Sewing the Shadows Together

by Alison Baillie

  Tom could hardly speak. ‘I thought Van Wyk was pulling that down?’

  ‘Oh yes, he’s sold it, although he wasn’t entitled to. You could challenge it if you wanted. Or you could just take the money.’ He gave a wide grin. ‘In that prime position the plot was sold for eight million rand.’

  Tom gasped. ‘Eight million rand.’ He converted it quickly into pounds in his head: over £500,000.

  Peter Roberts smiled again. ‘Come into my office tomorrow and we’ll sort out all the paperwork. And don’t worry about Van Wyk. I would relish a fight but I suspect he won’t challenge this because he doesn’t have a leg to stand on.’

  The sun was beating down on them and they moved into the shade of a yellow-wood tree. Tom looked at him, feeling numb with shock. Betty had done this for him. He couldn’t believe it. Immediately he thought of Sarah. Now he could offer her something. Before he was a penniless bum, but now he could offer her a future. He, odd-job man, drift-wood sculptor, surfing teacher, beach bum, was worth half a million pounds. He repeated it out loud very slowly.

  Half.

  A.

  Million.

  Pounds.

  He threw his head back and laughed.

  Chapter 29

  Sarah had fallen asleep again and woke up feeling scratchy and unsettled. After blinking a couple of times she realised what was wrong. The vague feeling of disquiet hanging over her crystallised into the awful reality: Rory, Shona’s murderer? It couldn’t be possible.

  The phone rang. It was her mother.

  ‘Now, I hope I’m not disturbing you, Sarah, and I know you have been very busy but I haven’t heard from you for days. I haven’t been very well, you know.’

  A huge wave of guilt washed over her. She really had nearly forgotten about her mother. ‘I’m so sorry, Mum, there’s been a lot going on. Are you in today? I’ll come and see you.’

  ‘I’m always in,’ said her mother, with a dramatic sigh. Yes, thought Sarah, except when you’re at the hairdresser or the Bridge Club or out to lunch… She arranged to call round that afternoon.

  Rory, a murderer? She couldn’t escape the thought, and found it difficult to think of anything else. She showered and drank a large cup of coffee, trying to focus on the positive; there was wonderful news as well. Lottie and Liam were going to have a baby. She put her cup down. She knew what she was going to do. She’d collect Lottie, get some pastries from the French Patisserie in Stockbridge and give her mother a lovely surprise – tell her that she was going to be a great-grandmother.

  Lottie was not at all enthusiastic when Sarah called to suggest the visit, but eventually agreed. Sarah picked her up, popped quickly into the patisserie, and then they set off for Corstorphine.

  ‘Are you going to tell Granny about Dad?’ asked Lottie.

  ‘Oh, no. You know how much she loved him. It would break her heart.’

  Lottie put her lips together in a firm line. ‘She’s going to hear about it soon enough, and perhaps it would be better for her to hear it from you. Now.’

  ‘You seem very certain it’s true.’ An awful thought struck Sarah. ‘He never did anything to you, did he?’

  Lottie turned round and stared at her. ‘Mum, of course not. He was never around.’ Her voice remained very calm. ‘And what if Dad was with the girl? That doesn’t mean he killed her. Perhaps she wanted to be with him.’

  ‘Lottie, Shona was thirteen.’

  Lottie raised her eyebrows. ‘Plenty of thirteen-year-olds have sexual experience.’

  ‘Things were different in those days.’ Sarah gripped the steering wheel tighter.

  ‘Maybe it was an accident,’ Lottie continued in a stubborn voice. ‘They couldn’t pin anything on him now he’s dead.’

  Sarah didn’t know what to say. Lottie had always been the rational one, the one who treated her mother as if she was over-emotional and a bit naïve.

  ‘And even if it did come out. What then? He was a teenager and there are plenty of other things he did in-between which were not exactly admirable. It’s not as if he’s got a shining reputation to tarnish.’

  Sarah was shocked by the bitterness in her daughter’s voice. Because Nick and Abigail had seemed to accept their father’s numerous affairs and children so easily, Sarah had assumed that Lottie felt the same. Then she thought how Lottie had seemed to withdraw recently; this brittle shell hiding how much she was hurting. ‘Your dad loved you very much.’

  ‘Did he? He had a very funny way of showing it then.’ Lottie’s voice seemed to catch. They turned into the crescent of thirties bungalows where Flora lived. Sarah parked the car, but didn’t go in. She wanted to sort this out now.

  ‘And you know how much I love you, don’t you?’ Even to her, there was a desperate edge to her voice.

  ‘I know, Mum, but it’s just that you never seemed to face up to anything. I thought Dad treated you like a doormat, but I never dreamt he could be constantly betraying you in the way he did. You’ll do anything to keep Granny happy, too, although she also treats you, and me, like dirt. I know you want us all to play happy families but it won’t work. And I don’t think that Granny’s going to be as delighted with the news that she’s going to be a great-grandmother as you imagine.’

  Sarah gulped; she’d thought everything was fine again with Lottie and was shocked by the resentment that had obviously been running deep for some considerable time.

  ‘I can’t believe you feel like this. We’ll talk about it more on the way back. You must make allowances for Granny. She hasn’t been very well.’

  Lottie set her mouth in a determined line. ‘OK,’ she said, ‘but just for you.’ She leant over and kissed her on the cheek. ‘I know you love us, me and Nick, and you do try to do everything for the best.’

  Sarah felt incredibly touched by her daughter’s words and held her hand as they walked up the short drive to the front door.

  When Flora opened the door, Sarah was shocked to see how thin her mother looked. As usual she was beautifully dressed, with shoes and scarf matching, but her clothes looked several sizes too large for her and her wrists protruding from her cardigan were painfully thin.

  She greeted them with a perfunctory wave. ‘At last. I haven’t seen you for such a long time.’ Her tone was heavy with reproach.

  ‘Sorry, Mum. We really have been very busy, but we’re here now and we’ve brought these for you.’ She handed over the pastries. ‘Shall I make a cup of tea?’

  Flora indicated the sherry bottle. ‘Well, as you’re finally here, we might as well celebrate.’ She got three crystal glasses from the glass-fronted cabinet.

  ‘Not for me, thank you, Granny,’ Lottie said quickly.

  Flora looked crossly at her grand-daughter, so Sarah broke in. ‘For a very good reason. We’ve got wonderful news – you’re going to a great-grandmother.’

  Flora’s lined face crumpled into an expression of disgust. Sarah felt her stomach sink. Lottie had been right.

  ‘I suppose it’s that young man of yours. I would have thought you could do better than him, but I hope he’s going to do the honourable thing. When’s the wedding?’

  Lottie’s face had gone red but her voice was even. ‘We’re not going to get married just because of the baby. We don’t need to – we’ve known for a long time that we want to spend the rest of our lives together. You’ve never made any effort to get to know Liam, but he’s intelligent, honest, decent, and he has integrity. I love him, he loves me… so that’s all that’s important. The baby has come a little earlier than we’d planned but we’re thrilled. Even if you’re not.’

  Sarah looked at the furious set of Lottie’s face and, hurried to change the subject. ‘Shall I pour you a sherry, Mum?’

  ‘Thank you dear.’ Flora turned her back on Lottie. ‘Do tell me about the arrangements for Rory’s memorial service? I’m still not quite sure what I should wear.’

  Sarah’s heart sank a little further. Another dangerous topic. If the news of Nick’s fa
milial DNA match came out, the memorial service would be a disaster. ‘They’re going OK. Nick is going to talk about his father.’

  Flora’s face lit up. ‘He’ll do that so well. He’s got such presence.’

  ‘He’ll certainly create an impression if his face hasn’t healed by then,’ Lottie muttered.

  Flora gave a gasp of horror. ‘What’s happened to the dear boy’s face?’

  Sarah shot Lottie a warning look. ‘We didn’t want to worry you, Mum, but it’s one of the reasons I haven’t been to see you recently. Nick was involved in an… incident and he’s got some facial injuries, but he’s fine,’ she finished hastily.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me? He’s my grandson. When you keep these secrets from me, it’s as if I’m not part of the family.’

  Lottie opened her mouth and looked as if she was going to say something, so Sarah hurried on, really not feeling that her mother was ready to hear her favourite grandchild had been a victim of gay-bashing. ‘So much has been happening. They’ve also been looking into Shona McIver’s death again and I had to be interviewed.’

  Flora pursed her lips. ‘Really, why are they raking that all up again? It’s all so long ago.’

  ‘They have to reopen the case because Logan Baird has been shown to be innocent.’

  ‘So they say. But he was a danger to young girls, exposing himself to them.’

  ‘That was never proved, Mum. It was just some silly wee girls wanting a bit of attention at the time. But, anyway, they have tests nowadays that prove it can’t be him and–’

  ‘–and they’re looking at new suspects.’ Lottie shot Sarah a rebellious look. ‘Even our dad is a suspect now.’

  Flora was pale before, but the colour completely disappeared from her face, leaving it grey. ‘Rory? That’s ridiculous. It couldn’t possibly be him.’

  Sarah knew that her mother was always very fond of Rory, but she was surprised by the vehemence of her response. She tried to rescue the situation a bit, her voice shaking. ‘I’m sure it’s just a mix-up but they found that Nick’s DNA was a partial match to samples found at the scene of Shona’s murder. Which suggests that the killer was someone from his, our, family. They came and took Rory’s toothbrush to test it for DNA.’

  Flora looked perplexed. ‘What can they tell from that? He’s dead.’

  ‘DNA lasts for a long time. They’re comparing it with some on Shona’s clothes; you can use anything, a hair, a bit of skin, sweat.’

  Flora turned even paler than before and stood up shakily. ‘I’m afraid I don’t feel very well. I think I’m going for a lie-down now. Thank you for coming.’ She walked unsteadily towards her bedroom.

  ‘Mum,’ Sarah tried to follow her mother but the door was firmly closed in her face. She turned towards her daughter. ‘What do you think you’re doing, coming out with all that? She’s an old lady.’

  ‘She’s an old witch. And anyway, being told is apparently what she wants.’ Lottie mimicked her grandmother’s voice. ‘When you keep these secrets from me it’s as if I’m not part of the family.’

  Chapter 30

  Tom sat on the bus from Edinburgh Airport feeling the excitement rising. All through the long night flight from Johannesburg and on the short shuttle from Heathrow, he’d been imagining the moment he saw Sarah again. He’d gone through his fantasy scenario time and time again, the embrace at the doorway, the kiss, making love and telling her about his inheritance. His heart felt full and pulsing in his chest, he couldn’t wait to see her and tell her of his plans for the future.

  First, he would buy a little flat in Portobello and go to Art College. That was what he’d always wanted to do and now he had the money to be able to do it. He knew it was not a fortune, but enough to keep him going if he was careful. He and Sarah would be able to spend time together, catching up on all the years they’d lost. He was amazed how romantic he felt, him, the old cynic.

  When he got off the bus at Waverley Station, the skyline in front of him took his breath away, the silhouette of the castle and churches with the sky cloudy and brooding behind it. He was home.

  He crossed Princess Street, pulling his suitcase behind him, and hurried down Frederick Street. As he crossed George Street he glimpsed the sea, and the smoky outline of Fife merging into the mistiness of the horizon. He and Sarah would walk along the shore, hand-in-hand, he would support her and she would be his muse. After a decent time they’d move in together, perhaps even marry. As he turned the corner into Great King Street his whole body was tingling with anticipation. He ran up the steps and rang the bell, almost unable to contain his excitement.

  There was no answer. It had never occurred to him that she might be out. He rang again, willing her to answer. He wanted to hear her voice through the entryphone system, he wanted to run up the steps two by two and hold her in his arms.

  After ringing for a third time he realised she wasn’t going to answer and he wondered what to do next. He hadn’t got a Plan B. He shivered; there was a light drizzle in the air and he was still wearing the light denim jacket he’d worn out of South Africa, quite unsuitable for November in Edinburgh.

  He remembered a café in a converted bank on the road towards Stockbridge; he’d go and have a cup of coffee and try again later. He yawned. He’d hardly slept on the plane with his long legs cramped in front of him and he’d been in the same clothes for twenty-four hours. In his disappointment, he began to feel the weariness.

  He was walking down Circus Place when he saw Sarah’s car coming in the opposite direction. He waved, but Sarah’s eyes were fixed straight ahead. His stomach lurched as he saw her profile, serious but even more beautiful than he remembered. He turned and hurried back up the road, his suitcase bouncing on the uneven pavement.

  As he turned into Great King Street he saw she’d parked the car and was concentrating on putting her key into the lock of her front door. He hurried up the steps. She didn’t notice him until he was directly behind her, but then she half-turned and her face lit up. She reached out and buried her head in his shoulder, her whole body shaking with sobs. The welcome was not the one Tom had anticipated. He stroked her hair. ‘Shhh…’ he whispered. ‘It’s all right.’

  He took the key from her hand and opened the main door, before leading her gently upstairs. They reached the door of the flat and Sarah held him tight. ‘I’ve had such an awful time. It’s been a nightmare. I’ve missed you so much.’

  ‘I’m here now.’ He held her close and led her to the drawing room. ‘Tell me what’s happened.’

  Between sobs, Sarah told him about Nick being attacked, the DNA and the suspicions about Rory.

  Tom sat bolt upright. ‘There must be some mistake. Rory couldn’t, wouldn’t…’ He thought back to those days after Shona’s body was found, when everyone was considered a suspect. Never, ever had it crossed his mind that it could possibly be Rory.

  Then from deep in his memory he heard Rory’s voice. ‘Wait until your little sister is a couple of years older. She’ll be a real goer.’ He’d been furious at the time, filled with rage that Rory could talk about his sister in that way. Had something happened between them?

  ‘And I’ve just been at my mother’s. That was a disaster too.’ Sarah described what had happened, and the escalating hostility in the car on the way home. ‘Lottie’s so bitter. I’d never realised. This should be a wonderful time, with the baby coming, but she said our family is a sham and she doesn’t want to be part of the big pretence any more. And she called me a doormat.’

  Tom suppressed a laugh; Sarah looked shocked. ‘It’s not funny.’

  Tom raised his eyebrows. ‘I’m sorry to laugh, and I wouldn’t exactly call you a doormat, but you do tend to put everyone else’s feelings and needs before your own.’ Sarah pouted and gave him a playful thump on the chest.

  ‘It’s one of the many things I love about you: your kindness, understanding and empathy for other people, but,’ he raised his hands in mock defence, ‘you have to learn to be
a bit more selfish, sometimes.’ He leant over and kissed her. ‘And you need someone to care for you and spoil you a bit. You’ve looked after other people all your life and now it’s your turn for a bit of TLC – and I’m your man. I’ll always be here for you; I’m never going away again.’ And as he said it Tom knew it was true.

  ‘Thank you,’ Sarah leant over and kissed him on the lips; then she straightened and shook herself. ‘Oh, I’ve just been talking about myself all the time. How are you? The last thing I heard from you was that your aunt died. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Aunty Betty was over ninety and happy to go and join my Uncle Gus. And,’ his face broke into a wide smile, ‘I’m not a beach-bum any more. She left me something in her will and now I’m half a millionaire.’

  *

  The low morning sun was shining into the drawing room as Sarah was hoovering. She caught herself humming; she felt so happy, was sleeping well, and wasn’t haunted by those dreams and memories. Since Tom had come back, she felt reborn, blossoming like a dried-up flower, nurtured back to life.

  They’d fallen into a comfortable daily routine: Tom got up and went for a run while she did a bit about the house and when he came back they had breakfast together. Then the rest of the day they just pottered around, finding out more about each other and enjoying doing nothing. Sarah had never felt so happy.

  Tom would be back in a minute. She put the hoover away and was laying the kitchen table when the doorbell rang. That would be Tom with the rolls. She pushed the buzzer and left the flat door open as she started the coffee.

  ‘Hello, Mum.’

  She looked round. It was Lottie carrying a bag of croissants.

  ‘Lottie, how lovely to see you.’

  Lottie rushed towards her mother and hugged her. ‘I’m just on my way to the Health Centre, but I had to come in and speak to you.’ She stood back and looked her mother in the eyes. ‘Mum, I’m sorry I was such a bitch the other day. I don’t know what came over me, saying such awful things. Blame it on the hormones! I’ve even been crabby with Liam – and he’s the best-natured person in the world. In fact, it was him who said I should come and see you and apologise, because I was fretting over it so much.’ She kissed her mother. ‘You know how much I love you – and I know you’re going to be a wonderful grandmother.’