Page 17 of One Day and Forever
‘They would. Thank you.’
He gave her hand a grateful squeeze before letting it go.
The very last mourner wrapped up her conversation with Jill, and moved along the line so that she was standing in front of him. He had no idea if this was the friend the other woman had been referring to, but she was a very elegant lady in a dark navy suit, her hair pulled back into a small bun at the nape of her neck.
He forced a tight smile as he reached out to shake her hand. One more mourner. Just one more. The cars were already lined up next to them, ready to take them to the hotel.
‘I’m so sorry for your loss,’ she said in a very soft, polite voice, that was nothing like the gravelly brogue of the woman who’d gone before her.
‘Thank you. It was very kind of you to come today. I’m Zac. Audrey was my aunt.’ He must have made that introduction twenty times in the last half an hour.
‘So I guess from the accent that you must be Morag’s son,’ the woman said. ‘I was so sorry to hear that she’d passed away. I came here today to pay my respects to Audrey, because she was always very kind to me, but I was actually Morag’s friend when we were growing up. To be honest, I was hoping that she’d be here and I’m so sorry that she isn’t. Your mum was a very special lady. I was sad to lose touch with her when she moved to Ireland.’
He lost interest in the fact that the cars were waiting, or that the other family members had now headed in that direction. This woman had known his mum before she went to Ireland. All he wanted to do now was speak to her, ask her a millionquestions about the young Morag Corlan. Or Morag McTay, as she’d have been then.
‘So you knew her before she left Glasgow, before she had me?’ It was out before he’d thought it through, but if she thought it was a strange question, she didn’t show it.
‘Yes. We met when we started high school. And then, later, we worked together at the same legal firm. I was the receptionist, and she was one of the secretaries. We were best friends for many years. She was great fun and we had some wonderful times.’
This was totally intriguing. If they were such good friends, why had they lost touch? Why hadn’t his mum gone to see her when they came back on any of the twice-yearly visits to Glasgow that they’d made every year of his life? It didn’t make sense. He’d always known his mum to be a faithful friend who hung on to the people she loved. Her own funeral had been absolutely packed with pals that she’d met and kept close in her thirty years in Ireland. Now that he came to think about it, though, when they were in Glasgow, the only people she spent time with were family members. Why had he never questioned why she had no friends from here? And why was he only realising that now? Or was it just that his brain was so blown away by the questions raised by the strip of photos of his mum and dad on their first date, that he was questioning everything and nothing was making sense anymore?
The note of apology to someone he’d never heard of, and the photo booth snapshots were now burning a hole in the inside pocket of his jacket. He wasn’t sure why he’d brought them – it just felt right to keep something his mum had touched close to his heart, and he hadn’t wanted to leave them back at Aunt Audrey’s house in case his dad spotted them. His father had enough to deal with and Zac didn’t want to force him to have a tough conversation on a day like this – or on any other day.
‘Excuse me, Zac, but the cars are waiting for you.’ That came from Hamish, who’d come back to get him.
Zac felt his pulse quicken, realising that it was time to wrap up a conversation that he didn’t want to end. Maybe this woman was one of those people who exaggerated relationships and tried to make herself feel important by inserting herself into other folk’s dramas and heartache, but, truthfully, he was pretty good at reading people and didn’t get that vibe from her.
That thought gave way to another one. Maybe she’d be able to shed some light on the timescale of events, perhaps answer his question about the date on the back of the photographs. ‘I don’t want to put you on the spot, but are you coming back to the hotel for tea? I’d really like to talk to you a little more.’
‘I wasn’t planning to, but…’ The woman’s gaze went to her friend, the lady with the blonde hair, who was patiently waiting a few feet away, and he watched as they appeared to have a silent conversation that consisted of eyebrows raised in question, then very subtle nods, leading to, ‘Yes, okay. I’d be very happy to come back to speak with you. I think Morag would have liked that.’
Zac’s shoulders dropped in relief. ‘Thank you so much. I’ll see you there.’
He shook her hand again, then watched as she took a few steps towards her waiting friend. He turned around, ready to make his way to the large black vehicle only a few feet away, when he had a thought.
‘Excuse me,’ he called after her, keeping his voice as low as possible, so as not to be disrespectful to his surroundings. ‘I didn’t catch your name.’
The older woman turned, gave him an apologetic smile. ‘I’m so sorry. I should have introduced myself. I’m Alice.’
9
ALICE
Glasgow Airport – May 1995
Alice rolled down the window of Larry’s Mercedes and tried not to panic because he was doing 95mph on the motorway. The legal firm she worked for had already made three of his speeding fines disappear and she wasn’t sure they could swing a fourth.
That was actually how she’d met him. He was a frequent flyer at her office, and always stopped at her desk for some chat, which she was happy to reciprocate. All in the name of customer service of course. Nothing to do with him being six foot three, and so good-looking he could easily be one of those male models on the aftershave adverts. Not that he was in need of a job. Everyone knew that Larry McLenn owned several of the coolest, trendiest wine bars in the city, and he was photographed almost as much as the celebrities who partied in them. Alice had seen him a few times when she’d been in his bars with her ex-boyfriend – a Premier League football player who’d transferred down to an English club a few months before. Alice hadn’t cared that he’d moved away. She was twenty-five, free, single, had a great job, and was loving life in her tiny but gorgeous city-centreflat. In fact, she was the one who often got mistaken for a model, which she always thought was hilarious because last time she checked, Cindy Crawford and Naomi Campbell weren’t nipping into C&A for their Saturday night outfits. Not that it mattered. Her best friend, Morag, always said that she could throw on a bin bag and make it look good.
When Larry had asked her out, she hadn’t hesitated. Who would? Sure, he was a bit older than her, in his early thirties already, but that just meant he already had his life sorted and knew what he wanted – and as he’d been telling her since the first time they got together, what he wanted now was her.
It went both ways. They’d been dating for six months, and she loved everything about him: his charm, his intelligence, his drive, the way he got things done. Sure, some people – her parents included – thought he was arrogant and a bit boastful and flash, but she knew that was just confidence. They just didn’t know him as well as she did, didn’t see how much he loved her, how well he treated her, always spoiling her with little gifts and treating her to amazing nights out and weekends away. He made her absolutely giddy and not just because he drove too fast.
Today was just another example of his good heart. Morag was going to Ireland with her boyfriend, Cillian, and Larry had offered to drive them to Glasgow Airport for their flight. How kind was that?
Morag had insisted they could get a taxi, but Larry wouldn’t hear of it. That’s how sweet he was, giving up his night to do something lovely for one of her friends. Just as she was thinking that, he took one hand off the wheel, and reached over to the passenger seat to squeeze her hand. Her anxiety over his Formula One driving slid up a notch, but she knew he was just trying to console her because she was sad about Morag leaving. And Morag must be feeling the same way because neither shenor her boyfriend, Cillian, had said a word since they’d got in the car.
Larry took his hand back, and put it on the wheel as he steered the car off the motorway, down the slip road and round to the car park in front of the terminal building. They got lucky when a Cortina pulled out of a space in the front row and Larry nipped straight in there.
