Just a Fan (33 page)

'Awwww! Son!' she cried, noticing Connor first, as he was the one highest up the steps. He let her draw him into a heartfelt, motherly embrace, and I smiled at their closeness. 'It's nearly been a whole
year
since ah've no' seen ye! Ah've only been seein' ye on the telly and in magazines and on posters!'

'It's been busy for me,' Connor replied, and then his mother spotted me.

'Ooh! Is thes yer Lillian?' she gasped excitedly. 'Just as bonny in real life!' To my extreme surprise, I found myself suddenly enfolded by her arms in a very friendly hug.

'It's lovely to meet you, Mrs MacGowan,' I replied, slightly bemused by this unexpectedly affectionate greeting, but at the same time very touched by it. No wonder Connor was still so close with her...

'Aw, jes' call me Kathleen, pet,' she said with a big smile as she disengaged herself. 'Ah've haird so much aboot ye fra' Connor...Anywie, let's geit ye all inseid, ye mus' be jeeked after such a long trep!'

Still prattling on, she led us all inside. Connor grinned down at me, and I returned it, letting him steer me through the front door and into the hallway.

From the moment I entered the hallway of Connor's parents' house, I felt oddly at home. The carpet was a fine, light blue colour, and the white walls were decorated with little framed watercolour paintings. By the wall to our left there was a long, well-polished sideboard, upon which there stood several ornaments and pots, as well as framed photographs.

'The speer roum's upsteers,' Kathleen said. 'Connor knows the wie, if ye want tae put yer bags theer...oh! Craig! Ye gave me a fright...'

A grey-haired, bespectacled man had just appeared around the door of what seemed to be the living room, grinning widely. I recognised him immediately as Connor's father; the curly hair and the familiarly-shaped brow were both distinguishable on him. The only apparent differences between him and Connor were the nose shape and the eye colour - other than that, the pair of them looked remarkably alike.

'Connor, lad! Hoo's all wi' ye?' Craig MacGowan asked, embracing his tall son and patting him firmly on the back. 'Yer weel tae!'

'Ah'm guid, ah'm guid,' replied Connor, in an accent just as gravelly as his father's.

Craig laughed, and told him: 'See, it's ben awfu' odd wi' ye awie tae fremd fra so long...but ah ken ye really mak saut tae yer kail, noo!'

I kept smiling, but found that I was the only one who had not understood a single word of what Connor's father had just said. If anyone had ever thought of Scottish as being simply English with an accent, then they were very wrong indeed. I had a feeling that I was going to need subtitles for my entire stay here.

'Aye, ah do now!' Connor answered to his father with a chuckle. 'Dad, this here's Lillian - ah'm sure Mum's told ye aboot her before...'

'Aye, Lillian!' said Craig, nodding.

'It's very nice to meet you,' I told him, shaking his hand and feeling tremendously glad that I had understood him.

My confidence, however, happened to be short-lived, as Craig replied: 'Ach, it's fair fine tae be meetin' ye, lass! Ah'm thenkin' ye maun be forfochten after comin' frae so far awie, eh no?'

I blinked.

'I'm sorry?' I asked, completely lost.

Kathleen tutted. 'Craig, ah've
told
ye aboot thes!' she said to her husband in a tone of exasperation. 'Noo one can understand ye when ye talk leik tha'...'

I blushed, and noticed Connor was silently laughing to himself. He caught my eye and then told me: 'He's askin' whether ye're tired after our trip, Lilly.'

'Oh, right,' I replied hurriedly, enlightened, then went on to Connor's father: 'I am a bit, but I'm fine.'

Aware now that his speech was incomprehensible to me, Craig grinned and nodded, answering with a concise but coherent: 'Guid, guid.'

'Reet! Anyone for tea?' Kathleen announced to the room at large.

''s the truth tha' Connor's a lad o' pairts,' Craig was saying a few minutes later once the luggage was upstairs and we were all in the living room with our cups of tea. Gracie had departed back to her own home, since she had been expected back fairly quickly. 'He alwies woz a tee'd baw, see - but we jes' didnae notice it! An' then, 'fore we kent it, he woz up theer on th' telly in his mouvies - deed, he can dae 't feine, too. An' then theer's oor Gracie as weel - she bes wirkin in th' muckle touns, the noo, wi' her designin'...'

I quickly glanced to the side, and noticed Connor appearing bashful. I took this to mean that his father had been complimenting him in some way, even though I had only understood snippets of what he had said.

'It's nice to come back home once in a while, though,' Connor replied, sounding modest.

'Ye're alwies welcome, son,' Kathleen told him, beaming. 'An' ye, too, Lillian! It's so lovely to finally be meetin' ye, after hearin' so much aboot ye!'

'Thank you,' I said with a smile, never ceasing to feel pleasantly surprised at how warm and kind she was.

'Tha's feine, pet,' she answered, and then looked up at her son. 'Ye know, ah saw a bus the day before wi' a
huge
picture o' ye on it, Connor! It made me so
proud
, seein' ma oon lad up on the posters ev'ryweer...Did ye no' say ye went tae see tha' new mouvie o' yours?'

'Aye, we did,' Connor said, nodding, and was about to continue when a lithe brown form abruptly sprang up onto the sofa where we sat.

'Och, Biscuits...' tutted Kathleen as the tabby cat proceeded to delicately sniff Connor's arm, then climb onto his lap.

I smiled. 'So this is your cat?'

'Aye, an' a gallus wee thing it is, most o' the time,' Kathleen replied. 'Found her on the doorstep one day, hasnae left us sence.'

'Ah've missed ye,' Connor murmured happily to the cat as he stroked its rounded head and long, curving back. It seemed to have recognised him, and was now rubbing its head affectionately against his large hand, starting to purr thunderously. Eyes slits of contentment, it began to luxuriously knead the fabric of Connor's jumper with its paws, occasionally getting its claws stuck but seeming to enjoy itself anyway.

'I never had a cat,' I said. 'I always just took care of the neighbours' cats whenever they came over.'

'Well, I suppose animals are just like kids, in a wie,' Connor replied. 'Ye only really like them if they're someone else's.'

We all laughed at this, and then the cat, Biscuits, decided to investigate me. She carefully sniffed my hand, and when I began to stroke her just like Connor had, she soon warmed to me and decided that I was not an immediate threat.

'So wheerabouts in England are ye from, then, Lillian?' Kathleen asked me interestedly.

'In the South, near London,' I told her, then gave Connor a sidelong look with a smile. 'In a town where Connor goes to have photoshoots sometimes.'

'Aw, of
course
,' she answered, looking at us both with fondness. 'Ah read aboot tha' in the magazine article - an' the both o' ye look so lovely in the picture...'

'Ma, certes!' agreed Craig from his armchair.

'Thanks,' Connor replied, grinning.

'Oh, goodness, it's gettin' leet already!' Kathleen abruptly said, looking at the smart little clock hanging on the wall. 'Ah'd better start the cookin'...Connor, if ye've finished yer tea, would ye like tae show Lillian wheer ev'rythin' is upsteers?'

'Gladly,' said Connor, dislodging Biscuits from his lap and getting up. 'This way, Lilly!'

The second floor of the house was just as airy and comfortable as the first, with the same thick carpets in all of the rooms. Our bedroom, the guest room, had lovely wide windows, just like the living room downstairs.

'We'll be sleepin' here,' Connor told me. 'This used tae be ma room...'

I grinned at him.

He frowned. 'What?'

'I love the way you've started talking now that you're back here,' I giggled. 'I didn't know you could roll your "r"s any more than you did before...'

He laughed, gathering me into his arms. 'It's funny ye should say that - ah don't even notice it maself...' he chuckled. 'But now ye mention it, ah suppose I
am
rollin' ma "r"s a bit...'

'Just a bit,' I replied, curling my fingers into his soft jumper. Then, I looked up at him with a bright smile. 'D'you think you could teach
me
some Scottish?'

Connor laughed. 'If ye want,' he answered. 'OK then...try sayin' "Gi'e 's a smuirich".'

'...Again?'

'Gi'e 's a smuirich.'

I raised my eyebrows, but tried nevertheless: 'Geeus a...smyereghghgh?'

He laughed out loud at this attempt. 'Try again.
Smuirich
.'

'Smyeur-what?'

'Smuir
ich
,' repeated Connor patiently, effortlessly making the oddest of guttural sounds.

'Smyeur-
eggghhhh
?' I tried.

'Nearly,' Connor chuckled. 'One more time.'

'I just sound like I'm choking on something,' I grumbled, but tried again anyway. 'Alright then - gee-'s a smyeeu'reggghhh.'

'Very good!' laughed Connor - but I suspected he was more amused than impressed at my attempt to imitate his effortless Scots. 'I think I
will
gi'e ye a smuirich.'

He quickly leaned forward and kissed, taking me by surprise.

'Mm!' I exclaimed in happy shock, my knees immediately turning to jelly. Once he had finished assaulting me, he grinned at me. 'What did you make me say?' I asked him, still breathless.

'Gi'e 's a smuirich...tha's "give me a kiss",' explained Connor with a mischievous look.

'Oh...I should have known,' I replied, shaking my head in mock disapproval. He merely beamed at me.

'Well, tha' was yer Scottish initiation!' he said. 'Ye lairn very quickly, I mus' say...'

Still grinning, blue eyes glinting in the faint sunlight from the window, he went over to the large cupboard that was against one wall.

'What are you doing?' I asked him inquisitively, following him.

'Ah keep forgetting tae look through this cupboard,' he told me, opening it. 'Ma Mum said she still kept some o' ma stuff in here...
oh, wow!
Haha!' With a suddenly excited laugh, Connor leant even further into the cupboard, and pulled out something wooden. 'Oh, God, I'd forgotten I still had this...'

Connor lifted out a slightly dusty guitar from the depths of the cupboard, and ran a hand smoothly over the wooden body of it. He experimentally strummed the strings, and twiddled with the tuning pegs in a way that seemed second nature to him.