He squinted into the late afternoon sun. It looked as though someone had beaten him to it, though he couldn’t imagine who. The bar was closed, and it wasn’t a place that strangers would know about. Unless, of course, Mam had got some early bedders. She didn’t usually take anyone in before Easter, but Dad had been talking about getting a new van.
Well, he’d soon find out. He set off purposefully towards the clearing, and the stranger standing in its midst.
The gate to Barra’s back garden was open, awaiting his arrival. Through the kitchen window he could see his mother’s head bent over the sink as she finished preparing the evening meal.
‘Ma-am! Mam! MAA-AAM!’
‘WHAT?’ Rose was racing towards him, her worst fears taking form in her mind, her face contorted with worry.
She grabbed him. ‘Barra!’
‘Mam …’ so breathless he could scarcely talk. ‘I just met … an angel!’
Rose dropped her hands. Turning back up the path, she trudged indoors.
‘For the love o’ God, Barra,’ she mourned. ‘What next?’
Rose picked up her cup. Her tea was stone cold.
‘Tell me again, what did he look like?’
Barra sighed, impatient to get to the rest.
‘He has blond hair, curly, like Roger Daltrey’s, only longer. And blue eyes. Very, very blue, like … I dunno, Mam, just very blue. He’s taller than me, but that’s ’cos he’s older. He’s fifteen. Well, he was … when he died. So he still is … fifteen.’
‘And his name’s Jamie?’
‘Aye, that’s his name all right. And he hasn’t met God yet, ’cos he’s just learning to be an angel. But …’
‘Jamie what?’
The question silenced Barra.
‘He doesn’t have a last name.’
‘Of course he does, Barra. Even if he is … well, he isn’t, but even if he was, he would have had to have a last name.’
Barra cast his mind back to the scene, trying feverishly to remember exactly what he had seen. It had been so real. Very real. But now that his mother was giving him the third degree, he had to admit how far-fetched it sounded. He would have to try harder – to remember. So he could convince Mam.
Jamie hadn’t given him a last name. Barra was sure of it. The stranger had reached out his hand as Barra approached and introduced himself.
‘Hello, Barra. I’m Jamie.’
‘Hello yirself. How y’doing?’
Jamie’s hand was cool. Very cool, considering the warmth of the afternoon. But before Barra had time to absorb this fact, a sudden heat suffused him.
He snatched his hand free. ‘Wow! What was that?’
Jamie had smiled. Just smiled. And the dazzle of it had lit the whole clearing.
Barra was transfixed. ‘How d’you know me?’ he managed at last.
Jamie beckoned him towards the old log and, obediently, Barra sat, all the while trying to take in every detail of this new acquaintance. Jamie was dressed in grey flannels and a white shirt – normal enough. But not even Mam’s Surf could get a shirt that white, and Dad had never had a crease in his trousers as sharp as this one. God, you could slice yir hand open just touching it.
It seemed to Barra that Jamie hadn’t said too much of anything – and yet … Well, he must have said quite a lot, really. He had told him that he was an angel. He definitely said that. He’d been in an accident, a car accident.
‘He didn’t say his last name, Mam. He was in an accident.’
‘An accident to the head?’ Rose asked, her voice edged with sarcasm.
‘Aye. Actually it was. He went through the windscreen. His parents are OK. It was just him … y’know.’
Rose gasped, her eyes clouding.
‘God,’ she breathed. ‘They’re still about then? His parents? Could there be anything worse than that?’
‘Y’see, Mam, he is an angel,’ Barra said, excited anew. At last, Mam was beginning to understand. ‘But listen, Mam. This is the best of it. He came here ’cos he needs me to help him!’
Jamie had been definite about that, too. Barra couldn’t remember all of it. Not every word. You couldn’t be expected to remember every word when you’d just met an angel. But Jamie had explained it. He needed Barra. There was work to be done in Drumdarg. Something pretty major, of course. It would have to be – for an angel to come here. To single him out – Barra Maclean. God, stuff like that didn’t happen every day, not even in his comics. You could hardly imagine it!
‘Imagine it, Mam. He came here for me to help him!’
Rose’s scepticism returned in full measure. ‘Aye, right. Here we all are – just waiting to be of service. And he was wearing grey flannels, this angel? And a white shirt?’
Barra gnawed on his lip. Who knew what angels were supposed to wear, anyway. Why couldn’t they wear grey flannels?
‘Well, at least he’s no’ a tink,’ Rose mused.
He wasn’t that. Whatever Jamie was, he was well brought-up. Barra shook the doubt from his mind. ‘He knew my name, Mam. Without me telling him.’
Rose gazed at her son, her expression softer. ‘He’s in Drumdarg, son. Everyone knows yir name here.’
‘But …’ Barra gritted his teeth. Mam was right. It wasn’t that big a place, Drumdarg. Not the kind of place an angel might choose. And Mam had been warning him about talking to strangers for yonks now.
But Jamie wasn’t a stranger. It was as though they had always known each other. At least, Jamie had known him. And, after they’d talked (well, Jamie must have done most of the talking, because Barra couldn’t remember saying anything. Nothing at all. And wasn’t that the strangest thing?), Jamie had disappeared. He’d been there one minute … and then he was gone. Simple as that.
Barra had sat there, moments stretching before him, waiting … And then, the realisation dawned. Jamie wasn’t coming back. Not then. But he would be back. He’d said they had work to do. He’d show up when he felt like it. Angels could do stuff like that. And Jamie was an angel. Simple as that.
‘Anyway, I’ll be seeing him again, Mam. And when he comes back he’s going to tell me – what it is he wants me to do.’
‘Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare do anything that boy tells you, Barra. D’you hear me?’
‘He’s not a boy. He’s not, Mam. Well, he is really, but he’s an angel as well.’
Rose shook her head. ‘He is not an angel,’ she said, definitely. Definitely – dismissing the possibility.
‘How do you know? I remember, Mam, I remember when I was wee, and you showed me that circle of flowers on the riverbank. You said it was the fairies that made it. You told me that. And I believed you! I believed about the fairies and Santa Claus – and everything, Mam! … Just ’cos you told me.’
Barra’s voice tailed off, close to