What am I thinking of suicides for, what was I sayin? No no, hen, there’s something important, I’m sure of it. You need to sit here. You hold my hand. She’s fine here, sister. She’s just keeping me company which is more than my bad-bitch girl would do. Ooh do you not just hate that wan? Sister. Does she not just strike you as somewan who thinks her shit doesnae stink, eh? She’s no that young, sister isnae. Wantae watch yourself, sister, or you might end up in here with only oor Senga’s lassie to visit you.

I tried to call the girl after my mam. Wee Jean, she was supposed to be. Her father said it was a boring name, and I was that knocked out after the birth I didnae argue. He gied her the name Cliodhna, if you please! There’s a name that thinks its shit doesnae stink, eh? Stupit. When we got back home I cried her Jean. Jeannie Johnstone, my family name. She wouldnae take poor Alec’s name even though he was a better father to that ungrateful besom than she deserved. Och, the men. They’re easy enough to work, if you know how. I knew how, and that girl of mine she sure did, oh, I’ll tell you that. But she never got the measure of them, eh. She was always letting them get away, take it too far.

He was a handsome wan, right enough. That wan she went with. We watched them all coming in in the trucks, all of us women, and we had the vegetables ready to throw, and I have to say all of us noticed it. It was like sunlight was shining off of him, that boy, that English boy with the blond hair. You get a feeling – oh aye, you know whit Ah mean, hen! You know whit! How could a boy be that beautiful, a boy? I didnae want to let on, didnae want them to guess, so I worked up a big greener in the back of my throat, hit him right in that beautiful face. I watched it dripping off him, off his cheekbone, my spit. Bloody scab. Bloody damn scab.