BEGINNINGS OF THE BOOK

                                                            *1*

                                                            Scarlet

I stood behind him at the ice cream van in Falkirk, a ball of lead in the pit of my stomach, unable to breathe.

I fixated on him, his hair was greasy, his clothes dirty and he wore no socks.

I couldn't speak. My little brother stood in front of me, a month ago I hadn't known he existed and now here he was.Thrusting his hands in his pockets, he stood awkwardly asking for Irn Bru and counting out his change.

There was an older man beside him, checked shirt, weathered skin and grey hair. HIs arms were littered with tattoos,

and he was loud, very loud. He laughed at everything and kept staring at me. It unnerved me. How could he know who I was?

I had hidden behind my fake Facebook profile, no photo, no distinguishing features. He couldn't possibly.

Rachel elbowed me when the ice cream van worker started speaking to me. "What you looking for, hen?"

I broke out my daze, eyes wide and stuttered '...A wHAM Bar and some sherbert straws.'

My friend eyeballed me, and was about to ask why going by the fact I have never eaten any of that in my life, but thought better of it, instead, smiling and reaching for her purse.

I rushed back to the car and flung myself dramatically into my Honda.  My little brother had headed back towards his house, leaving us in the cold in the middle of this derelict council estate, van music chiming, cutting the air.

"OH MY Gawwwdd!' Shrieked Rachel, punching me in the shoulder. "What's the chances of him coming out the house just as we passed? We were only meant to be spying on them and then he's there? Its fate. What you gonna do?'

I rubbed my thumping temples and the tears started to flow. "Aw man, I don't know. I mean, like you said Rach, what's the chances of Calum coming out when i've never met him and had no intention of meeting him. Surely this is meant to be. I don't know if i'm ready for this."

"Well, only you can decide. We can sit here as long as you want until you do." She held my hand, rubbing my knuckles.

"Ok, Im going to do it. Pull the plaster off while it's fresh, isn't that what they say!"

I grabbed my phone from the backseat, opened my fake social media profile and picked up my emails where i'd left off this morning and punched the messages into Calum's inbox. 'What did you buy at the ice cream van?' I sent.

I turned to Rachel after it swooshed a sent notification. 'Do you think that's a little creepy to message to a 15 year old? LIke he's going to know we've been spying on him?'

She shrugged, 'Ach well, it's done now. Look he's replied already.' My phone pinged and i read it outloud.

"Where are you? How did you know it was me?" I could sense his nerves.

Back and forth we messaged for ten minutes, and i skirted around the answers.

I was standing behind you mate.... i saw you had a purple jacket on, you have longer hair......

'My mum wants to meet you, ' he sent back.

I didn't miss a beat, I had no interest in meeting her at the moment. I only wanted  to meet him so i messaged a resounding, 'NO, JUST YOU!'

My explanation must have worked. Rachel elbowed me in the ribs and suddenly, there he was. My little brother materialising in front of my car, his eyes identical to mine......I took a deep breath and opened the door.

                                                     *2*

                                                    MARK

We sat round the fire in the pub, everyone roaring with laughter at stories I was telling.

"When Scarlet and I were on a cruise ship as teenagers, we pretended we were married so we could get served Tequila  Sunrises at the bar on behalf of the rest of the kids. They ran a competition to see whoever could get a picture of the  Queen up the bar the fastest would win a bottle of champagne bigger than your head! I almost tripped over myself, thrusting  a 20p pence piece in the presenter's face."

Everyone was enthralled and I continued. "So naturally we won and when they asked our names I told them I was Mark Fraser  and they asked who I was with. I pointed at Scarlet and they assumed I was her husband, probably because I had more hair on  my face than Teen Wolf and she used to jingle her fake car keys to try and get served at the Off Licence!

I saw her open her mouth to tell them I was her brother but she saw my face and thought better of it, she could see my  logic. So we spent the week on the Cruise Ship enjoying Bloody Marys, Tequila Sunrises and  Sex on the Beaches,  much the  dismay of our parents when they got the pink slips of bills through the door.

Took us 6 months of pocket money to pay back."

I'm sure i'd probably told that story before but maybe there was one or two new people joining the group who hadn't heard  it so it gave them the laugh they had been told I was notorious for.

"Telling the Cruise ship story again, are you? When you going to get some new material, you Kevin Bridges wannabe." Scarlet  slapped me on the back and pulled my ear affectionately. They didn't call me Lugs for nothing. As children when we played  Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, I would be Lugsanardo as opposed to Leonardo and Scarlet would scream with delight calling me  that.

"Shut it you," I jibed back, ruffling my sister's hair and pushing her. Some things never change even though I was 32,  she's 29, it doesn't stop the Chinese burns on her arm, bruising her like a peach. "Anyway there's a new audience here and  i'd like them to get to know my sarcasm, just cos you have no sense of humour.'

Scarlet snorted, 'Oh love, don't think i live in your shadows my whole life. You learned your sarcasm from me. Tell them  the Westley story then since you think you're so smart. See if they laugh at that.'

I was in my element, the crowd were all ears. I'm pretty sure most of them had heard this story as well but no one objected  to hearing it again so I took a gulp of my beer, warm from the toasty fire and launched into my tale.

I was big on hand gestures, louder than life, my voice excitably rising and the crowd shared my enthusiasm.

'Ok,' I began. 'So on this same cruise ship we met a couple of WAG wannabes, decades before Cheryl Cole's day who thought  because they had Pradamark sunglasses on, they would be joining the Steven Gerrard ranks of footballers wives. No chance  love.'

Scarlet jabbed me in the ribs and I pushed her off the chair. Everyone laughed.

'Mark,' She screeched, 'Get on with the story. You're dragging it out.'

'Alright Scar, I'm setting the mood. The audience needs to know what these girls were about. I can't paint them as lovable  hotties otherwise they might make the mistake that everyone liked these girls. That's not the case, Maria and Karen. They  only had each other and tried to come onto every member of the band. I don't want anyone assuming these were nice WAGS.'

My voice boomed across the pub, empty except from our corner, my friends looking expectantly at me waiting for the next  part.

'Come on Mark, I know you like to drag it out but this is taking the piss.' My best mate Cal stood up for Scarlet as usual.  He well fancied her but I couldn't even be bothered bringing that up again.

'Ok I shall continue then since you all love my stories.' I puffed my chest and carried on.

'So every day Scarlet and I would hang around with Maria and Karen, mainly because we found their Nottingham accents easy  to mimic and laugh about at the end of every day as we fell into the cabin full of cocktails.

ie. We left out sunglasses over by t' pool. 

Scarlet would get raging and blurt out 'It'S, WE'VE LEFT OUR SUNGLASSES OVER BY THE POOL. THE POOL. NOT JUST POOL.'

They had a 2 year old brother called Westley who they would have to babysit in the morning while their mother would go  swimming, parading around her leather skin in a lemon two piece.

Scarlet and I took the opportunity to get our own back on them. I would phone their cabin every morning in an Irish accent,  and say 'Ello, Good morning, could I speak to Westley please?'

'I could imagine their heavily made up faces, looking at each other in confusion at the thought of the stranger on the  phone on a ship wanting to speak to their 2 year old brother.

'WTF?? Westley's only 2, Why you wanna talk to Westley?'

Cal interupted, 'Mate, doesn't matter how many times I hear this story it still cracks me up!'

'Shut up Cal,' shouted Richie, one of the newest members to our group, having travelled up from Liverpool to join the  cheffing team in the hotel I worked in. 'I still haven't heard it, carry on Mark.'

'Why thank you Richie,' I exclaimed, triumphant. I was the winner. 'I appreciate your attention.

So anyway, i said 'Look i'm very sorry about this but the only one I am able to discuss this with is Westley, could you put  him on the phone please.

They took it quite well on the Monday and TUesday, by Wednesday evening after 3 calls a day, they started to tire and got  raging. 'Listen mate, I don't know what you think this is but Westley's sitting on the chair with a Thomas Tank Engine t -  shirt and a sun hat. He can't speak to you, he doesn't know how to speak!'

Scarlet was in absolute stitches beside me at the memory of this. She reached for her Corona and swigged it through her  laughter. 'Remember Mark, you stood your ground and said 'Once again Data Protection prevents me from discussing this with  a third party. I need to speak to Westley himself. Now put him on the telephone,' and then they'd hang up.

The best bit of the day would be every night at Dinner when we would need to hang about with them, they would moan and moan  about the phonecalls they'd been getting and how they didn't know how anyone could be phoning a two year old about this and  You would sit there nodding your head, agreeing with them, saying how terrible it was and how you couldn't understand how  anyone could be doing this.

Best bit was on the last day, you accidentally slipped into your Irish accent and Maria realised. Karen poured your  cocktail over your head and you just sat there grinning, with Strawberry Daiquiri running down your cheeks.'

'SCARLET!!!!!' I was fuming. 'That was the best bit and you ruined the story.'  I got her in a full headlock and no one  batted an eyelid. Everyone was laughing, partly at the story and partly at the fact i could still beat up my adult sister.  I only got away with it because she was my best friend.

'No Mark,' she chided. 'The  best bit was when you convinced the whole cruise ship that you were Irish, I was Scottish, you  were adopted and I Wasn't."

That was actually true that story but Scarlet and I were both adopted as children. Our parents had been looking to adopt a  child and had gone through a lengthy process and were offered both of us as they didn't want to split us up.

When they got through some photos of us, Scarlet with her tiny silver bangle and me who was characteristically nipping her  in the arm and making her cry.

Somehow they fell in love with us through those photos and came to visit us in a foster home where we had been taken into  care.

Walking through the door into inevitable childlike chaos, our new parents were introduced to us not as DAvid and Carol  Fraser, but as Mummy and Daddy.

                                                      *3*

                                                     MARY

George had stolen from me again, stolen the carpets from my floor and the very plugs from the washing machine. My own  brother might as well have taken the clothes from my back.

The letter box rattled and as I went to go to it,  I heard a shriek in the corner and spun around to see 3 year old Mark  holding the bare wire, with strike marks against his chubby cheeks.

I grabbed the wire off him, and shoved it back in the socket. "God's sake Mark, you should know better than that by now  than to touch those!' 

I picked him up with ease, light for his frame and put him back on the couch beside his sister. 'You look after Scarlet. I  need to answer the door.'

I struggled to pull open the door with all the letters behind it, red bills in little brown window envelopes. Probably  wasn't going to pay those.

'MAry!!' I could hear her calling through the letterbox. Give me a break, can't she see I was trying to open the door.

She stood there in my doorway, all prim and proper in her Marks and Spencers two piece charcoal suit, probably just had her  hair done.

I looked down at myself, still in my nightdress, stained with baby sick, hair coarse and wiry and devoid of make up.

Suppose I was past caring.

She pushed past me and into the living room, stepping over crisp packets stuck to the bare floorboards. 'Where are the  children? In here? Haven't I told you not to leave them alone? They're too little!'

Who did she think she was?

Just as the thought entered my head, i heard a scream and ran in behind her. Scarlet was lying on the floor in front of the  couch, Mark must have pushed her again. This had to happen when the Social was here didn't it?

Emma, my social worker, picked up the baby and soothed her, rubbing her soft brown hair, hushing her cries.

That was my job as the mother surely. I felt a rage boiling inside me and went to grab Scarlet back but Emma put up her  hand to stop me and held the baby back towards the other side of her body.

'No Mary, this isn't on. I don't know how many times I have been here and time after time i'm saying the same thing. These  children are starving, the place is filthy. What's happened to Mark's face? Where are the plugs? WHere's all your stuff?  When was the last time they were fed? '

My head was fried. I was tired of listening to her going on and on. I sighed as loud as possible.

'Ok Emma, I'll answer your million boring questions. They had chips last night ok, Mark made them. Bit soft but whatever,  hard to cook properly with no plugs. The wire got MArk, it was an accident and George was back again, he took what he could  carry. None of this is my fault, im doing my best with what benefits I get you know. I hate the way you're always round  here judging me.'

Emma looked as though she was going to whack me one, and I recoiled.

She carried a now non-crying Scarlet over to her playpen and set her down. I watched her try and fix the broken bars so  Scarlet couldn't escape and immediately, Mark, concerned for his sister, sat down beside the bars and held her hand through  them.

'Ok Scarlet,' I heard him say. 'Don't cry, my little sunshine!'

Emma turned back towards me and took her perfect little clipboard out her perfect little briefcase with her initials on it.  Probably a present from her parents when she passed her degree. I resented everything about her.

I was 23, she was probably the same age, yet here I was, 2 children, stuck in a council house in Easterhouse while she  swanned in and judged me on eveyrthing.

She sat on the edge of the couch, screwing her face up, and beckoned for me to do the same. I defiantly stood above her,  self conscious now in my nightie. 'Just say what you've got to say and get out!' I boomed.

She sighed again. 'Im afraid it's not that simple this time Mary. WE are running out of chances here. Mark's been in care 9  times now, Scarlet 5 times. The children are on the 'AT RISK' register for a reason. You're not maintaining your side of  the bargain. You're not feeding them. I mean, Why the hell is MArk, 3 years old having to feed his sister? What have you  been doing?'

'EXCUSE ME!!!,' I was furious. 'Don't come into my house and lecture me when you don't know the first thing about my life.  Do you know how hard it is having them? Mark's into everything, never leaves me alone and she cries all the time! You do  know my other daughter died so I have that to deal with too.'

'Yes,' Emma interupted me. 'I am aware of the fire and that 2 year old, Beth was it, passed away. After that was the first  instance of Mark being taken into care, I understand due to the fire being suspicious.'

This got me annoyed. 'Nothing suspicious about it, you all took it upon yourselves to assume that, i did nothing wrong. It  was an electrical fire. I couldn't save her. Then to make it all worse, You lot took MArk off me before I even had  Scarlet.'

I had tears running down my face and I think this probably shocked her. Id never cried in front of Emma, she probably  thought I was a hard bitch.

She didn't soften towards me though, even with the tears. She carried on writing and then clicked her clipboard shut with a  sharp movement.

'Our decisions been made, Mary. We have been here week after week helping you clean. Why not last week, we took out 50 bin  bags of rubbish from this house. That's no way for children to live. We invited you many times to the Day Centre in  Easterhouse Central for parenting classes and you haven't turned up.

I, personally have tried to show you how to cook and clean. You haven't paid any attention to it, this place is filthy. We  have applied to the courts for Guardianship. It is my intention to take the children back into care to have them adopted in  the end. I'll be back tomorrow with the paperwork to complete the move. I'm sorry Mary, but you have had every chance.'

Emma reached into her bag and brought out 2 sandwiches and gave them to the children, who reached out their hands for them.  She gave Mark a smile and touched them both on their cheeks, disappearing out the door.

I sat down on the couch again and looked over at their little faces, Mark still sitting with his chubby wrists through the  bars and Scarlet sucking her thumb quietly, a piece of ham dangling from her fingers. Mark always let her eat first.He  wouldn't touch a bite until Scarlet had finished hers. It never occurred to me that this was because he was scared she  wouldn't get anything, that maybe neither of them would.

Yes I know I should have been a better mother, but everyone was dragging me down. My brother George stealing from  everything from me, his wife Agnes trying to get me into trouble with Social Services again and again.

That fire was not my fault but they still took MArk and wouldn't give him back. I tried to get to Beth at the top of the  stairs and I can still hear her cries in my head but the flames held me back.

I sat there for a long time, until darkness fell and I heard Scarlet wimpering. I glanced over at her playpen and she was  sitting up with MArk still holding her hand, but he was sleeping on the floor beside her.

What should I do? It took me all of 5 minutes to decide. I wasn't letting them take these two from me.

I breenged through to the bedroom and pulled my old black suitcase out from under the bed, packing it with whatever was  left.

To be honest, there wasn't much left. I salvaged some childrens pants, a few nappies and I got dressed.

I wiped the crumbs out of Scarlet's buggy and found Mark's shoes. I'll do one at a time, I thought, so I don't have to  listen to them screaming together.

I took Scarlet first, unhooking their entwined fingers from each other and placed her in the pram. I didn't have a coat for  her, I suppose George took that too. She didn't wake up as I carried her and stayed asleep, nuzzling into the side of the  pram.

Going back through for MArk, the hall light suddenly went out. Electricity gone again. Good timing, I didnt have money to  get it back on anyway. I wouldn't be coming back here.

Mark did wake up however and squinting my eyes in the darkness, I grabbed his grubby hand. 'We have to be quick,' I  shushed.

'Why, Where's Scarlet?' He was always concerned about his sister, that's all he ever went on about. Where's Scarlet? How's  Scarlet? Has Scarlet eaten? I'd be lying if I said it didn't annoy me. It made me feel like I wasn't good enough.

I put on his scuffed brown leather shoes while steadied himself on my shoulder and his duffle coat. George must not have  found that yet.

I grabbed the pram handle with one hand, Mark's hand with the other and slammed the front door behind us. I didn't bother  locking it, I had no plans to come back anyway.....................

                                                   *4*

                                             CAROL AND DAVID

I sat with my sister in Debenhams cafe, Sauchiehall Street drinking coffee and eating carrot cake. From first glance you  wouldn't think anything of it. Two sisters in their early 30s, discussing work, husbands, shopping etc.

"I feel this this is dragging on forver, Maureen,' I whined to my sister, sitting opposite me. 'David and I have good jobs,  are good God fearing Christians and have a lot of love to give. All these checks are driving me crazy. Who would  have  thought adoption would be so difficult. There must be thousands if not millions of children out there looking for a new  home but this hassle is enough to put people off even trying.'

Maureen reached across the table and took my hand, smiling at me. 'Hang in there Carol, I'm sure you'll get there. They  just want to make sure because a lot of these children have had such horrible backgrounds that they don't want to risk  anything going wrong and hurting them further. Saying that though, how many people have they asked for character references  for you and David?'

'I know that's the case. I get that, it's just frustrating. I just want to be a mum. That's all i've ever wanted.' I  couldn't stop the tears coming.

MY sister got up off her seat opposite and walked round to sit beside me, with her arm gently around my shoulders. She  knows I hate crying in public and don't want to make a scene so she just let me quietly sob.

David was home from work in the Bank by the time I got home, he'd even made a half hearted attempt at peeling potatoes.

He greeted me from the front door and led me to the living room with a cup of tea already brewed.

'I've taken that mince pie out the freezer for you, like you asked this morning. Are you ok? Your eyes are red. Did you  meet Maureen?' He asked gently.

My shoulders shuddered and I could feel the tears returning again.

'Yeah,' I sighed. 'We Went for coffee but all this adoption business is getting me down. I was saying to Maureen about it  dragging on. They have literally interviewed everyone we have ever met from our Minister to our Bank Manager and all of our  friends. They've done all the criminal checks and character references. Surely from all this, they would be able to tell  what kind of people we are.'

David smiled at me, he felt the way I did, I could tell. He was just as frustrated but there's not much else we could have  done to hurry it along. WE had been married 7 years, met in church after being introduced by friends, and had a standard 2  year engagement followed by a lovely winter wedding.

WE both worked 9-5 jobs, were close to our families and spent our weekends ambling round open air markets or going to the  movies. Our lives were lovely together but we wanted desperately to be parents.

My heart ached looking after my neices and nephews, and although I loved them, I wanted children of my own, for both David  and I.

'I know you do Carol, and that's all I want too. Believe me, i'd love to be a father. I think when we met that we just took  it for granted it would happen on its own and the fact that it hasn't has made it harder to deal with.'

I looked at David, studying his face. I could see this was taking its toll on him. His eyes were tired and etched with  stress lines. The side of his hair is greying slightly.

I went through to the kitchen and thought i'd try and fix the potatoes David had most likely butchered, smiling at the  thought.

I stopped dead though, staring at the kitchen counter with a jolt.

There was a large brown envelope on it, marked with the Social Work stamp i'd known so well through the thousands of  letters we have had recently.

On top of it was a photo. I picked it up and fingered it lightly.

There were the two most beautiful children i've ever seen. A little girl in a pale pink dress, brown curls falling against  her forehead wearing a silver bangle. Her thumb in her mouth crying, and a little boy around 3 years old sticking his  tongue out at her, wearing a brown jumper, and holding her hand.

'Dave, what's this? Who are the kids?' My voice trembled.

I've never seen him grin so widely. 'These two are ours if we want them. Mark and Scarlet are their names. They are brother  and sister and have been badly neglected. They're in a foster home in Airdrie and the Social are saying they would prefer  them to be taken together. They're very close, you see. The boy calls her his 'Sunshine.'

I couldn't breathe.

I gripped the kitchen counter and balance and he grabbed my shoulder.

'Darling, these two are ours. I know we always only planned on one but shall we take them both? We can go and see them  tomorrow if you agree.' He kissed my head.

I collapsed in tears. All these years, interviews, grillings had led to this moment. We were going to be parents. And to  not one, but TWO!!!!!

We pulled out Ford Escort outside the foster home in the morning after we have rung back Jean, our Social worker and  expressed how excited we were. She was absolutely thrilled for us.

I half ran up that path and rattled the letterbox. The foster mother, she was to be called Auntie Ann, answered with a huge  smile on her face. Mark and Scarlet were her first foster children and had been with her almost a year. Yes she'd be sad to  see them go but they had a family now.

I held David's hand and half dragged him through to the living room, following the shrieks and giggles I could hear from  inside.

My stomach churned and I got my first glimpse. I looked at David and he had tears in his eyes, the second time i'd ever  seen him cry.

Scarlet was running around with her nose running all down her face, in a little yellow smock dress while MArk sat at the  table with a fish far too big for his plate ready to tuck in.

They were the most beautiful things I had ever seen.

Auntie Ann brought us over to the children and gathered them up, while they gazed at her with huge eyes.

'Mark, Scarlet. This is your new mummy and daddy.'

Scarlet took my thumb and I lifted her up, Mark carried on eating his fish>.

                                                          *5*

                                                        SCARLET

"Take the left lane, Scarlet. You are so bad for getting lost in the City Centre." Rachel could be so offputting while I was driving, always screeching and holding onto the dashboard.

I'd laugh when she said my driving was so awful and jest, "Maybe so Rachel, but did you die?"

It might have been bad driving, fly by the seat of your pants but we always made it there in one piece so I don't know what she was complaining about.

I parked on a side street outside an old man's pub, the type with sawdust on the floor and we delighted in the fact it was free parking after 6pm.

We sat there for the usual half hour while Rachel did her make up in the passenger seat, with me dramatically sighing every few minutes to hurry her along. It didn't work, just made her take even longer.

As I locked the car, a group of guys came out the pub dressed as women, obviously on some sort of stag night on a Thursday night. Somehow within five minutes, I had been tangled up in the midst of them, and my photo on Facebook. We were goaded by them into coming with them to the Horseshoe Karaoke bar where I started on my first boring Diet Coke being the usual designated driver, with Rachel sinking long Vodkas.

When is she going to pass her driving test, I wondered with amusement, drinking the sweet juice through a straw and watching her dancing with a hairy legged man in a floral skirt.

Because I think of myself as a bit of a bargain basement popstar, I was immediately on the stage belting out a song by the Killers while everyone clapped along. The pub had a great atmosphere and one of the guys we had met stood at the back, grinning while his synthetic wig fell over his face.

We were going to move on to a different pub, but I wanted to go back and get my phone first that i'd left in the car, which wasn't like me at all. I was usually a fiend for photos of every single person i'd ever met, I didn't know why this night was any different.

Rachel waited at the corner of the street for me, (I didn't mention to her that this made it look like she was touting for business as a 'Lady of the Night!) As soon as I opened the car door, I could hear my phone ringing. I just missed the call and looked at the screen, clocking the 11 missed calls and 6 text messages, that were still pinging through.

The caller ID suggested it was my 12 year old son, Jude, who was continually calling, and I was just about to call back when I read the first text that had pinged up.

"So sorry for your loss," was all it said.

It took a moment for me to digest this information into my brain, I immediately knew it would be Mark. EVen though it could have been anyone else in my family, including God forbid, my son, I just knew it was Mark.

The phone sprung to life again in my hand and this time I caught the call. My mothers voice came trembling throough the earpiece. "Scarlet, we are in your house just getting Jude's playstation and thought i'd call and see where you were as you're not home."

I looked at a clock above a pub opposite. 9.30pm. Going by the fact my sons bedtime was at 10pm, I doubted this story was true.

"Mum, what's happened? Something has, i've had a text. I know something's happened."

I could hear the panic in her voice as she tried to deny it, but she couldn't hide it.

"Just come home, Scarlet. Please, come home just now darling!" Her voice faltered again.

"Its Mark isnt it? Its Mark!" I knew already in my heart but I had to hear her say it. The thought was uncomrehendable to me.

"Sweetheart, im sorry, he's died." I could hear her tears in the thickness of her voice.

A scream escaped me that sounded like nothing i've ever heard before. Like it hadn't even come from me.

'Mum,' I gasped. 'Change what you're saying. Please make it so you're saying something else. Anything else. Just change it. Tell me he's in hospital or something. PLEASE MUM!!!'

I hoped she would change it, my heart stopped. I knew she wouldn't change it, couldn't.

I knew then that my life was over as I knew it.

It was like I was watching this from across the road, watching the panicked version of me hunched over a dustbin, a crowd gathering and screaming coming from nowhere.

I saw Rachel running towards me and her hands on my shoulders, a confused look on her face. "What's going on, Scarlet?" as she bent down picking up my smashed phone with my mothers voice still coming from the other end.

I couldn't speak, couldn't breathe. Rachel started talking to my mother and I could see the realisation dawning on her face as the situation was explained again. Her hand flew to her mouth as my mother had to deliver the heartbreaking news again that her son had passed away.

Earlier on that day, they had had a visit from the Police, respectfully taking off their hats to come in and be the bearer of the news every parent dreads. My parents had told them I was on a night out in Glasgow and they advised them to get me home before they told me, so that I wasn't driving while upset.

I stood hunched up against a wall, tears blurring my vision and still screaming when a drunk man came up to me, grabbing my shoulders, "Hen, are you ok? You don't look so good. You got asthma or something?"

"GET OFF ME!!!!" I pushed him off me, and Rachel flung her arms around me, sobbing along with me.

"Scarlet, I can't......I don't....I don't know what to say. We need to get you home. How can we do it? Can you drive? Should I phone someone to come and get us? I'll come with you to your house!" She fired a barrage of questions at me, while I stared at her blankly.

"I'll drive! We have to go now. I have to see them."

We sprung into action and I drove at 90 miles an hour all the way to Rachel's house. I stopped every ten minutes to sob at the side of the road while Rachel held my trembling shoulders.

I decided I didn't want her to come, that it was a private family matter and I didn't know how any of us were going to react when we saw each other.

My parents were panicking about me driving and were calling me every 5 minutes. I could imagine my dad pacing the floor, looking out the window and saying to mum, over and over again, "Where is she? Why is she not back yet?"

I was terrified to go home, because that would make it real. I would see my mum's face and I would know he would really be gone.

Back at Rachel's house, her mother wrapped her arms around me and made me hot sweet tea before I carried on home.

The tyres screeched as I pulled up in front of my house, and I could see my dad's outline standing at my window on the third floor.

When I got to the top of the stairs, my mother had rushed to the front door and was waiting for me with her arms outstretched.

Her face was red and her eyes were haunted. My mother's cheeks were hollowed and her hair seemed to have greyed since last week.

We fell into each other sobbing and she helped me in the house where my father stood, face ashen, holding my son's hand.

                                    *  *  *  *   *

Days passed in a blur. THat night was vivid in my mind, but the following morning was a devastating mysteryy.

Phonecalls were made, informing family and friends about Mark's heart attack. He had a huge heart, but as it turned out, it was too weak for him.

I went in the living room to see my mother phoning everyone in the phone book and having to explain the same thing, over and over again. I offered to take over for her, but in hindsight, I have no idea how I would even say the words outloud when I couldn't comprehend them myself.

Family started arriving, all having taken the day off work. The house was crammed full of cousins, aunts, uncles, everyone.

I sat with someone holding my hand, I have no idea who it was, but i stared into the fire with tears rolling down my cheek, and a wayward uncle making small talk about how my hair was a nice colour.

I'm not one for general chit chat, especially not today and I escaped to the pub with my aunt and cousins, drinking fizzy lager and downing whiskey chasers in a vain attempt to get as drunk as possible and forget the pain.

It didn't work. My pain was like a knife stabbing me in the heart, and all I could picture was Mark as a little boy. Nothing could make me remember his face as if it was recent. My mother told me later that it was the opposite for her, she couldn't imagine him as a child, only an adult.

I kept blurting out to anyone that would listen, "My brother's dead, my brother's gone!"

I watched their face change in shock, and no-one knew what to say. Some would pat my hand, some would stay silent or some would spout cliches, "I'm sorry for your loss, time's a healer...."

Slowly, as the hours ticked by, everyone started to disperse from my parents house and we were left alone to deal with our own pain, just the four of us, but missing Mark, the vital cog in the wheel that kept our family turning.

It was two weeks before we could say goodbye to him. Formalities like post mortems prevented it from happening any sooner.

The weeks inbetween were filled with silence, screaming and pain.

No one could decide what to do with themselves.

Jude went to school, my dad drove pensioners to and from church in the mini bus and my mother arranged all the sympathy cards and lilies that fragrantly filled the lounge in a blanket of sadness.

There were so many that it made me feel ill every time I looked at them. I know they gave my mother comfort to know why they were there but for me, it was just a reminder as to why I was now here alone without him. I ended up asking her to take them down, perhaps selfishly but I couldn't stand them. I hated what they stood for, the cards and flowers were here because Mark wasn't.

I worked as a DJ in a lively pub, life and soul of the party every week and the Saturday before his funeral, I went to work to try and fill my head with different thoughts. Everyone expects you to smile but the loneliness was palpable even in a pub full of people.

Strangers who knew me from a distance were cuddling me, passing on condolensces, and offering to buy me drinks. I accepted every one of these drinks to haze my mind and it worked to a certain extent but once I started singing a James Morrison song, 'I'd do anything for you to call me....' my tears started again and this time they didn't stop.

I became hysterical, to a point where I was desperate to see Mark's body. I phoned the Funeral director at 2am, and to his credit he was happy to come and meet me and let me see my brother, but Ann, the pub manager convinced me to wait until I was sober.

A Sunday morning on my own was the last time I saw my brother, lying still with his black hair framing his face.

                                                      ***

Mark's funeral was on a Monday afternoon in May. The sun split the trees which was an insult to my tears. Driving behind his hearse with my hands clasped inside my fathers', i stared straight ahead. Driving up the leafy crematorium path, it was lined with over 200 people, full of tear stained faced, staring at our lost one's coffin.

WHen the time came for us all to make a speech about Mark, I focused on my Godfather's face, the only one i could see through the tears in the sea of people who all cared desperately enough about him to be able to make the journey.

I sang "You are my Sunshine" and asked everyone to join in because I felt silly doing it on my own. Every single person made the attempt, singing the song Mark had sung to me throughout my life, ruffling my hair.

After listening to the other eulogies, I watched the curtains closing around him, holding my dads hand. My dad still maintains he saw the bottom of the curtain curl as though Mark was saying goodbye.

The rest is a blur of grief, whiskey and hurt.

My dad sat with his arms around me and said "We'll never get over losing him will we?'

I shook my head, he was right.

How can you live without your heart?

And he was my heart.

We showed a slideshow of his life, a photo for every year of his life, entwined with mine. I watched with my cousins strong, huge masculine arms around me, heaving huge sobs into his chest while he cried with me.

No one could comprehend losing him, but in an instant that's what had happened.

He was gone in less than a minute.

I watched Mark's face smiling at me from the huge projector screen , transfixed on him. I knew every line on his face, a face i'd seen and loved every day of my life.

Looking around were the people who had loved him enough to travel here, take time out their lives to say goodbye but my pain was mine. At that time, I couldn't imagine anyone else being in pain for him. I could only see my own. But the room was heaving with grief.

                                              *6*

                                             MARK

I went to Scarlet's karaoke on my birthday in March and we walked home, arm in arm, munching chicken pakora while I moaned about my age.

"Just think, Scar! I'm 32. How old."

She threw back her head and laughed heartily. "Ha you old bastard. I'll never be as old as you!"

How were we to know I would be 32 forever.

We sat up that night, talking for hours. I had recently moved back down to be near my family and this delighted my parents and Scarlet.

I could pop in on a Sunday morning for coffee without a 4 hour car journey just to say hello.

We took a detour to the garage after the pub for cigarettes, which I got moaned at about. She hated me smoking, used to take them off me and snap them.

Even now, after it killed me, I still couldn't admit my sister was right. I should have given them up.

The last day we spent together we went out for my nephew's birthday. Jude was turning 12 and we went to the local leisure centre to play crazy golf. It was the best day full of stupid jokes and the usual punching each other in the arm for no reason. Jude stood back watching, he was an only child and thought our sibling rivalry was hilarious.

"Get in that X Factor booth and sing!" As we passed this karaoke booth, I made Scarlet get in with Jude and they sang "Down" by Jay Sean. The poor boy was mortified by his mothers attempt to rap.

The rest of that Sunday passed with laughter, food and memories.

We had a go on a stationary surfboard on an inflatable machine, filming each other to see who could stay on the longest. She failed miserably and Jude would do it and jump off after a few seconds which infuriated Scarlet, screeching at him that he was wasting money by doing that.

"Ach, shut up Scarlet," I chided. "It's me that paid for it and I don't care. Fire in Jude!"

Jude was delighted and stuck his tongue out at his mother, jumping back on for another two seconds.

Scarlet grabbed me in a headlock, freakishly strong for a girl!

                                                     ***

                                                 

My heart stopped on the Thursday.

Just stopped working. I never thought that's the way I would go. Always thought it would be some dramatic accident or like a hostage situation.

Scarlet always said if they tried to take her in a hostage situation, she would talk so much they would just let her go.

I sniggered at the memory, them trying to question her about who she was working for and her asking them all about their lives, were they married, kids etc.

I was gone in an instant and for someone as loud as me to be silenced so quickly I'll bet was no mean feat.

There was no angel to come and take me away like you see in the films, no tunnel to walk along lined with lost souls.

But I didn't go alone.

Everyone always says 'I hope he didn't suffer! I hope he went quickly,' and I did.

After that was like a dream for me, but an uncontrollable one where I was aware of everything. I couldn't feel pain or grief, I was merely confused for a while and stood at the door watching family filter in and out, viewing the lost version of me.

I tried to talk but no sound came out. I tried to touch my mother's shoulder, but my fingertips faded in front of me.

I could understand their tears and torment, but it wasn't like that for me. I just didn't have an understanding of what i was supposed to do next. I didn't know how to soothe my mother's tears if she couldn't hear me.

I saw Scarlet's agony in the crowded street in Glasgow, my parents pain when the Police delivered the news and my nephews confusion at the chaos around him. But I couldn't help.

I stood beside Scarlet as she cried for me, and touched her shoulder. An angel on your shoulder, some would say. I was no angel. I just wasn't flesh anymore.

In the weeks that followed before my family bid me goodbye, I walked as lost as they were. I watched them trying to complete mundane tasks, shopping, making phonecalls.

Scarlet kept her eyes closed whenever she was alone, as though that would help her see me. The Sunday after I was taken, I watched her walk along the road slowly, with no purpose along the sea front. I could tell by her steps she didn't know where to go. She stopped at the corner, and could have gone in one of three directions. The pub, the church or the funeral directors where I lay.

She almost came to see me, took a few steps in the direction then hesitated.  She settled on the church. My parents would have been proud, devout Christians that they were. Scarlet walked blindly through the congregation just leaving, and sat down the very front of the rapidly emptying church.

A few of the parishioners recognised her through our parents involvement in the church and One elderly woman, Christine, went and sat down beside her, putting her frail hand on my sister's shoulder.

"Scarlet, can we help? What can we do?" Christine didn't really know me, but she knew my family and could plainly see the pain.

Scarlet's shoulders heaved and she lurched forward in the seat, covering her face. "I want to know where he is, he can't have just gone. Can you get the minister for me to tell me where he is!"

Her voice got louder and a few people turned round to look as they were leaving, but when they recognised like Christine had, who was crying, they smiled sympathetically and carried on walking.

"He's with God," Said Christine, gently. "He's ok!"

It interested me watching this, as I wasn't with God. I was in front of them. Who knows where I was going to end up, but I wasn't ready to go yet.

Scarlet and I always spoke about death between us , who would go first, What would we do without the other?

We had a bond like twins.

I did the gentlemanly thing and went first so she wouldn't be so scared when it was her turn.

No-one knows if there's life after death because you can't come back. The permenancy of it scared me though. I was becoming isolated and lonely as time went on, although I had no concept of the time.

There were no minutes, no hours.

                                              ***

In the transition I revisted times with our family over the years, in my head.

We had a wonderful life with our parents, annual abroad holidays every single year. We travelled the world together. I visited every year of my life in the days that followed. From cruising in the mediterranean, to Legoland in Denmark to Mickey Mouse's 60th birthday in Disney World.

My parents knew our background of neglect, and made sure we wanted for nothing but not to a spoiled extent.

One year they maintained we were going to Scarborough on holiday that Easter and Scarlet was raging, chucking her dolls out the pram and moaning every day.

One Saturday morning, my mums friend came over and gave us all Easter eggs. Inside mine was American Dollars. I was annoyed at being given what I thought was Monopoly money and stomped around the house, mirroring my sisters mood.

My parents stood laughing at us with their friends, which annoyed us even further until my mother took me by the shoulders, looked me in the eyes and said "We're going to Disney World. My friend Agnes thought you'd appreciate some dollars to take with you when you meet Mickey."

I was 10, Scarlet was 8 and we left for Florida later that day. My mum had told us she didn't tell us before hand as she couldn't stand listening to us harping on about it for months before we left.

We always underestimated what our parents went through to just become a normal family as society deemed. Endless interviews with family and friends, court cases and heartache but sometimes Scarlet and I could be right nasty to them, in the midst of arguments shouting out "You're not our real parents!"

I could literally see the pain in their eyes when we said that but, being obnoxious teenagers, we knew it would have an effect when we were angry and we said it during any fight.

I only became grateful for what they had done for us by the time I reached my early twenties, and had moved to Aberdeen to  train as a nurse. I don't know why I did that, to this day. I could never watch Casualty with the family, the sight of blood made me queasy but still it was away from home and maybe that's what I needed at the time.

By the time I made the bi monthly trip home, I enjoyed the time I spent with my family and I didn't resent my parents anymore. I had had no reason to resent them but the chip on my shoulder still stayed and I got very angry at times, but couldn't always explain why.

I stayed in that transition for a while, floating through my own memories of happiness and good times. I didn't remember any bad things and for the first time for me, my life was perfect. Ironic really as my life had ended.

                                                                           *7*

                                                                           MARY

I towed the children from Glasgow that night, with the intention of never returning, didn't  really have anything to go back for. My house was stripped bare down to the floorboards and we  didn't have any food or electric there. One lonely teabag was all that sat in the cupboard,  gathering dust.

We walked out in the middle of the night and kept walking until we got to a housing scheme a few  towns over. Scarlet was crying, hungry as usual and Mark walked beside the buggy, holding her  hand, shushing her every few minutes.

"Scarlet need milk?" He enquired, gazing at me with his wide brown eyes.

I didn't say anything, just pushed the buggy onwards, eyes forward into the dark.

His three year old hands pulled on my skirt, trying to get my attention. "Scarlet need milk?"

I lost my temper and pulled his hand off me. "I know Scarlet needs milk, Mark. I can't do  anything about it. Mummy has no pennies. What do you expect me to do?"

A man walking his dog walking past me, turned around and gawped at me. "You alright hen?"

"Yes, fine!" I snapped.

I saw his eyes lower towards the children, taking in Mark's dirty hands, gripping Scarlet's. Her  dress ripped at the hem and the lack of her wearing a coat. Mark's scuffed shoes drew his  attention and the grubby buggy.

Scarlet was still whimpering, i think she's given up hope of launching into a full scale tantrum  and Mark looked forlorn.

As used to their faces as I was, even I could see that they looked like sad little things.

The passer by knelt down in front of Mark and said, "You alright son? Would you like to pet  Sandy?" He extended the leash of his Golden Retriever to Mark, thinking the comfort of the  animals fur might appease a three year old and offer solace.

Mark tentatively put his fingers out and ran them through the dog. Suddenly he lurched forward  and gave the animal a full scale cuddle.

It was the first time i'd ever seen him show affection to anything apart from Scarlet.

She delighted in this too, and squealed, straining forward against her buggy straps to try and  reach the dog too.

Mark noticed this too and pulled her pram forward so she could reach.

The man stepped towards me and spoke in a low voice, "Listen, these are rough parts. Should you  really have the children out this late? They can't be little more than toddlers. Haven't you got  a home to go to?"

Who the hell did he think he was?

".....Er none of your business. Who do you think you are to tell me what to do with my kids? You  don't know my life!" He recoiled as though my words burned, but what did he really expect,  prowling the schemes late at night telling people what to do with their kids?

I pulled the buggy harshly back and grabbed Mark by the hood of his brown dufffle coat. "Mark,  come back from the doggy! Let's go. We have a long way to go!"

"Mummy Mary, I want to cuddle the dog!" exclaimed Mark and tried to lunge forward again.

"No!!! THat's enough! We are going now!" I practically started dragging him along.

Scarlet sensed Mark's tears and thought she'd add in her own.

I saw the man start to come after us, his dog barking at the sudden noise but I was out of there  as fast as possible, disappeaaring round the corner before he could have another go at me.

If i'm honest, I had no idea where I was going.

I was just walking in the darkness, through the city fog, trailing these children behind me.

We passed a greasy spoon and I checked my pocket. I had £3.

I knew if I spent this, I had no idea when I would get any more money, but at that moment, I couldn't stand their tears anymore and my own stomach was rumbling.

We took refuge at a table in the corner, to be noticed as little as possible. I left Scarlet sat in her buggy alongside me and settled Mark at the table, his body being too small to reach and his big brown eyes peering over the rim of the scratched wooden table top.

The waitress came over after a good few minutes of doing her crossword at the till. I had to glare at her a while until she did and she could sense my impatience. She probably wasn't used to mothers with small children in here at midnight.

Looking around, I saw a young couple, clearly having an after-movie coffee after a first date. He was holding her hand and smiling, she was giggling and twirling her hair.

"You better enjoy that feeling, hen! It'll no be that when he dumps you with 2 kids and you're sat in my shoes!" I muttered bitterly towards their direction.

A couple of drunk guys getting a greasy roll after the pub sang "Fields Of Athenry" loudly in the corner. They were immediately confonted by a large, bulldog faced type in a leather jacket, arguing a sectarian point and why "Simply the Best" should be their song.

It launched into an argument of friendly-ish banter until it was broken up by the guy on the date while his girlfriend looked on, impressed by her choice of new boyfriend.

All the male bravado was lost on me, though. Three kids so far, (although one was lost,) by 3 different guys meant that no man was special to me anymore. Used and abused was probably the most Glaswegian term that applied to me.

I was cynical and jaded, always left on my own. The only evidence of the love I used to have was the two pairs of starving eyes that sat expectantly in front of me.

"Im Agnes!" barked the waitress. "WHat can I get you?"

"Sausages!" shouted Mark, immediately.

"ssssgggessss!" Echoed Scarlet.

Agnes' face softened. "Sausages!!! Ah who doesn't love sausages," writing it down on her little waitress pad. "And for you?" She turned to me, sticking the stubby pencil behind her ear, embedding it in her peroxide frizzy hair.

I was panic stricken. I didn't know how much sausages were, and took my money out of my pocket to count it against the menu. I Would just be able to afford them if I only had a coffee.

I couldn't justify getting something to eat and not giving to the children.

"Cup of coffee!"

I saw Agnes flicking her eyes towards the change that sat in the palm of my hand, and i became self conscious curling my hands around it.

She smiled and nodded, tucking the pad back in her apron. "Coffee it is!"

I sat thinking about my life while Mark chatted away to Scarlet, stroking her hair and telling her about the sausages that were on their way.

There should be three kids sitting here with me, there was always going to be a lost one, wasn't there?

I lost Beth in 1979. When I lost her in that fire, I think that was when the light went out in my eyes.

Some would say I've become hardened since then, not caring about Mark or Scarlet but the truth was that her memory still haunted me and I found it hard to get attached to them in case I lost them too.

Beth died in an electrical fire when she was sleeping upstairs, as a two year old. To this day, I couldn't tell you what caused the fire, all I was told was that it was an electrical fault.

I was watching tv holding three month old Mark when I smelt the smoke. I ran out the house and banged on my neighbours door to take Mark so I could run back upstairs to get Beth but by the time I got back, the smoke was too heavy and the flames held me back.

My brother George tried to get past them but burned himself and had to come back down.

By the time we got her, she was gone. Poor Beth.

Of course, by that time, Social Services thought this was all my fault. Mark was taken off me and put into foster care. I was left alone, both children gone but in very different ways.

I tried to get him back, over and over again. By the time I was pregnant with Scarlet, I had him back but both kids were put on the "At Risk" register.

They thought I was a good for nothing. Maybe I was. I hadn't managed to help Beth.

                                          ***

Agnes came back ten minutes later with 3 plates of sausages and toast and plonked them on the table in front of us with a flourish.

Scarlet and Mark looked delighted.

"I only asked for 2 lots!" I proclaimed. "I don't have the money!"

Agnes winked at me, "Our secret eh?"

I could have cried there in the draughty cafe. It had been a long time since anyone had shown me any kindness.

"Thank you!"

Mark started feeding Scarlet hers, expertly cutting them up when a three year old really shouldn't know how to use a butter knife. She adored her brother, and although it irked me to say it, it made me jealous.

No one ever looked at me like that. My brother stole everything I owned from me.

But here was Mark who wouldn't even eat until Scarlet had her fill and the look she gave him meant she appreciated it to the ends of the earth.

Only when he was satisfied that she was happy, tomato sauce dribbling down her chin, would he then start to eat.

Mark ate like he had never had a meal, shovelling it down with gusto.

I nibbled mine, mainly because I felt guilty at having a free meal.

I was just about to wipe the grease from my hands when the police came in.

"Must be here for those sectarian guys!" I thought. That always went on in Glasgow. It was a common sight. Rangers vs celtic, Catholics vs Protestants.

But no, the two policemen walked past them and strode towards me, eyes fixed on me.

I was still thinking there must be some mistake and opened my mouth to protest when I saw Emma, the Social Worker, coming in behind, hair chignonned, still in her perfect suit, clutching her perfect briefcase.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?" I pushed my hair incredulously against the wall behind me and went to rush round towards the children but the policemen stood in front of me, and held up a hand.

"Not just now!" His voice boomed at me. He blocked me from getting past and his colleague stood next to him forming an offical wall.

Emma rushed towards the kids and Scarlet smiled at her, and excitedly flapping her bird like arms. This enraged me, she never smiled at me.

I struggled to push past the Police Officers and get to the children but I couldn't. I could see through the mens shoulders and trusting little Scarlet was nestling her head into Emma's shoulder, while Mark held her hand. They didn't look too bothered but I was at breaking point.

"Mark, Come to Mummy Mary!" I cried, kneeling down to look him in the eye between the mens' knees.

Mark looked me, and grabbed Scarlet's hand, pushing himself against Emma's legs. She ruffled his hair and stepped back, clutching them.

"They have to come with me, Mary. We had the court order for the morning, you've broken that already. You know they have to go into care. Where were you even going at this time of night? We had arranged to come in the morning. I have to take them now for their sake, I mean look at this place!" Emma exclaimed.

She gestured around herself, and I followed her wave. Agnes stood, watching against the counter. Her expression had gone from someone feeling so sorry for me, she gave me free sausages to one where she wondered what I had done to the children that would merit the police taking them at midnight.

She strode out the cafe, taking the children, my children with her and I could see her through the velux blinds putting them into the police car. Mark's eyes shone. He had only ever seen the police cars on the tv. THis was an adventure for him. He even waved at me through the window.

I screamed!!

"GET ME THEM BACK!!! Mark!! Scarlet!!!"

"Ma'am, you need to step back. You have to let us do our jobs!" He looked kind, this policeman. Badge number 343 on his shoulder and looked a little older than me, I was 23.

His face softened when he saw my forlorn state but remained composed enough to keep his authority.

The two of them turned on their heels, and left, removing their hats to get into the front of the Vauxhall while Emma sat in the back with the kids.

I rushed out after them and started banging on the window, screaming, "Mark, come with Mummy Mary. Get out the car!"

He just waved at me through the glass, smiling as the blue lights were turned on and the police car left, leaving me sitting in the road crying.

I sat in the rain, in the street, i'm not sure how long for. I hoisted myself up and went into the cafe to collect their things.

Agnes wasn't looking at me in the same way anymore. She no longer felt sorry for me. She was trying to work out what I had done that warranted my children being taken from me.

She came to the table and removed the plates full of food the children were in the middle of eating. I thrust my £3 at her hand but she recoiled. "Oh no, i told you they were free."

While I had been eternally grateful before, things had changed between her and I. She didn't think the same way of me, and now I felt like her kindness was grudged, but the fight had left me.

I didn't have any energy anymore.

"Just take it, I don't have anything left anyway!" I muttered.

She didn't take it though, Agnes took the plates and left.

I stood up and put my bag in Scarlet's empty buggy, leaving the money on the table. Where was I going to go now?

I always had a child with me, ever since Beth, then Mark and latterly Scarlet. Now was the first time in 5 years where I had to be completely on my own.

I stepped out into the street, and left the buggy there. What did I need it for now I no longer had any children to put in it?

Then I walked..........