Read Tears for a Tinker for Free Online Page B

promise. A night out meant, to him, a guid dram.
    The dance, which was run by the local fishermen, was great fun as I twirled and skirled the night away. We met lots of young couples who had kids of our age. As we walked home we left the bridge
spanning the river Deveron, and with shoes in hand played upon a moonlit shore. Exhausted in a nice way, we slowly wandered home through the deserted streets of Macduff. All was silent at our wee
house. There was never the need for locked doors then, so we very gently turned the handle and let ourselves in. I expected to see our old babysitter plopped on her favourite chair with the boys
snoring from their bedroom, but boy oh boy, was I in for a shock! Johnnie was vrooming a toy lorry along the floor. Stephen was sound asleep in a basin, face covered with dried chocolate. And
Sarah, the bold lass, sat on the floor with her back against a chair. Her legs were apart, and plonked between them was an empty bottle of Davie’s OVD Rum, a present from his father to
celebrate the New Year when it came. An old photograph of Wull lay inside Johnnie’s toy lorry along with an empty glass, and the headscarf forever tied tightly under her chin was covering her
face. She was totally unconscious, and no wonder, because the empty bottle had previously been full!
    Davie put her into our bed and we made do with the settee. Stephen, who awoke screaming from his basin bed, probably with a stiff neck, curled up beside us. Next day, try as we might, there was
no way we could raise her off that bed, so we left her there. She surfaced again only when it turned dark. Sarah never mentioned that night ever after; nor did she offer to baby-sit again.
    The only ‘blind blink’ on our horizon was my weight gain. Within six months of moving to Macduff I’d piled it on. I was eight stone before the kids came, now I was fourteen and
a half! What a fatty—and try as I might, not an ounce could I shift. This mystified me, because if anything I was exercising more and eating less. A visit to the doctor in Banff didn’t
help. He put it down to the extra pounds that pile on during pregnancy, and a slight imbalance in the body’s make-up of cells etc. I must say, though, Doctor Mackenzie was a right braw lad.
His mate was none other than Jimmy Mitchell, our Crieff doctor. They were both students at Aberdeen together and each hailed from the north. This medicine man from Banff will always stay dear in my
heart, and this is the reason why.
    Perhaps that cup of tea would come in handy now. If you are a parent, then you too may have had a similar experience to the one we’re about to share.
    It was around October’s end, in fact Halloween time, when the usual thick sea haar turned everyone into blind folk. People called out to each other, groping along the street, searching for
familiar voices. Davie and Daddy came home early, they couldn’t do any painting because it was far too dangerous climbing ladders. Mammy brought me some milk and bread. I couldn’t push
a pram outside in case I knocked some elderly body over onto the road.
    Stephen was sitting playing with a rubber toy when Johnnie began to complain of a stomach-ache. Nothing unusual in a toddler, but within four hours he was fevered and crying painfully. Mammy
came round, saying he should be cooled. This I did, bathing him with tepid water, but one minute he shivered, next he was boiling to the touch. His eyes began to glaze over, and it soon became
apparent our bairn was quite ill. Davie went over in Daddy’s van to fetch Dr Mackenzie. Within half an hour he’d arrived home, doctor at his back. No sooner had he stepped inside, when
Johnnie began vomiting brown and green slime. The poor wee mite also took diarrhoea, which was the same colour as his vomit. Dr Mackenzie examined him and said, ‘this wee chap has
gastro-enteritis, I’m sure of it.’
    ‘What is that, Doctor? Can you give him something for the pain?’
    ‘Firstly, it is