‘You know more than you’re telling me.’
Tyler wrapped his hands around his mug.
Pearce examined him. ‘The car was in Craigmillar Castle Park, hidden in the woods.’
‘How do you get a car in there?’
He looked around the room at the dull walls and furniture. Pearce kept her eyes on him the whole time.
‘It appears the car smashed through a single bollard across the footpath next to the Old Dalkeith Road recycling centre. It’s at the end of a dead-end road, the centre was closed. The bollard was loose in the concrete anyway, according to complaints to the council.’
Once you were inside the park grounds in a car you could hide it anywhere, it was a labyrinth with a hundred different cubby holes and quiet spots. At night no one would be there to see the flames, and the smoke wouldn’t register in the dark skies. It could burn for hours, destroy as much evidence as possible. Deke had been smart.
‘And the dogs were in the car too?’ Tyler said.
‘They were in the back, badly burnt.’
‘So what do you think happened?’
Pearce was lifting her coffee mug to her lips when she hesitated, then lowered the mug back onto the table without taking a sip. ‘Forensics will find out. And phone records. Police work, you know.’
Tyler tried to think. Presuming the Holts hadn’t reported anything about the attempted arson, that left the sound of gunfire at the house. Maybe the family’s reputation would mean that neighbours kept their noses out of business that didn’t concern them. If any of them reported anything, the Holts would soon go round and have a word. So that left CCTV and phone records. He couldn’t think if there was CCTV of him anywhere near the Holt house, but it was everywhere these days, it seemed likely. But how would the cops know exactly when and where to look? He thought about the phone. He’d called Barry yesterday evening, that was the last time. And the Holts had called Tyler, but using Flick’s phone, so there was no connection to Barry there.
Pearce leaned forward. ‘Where were you last night?’
‘I told you, me and Bean stayed at a friend’s house.’
Pearce shook her head. ‘You’re going to have to do better than that. I need a name and address, this is your alibi.’
‘I don’t need an alibi, I haven’t done anything.’
Pearce fixed him with a stare and lowered her voice, looking at the closed door behind him before she spoke. ‘Look, don’t you get it yet? We don’t give a shit about Barry. Why should we care when a nasty little prick like him dies? And we don’t want you either, you’re just trying your best as far as I can see. But you need an alibi so we can do this properly. I need a name and address, someone who will confirm your story.’
Tyler looked out of the window and saw a seagull lifting into the sky, just one. He wondered if it was one of the same ones from the other day, without its adversary. Maybe it didn’t know what to do without that daily struggle against its nemesis, maybe it had lost its purpose.
‘The Holts have an alibi,’ Pearce said.
Tyler turned back to Pearce. ‘What?’
‘The whole lot of them, Deke, Monica and Ryan were at home all night watching television. It’s not airtight, but unless we come up with evidence it’ll do them for now.’
Tyler thought about Monica, Flick and Bean on the sofa, Barry and the dogs soaking in their own blood through in the kitchen.
‘Her name is Felicity.’
‘Surname?’
‘Ashcroft.’
‘And you and Bethany stayed at her house last night?’
‘Yes.’
‘All night?’
‘Yes.’
‘Felicity will confirm this?’
Tyler nodded. ‘There’s no need to talk to Bean, is there? She was asleep all evening anyway.’
Pearce stayed silent. Eventually she spoke. ‘No. We won’t have to speak to your sister. Little kids can get confused anyway, can’t they?’
Tyler rubbed at his forehead.
Pearce had a pen and pad out. ‘What’s the address?’
‘20 Hope Terrace.’
‘In Morningside? No offence, but how do you know a Morningside girl?’
Tyler pictured her standing in the living room surrounded by broken glass, her hand dripping with blood, and smiled.
‘We just bumped into each other,’ he said.
42
He jumped off the bus at the end of Musselburgh High Street and walked in the main entrance of Inveresk. He felt like he was trespassing but no one stopped him. It was as if a spotlight was shining on him, he imagined everyone looking at him, but they weren’t. This was Saturday afternoon so they were out of uniform, everyone kicking around in hoodies and jeans as if they were real kids and not paying thousands of pounds for the experience. He couldn’t believe there wasn’t security to keep people like him out.
He kept his head down and walked along the tree-lined path, more cover than if he went straight across the grass. The huge stained-glass wall of the chapel dominated the square, and he remembered sitting in there with Flick, thinking about sanctuary.
He turned left and strode past the back of the chapel and the mustard-coloured science labs to the building in the corner, Eleanora Almond House. He went up and rang the doorbell, shuffled his feet with his hands in his pockets.
A short girl with black curly hair in a fringe and big-framed glasses answered.
‘Is Flick around?’ he said.
She looked at him and shouted back into the house. ‘Flick, your friend’s here.’
Then she disappeared.
A moment later Bean appeared carrying the box with the puppies in it, Snook following at her side. She put down the box and hugged Tyler.
‘I missed you,’ she said.
‘I missed you too.’
Flick appeared at the doorway in jeans and a tracksuit top zipped all the way up.
Bean tugged at Tyler’s hand. ‘Can I let Mario and Luigi out on the grass?’
Tyler looked down for a moment. ‘As long as it’s just this bit here. And look out for them.’
The puppies were trying to clamber over the side of the box and Bean lifted them out. They spilled onto the lawn, Snook nosing behind.
Tyler turned to Flick.
‘Thank you,’ he said.
She rolled her eyes. ‘Oh my God, everyone loves having her here with the puppies. This is a house full of seventeen-year-old girls, remember. I’m a hero.’
Tyler looked at his feet. ‘I meant thanks for everything.’
Flick stepped out of the house and they began walking clockwise round the small quad. More mustard-painted buildings lined the edges, he hadn’t noticed them the first time he was here in the darkness.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
‘Shush.’
He stopped and looked at her. ‘No, I need to say this. OK?’
She nodded at him to continue and they walked on.
‘I got you into a load of trouble,’ he said. ‘And I am so sorry. When I think what could’ve happened I want to die. I knew I was up shit creek, I shouldn’t have dragged you into it. It was selfish and stupid and I’m sorry.’
‘You already said that.’
‘I know. I’m sorry.’
There was silence for a moment. It was sunny, and light played through the leaves of the trees, a breeze bristling them, peace and quiet away from the world.
‘Are you finished?’ Flick said.
Tyler chewed on his lip. ‘I don’t know what else to say.’
‘You don’t need to say anything. I’m a grown woman and I make my own decisions. You didn’t drag me into anything. I thought we were friends, and I wanted to help a friend, got it?’
Tyler didn’t speak. They reached the end of the square and turned, walked past an art studio.
‘This is a different world,’ Tyler said.
Flick tutted under her breath. ‘I hope this isn’t one of those “we’re from different worlds
, we’ll never understand each other” things. That’s such bullshit.’
Tyler laughed. ‘I’ll shut up.’
They headed back towards Almond House, Bean lying in the middle of the quad and letting the puppies lick her face and flop over her. She was giggling and smiling, and Tyler wondered about everything she’d been through. He thought about that thing he’d read, that the human brain was more impressionable in kids.
‘How did it go at the police station?’ Flick said.
‘They’re going to ask you to confirm my story.’
‘What is your story?’
‘We stayed at your place on Hope Terrace all night.’
‘What about Bean?’ Flick said.
‘They won’t ask her.’
Flick had a quizzical look on her face. ‘How did you swing that?’
‘They’re not very interested in finding out how Barry died.’
‘And how do you feel about it?’
They stopped walking and stood watching Bean and the puppies.
Tyler thought about his dream last night, being ripped apart by dog versions of his siblings. He felt a tightness in his stomach as he pictured Barry lying in the Holts’ kitchen, dead from the bullets Tyler had fired into him. He’d killed his own half-brother, and he was always going to have to live with that. Everyone carries stuff around with them, but this was overwhelming. He wondered how he could go on, but then it came to him, he was looking at the reason, Bean, lying on the grass, tickling Mario.
‘I’m trying not to think about it,’ Tyler said. Bean was getting Mario to chew on a stick. ‘How do you think she’s taking it?’
‘She’s a tough little thing.’
She was, but he had his doubts. Christ, the stuff she’d been through and she was only seven. She seemed fine at the moment but maybe she hadn’t processed it yet. Maybe you never did, maybe you just get on with life, because what else is there?
‘Do you think she even understands what happened?’ Tyler said.
‘I don’t know. What matters is that you love her and you’re here for her.’
That didn’t seem enough, but maybe it was.
They were a few yards from Bean, in the shadow of the trees, as a couple of ruddy-cheeked girls walked over to Almond House and in through the door.
‘And what about you?’ Tyler said.
‘What about me?’
‘How are you coping?’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’ Flick looked around the quad. ‘I’ve seen plenty of dysfunction in my time, remember? I’m used to it.’
Tyler frowned. ‘You shouldn’t have to get used to it.’
Flick looked at him. ‘Maybe. But you learn to cope. I’ve learned to cope just like you. Our lives might’ve been different, but we’re not so different from each other.’
Tyler wanted to hug her, but he just stood there watching his little sister.
Flick brushed a hair away from her face. ‘You know, you could stay at my house as long as you like.’
Tyler frowned. ‘I have to look after Mum.’
‘She could stay too.’
Tyler looked her in the eyes. He felt tears welling up inside him, blood rising to his cheeks. He looked at Bean, who was smiling at him from the grass, the pups sniffing around Snook now, feeding time. They would be weaned soon and would have to look after themselves. He looked around at the old buildings, the impeccable lawn, the oak trees throwing shadows across Flick’s face.
‘No,’ he said. ‘We need to go home.’
43
‘It was a dark and stormy night,’ he said, his voice booming. ‘A fateful night, when the world’s greatest superhero, Bean Girl, was born, a force for good battling the dark, evil powers of Niddrieville.’
Bean smiled as he went on, staring up at him from where she sat on his lap. She was getting too big for this now, the weight of her uncomfortable, but as long as she still wanted her bedtime story, he would do it. She cuddled into him and he felt her relax. Her head became heavy on his chest, and he could sense that her eyes were closing. He kept talking about goodies triumphing over baddies, villains getting their comeuppance, heroes striding off into the night after protecting ordinary people once more.
It was a clear and crisp night and they needed the blanket over them up here on the roof. A few stars were spattered across the sky, but the lights from the city obscured millions more. All that energy out there, stars and supernovae and black holes tearing the fabric of space apart, and him and his little sister down here getting drowsy and sharing a story.
He stopped talking and Bean didn’t stir. She was asleep, otherwise she would definitely tell him to keep telling the story. She was more outgoing and confident than he’d ever been at that age and he hoped that continued as she got older, that she didn’t get bogged down in anxiety about her looks, boys, all the crap of teenage life. But my God, what a place to start from, with everything she’d been through. Not just over the last few days but the years of seeing appalling behaviour normalised around her. Tyler had tried to protect her but it never felt like enough. But he would continue to look out for her as long as he could.
From here he could see the lights of the hospital grounds glowing amongst the wasteland of Niddrie and Greendykes. The gloomy shadow of Craigmillar Castle on the hill, the spread of newer houses to the right, everyone tucked up inside watching television or on their phones, eating and drinking and laughing with each other. Ordinary lives. He thought about the Holts doing the same over in their house, about all their neighbours doing the same, rich people trying to get by, the same as everyone else. He thought about all the girls and boys at Inveresk, missing their parents maybe, sad and isolated, or maybe loving it, the freedom and friendship and sanctuary of that campus.
Cities had a pulse and he felt Edinburgh’s life beneath him through the fifteen floors of concrete and steel that was his home.
He heard a noise behind him, the metal door from the ladder up to the roof.
He turned and saw Flick walking towards him holding two steaming mugs. She handed one to him and he caught the whiff of hot chocolate. She sat down on the seat next to him and blew across the top of her mug. She looked at Bean’s face and smiled.
‘You were right, it’s amazing up here.’ Her voice was low.
‘You don’t have to whisper,’ Tyler said. ‘Once she’s out, you can’t wake her.’
They stared at the blackness for a long time. Eventually Tyler felt her hand rest on his.
‘How was Mum?’ he said.
‘She’s OK.’
Tyler had talked to Angela about Barry earlier. He hadn’t known what to expect but she seemed to be taking it calmly, didn’t seem in shock. She knew what Barry was like, had no doubt suspected he might not live a long and happy life, but that didn’t make it any easier. And having to identify his burnt body, Jesus. He was her son, despite everything. And now she’d lost two children in the space of a couple of days. Tyler had expected her to go straight out and score after the news of Kelly then Barry, but so far he’d been surprised. As far as he could tell she hadn’t injected since the overdose, although she was back to drinking, saying she needed it while she detoxed. But even now she wasn’t crashed-out drunk, just bleary-eyed and sad. Maybe in a weird way Barry’s death had freed her somehow, freed her from the hold that part of the family had over her. She wasn’t sober but she was trying and that would do for now. Tyler wondered about help or support, if there was even anything like that for people like them.
He thought about Monica lying on the floor of her hall, blood seeping out of her. About her persuading Deke to let them go. About Ryan, his own age, ready to step into Deke’s world. About the house they had, the cars, the holidays and the rest.
He thought about the feel of the gun going off in his hand, the explosion of blood from Barry’s chest. The connection between the two, a thread linking Tyler’s life to Barry’s death forever. And the dogs, Christ
, the dogs.
‘I can’t stay long,’ Flick said.
‘I’m just glad you’re here.’
‘Me too.’
He’d been surprised when she turned up an hour ago. That she wanted anything to do with him after everything that had happened. As he’d ushered Bean away from Inveresk earlier, she kept asking questions about Flick, when they would she see her again, and if she could go to a school like Inveresk. The answer to the last one was easy – not in a million lifetimes. But for the other question he fudged his answer.
Then a few hours later Flick was on the other end of the buzzer asking to come up.
‘The view from here is incredible,’ Flick said, gazing up at the sky.
Tyler was looking at her. ‘It is.’
When she turned and saw him watching her, realised what he meant, she rolled her eyes and nudged him, almost spilling his hot chocolate.
‘Oh my God,’ she said. ‘Shut up.’
He did what he was told.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Doug Johnstone is an author, journalist and musician based in Edinburgh. He’s had nine novels published, most recently Fault Lines. His novel The Jump was a finalist for the McIlvanney Prize for Scottish Crime Novel of the Year. Several of his other novels have been award-winners and bestsellers, and he’s had short stories published in numerous anthologies and literary magazines. His work has been praised by the likes of Ian Rankin, Val McDermid and Irvine Welsh. Several of his novels have been optioned for film and television. He’s worked as an RLF Fellow at Queen Margaret University, and taught creative writing at Strathclyde University and William Purves Funeral Directors. He mentors and assesses manuscripts for The Literary Consultancy and regularly tutors at Moniack Mhor writing retreat. Doug has released seven albums in various bands, reviews books for Big Issue magazine, is player-manager for Scotland Writers Football Club and has a PhD in nuclear physics.
Follow him on Twitter @doug_johnstone.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Huge thanks to Karen Sullivan and everyone else on Team Orenda for their love and support. Thanks to Phil Patterson for all his hard work and enthusiasm, and the biggest thanks to Tricia, Aidan and Amber, as always.
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