leather baw he brought hame fir dubbing and kick it aboot the backies. It wis sair on yir taes and it didnae help my ballet moves, but it made Joe happy.
I can see him in his fitbaw strip, wee among the ither lads and beaming oot fae the team photo.
‘An another thing I want tae dae,’ he says, ‘I want tae go tae the moon in a rocket, it’d be great.’
I shuffle further doon intae the cushion aneath me.
‘It’s affy far awa and yi might no git back.’
‘Yir just a feardie, Midge, it’d be alright.’
Oor wee brither John wis on the stairs, ‘Whar are you twa? Mum wants yi.’ He wis a right clype. We didnae let on till it wis safe tae sneak doon, oot the front door and intae the street.
Mince wisnae fir us.
I niver got tae be a ballerina but I wore holes in the shoes practising; instead I got married and had twa bairns, they’re aw grown up, and I’ve a grandson. I show him how tae play twa touch in my wee gairdin, he likes tae win and I like tae let him. Time’s past but I can still kick a baw, some things niver leave yi. I wis a social worker fir years, no quite what I wanted tae be, but it paid the bills. Joe didnae git tae play fir his favourite team either, he died in an accident when we wir teenagers. Naebody kent what tae say when it happened and I had a hole in my belly wi aw the greeting. The priest came tae the hoose efter the funeral, there wis drink, sausage rolls and loads o talk aboot nothing. I asked him his name cos I didnae want tae call him ‘Father’ and Mum wis black affronted. It wis an affy time.
But I like tae think Joe went tae the moon and niver came back, because that’s what he wanted.