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  ‘Did you forgive them?’ I asked. And my father coughed and creased his mouth and shook his head.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘None of them.’

  In those last days I spent hours alone with my father. He took out an old cigar box from his bedside cabinet; among receipts and Mass cards it contained a ripped-out newspaper advertisement. It was from The Buteman in 1940.

  Mrs A. Viccari

  of the West End Café

  17 Gallowgate, Rothesay

  wishes to inform the public

  that she is a

  BRITISH SUBJECT

  and has a brother now serving

  in the British Army and also a

  brother now serving with the British Navy

  They came and took my father out of his bed one night. ‘This same bed,’ he said. There was a ship in the bay and he was made to join it and taken to the mainland to board a train for England. ‘I don’t know whose fault it was,’ he said. ‘Anyway I had to leave your mother and Sofia.’ When he said this I remember it was the afternoon of the moon landing. I remember going back and forth that evening from the television and whenever I came back to his bed he would tell me something new.

  ‘Are you comfortable, Dad?’

  ‘They came in the night,’ he said, ‘and I walked over the glass. I can hear the crunch of the glass in the shop, Alfredo, and not long after that I was away. That was me away.’

  He fell asleep. His pillow rolled onto the floor. What I remember now is combing my father’s hair and then lifting the pillow off the floor. I went to the linen cupboard and found a white pillowcase and slipped it on and when I came back I lifted up his head and put the clean pillow underneath. He breathed so quietly that you could barely hear anything but the clock.

  ‘That was me away,’ he had said.

  My father eventually made it home again and built the business back up. But he never spoke of those war years and he banned Mussolini. My mother gave birth to us a year after his return, in 1942: Rosa and me. Like Mussolini, the word for our sister, Sofia, was something my mother would only whisper. The little girl with the big voice was one of the mysteries of the war we had missed.

  Lamb of God that takes away the sins of the world.

  Grant us peace.

  There was so much water keeping my side-parting in place I could feel it running down the back of my neck under my school blazer. It was freezing running down my back I swear to God. I looked up and saw the faces of my mother and father sitting in the front row. It was the old Academy up on the hill before it burned down.

  I said I will read from the Gospel according to John. Chapter 2, verse 17. The Cleansing of the Temple. ‘Zeal for your house will devour me. Destroy this sanctuary and in three days I will raise you up. But he was speaking of the sanctuary that was his body, and when Jesus rose from the dead, his disciples remembered that he had said this, and they believed the scripture and the words he had said.’

  Dying on that old bed, my father must have been dreaming about my missing sister, I feel certain he must have thought of her as he slept on his white pillow.

  Zeal for your house will devour me.

  14

  Tales

  OPPORTUNITY KNOCKING FOR ROTHESAY TEENAGER

  Pint-sized Scottish singing sensation Maria Tambini is on the road to stardom after landing a spot on LWT’s talent show Opportunity Knocks.

  Maria, 13, who hails from Rothesay on the Isle of Bute, is due to appear on the top-rated show in two weeks’ time. But no matter what the outcome, Maria has already attracted the attention of a top London agent and has secured a place at the Italia Conti stage school.

  Excited

  Maria’s mother, chip-shop owner Rosa Tambini, 35, says everyone on the island is really proud of her. ‘She’s been performing at different places on the West Coast for a few years now,’ said Mrs Tambini, ‘and we’ve been holding her back just to let her grow up a bit. Now she wants a chance at the big time and we’ve got to let her go. I’ve told her not to get too excited, but all her family are rooting for her and so are her friends.’

  Maturity

  A spokesman for LWT said the producers of the show are keen to bring on new talent regardless of age. ‘We were very struck by Maria’s maturity as a performer,’ he said, ‘and wish her the best of luck on the night.’

  Tambini is the latest in a long line of Scottish performers who have enjoyed an early boost to their careers through television. Maria counts Lena Martell and Lulu among her favourites.

  Family

  ‘It’s more like we’re talking Streisand and Judy Garland,’ said an excited Marion Gaskell, Maria’s new agent, speaking from London.

  But rest assured, win or lose in two weeks’ time, we’ll be hearing a lot more from sweet little Maria Tambini. She’s a lovely girl from a lovely family. In a fortnight she’s not only singing for Rothesay but for the whole of Scotland.

  *

  Maria put down the Daily Record and smiled at Kalpana and Dr Jagannadham. ‘Do you like the picture?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s very pretty indeed,’ said Dr Jag.

  ‘It’s soooo amazing,’ said Kalpana.

  ‘They took it in the café,’ said Maria. ‘Alfredo did my hair with those new rollers and that’s Giovanni’s hand poking the lollipops in from the side.’

  Mrs Jagannadham was smiling by the door of the Civic Centre. ‘Everyone is talking about you, Maria.’

  ‘Down with lollipops!’ said Dr Jag. His wife ignored him and continued looking at Maria.

  ‘I think your dress is lovely Mrs Jag,’ said Maria.

  ‘Do you like it? It’s a sari. But thank you for noticing. It is made of old material which I like.’

  ‘Down with candy floss!’

  ‘Oh stop it, Daddy,’ said Kalpana. She looked at Maria and then at her mother. ‘He’s such a lunatic,’ she said. ‘I get a pure beamer standing next to him.’

  Dr Jagannadham was leaning against the glass door of the Civic Centre laughing. He held a folder to his chest and every time he made an exclamation he pointed to the heavens. ‘Down with Mars Bars!’ he shouted. ‘Rebel! Rebel! You have nothing to lose but your teeth.’

  Maria and Kalpana looked at each other and snorted. ‘Just ignore him,’ said Kalpana. ‘He’s not playing with a full deck. Such a knob.’

  ‘Language!’ said Mrs Jag. ‘What have I told you, Kalpana? I won’t have you speaking these words.’

  ‘She’s a native speaker,’ said the doctor, laughing. ‘My lecture may embarrass you but it should educate you also, Kalpana. Stay and listen, you two. May do you some good.’

  It was already dark and rain was blowing over the harbour and a bell was sounding out in the water. It was the ferry tied up for the night; the swell of the water made the bell ring and the sound was clear over the bay. Maria and Kalpana were still in their school uniforms. They had stayed on after school to help with the rehearsals for the Halloween play: they were doing the make-up but really there wasn’t much to do, so they had wandered the corridors of the school for an hour and poked their heads into the dark classrooms.

  It was Mrs Beezley the Modern Studies teacher who had given Maria the copy of the Daily Record. She gave it to her and said everyone was looking forward to seeing her on the telly. Kalpana noticed that Maria took the paper and said thank you as if she was giving a speech and was being photographed all over again. Then they had gone to the stacked-up chairs at the back of the dining hall and read the article over and over again.

  Maria’s eyes were glassy. ‘Oh my God Maria that is just brilliant. It’s such a gallus picture,’ Kalpana said.

  ‘You don’t think I look a bit cross-eyed?’

  ‘Don’t be daft, Maria, you look like a film star.’

  ‘King Kong.’

  ‘Don’t be daft. Princess Leia.’

  ‘Chewbacca more like.’

  ‘It’s a brilliant picture, Maria. Just think, everybody will be looking at your picture and s
aying “I know her.’”

  They walked the corridors of the Academy and sometimes ran giggling. They looked into Mr Scullion’s Maths room. It was dark and all the chairs were up on the desks. In Miss Marshall’s Biology class they sat in the light of the aquarium. They put their fingers up to the glass. There was pond life there, ribbons of algae and frogs swimming through; a lamp hung over the water and made the classroom blue.

  ‘I think there’s something wrong with my mum,’ said Maria out of nowhere. Kalpana looked at her.

  ‘Don’t be daft. What you saying that for?’

  ‘I don’t know. Just …’ Maria shrugged. ‘Just things.’

  ‘Because of Giovanni?’ said Kalpana.

  ‘Sometimes,’ said Maria, ‘but not just him. She cries and throws eppies for nothing. I think she hates my granny. The other night I looked into the living-room and she was staring at the telly and there was nothing on. It was just … what do you call it … interference? It was after Late Call.There was nothing to watch on the telly and she just sat there watching the fuzzy picture.’

  ‘She was probably asleep, Maria.’

  ‘No she wasnae.’

  ‘Probably thinking about stuff then. Like things on her mind and that. You shouldny worry about it cause you’ll be going away soon won’t you?’ Kalpana jumped off the desk. ‘She totally loves it that you’re going to London and everything, doesn’t she Maria? I mean she’s dead proud and all that. Who wouldny be?’

  ‘Aye,’ said Maria.

  ‘It’ll be brilliant.’

  ‘I know.’

  Kalpana went to the blackboard and picked up the chalk.

  MISS MARSHALL FANCIES SENORITA DOBLAS THE SPANISH TEACHING ASSISTANT. THEY WERE KISSING IN THE BIOLOGY CUPBOARD WE SAW THEM AND THEY WERE DRINKING THE WINE FOR FERMENTATION STUDY. THEY WERE PLASTERED SIGNED R2-D2 AND C3PO

  The girls tussled over the duster then ran from the classroom screaming with laughter. Kalpana ran as fast as she could down the corridor and slid on the tiles with her hands raised. The smell of disinfectant was still strong from the mopping. ‘Just remember me when you’re famous Maria Tambini or I’ll grass you in for what you did!’ Kalapana’s voice echoed down the corridor.

  But Maria had gone silent. Halfway down she started walking backwards towards her friend. She walked backwards and slowly, looking at the labels on the doors she was passing: English, Home Economics, Classical Studies, History. She stopped in the dark of the corridor and looked down to the end. ‘Goodbye,’ she said.

  Under the orange street lamps lighting the rain the girls ran down the hill to the Civic Centre. Kalpana wondered if anyone would show up to listen to her father’s talk. They ran down, pulling their blazers over their heads, the taste of sea-salt arriving on their lips, the rubber soles of their shoes chewing on the wet pavement.

  *

  The hall in the Civic Centre was freezing. There were only nine people there, including Mrs Jagannadham. Kalpana and Maria were told by the caretaker that they couldn’t hang about the door, so they took a couple of plastic cups of orange squash from the ping-pong table, drank them, and sat in the back row laughing and making beaks out of the empty cups.

  Dr Jagannadham stood at a lectern on the stage. Behind him was a banner saying ‘Bute Boy Scouts’. The people ready to listen to the doctor’s lecture were spread over the first eight rows or so; several were old men, like Mr Samson, or familiar people who weren’t old but had always seemed so, and then there was Mrs Bone, who had always professed an interest in knowledge. ‘There’s that guy from the TV shop,’ said Kalpana.

  ‘I haven’t seen him for ages,’ Maria said. ‘Does he still work there?’

  ‘My dad says he’s going to university,’ said Kalpana.

  ‘Shh. They’re looking at us.’

  ‘Thank you, thank you,’ said Dr Jag. ‘Thank you for coming out on such a wild night for my talk on sugar, a subject that is very much of importance in Scotland, as it must be everywhere. But here, ladies and gentlemen, you might say it is a subject close to our hearts – closer, indeed, to our hearts than we might care for it to be. It will be no secret to this audience that sugar intake in this country far exceeds that of most places.’

  ‘Here we go,’ said Kalpana.

  ‘As a GP I can attest to the fact that excessive sugar intake has a direct relation to heart disease and to other known killers such as diabetes. But I should hasten to say, ladies and gentlemen, that this is not intended to be chiefly a medical talk. Indeed it is intended that it be interesting on the subject of the sugar industry itself. The history of sugar’s production and refinement is a tale of glorious ingenuity and also, you might say, of hazardous profiteering, showing both the brilliance of modern entrepreneurial methods, as well, I’m afraid, as what we can only describe as the shortcomings of the colonial experiment.’

  ‘Why is he talking like that?’ asked Maria.

  ‘Oh, he has to,’ said Kalpana. ‘Whenever he gets onto one of his thinking subjects he starts talking like a book.’

  ‘All the words.’

  ‘Listen to his accent and all. When he’s having a carry-on he sounds like an Indian but when he stands up to say those ginormous words he sounds like a man on the radio or reading the news or something.’

  ‘Weird.’

  ‘He says it’s normal. Everybody goes on like that. He says it’s all part of the performance.’

  ‘But nobody’ll get it.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. That’s what they come for, they come to enjoy the big words.’

  ‘Weird.’

  ‘He talks like a book when he’s angry as well.’

  ‘When the Indian sub-continent was overrun by the Persians in 510 BC they described sugar as “the reed which gives honey without bees”.’

  ‘It’s gonna to be a long night,’ said Kalpana.

  ‘Do you think he’ll talk about Munchies or Mint Cracknel?’ said Maria. The girls laughed again into their cups.

  ‘Only if they scoffed them in Ancient Egypt,’ said Kalpana under her breath. After fifteen minutes the girls were sucking the cups onto their faces and staring at the floor.

  ‘The West Indies became the world’s main sugar producing region,’ said Dr Jagannadham. ‘In 1493 Christopher Columbus established a crop on the fertile Caribbean island of San Domingo. Sugar cane grew faster there than anywhere else in the world and by 1530 the island boasted twenty-eight sugar mills. Cane sugar farming was so lucrative that plantation owners referred to sugar as white gold. By the eighteenth century the West Indian sugar industry was supplying the whole of the Western world and fabulous fortunes were made. By 1750 there were 150 cane refineries in Britain …’

  ‘Have you ever seen him naked?’ asked Maria.

  ‘Loads of times,’ said Kalpana. ‘You know what he’s like. We used to go swimming in Loch Fyne and he’d say he would only swim as God intended.’

  ‘Like a fish.’

  ‘Naked as a cod.’

  ‘A God cod.’

  ‘A cod bod.’ The girls fell about laughing. Mrs Jagannadham looked round with an annoyed face and told them to shush.

  ‘Gads,’ said Maria. ‘I am never kissing anybody.’

  ‘Don’t be daft,’ said Kalpana. ‘There’s nothing wrong with that. Depends who.’ She looked round at Maria. ‘You’re just a baby.’

  Maria shrugged. ‘Shut your face,’ she said, then stared down the empty rows again.

  Mr Samson was snoring in his chair. Michael Aigas from the TV shop looked up at the windows and thought it was like the whole of the Civic Centre was going through a car wash. ‘Man,’ he said to himself, ‘the rain god is certainly tossing his cookies tonight.’ Off to the side of the stage there was a bingo machine and a gymnastics horse. Against the back wall was a large piece of scenery, a luxurious garden; Maria could make out green painted bushes and giant yellow flowers. It was an enchanted garden, with butterflies and birds, and a broken castle in the distance. As the doctor w
ent on speaking, her eyes focused on the piece of scenery, and the doctor’s words began to mingle with her thoughts, the things she and Kalpana had spoken of that night.

  The scenery reminded Maria of stories Granny Lucia had told her when she was a baby. They were stories from Florence and Bologna and Abruzzo, stories of beautiful princesses born from pomegranates, apples and rosemary bushes, and many of the details began to float in front of Maria again as she sat in the cold hall.

  ‘My father and mother worked in the sugar factory in Aska outside Madras,’ said Dr Jagannadham, ‘and if you go there now you see that the waste waters coming from the factory have changed the plant life of the area. My family have told me all they can remember of the Aska sugar factory. At one time it was a famous place. A hundred years ago the factory was among those which met the increasing demand for granulated sugar around the world.’

  A man and a woman once lived over the fairies’ garden. The woman was expecting her first baby and she had a craving for parsley, so every day she ate the parsley from the garden. One day the fairies noticed all their parsley was gone and they caught the woman eating it and made her promise to call her baby Prezzemolina. The fairies said they would take the baby when she was grown up. The woman was in tears as she told her husband. ‘You awful glutton,’ he said, ‘don’t you see you have brought this upon yourself?’

  ‘Here in Rothesay we are close to the heart of the old Scottish sugar industry,’ said Dr Jagannadham. ‘Outside London, the largest centre for sugar refining was in Greenock. In 1860, there were about thirteen refineries, with four more in Glasgow and one in Leith. In 1866, a total of 162,368 tons of sugar were produced on the Clyde. They supplied the whole of Britain with white sugar crystals and white and yellow “crushed” sugars.’