‘She volunteered nursing services during the war … ’ He shrugged. ‘I suppose … it’s hardly fair to think your mother has to be a saint … ’
‘So, hang on … ’
‘I don’t know anything about him,’ said Mr McCredie stiffly. ‘Except he was a German. My dad was a German POW.’
Carmen’s heart overflowed with pity.
‘And you knew?’
‘Oh, my relatives had a lot to say about it. The McCredie side were quite a loud and vocal people.’
‘From when you were small?’
‘There were always whispers. The boys at school got hold of it. Christ.’
‘My God,’ said Carmen. ‘That’s … that’s … ’
‘It was a boarding school.’
‘In Edinburgh?’
‘Yes.’
‘Your parents, who lived in Edinburgh, sent you to boarding school in Edinburgh?’
‘I think … I think there was a limit as to how long my father could have me around. I didn’t get a lot less blond.’
Carmen leaned over and patted him on the sleeve.
‘Oh God, that must have been so hard.’
He nodded.
‘Why didn’t you … why didn’t you move? Get away?’
‘To do what? Stupid useless bloody son of a … ’
He couldn’t even say it.
‘My mother never got over it. The shame. Everyone knew. Everyone. Bad blood. That’s what they said.’
Carmen remembered Bronagh mentioning it. Goodness. Everyone did know. This was why. This was why he hid himself away.
‘I don’t understand: why did you stay in the city?’
‘It’s still my city. I love it,’ said Mr McCredie defiantly. ‘My entire family had been stupid bloody explorers. I wasn’t going to do that just to impress my father. Who by the way could never have been impressed with anything I ever did.’
‘And … Erich?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t … I don’t care. I don’t even know his surname.’
Suddenly Carmen thought of something.
‘I … You know the people who came in the shop? The German people?’
He looked at her.
‘I don’t want to see them.’
