The Shipbuilder’s Daughter

by Emma Fraser

  ‘We’ll never be happy without you! I told you before I would never give up on you. How can I leave you when I don’t know what is going to happen to you?’ She closed her eyes in exasperation. ‘Will you just listen to me for once, Alasdair Morrison!’ she hissed. ‘This plan of Toni’s is the only way.’

  ‘My love, they’ll come looking for you as soon as it’s discovered I’ve escaped!’

  Margaret glanced over to the door, expecting Dougie to come walking back in at any moment. ‘They would be looking for four people, a family. Not a single man and a woman on her own with two children.’

  Alasdair’s eyes glinted. ‘You’ve got it all worked out, haven’t you? Is there no end to the surprises you keep throwing at me, Mrs Morrison?’ He bent his head to kiss her hair. ‘It could all go wrong, my love, terribly wrong. People could get hurt, or caught. They’d be charged with aiding and abetting a crime and I’d be responsible for that. And by escaping I will look as guilty as they believe me to be.’

  ‘You are not responsible for everyone’s actions, Alasdair! If they weren’t willing to take the risk they wouldn’t have offered. It’s up to them if they want to help you. After all, you have helped so many in the past – why can’t you let them do the same for you?’

  ‘It’s not right. The law is the law, Margaret. It’s what I believe in.’

  ‘I know. But we have no other way. There is no other way.’ Margaret pressed her body into Alasdair’s and wrapped her arms around his neck. ‘Will you do it?’ she whispered. ‘For my sake, and our children’s, will you do it?’

  ‘You know what you are asking of me?’

  ‘I do.’ Her voice caught on a sob. How could she let him go when she might never see him again? ‘I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t the only way. If you love me —’

  ‘If I love you! There isn’t a man in the world who loves a woman more than I love you.’

  ‘Then say you’ll go. For the love of God, Alasdair, say you’ll go.’

  Her heart banging against her ribs, she looked up at him, willing him to agree.

  Alasdair took her face between his palms, the handcuffs only allowing him enough room to cup her chin. ‘I’ll not change my plea. This is what we are going to do. You take the children to the Hebrides.’ When she made to protest he stopped her words with his fingertip. ‘Before you leave, go and see Simon Firth. I’ve worked with him in the past. He’s not experienced,’ he gave her a wry smile, ‘in fact I doubt he’s ever been involved with a murder case, but he’s bright and he’s hungry for success. If he were more experienced I would have suggested him before but it seems to me he can’t do worse than Johnston. Most importantly, he knows me. He’ll know I’m innocent. Unlike Johnston.’

  ‘But —’

  ‘Hear me out. From the time I enter my plea, the Crown has a hundred and ten days before it moves to sentence. That law exists to stop prisoners from languishing in gaol indefinitely but it can work in our favour. Firth can use the time to find witnesses. Real witnesses. Not bought ones. You see, I still have faith.’

  ‘I can’t leave you when you are in prison! Don’t ask me to.’

  ‘You have to, Margaret. You have to protect our children. I can’t do that from in here.’

  ‘But what if you are found guilty? My father – you know what he’s capable of.’

  ‘I’ve taken on your father before and won and I’ll do it again.’ He searched her face. ‘You said you wouldn’t give up on me. I need you to trust me. I need you to have faith that I can do this. And I need to know you and the children are out of harm’s way. Please, Margaret, do that for me.’

  How could she leave him now? Did he know what he was asking? Did he truly appreciate the risk he was taking? When she didn’t reply he continued, ‘All I have left is you and the children and my dignity. Don’t take that away from me. If I escape I’ll be telling the world I am guilty. I’ll be telling the men I helped not to believe in justice – that they shouldn’t trust in the law. I’ll be telling my children the same.’

  ‘But if you hang —’

  ‘Then I’ll hang telling the world I am innocent.’

  She clutched him tighter. ‘I couldn’t bear it! I couldn’t go on living in a world without you in it.’

  A glimmer of a smile crossed his face. ‘I have no intention of having my neck stretched for something I didn’t do. But it won’t come to that.’

  She knew his mind was made up and she would never change it.

  ‘If you are found guilty, I’ll come back. Even if I have to walk across the ocean, I’ll come.’ She clung to him, pressing her body into his, wanting to imprint the smell and feel of his body against her into her memory. How could she bear to let him go when she might never see him again?

  ‘We will be together again. You are my heart, my soul, my life, and God will not keep us apart.’

  Just then Dougie came back into the room. ‘Your time’s up, son,’ he said to Alasdair. ‘If I don’t return you to your cell, they’ll be wondering what’s up. It won’t help anyone, least of all you, if they know I’ve been treating you softly.’

  ‘Tell the children that I love them.’ Alasdair lowered his voice and she could see her anguish reflected in his eyes. ‘Tell them that their father tried to be a good man.’

  ‘It’s time, son,’ Dougie repeated gruffly.

  ‘One minute, Dougie.’ Alasdair tipped her chin with his forefinger. ‘I love you, Margaret Morrison. I love everything about you and every inch of you. I’ll love you for as long as there is breath in my body.’ He smiled a little. ‘And after that too.’

  He bent his head and her mouth found his. She put all of her love into that kiss, wishing that she could stop the world from turning. Only when Dougie took Alasdair by the shoulder did they pull apart. ‘Have faith, my love,’ Alasdair repeated, his eyes never leaving hers.

  ‘I’ll love you till my dying breath, Alasdair Morrison.’ She waited until he’d left the room. As her heart shattered into a thousand pieces she put her head in her hands and sobbed.

  Chapter 22

  Simon Firth’s office was the antithesis of Johnston’s. It was in a rundown part of Scotstoun, close to Fairfield’s shipyard and, rather than a purpose-built office, it was a converted flat at the top of a red-stone tenement. Needless to say there was no secretary and it was Firth himself who answered the door to Margaret’s knock.

  The lawyer was red-haired, thin-faced and pale, and there was a patch of eczema above his right brow. He was wearing a threadbare suit, the lapels of which were flecked with cigarette ash, and a shirt with a worn collar. His shoes were scuffed and the room littered with files, books and papers. Margaret’s heart sank. If Johnston couldn’t help them, what chance this man?

  Nevertheless, Alasdair was putting his faith in him so she had to too. She explained why she’d come and the progress, or rather lack of it, with Alasdair’s case so far.

  ‘I read about it, of course.’ A piece of ash from his cigarette fell on the floor but Firth didn’t seem to notice. ‘Knew it was rubbish straight away. Alasdair Morrison is the last man to murder someone. Wondered a bit when I heard Johnston had taken on the case.’

  ‘He’s the best. Or so I was told.’ Yet he had done so very little.

  ‘Most expensive, anyway. Not the same thing.’

  She reached into her bag and removed some notes from her purse, holding them out to him. ‘I have only a few pounds.’ It was the best part of what remained of the collection Toni had given her.

  ‘Put that away. Your husband sent work my way when I was just starting off. I owe him a favour.’

  ‘He’ll insist.’

  ‘He may do, but he’s not here, is he?’ Firth smiled, revealing yellow, discoloured teeth. He lit another cigarette although the first one was still burning in the ashtray. ‘He can pay me when I get him off.’

  ‘You think you can?’

  ‘Do my bloody best. Pardon the French. You say that there’s a Dr Marshall who bel
ieves that what Alasdair did with the knife – trying to stop the lad from pulling it out – was the right thing to do?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Wonder why Johnston didn’t take a statement from him then. Of course, he may have done. I’ll need him to send me Alasdair’s file.’ He grinned wolfishly. ‘Can’t wait to see his face when he learns he’s been fired.’

  ‘Alasdair said that he’d tell him.’

  ‘Good. Now you say Alasdair has to enter his plea on Friday?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Right, then. As he told you, once he does, we have a maximum of one hundred and ten days before he has to be sentenced. Say the prosecution believe they need five days for the trial – on the safe side ten – to present their case before sentencing, then we have a hundred days from Friday to find the evidence we need – a hundred has a nice round feel to it, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Do you think that’s long enough?’

  ‘Will bloody well have to be. Excuse my French again. Can’t understand why Johnston hasn’t done more in the time he’s had. Sign of a lazy lawyer – at best.’ He picked up a fountain pen and tapped it against his teeth. ‘Will find that out too, no doubt. Now where will I get in touch with you?’

  ‘I have to leave Glasgow.’ She reached across his desk and rummaged through the piles of papers until she found a scrap to write on. ‘This is our friends Toni and Mairi’s address. You can reach me through them.’

  ‘Forgive me, Mrs Morrison, but why are you going away? It seems a strange time to leave.’

  Reluctantly she explained about her father and his threats.

  ‘I see. What do you think his chances are of influencing the case?’

  ‘He knows people. Powerful people. People who will sign whatever he asks them to.’

  His expression sharpened. ‘So I have Bannatyne’s might to contend with too.’

  ‘Does that worry you?’

  ‘Not at all. Ask Alasdair. He knows I like a fight. We both do.’

  Alarmed, she leaned forward. ‘Don’t underestimate my father. You’ll be making a mistake if you do.’

  ‘I never underestimate anyone, Mrs Morrison, but people have a habit of underestimating me. And that suits me just fine. To be perfectly honest it works to my advantage. For what it’s worth, I think you are doing the right thing by going into hiding. I could represent you if your father tried to carry out his threats but that would take my time, and attention, away from your husband. Once I have him out it will be a different matter.’ He glanced at the calendar on his desk, stood and held out his hand. ‘A hundred days, Mrs Morrison. No time to waste. The clock is ticking.’

  Chapter 23

  Uist

  As the boat drew alongside Lochmaddy pier, Margaret exhaled. It had been a long, arduous and nerve-racking two days of travel. She’d expected at any moment to be stopped, her father to emerge, the children to be snatched from her, while she was carted off to one of the mental institutions. But what was worse was not knowing what had happened to Alasdair. She couldn’t even attend his committal hearing and let the world know she was standing by her husband. He had pleaded not guilty and the trial date had been set for the twenty-third of December. Ninety-nine days away. Please God, enough time for Firth to find something that would help Alasdair’s case.

  During the journey from Glasgow, she’d been as careful as she could be not to attract attention. She and the children had taken a bus in the early hours of the morning along with several other sleepy travellers. No one had paid them more than a passing look on the long and bumpy journey. They’d had to wait at Mallaig for several anxious hours before the steamer was due to leave and, determined to avoid the ever-garrulous and friendly questions of her fellow Glaswegians, Margaret had taken the children off to a café for bowls of soup and a sandwich, ensuring that they arrived back at the pier just before the ship departed. On board, she’d found seats as far away from her fellow passengers as she could manage and tried her best to keep Libby and James occupied with colouring pencils and paper.

  The children’s excitement at their first-ever ferry trip had soon waned as they’d sailed further west. Tossed about on the ocean as the clouds grew heavy with rain and the wind picked up, it had felt as if the sailing would never end. The boat had lurched and bucketed its way through the waves, even more as they’d crossed the Minch, and inevitably Elizabeth had been sick although thankfully James had slept most of the way. He’d woken now and was in her arms, looking around with his usual curious stare. The only good thing about the rough sea voyage was that most of the other passengers were too queasy themselves to want to engage her in conversation. But, finally, they were here.

  Although it wouldn’t be dark for another couple of hours the landscape looked flat and bleak – drained of all colour. As bleak as the way she felt.

  She felt a small hand slip into hers and looked down at her daughter.

  ‘I still feel sick, Mummy.’

  ‘You’ll feel better as soon as you get on dry land,’ Margaret reassured her. ‘We’ll be going ashore any minute.’

  ‘Are you all right, Mummy?’ Elizabeth asked.

  Elizabeth had been asking the same thing for days now. Margaret had tried to hide her grief, fear, dismay and sometimes downright fury at the turn their lives had taken, but her daughter had clearly picked up on her mother’s wildly fluctuating emotions.

  ‘I am perfectly fine,’ Margaret answered, putting as much bravado into her voice as she could manage. Balancing James in one arm, she crouched down and pulled the lapels of Elizabeth’s coat close. ‘Everything’s going to be fine. We are going to have such fun. You’ll see.’

  ‘I don’t want to live with Aunty Flora. And neither does James. We want to live with you, Mummy. Else how will Daddy know where to find us?’

  Not knowing what else to say, she’d told Elizabeth that her father was having a long sleep, just like Sleeping Beauty, but one day they’d be together again. She couldn’t tell her daughter Alasdair was in gaol and she couldn’t bring herself to say he was dead – even if that would have been safer for all of them. She prayed that she wouldn’t one day have to tell her child that Daddy was asleep forever.

  ‘We’ve talked about this, Libby. You and James can’t live with me. Not to begin with.’ She squeezed Libby’s hand. ‘And Daddy will always be able to find us. In the meantime he is keeping us all in his heart as we are keeping him.’ She sucked in a breath to steady her voice. ‘You will get used to being at Aunty Flora’s after a while and in the meantime we still have tonight and most of tomorrow.’

  They were to stay with Dr MacLean that night and make the onward journey to Grimsay, where Flora and her family lived, the next afternoon. However much Elizabeth didn’t want to be separated from her mother, Margaret knew she’d find it just as difficult to be without them. When her daughter still looked doubtful, Margaret pulled her close. ‘You are going to have to be brave. We are all going to have to be brave. We’ll be homesick for a while, but that will go. You’ll see. Aunty Flora and Uncle Peter will take good care of you. They have children around your age so you’ll always have someone to play with. And once you start school, you’ll make lots of new friends.’

  Elizabeth wriggled away and regarded her with solemn grey-blue eyes, so like her father’s it made Margaret’s throat tighten. ‘I’ll be brave for a little while,’ she said finally.

  The boat shuddered to a halt and the crew leaped to tie it to its moorings. Laughter drifted up from the pier where several people stood chattering excitedly in Gaelic, craning their necks as they searched for loved ones on board. They were a motley crowd. The men wore flat caps, wellington boots and thick serge shirts, those whose trousers were not held up by braces, held up by string. The women either wore wellingtons, incongruous with their skirts, or boots and ankle socks, their hair covered by scarves. There were several children waiting too, many of whom were barefoot. Margaret knew only too well this wasn’t a wealthy community but it was one th
at desperately needed doctors – possibly even more than the people of Govan. Until the Scottish Board of Health had introduced salaries for rural doctors, the people here had been without.

  But what really took her by surprise was how crystal clear and sweet smelling the air was. She could see as far as the horizon. She’d become so used to the smog of Glasgow it was like inhaling sea-scented perfume.

  As the gangway was lowered, Margaret swallowed. This was it. This was either where she took her first step in her planned deception, or it was where the police would be waiting for her and everything would be over before it had begun. Had she done the right thing abandoning Alasdair? Because despite everything they had agreed, it still felt as if that was what she was doing. And as for the running and hiding – the deceit – the lies she still had to tell! She fingered the watch inside her pocket and straightened her shoulders. As long as Alasdair had a chance to prove his innocence and the children were safe, then the answer had to be yes. Besides, it was too late now for regrets.