steyed late intae the nicht, selfishly drinkin and talkin and smokin cigars …”
“Whit dae ye mean, selfishly?” said Chloe.
“Because I shouldnae ever hae left ma wife on her ain. We were caucht in a snawstorm on the wey hame. I didnae get back until jist afore daw o day, and foond that the hoose wis in a bleeze …”
“Och naw!” cried Chloe, no sure if she could bear tae hear the lave o the story.
“A piece o coal must hae fawn oot o the fireplace in oor bedroom, and set the cairpet alicht as she slept. I ran oot o the Rolls and wadit through the deep snaw. Desperately I tried tae fecht ma wey intae the hoose, but the fire brigade widnae let me. It taen five o them tae haud me back. They tried their best tae save her but it wis ower late. The roof cowped in. Violet didnae staund a chaunce.
“Oh ma Gode!” Chloe sabbed.
Tears filled the auld tink’s een. Chloe didnae ken whit tae dae. Dealin wi emotions wis a new thing tae her, but tentatively she raxed oot her haun tae comfort him. Time seemed tae slow doon as her haun raxed his. This made the tears flow even mair, and he shoogled wi hauf a century o pain.
“If ainly I hadnae been at the club that nicht, I could hae saved her. I could hae held her aw nicht, made her feel safe and warm. She widnae hae needit the fire. Ma darlin, darlin Violet.” Chloe squeezed his clarty haun ticht.
“Ye cannae blame yersel for the fire.”
“I should hae been there for her. I should hae been there …”
“It wis an accident,” said Chloe. “Ye hae tae forgie yersel.”
“I cannae. I cannae ever.”
“Ye’re a guid man, Mr Mingin. Whit happent wis an awfie accident. Ye hae tae believe that.”
“Thank you, lass. I shouldnae really greet. No on public transport.” He sniffed, and gaithered himsel thegither a wee bit.
“Sae,” said Chloe, “hoo did ye end up livin on the streets?”
“Weel, I wis hertbroken. Utterly inconsolable. I had loast ma unborn bairn and the wummin I loved. Efter the funeral I tried tae gang back tae bide in the hoose. I steyed alane in a pairt o the hoose that hadnae been sae badly damaged in the bleeze. But the hoose cairried sae mony painfu mindins, I couldnae sleep. Steyin there gied me sic awfie nichtmares. I kept seein her face in the flames. I had tae get awa.
Sae yin day I sterted walkin and I never gaed back.”
“I am sae sorry,” said Chloe. “If ainly folk kent that …”
“Like I said on the televisual apparatus, ilka hameless buddie has a story tae tell,” said Mr Mingin. “That’s mines. I am sorry it doesnae involve spies or pirates or onythin like yon. Real life isnae like that, ken? And I didnae mean tae upset ye.”
“Christmas must be the haurdest time for ye,” said Chloe.
“Aye, aye, coorse. Christmas is an emblem o perfect happiness I find awfie haurd tae bear. It’s a time when faimlies come thegither. For me it minds me o wha’s no here.”
The bus raxed their stap, and Chloe’s airm foond a hame in Mr Mingin’s as they walked towards the faimlie hoose. She wis gled tae see that aw the reporters and camera crews were awa. The funny auld tink must be auld news by noo.
“I jist wish I could mak awthin richt,” said Chloe.
“But ye are makkin awthin richt, Miss Chloe. Ever since you cam and talked tae me. Ye’ve made me smile again. Ye’ve been sae kind tae me. Ye ken, if ma bairn had endit up like you, I wid hae been awfie prood.”
Chloe wis sae touched she could haurdly think o whit tae say. “Weel,” she said. “I ken ye wid hae made a brilliant faither.”
“Thank ye, lass. Undeemous kindness.”
Near the hoose, Chloe looked at it and realised somethin. She didnae want tae go hame. She didnae want tae bide wi her awfie Mither and hae tae gang tae that horrible poash schuil ony mair. They walked in silence for a meenit, then Chloe taen a deep braith and turnt tae Mr Mingin.
“I dinnae want tae go back there,” she said. “I want tae go stravaigin wi
“Whit dae ye mean, selfishly?” said Chloe.
“Because I shouldnae ever hae left ma wife on her ain. We were caucht in a snawstorm on the wey hame. I didnae get back until jist afore daw o day, and foond that the hoose wis in a bleeze …”
“Och naw!” cried Chloe, no sure if she could bear tae hear the lave o the story.
“A piece o coal must hae fawn oot o the fireplace in oor bedroom, and set the cairpet alicht as she slept. I ran oot o the Rolls and wadit through the deep snaw. Desperately I tried tae fecht ma wey intae the hoose, but the fire brigade widnae let me. It taen five o them tae haud me back. They tried their best tae save her but it wis ower late. The roof cowped in. Violet didnae staund a chaunce.
“Oh ma Gode!” Chloe sabbed.
Tears filled the auld tink’s een. Chloe didnae ken whit tae dae. Dealin wi emotions wis a new thing tae her, but tentatively she raxed oot her haun tae comfort him. Time seemed tae slow doon as her haun raxed his. This made the tears flow even mair, and he shoogled wi hauf a century o pain.
“If ainly I hadnae been at the club that nicht, I could hae saved her. I could hae held her aw nicht, made her feel safe and warm. She widnae hae needit the fire. Ma darlin, darlin Violet.” Chloe squeezed his clarty haun ticht.
“Ye cannae blame yersel for the fire.”
“I should hae been there for her. I should hae been there …”
“It wis an accident,” said Chloe. “Ye hae tae forgie yersel.”
“I cannae. I cannae ever.”
“Ye’re a guid man, Mr Mingin. Whit happent wis an awfie accident. Ye hae tae believe that.”
“Thank you, lass. I shouldnae really greet. No on public transport.” He sniffed, and gaithered himsel thegither a wee bit.
“Sae,” said Chloe, “hoo did ye end up livin on the streets?”
“Weel, I wis hertbroken. Utterly inconsolable. I had loast ma unborn bairn and the wummin I loved. Efter the funeral I tried tae gang back tae bide in the hoose. I steyed alane in a pairt o the hoose that hadnae been sae badly damaged in the bleeze. But the hoose cairried sae mony painfu mindins, I couldnae sleep. Steyin there gied me sic awfie nichtmares. I kept seein her face in the flames. I had tae get awa.
Sae yin day I sterted walkin and I never gaed back.”
“I am sae sorry,” said Chloe. “If ainly folk kent that …”
“Like I said on the televisual apparatus, ilka hameless buddie has a story tae tell,” said Mr Mingin. “That’s mines. I am sorry it doesnae involve spies or pirates or onythin like yon. Real life isnae like that, ken? And I didnae mean tae upset ye.”
“Christmas must be the haurdest time for ye,” said Chloe.
“Aye, aye, coorse. Christmas is an emblem o perfect happiness I find awfie haurd tae bear. It’s a time when faimlies come thegither. For me it minds me o wha’s no here.”
The bus raxed their stap, and Chloe’s airm foond a hame in Mr Mingin’s as they walked towards the faimlie hoose. She wis gled tae see that aw the reporters and camera crews were awa. The funny auld tink must be auld news by noo.
“I jist wish I could mak awthin richt,” said Chloe.
“But ye are makkin awthin richt, Miss Chloe. Ever since you cam and talked tae me. Ye’ve made me smile again. Ye’ve been sae kind tae me. Ye ken, if ma bairn had endit up like you, I wid hae been awfie prood.”
Chloe wis sae touched she could haurdly think o whit tae say. “Weel,” she said. “I ken ye wid hae made a brilliant faither.”
“Thank ye, lass. Undeemous kindness.”
Near the hoose, Chloe looked at it and realised somethin. She didnae want tae go hame. She didnae want tae bide wi her awfie Mither and hae tae gang tae that horrible poash schuil ony mair. They walked in silence for a meenit, then Chloe taen a deep braith and turnt tae Mr Mingin.
“I dinnae want tae go back there,” she said. “I want tae go stravaigin wi
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