Mr Mingin (15 page)

“Whit dae ye mean, ye were tae feart tae tell me? I love ye, and I ayewis will, whether ye’ve got a joab at the stupit caur factory or no?”

Da pit his airm aroond her and she cooried in, bringin her heid up tae meet his lips wi hers. The kiss cairried on and on for a wheen moments mair, as Chloe and Annabelle looked on wi a mixter-maxter o pride and embarrassment. Yer mither and faither kissin. Braw but at the same time, boak. Seein them winchin is even warse. Boak boak boakity boak.

“I
wid
go back tae bein in a rock band, but you pit ma guitar on the bonfire!” said Da wi a keckle.

“Dinnae!” said Maw. “I still feel sae bad aboot that. I fell for ye like a ton o bricks when I first saw ye on stage wi the band. Yon’s why I mairried ye. But when the first album didnae sell I could see hoo upset ye were, and I couldnae bear it. I thocht I wis tryin tae help ye move on wi yer life, but noo I realise aw I did wis crush yer dreams. And that’s why I dinnae want tae mak the same mistak twice.”

She got up and sterted rakin in the bottom drawer o the sideboard whaur she kept her secret stash o Bendicks chocolate mints. “I am sae sorry I tore up yer story, Chloe.” Maw poued oot the maths jotter belangin Chloe that she’d rived intae a thoosand wee bitties. She had painstakinly sellotaped the haill thing back thegither, and, her een sheenin yet wi tears, haundit it back tae Chloe. “Efter
Question Time
I had a lot o time tae think,” she said. “I fished this oot o the bin and I read it tae the end, Chloe. It’s jist brilliant.”

Chloe taen the buik back wi a smile. “I promise tae dae better in ma maths lessons fae noo on, Maw.”

“Thank you, Chloe. And I hae somethin for ye tae, ma darlin,” said Maw tae Da. Fae unner the tree she poued oot a bonnie wrapped giftie that wis exactly the same shape as an electric guitar.

“
I’ve got some bleck leather mistletae this Christmas,

I’m gonnae kiss ye and gie ye a bad shavin rash …”

Da had plugged his sheeny new electric guitar intae its amp and wis struttin up and doon the front room gallusly chantin yin o his auld band’s sangs. He wis clearly haein the time o his life. It wis awmaist as if his perm had grown back in as weel. Maw, Chloe, Annabelle and Mr Mingin sat on the sofae and clapped alang. Even Elizabeth and the Duchess were cooried in thegither noddin their heids in time wi the music. The heavy rock wisnae tae Mr Mingin’s cup o tea, and tae deefen the noise he had sleekitly reinsertit his rabbit keech lug-plugs.

“Aye hen, I’m gonnae eat aw yer mince pies,

And gie ye a richt guid yuletide surprise … !”

The sang endit wi a muckle flourish on Da’s guitar, and his tottie stadium o fans cheered and clapped him excitedly.

“Thank you, Hampden. Thank you awfie muckle. That wis The Serpents o Deeth’s Christmas singil, ‘Bleck Leather Mistletae’ which rocketit tae nummer 98 in the chairts. Noo for ma nixt sang …”

“I think that’s enough heavy rock music jist noo, ma dear,” said Maw, as if she micht awready be regrettin giein him the guitar. She turnt tae Chloe and said, “Ye dinnae want tae leave ony mair, dae ye?”

“Naw I dinnae, Maw. No in a million years. This is the best Christmas ever.”

“Och, wunnerfu!” said Maw. “It’s braw that we’re aw thegither haein fun like this.”

“But …” said Chloe. “There is yin thing I wid like.”

“Name it,” said Maw.

“I wid like Mr Mingin tae move in properly.”

“Whit?” spiered Maw wi a pech.

“Yon’s a guid idea,” said Da. “We’ve aw loved haein ye aroond, Mr Mingin.”

“Aye, ye feel pairt o the faimlie noo,” said Annabelle.

“Weel, I suppose he could stey for a wee bit langer in the shed …” said Maw reluctantly.

“I didnae mean in the shed. I meant in oor hoose,” said Chloe.

“Coorse he should,” said Da.

“That wid be braw!” said Annabelle, delichted at the idea.

“Weel, eh, oh, um …” Maw looked mair and mair floostered. “I dae really appreciate whit Mr Mingin has done for us, but I’m no sure he wid feel at hame here. I cannae imagine he has ever steyed in a hoose as braw as this …”

“Actually, Mr Mingin used tae bide in a stately hame,” correctit Chloe gleefully.

“Whit? As a servant?” said Maw.

“Naw, it wis
his
stately hame. Mr Mingin is really a lord.”

“A lord? Is this true, Mr Mingin?”

“Aye, Mrs Pluuuuummmm.”

“A poash tink! Weel, that chynges awthin!” annoonced Maw, beamin wi pride that she finally had somebody stately in the hoose. “Husband, tak the plastic covers aff the sofae. Annabelle, get oot the best cheenie! And if ye wid like tae use the doonstairs cludgie at ony time Lord Mingin, I hae the key richt here.”

“Thank you, but I’m no needin tae go richt noo. Och, hing on a meenit …”

They aw looked at Mr Mingin expectantly. Chloe, Annabelle and Da were jist curious tae finally see whit the doonstairs cludgie actually looked like fae the inside, since nane o them had ever been allooed in.

“Naw … naw, false alairm.”

Maw cairried on haiverin braithlessly. “And … and … and ye can hae oor bedroom, yer lordship! I can sleep on the sofae bed and ma husband wid be mair than happy tae flit in tae the shed.

“Whit the—?” said Da.

“Please … please … please stey here wi us,” interjectit Chloe.

Mr Mingin sat in silence for a meenit. The cup and saucer in his hauns sterted rattlin, then a wee tear formed in his ee. It traivelled slowly doon his cheek, makkin a lang streak o white on his clatty fizzog. The Duchess looked up at him and tenderly licked it aff her maister’s coupon. Chloe’s haun tiptaed its wey across the sofae tae comfort him.

He held it ticht. He held it sae ticht that she kent this wis fareweel.

“Sic undeemous kindness. Thank you. Thank you aw sae muckle. But I’m gonnae hae tae say naw.”

“Stey wi us for Christmas Day and Boaxin Day at least,” pleadit Annabelle. “Please …?” said Chloe.

“Thank you,” said Mr Mingin. “But I hae tae refuse.”

“But why?” demandit Chloe.

“Ma wark here is feenished. And I’m a stravaiger,” said Mr Mingin. “It’s time for me tae stravaig on.”

“But we want ye tae be safe and warm wi us,” said Chloe. Tears were rollin doon her cheeks noo. Annabelle dichted awa her sister’s tears wi her sleeve.

“I am sorry, Miss Chloe. I hae tae go. Nae tears please. Nae fuss. Fareweel tae you aw and thank you for aw yer kindness.” Mr Mingin pit doon his cup and saucer, and heided for the door. “Come oan, Duchess,” he said. “It’s time tae gang.”

He walked aff intae the muinlicht. The muin wis fu and bricht that nicht, and it looked sae perjink that it couldnae be real. It wis as if it had been paintit, and hingit there on a heuk, it wis sae impossibly bonnie. There wisnae ony snaw, there never is at Christmas nooadays, except on the cairds. Insteid the streets were weet fae a stoarm, and the muin wis reflectit in hunners o wee dubs. Maist o the hooses were fantoosh wi Christmas decorations o yin sort or anither, wi the fairy lichts on Christmas trees glentin through the double-glazin. The decorations looked awmaist bonnie as weel, competin wi the stars and the muin in their ain dwaiblie wey. Aw ye could hear wis the rhythmic sclaff o Mr Mingin’s sharnie shuin as he shauchled slowly alang the road, the leal Duchess follaein a pace ahint him, her heid boued.

Chloe watched him unseen fae an upstairs windae. Her haun touched the cauld gless, tryin tae rax oot tae him. She watched him disappear oot o sicht, afore slippin back tae her room.

Then, sittin there on her bed, she minded a reason tae see him yin last time.

“
Lily and the Flesh-Scrannin Zombie Dominies!
” she shouted, as she ran doon the street.

“Miss Chloe?” said Mr Mingin turnin aroond.

“I hae been thinkin and thinkin aboot Lily’s saicont adventure. I wid love tae tell it tae ye noo!”

“Scrieve it doon for me, lass.”

“Scrieve it doon?” spiered Chloe.

“Aye,” said Mr Mingin. “Yin day I want tae walk intae a buikshoap and see your name on yin o the covers. You hae a talent for tellin stories, Chloe.”

“
Dae
I?” Chloe had never felt she had a talent for onythin.

“Aye. Aw that time spent alane in yer room will pey aff yin day. You hae a byordinar imagination, young lady. A real gift. Ye should share it wi the warld.”

“Thank you, Mr Mingin,” said Chloe blately.

“I’m gled ye cam runnin efter me though,” said Mr Mingin. “I jist minded I hae somethin for ye.”

“For me?”

“Aye, I saved up aw ma loose chynge and bocht ye a Christmas present. I think it’s somethin raither special.”

Mr Mingin raiked aboot in his poke and poued oot a package wrapped in broon paper and tied up wi string. He haundit it tae Chloe, wha unwrapped it aw excitit. Inside wis a Teenage Mutant Ninja Torties stationery set.

“It’s yin o thae Teenybasher Mental Karate Tatties stationery sets. I thocht ye’d like it. Mr Raj telt me it wis the verra last yin he had in his shoap.”

“Did he noo?” Chloe smiled. “This is the brawest giftie I’ve ever had.” She wisnae leein. That Mr Mingin had saved up aw his bawbees tae buy her somethin meant the haill warld tae her. “I will treisure it ayewis, I promise.”

“Thank you,” Mr Mingin said.

“And you’ve jist gien ma haill faimlie the brawest Christmas present ever. Ye brocht us thegither.”

“Weel, I’m no sure I can tak aw the credit for that!” he smiled. “Noo, ye should really go hame noo, young Chloe. It’s cauld, and it feels like it’s gonnae rain.”

“I dinnae like the thocht o ye sleepin ootside,” she said. “Especially on a cauld dreich nicht like this.”

Mr Mingin smiled. “I like bein ootside, ye ken. On oor waddin nicht, ma darlin Violet shawed me the brichtest star in the sky. Can ye see? That yin there?”

He pointit it oot. It skinkled brichtly like his een.

“I see it,” said Chloe.

“Weel, that nicht we stood on the balcony o oor bedroom and she said she wid love me for as lang as that star kept sheenin. Sae ilka nicht, afore I go tae sleep, I like tae gaze up at that star and think aboot her, and the great love we shared. I see the star, and it’s her I see.”

“That is sae bonnie,” said Chloe, tremmlin and tryin haurd no tae greet.

“Ma wife is aye wi me. Ilka nicht she meets me in ma dreams. Noo awa hame. And dinnae worry aboot me, Chloe. I hae the Duchess and ma star.”

“But I’ll miss ye,” said Chloe.

Mr Mingin smiled, then pointit up at the sky. “Dae ye see Violet’s star?” he spiered.

Chloe noddit.

“Dae ye see hoo there’s anither wee star jist unner it?”

“Aye,” said Chloe. Up in the nicht sky, Violet’s star bleezed brichtly. Ablow it, a smawer star skinkled in the bleckness.

“Weel, you are an awfie special young lady,” said Mr Mingin. “And when I keek up at
that
star I am gonnae think aboot you.”

Chloe wis whummled wi emotion. “Thank you,” she said. “And I’ll keek up at it and think aboot you.”

She gied him a muckle hug and didnae want tae let go. He stood still and held her for a meenit afore rockin a wee bit tae himsel tae set himsel free. “I hae tae gang noo. Ma sowel is restless and I need tae stravaig. Guidbye, Miss Chloe.”

“Guidbye, Mr Mingin.”

The stravaiger stravaiged aff doon the road as nicht paddit like a panther doon the sky. She watched him disappear oot o sicht, until aw that could be heard wis silence echoin aroond the streets.

Later that nicht, Chloe sat alane on her bed. Mr Mingin wis gane. Mibbe forever. But she could aye smell him. She wid ayewis be able tae smell him.

She opened her maths jotter and sterted tae scrieve the first words o her new story.

Mr Mingin minged …