The plasterer at work today fired a whole lot of questions at me. Cause I'd never met him before, and I still don't know his name, I didn't really want to speak about anything. I'd already been let in by the two cleaners who had a back door key. Lorna says "I'm not going to get into trouble for letting you in am I"? I'd never met her before either but unlike the old plasterer her name was easier to divine... As is the fashion with *young people" she was wearing one of those tops that never seem quite long enough, and when she bent down to pick up the hoover, there was the name tattooed on the small of her back in large letters. "You must be Lorna then?", maybe she isn't Lorna at all, anyway what if she changed her name, then what? I saw the whiskery plasterer trying to engage in light banter with the cleaners but being even older than me his world view would come across as something akin to a veteran of the Boer conflict. Like I say, that only left him with me to go on at, hence the questions.
Truth is the unspeakable happened 20 yards from the back door here in Dunblane. Now a decade later there isn't anything that can be said...The sound of kids shouting drifts over the hedge at play time, Its like nothing ever happened and at the same time it'll never go away...
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