Page 133 of Beautiful Scars

She nods her head. “’Kay.”

And just like that, I’m dismissed.

I stand up, wondering when the fuck my joints got so stiff, and wave to her as I follow Anne-Marie out the door.

“The mother. You’re with her?” She doesn’t even glance back as her shoes squeak against the linoleum floor.

I chuckle. “I’m marrying her tomorrow. Craigmillar Castle. You should come.”

She slows her pace so she can nudge me. “I wouldn’t be able to find a date at such short notice.”

“Believe me, Anne-Marie, there’s been a few times this week where I’ve thought I’d be dateless too.”

Her tinkly laugh floats to my ears. “Aye. You’ve never made it easy to love you.”

I open the front door, holding it in place with my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Annie-Bananie. I should have come by sooner, and you should have been there tomorrow. Right at the front.”

She shrugs. “Don’t be a stranger, Kill.”

I swallow. There is no nice way to say this to her. “You understand why I can’t leave Maddie here? I’m not going to snatch her away today, but—”

“Kill, you can’t! Helen would—”

“I meant what I said. Helen won’t do anything. It’ll be like she was never here. And if it ever came to it, you say I held a gun to your head and threatened to burn the place to the ground if you ever reported it. The police will believe that, and so will Helen.”

“That’s a life sentence.”

“Rather me than her.” I shrug my shoulders and nod behind Anne-Marie, toward the playroom we just came from.

Anne-Marie knows what I mean, and she won’t take offense to that. She knows she’s an alternative. An option for children who have no other options left. And only ever until their eighteen birthday, when the insurance makes even being on the premises without a disclosure highly fucking illegal.

For every happy memory of this place, there’s a shite one for every time another kid said the word “mum” at school. A big gaping hole.

She nods her head. “Alright, Kill.”

I get a few steps down the path before I turn around. “Wedding’s at noon, if you change your mind.”

Anne-Marie rolls her eyes and lets the door swing closed with a smile on her face.

***

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

I look around. “What? In my own house?”

“It’s bad luck.” Meisie shakes her head disapprovingly and sits back down on the rug in the middle of the room, crossing her legs. There are things I don’t have the words to describe scattered all around her. It looks like someone ram-raided a Hobbycraft and emptied the contents in my living room.

“What the fuck are you up to?”

“I’m curling ribbons,” she says, as if it’s obvious.

Right enough. Ribbons. Pieces of card. Crimping scissors. Glitter pens?

“Is this...is this like the fort? Are we roleplaying right now? Were you roleplaying without me?”

She rolls her head back and bursts out laughing. “I’m putting together the favors, you nut job. Look.”

There’s movement in the big pile, and she pulls out some small green bags. Then grabs a big white box from behind her and rips the lid open. “Baby bottle of whiskey goes in, ribbon ties around the bag, scissors.”