Monday

The plan was for Ciaran and Ugly to pick me up, and Ciaran would drive us to Dundee in the early morning before heading to the airport on his own. The restaurant was the place I had arranged to meet them. I didn’t want them to find out my home address. I packed enough clothes for three days, toiletries, and a couple of books. If this trip turned out to be incredibly boring, at least I’d have a good book. At ten past six, the restaurant didn’t open for the first breakfast guests until half-past six, when Ciaran’s large SUV pulled up. The woman was in the back seat. Instead of sitting next to the driver, I climbed into the backseat next to her.

“Good morning, Miss O’Connor.”

“Good morning. Can I call you something other than Ugly? It seems very crude to call you that.”

“But it’s my name, Miss O’Connor.”

“It can’t be. Why would anyone be called ugly? And my name is Cheape, and not Miss O’Connor, by the way.”

“My name is complicated, like me. I can’t forbid you to call me something else this weekend. If you can’t say the word, don’t. But I would consider it a personal favour and an honour if you would call me Ugly for the time we’re together.”

“I’ll think about it.” I said.

The woman who called herself Ugly was wearing a deep purple long skirt, almost black, with a transparent white top with lots of embroidery on it to cover the breasts somewhat. Impossible black high heels were tapping to the beat of the music. Instead of the A9, Ciaran drove to Dundee using the Old Military Road, the A984, to Dundee. A beautiful route with stunning views. Ugly didn’t seem to notice and sat dozing next to me. Early riser, I thought, somewhat sarcastically. Ciaran didn’t seem bothered by it, as he was busy with a long spiel about how the British army was receiving more and more personnel and resources as Europe moved closer to a European army. Ugly gently shifted from her chair until her head landed on my lap. She made a few approving groans and continued sleeping with her head resting on my thighs.

I’d spent a long time thinking about what to wear, especially since Ugly always dressed elegantly in incredibly long, ankle-length skirts. I’d only ever worn jeans or other pants, but I had two skirts. A midi skirt with cheerful flowers, a summer item I’d bought on a sunny day, and a leather miniskirt. Well, I think a miniskirt is already short, but this one was extra short, so to speak. I wore it twice to a party with a then-boyfriend. Never again after that. Until today. And now I felt Ugly’s breath on my bare legs. Her face was completely relaxed, and her wrinkles were less visible. Sweet. I don’t know if you’ve ever known a sweet old lady, but that was the first thing that came to mind when I saw her like that. Sweet. For a moment, I wanted to stroke her hair, like you do with a small child, but I felt Ciaran’s eyes on me, and then I didn’t dare.

We arrived in Dundee within the hour. Our hotel was close to the River Tay in Dundee. A huge hotel near the city. Paying no attention to anyone, they said goodbye to each other as if Ciaran was going to the front and there was a good chance that he would die there. Three, max four days, mind you.

After I’d brought the suitcases upstairs and the luggage cart back, I found Ugly at the window. I stood next to her to see what she was looking at. Downstairs was a small playground, nothing more than a few play frames and a swing. A father was pushing a little girl back and forth with endless patience.

Suddenly, the woman who called herself Ugly broke the silence. “My father was like that too. My brothers were much older than me, but I was my father’s favourite. I still remember how it felt when I leaned against his broad back on my bike. I’ve never felt so safe. He would do anything for me. All I had to do was look him in the eye, and I got what I wanted. He died when I was 12. And I was so angry with him as if he’d abandoned me on purpose. Of course, he hadn’t. He just died after falling six stories down from scaffolding. Back then, scaffolding didn’t have all the protective measures it has now.

Before I went to sleep, my father used to read to me. Not from a book, but he sat next to me on the bed and made up a story on the spot. Often a nonsensical tale, sometimes a scary one, but never so scary that a kiss on the forehead wasn’t enough to help me fall asleep contentedly. Even when I reached the age when fathers had long since stopped reading to their kids, my father would sit with me every night and tell me a story. My friend Sylvia had already got her first kiss from a boy, and I was still being read to from my father’s imagination. The night before he died, he told me a story. I would give anything to remember his last story, but I can’t. I felt guilty about that for a long time. As a teenager, I hated him for leaving me alone with my mother. Sure, quite a few of my friends didn’t have their fathers at home, but at least they’d simply run off with other women. They were alive. They could just go to their fathers if their mothers drove them crazy.

She turned over and flopped onto the bed. A king-size bed, too big for her father’s little princess.

“My mother wasn’t an evil woman. Only later did I understand she must have been grieving too, and that it wasn’t easy for her. Especially during my adolescence, I was an unruly child. I can still remember going on holiday to Spain with Sylvia for the first time, and we did everything that God forbade. And it was all my father’s fault.”

She stood up abruptly and looked at me. “Have you checked your app to see if the money has arrived?”

“No, not yet.” I said.

“Do that first. And then transfer it to your savings account, if you have one. That way, you’ll at least be sure we can’t retrieve the money as an incorrect entry. No one but you will be able to access your savings account. Come on, a girl has to be careful not to get cheated, even by a nice old lady like me.” She smiled. “Dutch directness, once it’s in, you can never get it out again.”

Obediently, I transferred the £1,000 into my savings account.

“Tell me, what are we going to do today? We will not stay cooped up in this beautiful hotel room, will we? I’m so curious about what you’ve got planned for me.” She clapped her hands like a little girl on her birthday.