by Emma Fraser
Dr Alan was still staring at her curiously. ‘Shall we see what he has to say?’
Although the last thing Margaret wanted to do was to come face to face with a policeman again, she had no choice. She told herself there was no reason to think he might recognise her or link her to a man accused of murder in Glasgow. If they were going to make that connection, they would have done so sooner. Nevertheless, her mouth was dry and her hands were still trembling.
The man who rose to his feet when they entered the sitting room was tall with cropped dark hair. To Margaret’s surprise he was young, about her age. She’d assumed a police inspector would be older.
‘My colleague, Dr Murdoch. Dr Murdoch, Inspector MacLeod.’
‘Pleased to meet you, Dr Murdoch. Thank you for taking the time to talk to me.’
There was no hint of recognition in his expression or his voice.
‘Please, sit, gentlemen,’ Margaret said, relieved to find that her voice sounded normal. ‘Have you found the mother? Is she all right?’
‘I’m afraid we haven’t. Not yet. We are still searching.’
‘Then how can I help?’
‘The baby was left on your doorstep. Any reason for that, do you think?’
‘I’m a doctor and a woman. I would have thought that was obvious.’ Yet she’d wondered the same thing. Why hadn’t the woman left the baby outside Effie’s house? Or the minister’s?
‘Did you see who left the child?’
‘No. Whoever it was had disappeared by the time I got to the door. I suspect they waited long enough to see that I found the child before they left. The baby couldn’t have been there more than a few minutes. It was a cold night yet his face was still warm.’
‘If you do find out who the mother is you will tell us, won’t you?’
‘I will certainly tell you that she’s been found. I don’t see that I’d be able to tell you her name. Not if she comes to me as a patient. She would have the right to confidentiality.’ Margaret glanced at Dr Alan. He shrugged his shoulders as if to say it was up to her.
The inspector intercepted the look. ‘No, she doesn’t. Not when she’s committed a criminal act.’
Margaret lifted her chin and held his gaze. ‘This was no criminal act, as you put it, Inspector. This was an act of desperation – ignorance at the worst. She must have been desperate to abandon her baby. The last place she should be is in police custody. It’s not as if she could be considered a public threat!’
‘That’s not really up to you to decide. I’ll have to make a report to the Procurator Fiscal. They are the ones who will make the decision whether to bring charges. My job is to determine whether she, whoever it is, did indeed conceal a pregnancy that led her to abandon her baby.’ A flash of irritation crossed the inspector’s face. ‘Perhaps if Constable Watt hadn’t been quite so assiduous about reporting it to me formally we might have been able to sort it between us, but he did.’ The inspector seemed to catch himself. ‘As was his duty.’
‘I don’t see how prosecuting the woman will help anyone.’
‘As I said, that isn’t up to you or me.’ He leaned forward. ‘But perhaps, if there were mitigating circumstances – although I can’t think what they might be – that would help her case.’
‘She must have had her reasons. We won’t know what they were until we find her.’
Dolina brought in a tray of tea and plonked it on the table. She glared at the inspector before leaving.
‘And the child,’ Margaret continued, once Dolina had left. ‘The baby. What will happen to him?’
‘As I said, that’s up to the court. Where is he now?’
‘With Sophie Linklater, the minister’s wife,’ Dr Alan said. ‘He’s well cared for.’
‘I should make arrangements to have him sent to Glasgow, although quite how I have no idea.’
‘Surely you don’t intend to take him away?’ Margaret said quickly. ‘He’s settled there. Mrs Linklater is taking good care of him.’
The inspector looked relieved. ‘If that’s the case, then I don’t see any need to change things. Not for the moment at least.’ He smiled wryly. ‘I can hardly take him to the police station in South Uist while arrangements are being made. However, if you do come across the mother can you give me your word that the child won’t be returned to her?’
‘Doesn’t it depend on the mother’s reasons for abandoning her baby?’
‘Dr Murdoch. This woman left her child on your doorstep. It is clear to me that she does not want the responsibility of caring for him. If the child is returned he may be in danger. It is not up to you or me to determine his future. I must make that clear.’
‘If I do find out who she is I’ll make sure she understands that she can’t have him back. At least not yet.’
‘In that case, I’m happy to leave things as they are.’
Margaret exhaled. She hadn’t realised she’d been holding her breath. The man wasn’t totally obsessed with rules.
‘However,’ he continued, ‘if I discover the mother has had the child returned to her, or if I find out she’s left the island, I shall hold you,’ he looked directly at Margaret, ‘responsible. Now if you’ll excuse me, I should be getting back.’ His expression made it clear that he had other, better things to be spending his time on, although Margaret couldn’t think what they could possibly be – unless, of course, Dòmhnaill Eoghainn had stolen George Mor’s bull again.
‘I’m sure you must be run off your feet,’ she muttered under her breath.
He looked pained. ‘I don’t make the laws of the land, Dr Murdoch, I simply enforce them.’
‘But to even consider prosecuting a woman who was so distraught to find herself pregnant, she did the only thing she could think of to keep her child safe. Where’s the justice in that? Are you not concerned with justice, Police Inspector?’
She was taking a chance needling him but she couldn’t help herself. Once upon a time she’d had faith in the justice system. No longer.
He stood. ‘I shall wait until I hear back from the Procurator Fiscal before I decide what action to take. However, if I discover by other means the name of the mother, I’ll be obliged to interview her.’
‘And if you do, I’d like to be there.’
‘Fair enough.’ He gave her a ghost of a smile before nodding in Dr Alan’s direction. ‘Thank you for your time, Dr MacLean.’
‘I’ll see you out,’ Margaret said.
As she opened the front door for him he turned to her. ‘I’m not an ogre, you know. I became a policeman because I believe in a safe, just world. I’d much rather be catching real criminals and hopefully, soon, I’ll be doing exactly that. This posting is only for six months. All new inspectors have to do a stint in a rural community. I’ll be taking charge in Inverness in the spring.’
Margaret cocked an eyebrow. What made him think she was the slightest bit interested? ‘Don’t let me keep you, Inspector.’ She handed him his hat.
He gave her a long, hard look. For a moment she thought he was going to say something else, but then he tipped his hat, nodded, and left.
When the door closed behind him Margaret took several deep breaths, trying to slow her still-racing heart. Was this how it was going to be? Always living in fear, waiting for a knock on the door, expecting her children to be removed at any moment. But it hadn’t happened so far, she told herself firmly, and may never happen. In the meantime she had her patients to think about.
Chapter 34
That evening Margaret’s small kitchen seemed full to bursting with women. Apart from herself there was Sophie and the baby, Effie and Dolina, who for some reason stayed later and later every day. She might have given her seal of approval to Margaret’s medical skills, but that hadn’t appeared to extend to Margaret herself. The housekeeper was as taciturn as ever.
Yesterday Margaret had come out of her house on the way to the surgery and watched amazed as Dolina had stomped towards her carrying two heavily laden pails
of peat. Margaret had hurried forward to take them from the older woman only to feel the full weight of her tongue.
‘Away with you! I can manage!’
‘Let me take one at least.’
‘You’ll do no such thing. The doctor carrying pails of peat! What would everyone say? Well, I know what they’ll say. They’ll say Dolina is getting past it – that soon she’ll be ready for the poorhouse.’
Her words had bewildered Margaret. Although she knew the islanders feared the poorhouse as much as the people of Govan had, she was certain Dolina had nothing to fear. Dr Alan would make sure his housekeeper was looked after in old age.
But despite Dolina’s sharp tongue and prickly manner, having her to help had made a difference.
Dolina had made an enormous pot of tea which she set down on the table.
‘You can go if you like,’ Margaret told Dolina. ‘I can manage from here on.’
‘No indeed. Not when you have visitors.’ She lowered her voice but not so much that everyone couldn’t hear. ‘Never met a woman so hopeless at looking after herself, never mind visitors.’
‘Shall we go into the sitting room?’ Margaret suggested, ignoring her comment.
Dolina sniffed. ‘I’ll put a fire on then. Waste of fuel if you ask me, when there’s a perfectly good heat coming from the stove.’
Margaret had the distinct impression she didn’t want them to go into the sitting room where she wouldn’t be able to be part of the conversation.
‘No, no need,’ Sophie protested. ‘It’s cosier in here – especially for the wee one.’
Margaret noticed a quick, satisfied smile crossing Dolina’s face as the women settled themselves into chairs.
‘Any news of Ruaridh’s mother?’ Effie asked.
‘Constable Watt is still looking for her? They haven’t called off the search?’ Margaret said, pouring the tea. So far he and the men he’d roped into help with the search hadn’t found a body, nor had there been any reports of one washing up on the shore. That was hopeful. But neither had anyone come forward to claim the baby.
‘Yes, PC Plod is still on the case. Not making himself very popular by going around asking all and sundry if they just happened to leave a baby on a doorstep.’
Effie held out her hands. ‘Let me hold him for a moment.’ When Sophie reluctantly passed the baby over, Effie took him with a broad smile and kissed the top of his tiny head. ‘How could anyone give you up?’
Margaret cast a wary eye in Dolina’s direction. The older woman had her back towards her, pretending to be immersed in cleaning the shelf above the fireplace. Given that Margaret had already seen her clean it earlier, it was clear that Dolina had no intention of going anywhere.
‘In the meantime there is still the matter of what to do with the child. Much as I love caring for him,’ Sophie murmured, holding out her arms to take him back, ‘he needs a permanent home.’
‘Apparently that will be for the courts to decide,’ Margaret said. She repeated what Inspector MacLeod had told her.
‘Courts, huh!’ Dolina interjected. ‘They know nothing.’
‘I think if we have a suggestion to make about little Ruaridh then the courts will listen to what we have to say,’ Sophie said, frowning at Dolina.
‘But we’re talking about keeping a child from his mother. Permanently. When we don’t yet know why she gave him up,’ Margaret said quietly. ‘It’s not a decision to take lightly. When I was working as a House Officer I had to do a stint in Gartnavel Royal – the asylum. There was a woman there, she never had any visitors, there didn’t seem much wrong with her, but she used to wander up and down the corridor in the ward crying. I was puzzled so I looked up her notes. It turned out she came from a well-to-do family up north – obviously I can’t tell you their name. She’d fallen pregnant as a young unmarried woman and they’d had her admitted to Gartnavel. Her baby was taken away and the mother had spent the rest of her years in the asylum. She never stopped longing for him.’ It was one of the reasons she’d known her father could so easily have done the same to her.
‘That’s shocking!’ Sophie said.
Dolina had stiffened, and a strange look crossed her face, but before Margaret could be sure what it was, she’d turned away and started scrubbing the already immaculate stove with renewed vigour.
‘It would never happen here,’ Sophie said. ‘We look after our own.’
‘Why does he have to go anywhere, then?’ Dolina swung around. ‘Why can’t he stay here? There’s bound to be someone on the island who wants a child to care for but can’t have their own.’
Several pairs of eyes swivelled in Sophie’s direction, then quickly away again.
‘Even if there is someone, the child will still be removed from the mother on a permanent basis,’ Effie said gently. ‘I wonder if that can be right.’
‘But if the mother is an islander and she must be, she could still see him,’ Dolina continued. ‘ I think that’s what she hoped. She would know her child is being cared for, without having to care for him herself.’
‘I don’t know,’ Margaret said slowly. ‘What if no one wants a child who has been born to a woman they know nothing about?’
‘Look at him! He’s as bright as a button,’ Sophie said. ‘Who could resist him?’
Right enough, the baby was looking up at Sophie with bright blue eyes and waving his small chubby fists in the air, desperately trying to catch one in his mouth. He really was a beautiful baby. Sophie took one of his hands in hers and pressed it to her lips.
‘I’m not sure it’s up to us to decide the fate of a child,’ Margaret said. ‘At least, not until we know who the mother is.’
‘Who better?’ Effie said firmly. ‘We have to accept that the mother may never be found. And even if she is, I doubt she’ll be able to get him back. Supposing she wants him.’
Sophie looked up. ‘Effie and Dolina are correct. Better we decide Ruaridh’s fate than leave it to some court hundreds of miles away. There aren’t many advantages to living on these islands but being so far away from the authorities is one of them. Being responsible for each other is one of the privileges as well as one of our burdens. I think we should let it be known that we are looking for a home for the child on the island.’ She looked wistful for a moment, then gave her head a tiny shake. ‘If you speak to Dr Alan, Margaret, I’ll speak to my husband and tell them what we’re thinking. Unless those two agree, it won’t happen whatever we decide. Once we’ve spoken to them, we can think again.’
Dolina left off pretending to polish the hearth. ‘It’s getting late. Some of us have to get up to do a decent day’s work tomorrow. The doctor needs her rest.’
‘I think I’m able to decide when I need to go to bed, Dolina. But of course, off you go.’
Dolina glowered at the other women in the room, made a noise in her throat and mumbled something about fetching Margaret’s hot water bottle to fill.
The women stood and started gathering their coats. ‘Well,’ Effie said. ‘I don’t know how you put up with her and her moods.’
‘She’s not had an easy life, Effie,’ Sophie murmured. ‘She’s had more than her fair share of trouble. And she’s quite right. I’ve left my poor husband alone long enough. I doubt he can find his pyjamas without me to show him where they are – although they’ve been in the same place since we married. Men! He might be the kindest, most gentle man I know, but he hasn’t a clue outside the church.’
After everyone had left and Dolina still hadn’t come back through to the kitchen, Margaret went in search of her. To her astonishment, she found her sitting on the spare bed, holding one of Elizabeth’s cardigans in her hand and weeping. Until now she had never seen the older woman show any emotion apart from irritation.
‘Dolina, what is it?’
Dolina sniffed loudly and wiped her nose with the back of her sleeve. ‘Och, don’t mind me. I’m just a silly old woman.’
Margaret rummaged in her pocket, found a clean h
andkerchief and held it out to the older woman. ‘Why don’t you tell me what’s the matter?’ she said gently.
Dolina blew her nose loudly. ‘I’ll wash this and get it back to you. Now, it’s time for me to get up the road.’
Margaret thought about pressing the older woman harder, but everything in Dolina’s demeanour told her she’d be wasting her time. And who was she to pry? Everyone, including her housekeeper, was entitled to their secrets.
‘If ever you want to talk about anything – anything at all, you can talk to me. I promise you I won’t ever repeat it.’
Dolina straightened and pinned her with a hard stare. ‘Now what could I possibly have to tell you?’