Barra’s Angel

Rose drew a deep breath. ‘Barra, you’ve had all night to think about this, and all morning too. Surely you can see how ridiculous the whole thing is?’

‘But that’s just it, Mam,’ Barra argued. ‘The more I think about it, the … the realer it is! He has to be an angel. He just has to be.’

Barra pulled himself up on the draining-board, something he seldom did in Chalmers’ presence, his legs swinging wildly with the thrill of his conviction.

‘And he said we have things to take care of. Me and him, Mam. The pair of us!’

Rose grabbed his knees, halting Barra’s movement. Never in her life had she been tempted to raise her hand to her son, but she really felt like clattering him now.

‘People don’t see angels, Barra, far less talk to them.’

‘Catholics do. They see them all the time.’

‘Catholics are … they’re … they’re brainwashed,’ Rose said, exasperated beyond measure.

‘The Yaks aren’t brainwashed. They brainwash everyone else,’ Barra answered, his eyes glowing with determination.

Rose glanced at her watch. ‘We’re going to miss the bus if you don’t hurry.’

‘Mam …’

‘No, Barra. I’m sorry, but no.’ Rose reached behind her son to pick up the old shaving mirror, and turned to retrieve her lipstick from her handbag. She painted on another coat of ‘Pink Frost’ and checked her eyeliner. No way Sheena Mearns was going to see her looking less than her best. Then she fished for a hairpin, pulling it through her fringe to separate each lacquered strand. Finally, Rose checked for spaces in her backcombing and, satisfied, turned to replace the mirror.

Barra hadn’t moved.

Rose picked up her books and her handbag, and reached for the door handle. ‘Go ’n’ get yir blazer and comb yir hair.’

Barra slid to the floor and trundled through to the hall. He reappeared, shrugging into the jacket with one arm and using his free hand to press down his wiry curls.

Rose sighed again.

‘Can I get a cream hornet at Bremner’s then?’ he asked, appearing quite broken-hearted at the prospect.

In spite of herself, Rose smiled. ‘If you want. Now hurry up!’

They walked in companionable silence down the road and around the corner to the Whig. As they approached, Rose spoke again.

‘Watch at the stop. Call me if you see the bus.’

‘Don’t say too much to Olive, Mam,’ Barra implored. ‘She’s no’ the type to believe in angels.’

Rose disappeared into the shop.

Barra raked the woods with his eyes, but there was little movement. Trees stirred here and there as birds flew among their branches, an almost soundless rustling in the warm, sweet stillness of the afternoon.

As he watched, Barra became aware of the swell of birdsong and he closed his eyes, lifting his face to the melody. The glory of it filled him, and he took a long, deep breath, inhaling the sound of it deep into his being.

He was standing like that as Rose stepped back out into the sunshine. She stopped in her tracks, and somewhere inside her a new fear took root. God, she thought, look at him there, his hair shining and that smile on him. If ever a boy was touched by the angels … Please don’t take him now, God. Don’t take him from me now.

She shook her head violently. You’re as daft as he is, Rose Maclean, she told herself. But her own heart had gone somewhere else for a little while, and she felt a sudden chill in the April air.

‘Barra!’

He opened his eyes, smiling still.

‘Olive says there’s no strangers around that she knows of,’ Rose informed him, as matter-of-factly as she knew how. She walked past him and gazed up the road. The bus took shape in a distant flurry of dust. ‘But there’s been a few stramashes at the snooker club in town, and she wouldn’t be surprised if one o’ that troublemaking crew had found his way out here.’

The bus pulled to a stop in front of them, and Barra held her elbow as she stepped up on the platform. They sat together on the long seat by the door. ‘So you be careful, all right?’ Rose finished. ‘Just be careful.’

Barra appeared not to have heard her. He leaned forward. ‘How’s yir lambs getting along?’ he enquired of the elderly gentleman sitting opposite them.

‘They’re grand, Barra,’ the man answered. ‘Getting as fat as pigs, they are.’ A toothless cackle followed, and Barra crossed the aisle to sit by the man and discuss the progress of his flock.

Rose watched them, wondering anew. She had never seen the man before in her life.

CHAPTER 5 (#ulink_b855caad-c991-556c-a747-8af22f8ddbd2)

The afternoon proved uneventful. Rose had hung about the cosmetics department for a good ten minutes before going upstairs to the lending library, but wherever Sheena Mearns had disappeared to, she wasn’t on her usual counter. Rose tried to broach the subject of her rival’s whereabouts as Sandra Ledingham stamped her books, but was unable to find a suitably casual opening.

‘It’s Frank Yerby’s latest.’ Sandra smiled. ‘We canna’ keep them on the shelves. Course, he’s a bit near the bone at times, but nothing compared to thon awful Harold Robbins.’

She winked, fully aware that Rose had borrowed The Carpetbaggers twice already, and was eagerly awaiting the release of the Oscar-winning film in Craigourie. Rose would have flushed had it been Miss Falconer behind the counter, but Sandra had been the one to suggest the book in the first place.

‘I know what you mean,’ Rose answered, and they giggled.

Sandra handed the books over to Rose, and stretched across the counter. ‘He’s usually at the Natural History,’ she remarked. ‘He looks fed up.’

‘He didn’t want to come with me. You know how they are at that age.’ Rose looked over to where Barra was inspecting the middle shelf of the Religion section. ‘C’mon, son, we’re ready,’ she called. She’d be mortified if he brought up any of this latest nonsense in front of Sandra.

Barra started towards them, a look of enquiry on his face, and Rose locked eyes with him, silently forbidding him to even mention the word ‘angel’.

‘Were you looking for something partic’lar, Barra?’ Sandra asked.

Barra broke his mother’s gaze. ‘I’m no’ allowed to talk about it,’ he answered.

‘Never mind him,’ Rose rushed on as Sandra opened her mouth to enquire exactly what it was Barra wasn’t allowed to talk about. ‘He just doesn’t like being in the town on a Saturday afternoon.’

‘Who does?’ Sandra shrugged. ‘If I hadn’t taken so much from the club-book, I’d be taking a Saturday afternoon off myself once in a while. It’ll be bloody August before it’s all paid off. Just hope I’m no paid off before it.’

‘Why?’ Rose asked, shocked at the notion.

‘Och, there’s word they’re going to be closing the lending libraries, Rose. No doubt we’ll be one o’ the first to get the chop.’

‘Never!’

‘Aye, well, Hazel’s man’s in for a job at Dounreay. If he gets it, I’m hoping they’ll give me her counter downstairs. Fingers crossed,’ she sighed.

‘God, that’s awful,’ Rose said. ‘What’re they thinking about? Closing libraries like that!’