by Ian Hamilton
Georgie shook her head. “You’re confusing me.”
“I’m simply trying to understand her side of the story. What did she say happened?”
“She said she left you with McPherson.”
“She told you that?”
“Yes. She said you were his favourite. She thought that if she left you with him, he wouldn’t come after her.”
“That’s the same story she told Moira,” Jack said.
“Is it not what happened?” Harry asked.
“She took Moira and me to the movies. After the first feature, she and Moira went to the toilet. They never came back. She didn’t leave me with McPherson. She left me sitting by myself in the theatre,” Jack said. “When the cleaners discovered me after the second feature, I was taken to the manager’s office. Questions were asked. Answers were given. Phone calls were made. Finally a nun appeared. She told me they didn’t know where my mother was. I remember telling her I wanted to go home. She said they had talked to my father and he didn’t want me. So she took me to St. Martha’s Orphanage.”
“Did the orphanage try to contact Jessie?” Barbara asked, her voice breaking.
“I don’t know. All I know is that during the six months I was there, neither she nor my father made an appearance.”
“How did you end up in America?” Harry asked.
“One of the nuns was American. She had a brother who lived near Boston. He and his wife were childless and eager to adopt. They took me in when no one else wanted me, and I took their name.”
“I don’t know,” Georgie muttered.
“You don’t know what?” Anne said.
“I’m sorry. I’m confused,” said Georgie.
“About what?” Anne pressed.
“Jack’s story about Mum. I can’t imagine her abandoning her own wee son in a cinema,” she said, and then looked at Harry. “Do you think Mum was capable of such a thing?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know what to think.”
“Are you suggesting I invented this?” Jack asked.
“No, but it was more than fifty years ago and you were very young. Time has a way of playing tricks on the memory, and you did say you can’t remember much from your early years.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my memories about that specific day,” Jack said.
“Your mother was under tremendous stress when she left your father. Do you think it’s possible that her memory was the faulty one?” Anne asked. “Or maybe she was in denial about what she had done and created an alternative history as a way of coping.”
“She wasn’t a woman to tell lies,” Georgie said.
“She may not have considered it a lie. She may have convinced herself that her version of events was true, to avoid feeling guilty.”
“Her memories were painful but she spoke about them openly. I don’t know why she wouldn’t be as honest about Jack,” said Georgie.
“Maybe she was being open about the things done to her, rather than things done by her.”
“You didn’t know her.”
“That’s true. I’m simply trying to understand,” Anne said.
“All I know is that Mum wouldn’t hurt a fly, let alone her own son,” Georgie said.
“She was estranged from Moira, though, wasn’t she?” Jack asked.
“Moira is difficult. Mum wasn’t the only person she didn’t get along with,” Georgie said. “What did you think of her?”
Jack hesitated and then shrugged. “Truthfully, she isn’t someone I want to spend more time with.”
“That reflects how Harry and I feel about her.”
“All the same, perhaps Moira reminded your mother of her life with McPherson, while you and Harry represented her new life with a new husband,” Jack said. “By the way, Moira did say nice things about both of you, and about the man your mother married — what was his name, Davey Montgomery?”
“He wasn’t a saint, but he treated her well and he was kind to us,” Harry said.
“Speaking of Davey, roast beef was his favourite dinner, and that’s what I’ve prepared tonight,” Barbara said. She looked at the coffee table. “No one has touched the cheese and crackers, so you should have plenty of room.”
“Thanks, Barbara. That was a timely change of subject,” Harry said, eyeing his watch. “Why don’t we move into the dining room.”
“Yes. And while we eat I’d like to hear all about your children,” Barbara said.
Everyone stood up.
“I need to go to the loo,” Georgie said to Jack and Anne. “It’s upstairs, in case you need it.”
“And we have some work to do in the kitchen,” Barbara said. “Go on through to the dining room, and take your drinks with you.”
Jack and Anne followed Harry and Barbara down the hall and turned left into the dining room. The table was set for six. Jack and Anne sat together, facing the door.
“Georgie is very defensive about her mother,” Anne whispered. “Don’t push too hard.”
“The woman wouldn’t hurt a fly? What a joke.”
“Jack, please.”
He nodded, but she wasn’t sure what that meant.
14
Georgie was upstairs for quite some time, and Anne wondered if she was gathering herself. Her delight at meeting her long-lost brother had disappeared when they were discussing Jessie. Anne hoped both Georgie and Jack would be calmer over dinner.
When Georgie finally entered the dining room, Harry and Barbara followed, carrying a large green salad and two bottles of red wine. “I’m letting the beef rest, so we’ll start with this,” Harry said.
The conversation idled as the salad and wine were served. Anne was grateful for the distraction. All the talk about Jessie McPherson had exposed raw feelings, and it was clear that Jack and Georgie had different memories of the same woman. There was no right or wrong; there was just different.
As the meal progressed, Anne saw Georgie and Jack exchanging glances while Harry anxiously kept a watchful eye on both of them. She sensed this hadn’t turned out the way he had wanted, and that he was looking for a way to broker a peace. She tried to help by saying to Barbara, “Tell us about your children. Harry said they’re at school in England.”
Barbara smiled. “Alastair is in his final year of architecture at the University of Sheffield, and Ellen is in second-year medicine at the University of Leicester. I don’t know why they both felt the need to go to England to study, but it seems to have worked out well for them. Not only are they at excellent universities, they’ve also met partners there.”
“Both of whom are English,” Harry added.
“Is that still a problem? I understand that the English and Scots have a history of animosity, but I assumed that was all in the past.”
“It’s better than it used to be, but there are still flare-ups, usually when the English try to run roughshod over us,” said Harry. “On a personal level, though, there’s no animosity. Alastair’s and Ellen’s partners are lovely people.”
“And your daughter, Elizabeth?” Anne asked Georgie. “Harry said she has ambitions of becoming an actress. How is she pursuing her dreams?”
“She’s pursuing them here in Scotland. She just graduated from the Glasgow College of Dramatic Art. Who knows where that will lead? It’s a hard industry to get a foothold in.”
“What kind of work has she done?”
“She’s been in some college productions, was an extra in a few films, and has done some local television adverts.”
“We have a son-in-law in the film business in Los Angeles. If Elizabeth ever wanted to talk to him, I’m sure he’d be pleased to accommodate her,” Anne said.
Georgie’s eyes wavered, and Anne realized she was a bit tipsy. “That would be grand of him,” Georgie said. “Education and raw talent are fine, but without
contacts, without someone to give you a leg up, it’s difficult to get ahead. And by the way, we call her Liz, not Elizabeth. I should have said that earlier.”
“How about your children?” Barbara asked Anne. “What are they up to?”
“Well, Allison, our oldest, is married to Tony — he’s the one in the film business. They have one son and Allison is at home looking after him. Mark is a commodities trader in Chicago and he’s unmarried. Brent is a banker in New York. He and his wife Maggie have a baby daughter.”
Harry started to pour wine before realizing both bottles were empty. He went to the kitchen and came back with two more. “I have something stronger if anyone wants it,” he said.
“The wine will be fine for me,” Jack said.
He had hardly spoken since they sat down, and now all eyes were drawn to him.
“How did you get to be so successful?” Georgie asked him, slurring her s’s.
Jack shrugged. “I was in the right place at the right time.”
“Don’t be so modest.”
“I’m not being modest. I had a solid education in accounting and I love to work, but there were other factors that took me to the top,” he said. “When I started at Pilgrim, it was a second-class insurance company that didn’t attract the best talent. I was the first Bentley graduate to join the firm.”
“Bentley, I take it, is a prestigious accounting school.”
“It is. So when I joined Pilgrim, I was immediately earmarked as an up-and-comer. On top of that, most of the senior management team were in their late sixties. They started retiring almost as soon as I joined the firm, which meant I was able to move up quickly. Promotion through attrition.”
“That’s a silly thing to say, Jack,” Anne interjected as Harry went around the table with fresh wine.
“Why’s that?” Georgie asked.
“Jack worked night and day to make Pilgrim a success. He moulded it and willed it into becoming what it is today. I won’t let him downplay his achievements.”
“He created one of the great insurance companies of America,” Harry said.
“Mum would be proud,” Georgie added.
“I don’t think I want to talk about her any more tonight,” Jack said, and took a big sip of wine.
“I think that’s best,” Harry said.
“I don’t,” Georgie countered.
“Och, Georgie, come on,” Barbara said, extending a hand towards her sister-in-law.
“Don’t ‘och, Georgie’ me,” Georgie said. “I don’t want to cause a fuss, but I also don’t want to leave things as they were before dinner. Jack was painting Mum as a villain, and that’s not right.”
“I never used the word villain. But tell me, after hearing what I had to say, how would you characterize her?”
“She was a victim. The real villain was Andrew McPherson. Why aren’t you going after him? Why aren’t you calling him to account?”
“How could I do that? The man is dead.”
“Says who?”
“There’s no record of him.”
“You mean no record that you could find,” she said.
“Do you mean to say he’s alive?” asked Jack in disbelief.
Georgie nodded. “He was three years ago. I don’t know about now.”
“You never told me that,” Harry said, looking stunned.
Georgie grimaced. “I didn’t want to bother you with it. Besides, it came to nothing.”
“How so?” Harry said.
“I went to a pub where I was told he was a regular, and I saw him there. But I didn’t have the nerve to approach him,” she said.
“What did he look like?” asked Jack.
“You would never guess the man is almost eighty. He looked a bit seedy, but seemed fit, had a full head of grey hair, and wasn’t excessively wrinkled.”
“How big is he?” Jack asked.
“Medium height, medium build.”
“What did you learn about him?” Jack said. “If you located him, you must have found out something about his life. Did he remarry? Did he have more kids?”
“What I learned was that he hadn’t changed much since his days with our mother,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“I had tried to find him through channels like health and social services but failed. So I went back to the address Mum told me had been theirs. I talked to some of the older neighbours and they remembered him. One said that after Mum left, he went through several more women. When the war started, he joined the navy, but he came home to Glasgow and back to the house when it was over.”
“Did he live by himself?” Jack asked.
“For a few years, but then he was sent to prison for killing a man in a pub fight. He was given ten years for it, and then while he was in prison he killed another man, so they added four more years to his sentence.”
“How do you know this?” Barbara asked.
“The Glasgow Standard has a file on him. They referred to him as Douglas Andrew McPherson. Mum always called him Andrew, but it turns out that Andrew was his middle name. He reverted to Douglas when he got out of prison. I guess he hoped that would fool people.”
“How did you find him?” Harry asked.
“One of his old neighbours said she’d seen him in a pub on Calvin Street, about half a mile from his old house. I went to that pub every afternoon for three days. He showed up on the third.”
“How did you know it was him?”
“I had a photo from the Standard and I had the neighbour with me. She cost me two lagers a day, but it was worth it when she identified him.”
“You said this was three years ago?” Jack asked.
“That’s about right.”
“You’re certain it was him?”
“I had the photo and the neighbour.”
“But you don’t know if he’s still alive.”
“No, I don’t.”
“How could we find out?”
“I’m sure the pub is still there, and I still have his photo from the Standard if you want it.”
“Why didn’t you talk to him?” Jack asked.
“He scared me,” Georgie said. “I remembered our mother’s stories about him, and then I thought about him killing two men. He’s old, but he still looked strong enough to beat me if he wanted. I know that was irrational, but I couldn’t help thinking it.”
“You did the right thing,” Barbara said.
“I agree. There’s enough danger in this world already without deliberately putting yourself in harm’s way,” Anne said.
Harry looked at Jack. “I’m shocked by all of this. I can’t imagine how you feel. You came here to see Moira, and now . . .”
“I admit this is a lot to absorb,” Jack said.
“He’s probably dead by now,” Georgie said.
“Even if he isn’t, there’s no reason to go looking for him,” Anne said.
“That’s true,” said Jack.
Conversation lagged again as the facts of Douglas Andrew McPherson’s life sunk in. Jack felt Anne’s hand on his knee, and when he turned to her, she mouthed, Maybe we should leave?
“I have a fine old single malt, cognac, and Grand Marnier,” Harry said loudly. “Who wants what?”
“You and Barbara have been wonderful hosts, but I think it’s time we made our way back to the hotel,” Jack said. “We’re both a little jet-lagged and in need of a good night’s sleep.”
“But we’ll see you tomorrow?” asked Harry.
“Of course.”
“Barbara and I have to work, but our evening’s free.”
“The same for me,” Georgie said.
“Then why don’t you be our guests for dinner at the hotel tomorrow night,” Jack said.
Harry looked at Georgie, and as one
they said, “That would be perfect.”
“I’ll call you with the details,” Jack said, rising from his chair.
“Great. Let me get my car keys and I’ll take you back to the hotel.”
“Harry, I think we should phone for a taxi. We’ve all had a lot to drink,” Anne said.
“Nonsense, I can drive.”
The group began to make their way to the front door. Barbara exchanged polite hugs with Jack and Anne. Georgie hung back, observing. But when Jack looked at her, she stepped forward and threw her arms around his neck. “I’m so happy we’ve found you,” she said, her voice thick. “Let’s not squabble about Mum anymore. Let’s just celebrate the fact that we’re finally together.”
“I’m also glad we’ve connected,” Jack said.
Georgie let go of him and smiled at Anne. “He’s such a handsome man. According to our mum he was a beautiful wee boy. I have some old photos of him she left me, if you ever want to see them.”
Anne saw Jack stiffen. “That would be lovely. Another time,” she said.
15
Georgie and Barbara stood in the open doorway and waved as they got in the car.
“Georgie really surprised me,” Harry said as he started down the street.
“How’s that?” Jack asked.
“She never told me about McPherson.”
“What would you have done if she had told you?” Anne asked.
“I don’t think I would have done anything. Davey Montgomery was my father. McPherson doesn’t mean anything to me,” Harry said. “Unlike Georgie, I have no interest in revisiting the past.”
“That’s because your past has clarity,” said Jack.
“Sorry. I wasn’t implying that you shouldn’t be pursuing yours.”
“That’s okay, I wasn’t offended. Although, speaking of offence, I did seem to annoy Georgie quite a bit,” Jack said.
“She’s emotional at the best of times, and these aren’t the best of times for her.”
“I was going to ask her about her husband but decided it wasn’t the right time for that,” Jack said.
“That was thoughtful of you,” Harry said. “But truthfully, where that’s concerned, there’ll never be a right time.”