The Shipbuilder’s Daughter

by Emma Fraser

  ‘I am sorry, truly sorry, to have caused you and Mother pain, but Alasdair is innocent.’

  ‘Are you certain he didn’t kill that man? He was there. The knife that was used had his fingerprints on it. There has been trouble between him and this particular gang before – or so I’m told.’

  How did her father come to be so well informed? By the police? The newspapers? His friend the Procurator Fiscal?

  ‘Of course Alasdair is innocent. I would swear it on my life. I know my husband. If he had a quarrel with someone he would fight with words and the law – not with his fists – and certainly not with a knife in some dark lane. My husband is an honourable man. Even your acquaintances would agree.’

  ‘Your husband has a history of violence, Margaret. I can’t believe you are not aware of that. His Bolshevik cohorts, elevated though some of them might be, have no more use for his sort than I do. Look at the mess the common man is making of this once great country! Look at what is happening in Germany and Italy! They are nothing but anarchists! That’s what happens when you give the common man power above his station.’

  Alasdair always said that change had to come from the people themselves, the ordinary man and woman. That, as long as the power remained with the lucky select few, a country could never really change and she agreed with him. Promises had been made and broken countless times by people like her father. But now was not the time to argue.

  ‘I didn’t come here to debate politics with you, Father,’ she said wearily.

  ‘Then why did you come?’

  She hesitated, wondering whether she’d made a mistake coming here. Nothing in her father’s manner suggested a softening towards her. But she was his only surviving child. Whatever had happened between them, surely he wouldn’t refuse to help her now? She placed her hands palm up on his desk.

  ‘Please, Father, I’m begging you. I’ll go down on my knees if you want me to. If you have any love left for me – help me – help Alasdair. If not for our sakes, then for your grandchildren.’

  ‘You should have thought about your children when I gave you the chance! They – you – could have had the world at their feet. But you and your husband threw my offer back in my face.’

  ‘Alasdair is a proud man. He wants to be the one to provide for his children.’

  ‘And look where he is now!’

  Margaret bit back the words that bubbled up inside her. She couldn’t afford to antagonise her father any further than she had already. If he refused to help them she didn’t know what she’d do.

  He narrowed his eyes. ‘Does your husband know you are here?’

  ‘No,’ she admitted. ‘As I said, he is a proud man. He’d hate it if he knew I’d come to you.’ There was nothing for it but to plough on. ‘The lawyers I engaged – Mr Johnston and Mr Williams, the advocate Mr Johnston instructed – think there is a good chance Alasdair will be found guilty.’

  Her father shrugged, as if it were of no consequence to him that her husband could be hanged. ‘And what do you imagine I can do about that?’

  ‘I need money to pay the lawyers and more to offer a reward to encourage any witnesses to come forward with new information. It’s the only way to find the person who really killed Tommy Barr.’

  ‘And what do I get in return?’

  Margaret frowned. ‘Surely it’s in your interest too for my husband to be found innocent? Didn’t you say that your association with a criminal was damaging your name and your business?’

  Her father laughed harshly. ‘I think the damage has already been done.’ He paused. ‘Witnesses could be found – of that I have no doubt. Pay people enough and they’ll say anything. But how could we – or more importantly the police – be sure that these witnesses,’ he signalled quotation marks in the air, ‘weren’t perjuring themselves?’

  ‘Alasdair is innocent. They’d only be confirming what must have really happened.’

  ‘Even if it meant them lying in a court of law?’

  She swallowed hard, knowing that in the next few moments she was about to cross a line that she’d have to live with for the rest of her life – a line her husband would never forgive her for crossing if he ever found out. ‘If that’s what it’ll take to get him out of gaol and his name cleared, then I wouldn’t care.’ She looked directly at him. ‘You have the means to ensure Alasdair is found innocent.’

  He reached across his desk and opened a walnut box inlaid with mother-of-pearl. Taking a cigar, he lifted it to his nose, sniffed it appreciatively before taking his time to light it. Margaret felt her nerves stretching to breaking point.

  ‘Let us be quite clear,’ he said, when the cigar was lit to his satisfaction. ‘You want me to use my money to find witnesses who will swear that they saw things even if they didn’t see anything. And if that’s not sufficient for your husband to be found not guilty, you wish me to persuade people I know, people who owe me favours, to use their influence to alter the verdict?’

  A knot twisted deep down inside of her. He wanted her to say it out loud, knowing what it would cost her. ‘If it is the only way to get Alasdair his freedom, then yes.’

  Her father leaned back in his chair and expelled a cloud of smoke. ‘Well, I never. Maybe you’re more like me than you care to admit, Margaret.’ For the first time she saw in his eyes a glimmer of admiration. He stood and walked across to the window. He was quiet for so long, Margaret wondered if he had forgotten she was there. When he turned to face her, his face was grey but his eyes held a steely coldness that made her shudder. ‘You could have had everything. Wealth, power, your family around you, but for that man.’ The muscles in his jaw clenched and unclenched. ‘Much better that he’d been the one who had died…’

  ‘You can’t mean that! I know you and Alasdair have had your differences but —’

  ‘I do mean it, God help me. But Lord knows I have no desire to have my grandson branded the child of a murderer!’

  ‘Then you’ll help?’

  He walked back to his desk and sat down. ‘Very well. Forget the reward, it will only muddy the waters. I’ll pay your lawyers’ fees. You continue to meet with Johnston as you’ve been doing, but leave the rest to me.’

  Margaret closed her eyes. ‘Thank you —’

  ‘But I have conditions.’

  ‘I’ll do anything —’

  ‘You haven’t heard what they are yet. You will give up your children into my care. You will agree never to see them again.’

  ‘No!’ She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  Her father raised his eyebrows. ‘Don’t you want your son to grow up to be someone? He could have all this!’ He made a sweeping gesture with his hand. ‘He could be one of the most powerful men in Scotland and beyond. I have interests abroad – there is another war coming – and more ships will be required and more ships means a greater demand for steel. America is growing and it needs more steel than can be supplied. Your son could be richer than I one day. He may even be knighted! Would you deny him his heritage – his natural right?’

  ‘My son and my daughter will grow up to be somebodies, Father, you can be sure of that. They will grow up to be kind and just, to know that privilege brings responsibility, that they must care for and help those less fortunate. That’s what matters – not money and not power. Not unless it can be used for the common good.’

  ‘You will never have anything to do with your children again,’ he continued, as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘No letters, no contact. Ever. I shall tell them in a few months that you both died.’

  Margaret gripped the chair as his words sliced into her.

  ‘I will never give up my children! And Mother would never agree.’

  ‘Your mother will do as she is asked.’ He stood in front of her. ‘Think carefully before you refuse me. As much as I can use my power to prove your husband’s innocence, so too can I use that same influence to ensure that he hangs. And if he hangs, how do you think you’ll support the children and yourself?’


  The thought of Alasdair hanging was still impossible to contemplate. ‘I’ll find work. I’ll go back to being a doctor.’

  ‘And who do you think will employ a woman with two children – the widow of a convicted murderer? Even if you do find work I imagine I’ll find it easy enough to persuade a judge to declare you unfit to be a mother and to remove the children from you.’

  ‘You must hate me very much, Father,’ she whispered through frozen lips.

  ‘Hate you?’ he said, appearing genuinely surprised. ‘This has nothing to do with my feelings for you. I only wish to have Alasdair Morrison out of my life once and for all and to gain custody of my grandson. Whether your husband hangs or whether he leaves the country a free man is up to you. A simple choice, Margaret. Your husband’s life for your children. It shouldn’t be difficult. They’ll want for nothing and you’ll have your husband. I’ll even give you money to start again. Not in this country, of course. But you’re both young enough to be able to start a new life somewhere else. You could even have more children.’

  ‘I’d rather die before I agree to any of this!’

  ‘Ah, Margaret. It isn’t that simple. If you don’t sign custody of your children over to me your husband will hang – have no doubt about that. Furthermore, I shall take the children anyway. If I can’t get them through the courts, it should be easy enough to have you admitted to an asylum. Then the courts would have no choice but to place the children with me.’

  Her heart was knocking so hard against her ribs, Margaret could barely breathe. She knew only too well about the women locked up in asylums – not because they were insane but because they were an embarrassment to their families. All that was needed was two doctors willing to sign a form along with the next of kin. And with Alasdair in gaol her father would fulfil that role.

  ‘One way or another I will get those children,’ her father continued. ‘The only question for you is whether you save your husband’s life in the process.’

  ‘You’re the one who is insane!’

  ‘As I said, it is up to you. I shall have papers drawn up giving me custody. You have until a week on Monday to tell me your decision. If you agree to my terms you can sign the papers then.’

  Margaret stumbled outside. She’d made everything worse by going to her father. Something was broken in him.

  To threaten to have the children removed from her, to have her committed! It was absurd! He would never get away with it. She had powerful friends too. Or at least she’d had once. Dr Quigley had long since retired and gone to live near the sea in Fife with a niece and her family, and she hadn’t seen Mrs Little since she’d last treated her several years ago. But there was Lillian – she would know it was nonsense. Why then didn’t she feel reassured? She might be able to find people to say that she was sane – but all her father needed was two to say she wasn’t.

  Even if he failed in his attempt to certify her as insane, it would be a simple matter for him to persuade the courts she wasn’t a fit mother. He knew people and if he could manipulate the law for or against Alasdair, he could certainly find someone who would sign whatever he wanted him to.

  Of course she could argue, defend herself, but what if she lost? The thought of being permanently separated from her children sent waves of terror through her.

  Blindly, she hurried from the yard and onto the street, bumping into pedestrians and only narrowly avoiding being hit by a tram, a ship-worker pulling her out of the way just in time.

  She took a seat on a park bench, ignoring the strange looks from the passers-by and the rain that drenched her. Thoughts whirled around her head. Had it been a set-up all along? Was Mr Johnston in cahoots with her father? Was that why he was so ready to give in?

  She no longer knew what to think – who to trust.

  What to do now? There had to be something. She’d promised Alasdair she wouldn’t give up. There had to be a way to save him and keep her children.

  Chapter 20

  Mairi took one look at Margaret’s face when she opened the door to her and ushered her in, telling her not to say anything until she’d dried off and had something hot to put some colour in her cheeks.

  As soon as Margaret’s hands were wrapped around the cup, Mairi sent the children outside and told them to get their father as fast as their legs would carry them. She wouldn’t let Margaret speak until she had drunk all of the scalding sweet tea. The baby was sitting on a pile of blankets gnawing on his fist and studying them with big brown eyes.

  ‘Now tell us what’s happened,’ Mairi said, after Toni had hurried through the door and exchanged a few anxious words with his wife.

  Still reeling from the meeting with her father, Margaret told them what the lawyer had said, Alasdair’s response, and her father’s ultimatum. Her cheeks burned as she related the conversation. Although she knew Toni had no love for her father, it was still humiliating to admit the lengths he was prepared to go to, to get his way.

  Mairi looked at Margaret in horror. ‘What man would threaten to do that to his only child?’

  ‘A man like Bannatyne,’ Toni muttered, shaking his head.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ Mairi asked, turning back to Margaret.

  ‘I don’t know. I go round and round… one minute I think I have to do what my father wants, and fight to get the children back when Alasdair is released – the next I know it’s impossible. How can I give up my children? How can I be sure I’d get them back if I did? But if I don’t!

  ‘I even thought of running, hiding somewhere with the children where my father can never find me, but I can’t leave Alasdair! My father will see him hang for certain then!’ She dropped her head in her hands and cried, only dimly aware of Mairi crouching by her side and rubbing her back as if she were a child. She’d tried to be strong, she’d tried to believe everything would be all right, but she had no more strength left. Even as the words rang in her head she knew she had to find more from somewhere. She’d fought her father before and won and she’d promised Alasdair she wouldn’t give up. She wiped her eyes, blew her nose and took a shaky breath. ‘There has to be another way to save Alasdair.’ She was pleased to hear that her voice sounded, if not quite as firm and determined as she wanted, at least halfway normal.

  ‘We’ll no’ let him hang!’ Toni banged his fist on the table. ‘Not as long as we live will that man hang!’

  A surge of hope made Margaret light-headed. ‘You know something that will save him?’

  Toni removed his pipe from his pocket and took his time filling it. ‘There’s men who will do anything to help your husband; men who owe Alasdair their own freedom, men who have no reason to love your father and a few besides who owe you their lives.’

  ‘I don’t see…’

  ‘Hear him out, Margaret,’ Mairi murmured, covering Margaret’s hands with hers. ‘Go on, Toni.’

  ‘We work in a shipyard. The men who built these ships know every inch of them. And the rest know where those ships are going and when. If we could get Alasdair out of gaol we could hide him on one.’

  The hope drained away almost as quickly as it had risen. For the second time in as many hours she could hardly believe what she was hearing. It was as if she’d stepped into a nightmare where nothing and no one were as she expected, where the world had different rules, or none at all. She gave her head a little shake to clear it. ‘You mean help him escape?’

  ‘Aye. Why not?’

  ‘Because it’s dangerous! People could get hurt – or killed. We’d all be breaking the law then. All face imprisonment. And what if it didn’t work? Even attempting to escape would convince everyone that Alasdair murdered Billy Barr’s son. It would be the same as if he stood in the dock and admitted it —’ Yet – yet. Even as she protested, part of her was already considering the ins and outs of it, the pros and cons.

  Toni placed his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. ‘As I said, most of us have no love for your father or the polis. We’d take our chances.
’

  ‘How would you do it?’ She should, at the very least, listen to what Toni had in mind.

  ‘Anything’s possible if you know the right people. There’s many from here who have brothers or sons who work in the prison. We’d have to think more on it. Plan it properly. But it can be done, I’m sure of it.’

  ‘Alasdair would never agree. He’d never break the law or let anyone break it on his behalf.’

  Toni and Mairi exchanged a look. ‘We wouldn’t need his agreement,’ Toni growled. ‘We’d take him – knock him out if we have to – and put him on board one of those ships. He’d be out of the country before he knew what was happening.’

  ‘And the children and I would go with him?’ She couldn’t believe she was even giving this plan serious consideration. Toni was almost as crazy as her father. Yet hadn’t she been prepared to break the law when she’d told her father to find a ‘witness’?