The Shipbuilder’s Daughter

by Emma Fraser

  ‘I know how terrible it is to think you are going to be separated from your child.’ Margaret told Dolina what her father had threatened. ‘I was terrified when I thought I might lose my children. I don’t know if I could have borne it. But when Libby was ill, I thought about what I had done, taking my children away from their grandfather and how it would have been my fault if she died. I —’ She couldn’t continue past the tightness in her throat.

  The two women sat for a while, each lost in their thoughts.

  ‘Aye well,’ Dolina sniffed and smiled wanly. ‘We did what we thought was best at the time. I made a mistake. A mistake I’ll pay for until I’m cold in the ground. But you still have your two children and we need to see that it stays that way.’

  Chapter 41

  It was over.

  She’d spent the night unable to sleep, knowing she had no choice but to reveal what she suspected. She wasn’t sure whether Sinclair was the man who had raped Kirsty but if there was the smallest chance he was, she had to tell someone. He couldn’t be allowed to continue to practise, whether he was guilty or not.

  As soon as she reported the conversation she’d had with Sinclair, the truth about who she really was would come out. Then there was every likelihood that she’d be arrested too. Her father would find it easier than ever to take the children from her. She had to make sure that didn’t happen.

  But what to do? She could take the children and hide at Flora’s, but that would be the first place they’d look for her, in which case Flora’s part in her deception would come to light. But leave here she must.

  Dolina had helped her pack and their suitcases were waiting by the door. If she could only keep the children safe until she got on the ferry they might still have a chance. Her plan was to telegraph Lillian in the morning and ask if she and the children could stay in her house in Perthshire. Every moment she expected a knock on the door from Constable Watt, but when morning came and there was no sign of him, she wondered if she had been correct about Sinclair. He hadn’t gone to him to report her. Whether he was frightened that if he did she would accuse him of blackmail or whether it was because he was guilty of raping Kirsty, she couldn’t be sure. Despite what she’d said to him, Margaret knew she would never lie about him being the man who raped Kirsty. She couldn’t do that to a man if there was a chance he was innocent and even more, she couldn’t and wouldn’t entice Kirsty to lie. But, regardless of Sinclair’s innocence or guilt, she had to go to Dr Alan and tell him the truth of what she suspected and about herself and her own situation. What would happen after that she didn’t know.

  When she told Dolina she was leaving the island, she’d insisted on coming too.

  ‘What about Dr Alan?’ Margaret had asked.

  ‘His wife will keep house for him now. And if she needs help she’ll be wanting someone younger.’

  ‘He’ll be lost without you.’

  ‘You’d be lost without me. Never met a woman so hopeless at looking after a home before. And you’ll need to get work. When you do, you’ll need someone to care for those poor bairns.’

  It had been easier to give in than argue. Besides, Dolina was right, Margaret would need help. And, if she were honest, she’d become used to having the elderly woman around even though, despite her revelations, she’d reverted to the grumpy Dolina Margaret knew so well. But loved all the same.

  As soon as she’d telephoned Lillian, she went to see Dr Alan. If he noticed her agitation, he gave no sign of it. Instead, he insisted on introducing her to his new bride. She was a surprise. Instead of the willowy woman Margaret had conjured up in her imagination she was sturdy, open-faced, relentlessly happy and clearly delighted to be wherever Dr Alan was. They spent an excruciating hour – for Margaret at least – chatting before Cecilia excused herself, clearly intuiting that Margaret wished to speak to Dr Alan alone.

  He listened to her story without interrupting. She told him everything: why she’d become estranged from her father in the first place, about Alasdair’s arrest and her father’s demands, his threat to remove the children from her, and that she had come here accepting the post under an assumed name because it was the only way she could keep her children safe. Finally, she told him about Dr Sinclair and his attempt to blackmail her and her suspicion that he might be the man who raped Kirsty.

  ‘Well, now,’ Dr Alan said when she’d finished. He spent a few moments packing his pipe, waving her into silence when she repeated how sorry she was to have deceived him.

  Eventually the pipe was filled to his satisfaction and he took a few deep puffs. ‘Would you have told me all this had Dr Sinclair not threatened to expose you?’

  ‘Probably not,’ Margaret admitted. ‘I knew you would have no option but to dismiss me if I did and I had nowhere else to go. But I am telling you now, not because Sinclair might expose me, although the prospect terrifies me, but if there is the slightest chance Sinclair did rape Kirsty, he has to be put where he can’t hurt anyone else. Even if he didn’t, he’s not fit to practise.’

  ‘I’ll tell Inspector MacLeod what you suspect. He’ll need to interview him.’ He shook his head. ‘I hope to God your suspicions aren’t true.’ He studied Margaret, his forehead knotted. ‘The thing I like the least is that you didn’t tell me who you really were before now. A doctor has to be above reproach – you do see that, don’t you? If we don’t trust each other how can we expect our patients to trust us?’

  ‘I do see that,’ Margaret said miserably. ‘I’ve already packed.’

  ‘Now hold your horses, young woman. Where will you go?’

  ‘A friend has a cottage in Perthshire we could use for a while.’ On her way to see Dr Alan she’d telephoned Lillian from the post office. Her friend had been surprised, but pleased to hear from her. Lillian’s baby, another boy, had been born just after Christmas and was a perfect angel. Although Lillian was clearly agog to find out what Margaret had been up to, Margaret had kept the call short, asking whether it was still all right to use the Gatehouse and would Lillian mind awfully keeping it secret that she was there. To her relief her friend had been quick to agree.

  ‘Dolina is coming with us,’ she added.

  Dr Alan’s eyebrows shot up. ‘She is? Well, well, well.’

  ‘I could ask her to stay until you find someone else?’

  ‘No, if Dolina wants to go I’ll not be the person to stop her. Cecilia has someone she wanted to bring, a long-serving servant of the family, but I thought she would put Dolina’s nose out of joint.’ His gaze sharpened. ‘You will look after Dolina, won’t you?’

  ‘I promise.’

  ‘And what will you do for money?’

  ‘Whatever I need to. I’ll find a way to make enough to keep us. Even if it means scrubbing floors.’

  Dr Alan smiled for the first time. ‘I’m not certain your domestic skills are up to it, dear.’

  ‘I’ll do anything. I’m not scared of hard work.’

  He puffed some more. ‘You are a qualified doctor, aren’t you?’

  ‘I am. I wasn’t lying about that.’

  ‘Of course you are. You couldn’t have looked after the patients half as well as you did if you hadn’t been.’ He relit his pipe. ‘You do know I can’t keep you on beyond the end of February whatever I decide now? The funding stops then, regardless.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I don’t agree with what you did but I can understand why you did it. Now here is what I suggest. I could tell the authorities that Dr Murdoch has had to leave but that Dr Bannatyne has taken her place for the last couple of months. I won’t tell the GMC what I know.’

  ‘It’s very, very kind of you and far more than I deserve, but I’ll still have to leave. As soon as Sinclair is questioned, I am certain he’ll tell the police about me. Then you’ll be in trouble with the GMC for keeping me on. You’ve been so good to me. I couldn’t do that to you.’ She blew her nose. ‘The worst thing is knowing I’m letting you and the people here down. I know how diffic
ult it will be for you on your own.’

  ‘Been on my own for years.’ He smiled. ‘Besides, I’m not on my own any more, am I? Cecilia admitted she’d like nothing better than to help me out.’ He turned a deep shade of crimson. ‘Before the little ones come along.’

  ‘In which case,’ Margaret said sadly, ‘I can’t even justify putting you at risk so I can stay to help. There is no other way. I’ll have to go. If I don’t, there is still the likelihood of my father discovering where I am.’

  ‘Very well then, if you must. You will be sorely missed.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I hope that husband of yours manages to clear his name and that one day you’ll come back to see us.’ He stood and crossed to the bureau, removing a sheaf of notes from the drawer. ‘This is your salary up until the end of the month and a little more on top.’

  ‘I can’t take it – at least not all of it.’

  He pressed the notes into her hand and smiled. ‘Take it, girl. Save you having to scrub floors.’

  Tears sprang to her eyes and she dropped a kiss on his forehead. ‘Sometimes,’ she said, meaning it, ‘I don’t know how I came to be so blessed.’

  He waved her away. ‘On you go, girl. On you go. Don’t you know I have a wife waiting for me?’

  Chapter 42

  A week later the four of them were settled in the house in Perthshire. The children, especially Libby, had been heartbroken to leave the place that had become home to them, but Margaret had promised that she would take them back to see everyone as soon as she could. It had helped a great deal that Dolina was with them. Leaving had been hard on Margaret too. She’d come to love the place and the people who made it their home. There was no time to visit Flora and Peter, so she sent them a letter, explaining she had had to leave, but promising to write as soon as she could. There were only thirteen days left before Alasdair’s trial, and Margaret despaired. Whatever the risks, she had decided she would be there. She couldn’t let him face it without her.

  She was sitting by the fire reading to the children when Dolina showed Simon Firth in. He was as scruffy-looking as ever and if possible paler than the last time she’d seen him. The small patch of eczema she’d noticed the first time they’d met had expanded and was now covering the best part of the right side of his face. Her heart plummeted. He did not look like a man who was coming to tell her good news.

  But when he smiled her heart lifted.

  ‘Mrs Morrison, I am so very pleased to see you again. Might we speak in private?’

  Dolina took the children by their hands and led them away.

  ‘You have news?’ she asked.

  ‘I do indeed. Do you mind if I smoke?’

  ‘Not at all.’

  ‘Now. I gather you know that the body of one of the men mentioned in Mrs Murphy’s statement, a certain Hugh McCulloch, was fished out of the Clyde. And that he’d been murdered?’

  Margaret nodded.

  ‘The police believe that Billy Barr was the perpetrator and are currently searching for him. What you may not know is that shortly after McCulloch’s body was discovered, a Christopher Boyd turned himself in. He admitted that he was the man with McCulloch the night Tommy Barr was killed. Naturally, he claims that he, Boyd, had nothing to do with the lad’s death but that he didn’t think Billy Barr would worry about that and with McCulloch’s death, he feared Billy would discover his name and come after him too. But the other thing he said was even more interesting. He said that he’d gone to your husband’s lawyer to confess before McCulloch was murdered. Boyd had heard the men of Govan were asking questions that he knew, sooner or later, would lead to him.’ He smiled at Margaret. ‘It appears your husband has some very loyal supporters.’ He nodded approvingly, then frowned.

  ‘So I paid a visit to Johnston. He should have pounced on this new witness and I wondered why he hadn’t. It seemed odd at best, negligent at the worst.

  ‘I have to say I wasn’t impressed by your Mr Johnston. He reminded me of a worm wriggling on the end of a hook. He denied that Boyd ever came to see him, but I don’t believe him. If I find proof Boyd did, Johnston will face charges. At the very least if he had gone to the police with this new evidence McCulloch might still be alive.’

  ‘Did you speak to his secretary, Miss Donaldson?’

  Firth shook his head. ‘She arranged the appointment, but she wasn’t there when I saw Johnston.’

  ‘Talk to her. Ask her about her appointments diary. She adores Johnston but she’s a stickler for order. If Boyd did visit you can be sure she kept a note.’

  ‘Then I will. I believe we have enough with Boyd’s confession, but I don’t want the prosecution finding holes in his evidence. What I can’t understand is why Johnston would risk everything by lying. Not when he could be so easily found out.’

  Margaret stood and started pacing. Her mind went back to everything Johnston had said, the speed with which he’d agreed to a trial, his determination that Alasdair should plead guilty, the way her father had known the details of the case against Alasdair. The truth struck her like a hammer blow. ‘Dear God, my father got to Johnston. When exactly I don’t know.’

  ‘Can you prove that? It would help if you could.’

  ‘I’ll go and see my father. I’ll make him tell me.’

  She continued to pace, her excitement building. This was the news she’d been waiting for! ‘Tell me, what do you think my father’s chances are of having me committed to an asylum?’

  Simon looked at her, a wry smile playing on his lips. ‘I doubt I’ve met anyone saner.’

  ‘And of removing the children from me?’

  ‘That’s more difficult to say. If your husband is cleared of charges, none at all would be my guess. And if your father is implicated in suppressing evidence, then he’d be fortunate not to be facing charges himself.’

  Her heart was still racing. ‘What now?’

  ‘I believe there is enough evidence to have Alasdair released on bail while matters are being looked into.’

  The joy that had started as a circle of light around her heart widened and spread until she felt consumed by it.

  Firth held up a finger. ‘However, your husband won’t agree. He takes a different view.’

  He dug in his pocket and brought out a crumpled letter and handed it to her. As always, her heart leaped when she saw the familiar writing. She tore open the envelope.

  My dearest

  I have asked Firth to give you this and if he has you will also know that we believe soon my name will be cleared and I will walk away a free man. You probably wonder why I haven’t sought bail. I want to have my name cleared in court. I want to walk away from here with my head held high, with the world knowing that I am innocent. I need others to know that they should trust in the law.

  My love, when we meet again it will be when I have been declared an innocent man. I hope you understand why I need to do this.

  I count the days and hours until I can be with you. I swear we will never be parted again.

  Your loving husband

  Alasdair

  She read it again before turning back to Firth. ‘This is no less than what I expected from him. But isn’t he taking a chance?’

  ‘I don’t believe so. Williams and I would prefer it not to go to trial, but I have no doubt Alasdair will be cleared of all charges and, if I have my way, receive an apology from the police and the Crown Office.’

  The next morning, determined to confront her father, Margaret took the train to Glasgow, leaving the children behind with Dolina and promising that she would see them soon.

  Before she left, she settled the children on either side of her.

  ‘Libby, remember when I said that Daddy had to go away for a while?’

  ‘Pa!’ James said and clapped his hands. She wondered how much he remembered of Alasdair. Elizabeth buried herself against Margaret. ‘He’s been away a very, very long time.’

  ‘Yes he has. He didn’t want to go, you know that? He never wanted to le
ave you and James but it was something he had to do.’

  ‘Is he coming back to us?’

  ‘He is. My darlings, we are all going to be together again. Hopefully very soon.’

  ‘Will he remember me?’

  ‘Oh, my sweet girl, of course. He’s thought about you and James every day while he was away. Your face, every inch of you is imprinted on his mind. He could no more forget about you than forget his own name.’

  Elizabeth giggled then. ‘Imagine forgetting your own name. He’d be a very silly daddy if he did that.’

  Glasgow was covered in snow when, her fury still burning bright, Margaret arrived at the house in Great Western Terrace. She prayed her father would be here and not at their home in Helensburgh, but if he wasn’t, she would demand to be driven to Helensburgh.