don’t know.’ She is finding the whole situation bewildering.
‘Please, Mum? You’ll need to get your adoption certificate from Dad. Do you think you can manage that?’
‘I don’t imagine it will be too difficult, Mannie,’ she says, a little acidly.
Mannie apologises at once. ‘Sorry, Mum, I didn’t mean to be patronising. Or pushy. And you don’t need to do this if you don’t want to, but—’ she lets the pause run on significantly.
‘I’ll think about it, Mannie.’ Susie can see Karen waving at her, tapping her watch and holding up seven fingers. Seven minutes till the vote. She will have to run.
‘Come on, Mum,’ Mannie pleads.
Despite her daughter’s attempts to pretend Susie is the person in control here, she’s clearly not going to let this go. Susie is amused despite herself. No wonder her daughter is such a successful saleswoman.
Mannie presses on. ‘I can’t do this for you. You have to be the one to get the birth certificate.’
‘Oh Mannie,’ she sighs tiredly, ‘I’m due in the Chamber in a minute, there’s a late debate after that, then I’m hosting a reception and my email backlog has topped three thousand. I don’t know, darling. I really don’t. Can we talk about this later? In a week or two?’
‘Mu-um. It’s important.’
Susie sighs. ‘Mannie, important is making sure that schoolchildren still have music lessons. Important is securing funding so that remote communities can still have visits from touring theatre companies. Important is enabling health care to reach people who need it and—’
‘Spare me the politics, Mum, just say yes.’
‘Sweetheart, I’ve got to go—’
But Mannie has never been a child to let go once she set her heart on something. ‘All right, Mum. Just put me on to Karen, will you?’ She says it sweetly, but there is no mistaking the determination in her voice. ‘Then you can whisk off to press those buttons or whatever it is you do for the vote. I won’t be a bother, honest.’
Maybe it is the wimp’s way out but with only four minutes to go, Susie simply hands the phone to Karen and runs.
They’re standing on the broad stone steps of the National Records of Scotland in Edinburgh’s east end.
It’s just a building. I’ll just get a bit of paper. That’s all. A piece of paper can’t hurt me.
She is trembling.
‘Okay, Mum?’
Mannie is looking at her anxiously. Susie takes her hand and squeezes it, as much to get reassurance as to give it. ‘Fine. Let’s do it.’
A piece of paper, that’s all.
They walk inside together.
‘Have you ever used another name?’ The woman at the desk asks the question diffidently.
‘My maiden name, of course.’
‘Other than that?’
Mannie nudges her.
‘Oh – you mean – yes I, well I—’ Now that it comes to it, nerves are threatening to overwhelm her.
‘Mum knows she was adopted,’ Mannie says smoothly.
‘That’s a relief.’ The soft brown eyes flicker upwards, the jaw loosens, the hands visibly relax. ‘Sometimes people aren’t aware, you know,’ the clerk goes on, leaning forward confidentially. ‘It can be quite a shock.’
For the first time in weeks, Susie begins to think she has been lucky after all. At least she isn’t standing here in this room, being landed with that bombshell.
A phone call. A wait. Another room, a stack of documents, a large ledger, another woman. ‘I’m going to show you the Court Order for your adoption,’ she says, her voice friendly.
It’s going to tell me my name.
A hot hand slips into hers. ‘It’s okay, Mum.’
Christ, it’s stifling in here.
She gathers her thick mane of hair with her right hand and scoops it back to allow what air there is to cool the back of her neck. Mannie is looking at her, excitement bubbling in her eyes. She has wound herself up over this thing like a tightly coiled spring. The energy stored in that coil is explosive, she’s scarcely able to contain her feverish anticipation. Just
‘Please, Mum? You’ll need to get your adoption certificate from Dad. Do you think you can manage that?’
‘I don’t imagine it will be too difficult, Mannie,’ she says, a little acidly.
Mannie apologises at once. ‘Sorry, Mum, I didn’t mean to be patronising. Or pushy. And you don’t need to do this if you don’t want to, but—’ she lets the pause run on significantly.
‘I’ll think about it, Mannie.’ Susie can see Karen waving at her, tapping her watch and holding up seven fingers. Seven minutes till the vote. She will have to run.
‘Come on, Mum,’ Mannie pleads.
Despite her daughter’s attempts to pretend Susie is the person in control here, she’s clearly not going to let this go. Susie is amused despite herself. No wonder her daughter is such a successful saleswoman.
Mannie presses on. ‘I can’t do this for you. You have to be the one to get the birth certificate.’
‘Oh Mannie,’ she sighs tiredly, ‘I’m due in the Chamber in a minute, there’s a late debate after that, then I’m hosting a reception and my email backlog has topped three thousand. I don’t know, darling. I really don’t. Can we talk about this later? In a week or two?’
‘Mu-um. It’s important.’
Susie sighs. ‘Mannie, important is making sure that schoolchildren still have music lessons. Important is securing funding so that remote communities can still have visits from touring theatre companies. Important is enabling health care to reach people who need it and—’
‘Spare me the politics, Mum, just say yes.’
‘Sweetheart, I’ve got to go—’
But Mannie has never been a child to let go once she set her heart on something. ‘All right, Mum. Just put me on to Karen, will you?’ She says it sweetly, but there is no mistaking the determination in her voice. ‘Then you can whisk off to press those buttons or whatever it is you do for the vote. I won’t be a bother, honest.’
Maybe it is the wimp’s way out but with only four minutes to go, Susie simply hands the phone to Karen and runs.
They’re standing on the broad stone steps of the National Records of Scotland in Edinburgh’s east end.
It’s just a building. I’ll just get a bit of paper. That’s all. A piece of paper can’t hurt me.
She is trembling.
‘Okay, Mum?’
Mannie is looking at her anxiously. Susie takes her hand and squeezes it, as much to get reassurance as to give it. ‘Fine. Let’s do it.’
A piece of paper, that’s all.
They walk inside together.
‘Have you ever used another name?’ The woman at the desk asks the question diffidently.
‘My maiden name, of course.’
‘Other than that?’
Mannie nudges her.
‘Oh – you mean – yes I, well I—’ Now that it comes to it, nerves are threatening to overwhelm her.
‘Mum knows she was adopted,’ Mannie says smoothly.
‘That’s a relief.’ The soft brown eyes flicker upwards, the jaw loosens, the hands visibly relax. ‘Sometimes people aren’t aware, you know,’ the clerk goes on, leaning forward confidentially. ‘It can be quite a shock.’
For the first time in weeks, Susie begins to think she has been lucky after all. At least she isn’t standing here in this room, being landed with that bombshell.
A phone call. A wait. Another room, a stack of documents, a large ledger, another woman. ‘I’m going to show you the Court Order for your adoption,’ she says, her voice friendly.
It’s going to tell me my name.
A hot hand slips into hers. ‘It’s okay, Mum.’
Christ, it’s stifling in here.
She gathers her thick mane of hair with her right hand and scoops it back to allow what air there is to cool the back of her neck. Mannie is looking at her, excitement bubbling in her eyes. She has wound herself up over this thing like a tightly coiled spring. The energy stored in that coil is explosive, she’s scarcely able to contain her feverish anticipation. Just
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