‘No, I’ll phone him tomorrow, or later this evening.’
She turned away, almost in tears with disappointment but hardening it away with annoyance. What a waste of time – coming all this distance for nothing. She might as well make a few purchases on her way back to the station.
She had a walk around the Grassmarket and looked at the boutiques. She stopped also to look at the railed enclosure that marked the site of the gallows. Captain Porteous was hanged there and over a hundred Covenanters were martyred. Not far away was the house where Burke and Hare, the bodysnatchers and murderers, operated.
Edinburgh had a fascinating history and a bloody one, of course. It had been a legal and middle- and upper-class city, whereas Glasgow had been basically industrial and working-class with its shipbuilding and locomotive works and other industries. The patron saint of Glasgow was Saint Kentigern – or Mungo as Glaswegians preferred to call him. Mungo meant ‘dear one’. The city had its very beginnings rooted in religion.
By the end of the fifteenth century, Glasgow was a powerful academic and ecclesiastical centre. Then by 1770, trade with America was fully established. Glasgow’s tobacco lords had cornered the market.
Abi admired the hard-working, inventive and friendly people of Glasgow. She admired the city of Edinburgh in many ways, and enjoyed a day’s visit to the capital, but she would never want to live there. To her, it would feel like living among strangers in a foreign country.
As soon as people who lived in the Royal Mile became successful, they moved away to the New Town. It was very elegant and designed by Robert Adam. Abi still preferred Glasgow’s Victorian architecture, though. John always laughed at her for the way she kept sticking up for Glasgow and everything about it, no matter what.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘I’m Glasgow born and bred, and proud of it.’
John had been born and bred in Glasgow too, of course, but he preferred living in Edinburgh and had been perfectly happy in the capital – until now. She wished she’d seen him today and found out how he was and if there had been any further developments in the murder enquiries. She had lunch in Jenners in Princes Street and then caught a train back to Glasgow. Once in Queen Street Station, she hesitated about going straight home or returning to the store, but it would soon be closing time. It was hardly worth it. She made her way down to George Square, not sure what she was going to do, but reluctant to return to Huntershill.
The Square was teeming with people as usual at this time of year and was all raucous noise and sparkle. She stood for a time watching the skaters, then decided that now that she was so near, she might as well pay a visit to the penthouse and say hello to the children.
It was Douglas who answered the door and to her surprise, he was quite chatty and welcoming to her. He even called her ‘Mother’. But of course, when she came to think about it, he was happy because he thought he was winning. He believed he was on the verge of taking over completely. She had been so lax recently. She must try and pull herself together and get back to her old routine. She must get back her concentration on the store and everyone in it. She hadn’t even seen Mr McKay for days, weeks maybe. She couldn’t remember. That was the worrying thing. She probably had seen him, spoken to him too, but her mind was just not on the job.
She would try to get a decent sleep tonight and go into the store tomorrow with a fresh mind and a renewal of her steely determination to run the store her way, Tom’s way, the way it had always been run.
24
‘I’m telling you, Moira,’ Sam Webster said, ‘she’s stalking me. She came to the shop and I told her to fuck off. But she hung on and so I took her to the station. I meant to wait and put her on a train to South Castle-on-Sea but there wasn’t a train due for hours and so I left her there to catch the train herself. I didn’t want to sit there with her for all that time. Or any time. I just wanted rid of the bloody awful woman.’
‘Well, you haven’t got rid of her.’
It was then that they heard a crash and ran through to the kitchen. A brick had been hurled through the window. Glass lay scattered over the units and the floor.
Sam Webster tore open the back door and rushed outside but there was no one to be seen. He returned, cursing under his breath.
‘Don’t tell me that was her back,’ Moira said.
‘Who else?’
‘If this goes on, we’ll have to phone for the police. There was one of the garden ornaments broken yesterday. That was probably her as well.’
‘I’ll threaten her with the police if I see her tomorrow. But I don’t want the police involved if I can help it. Apart from anything else, there’s my job to consider.’
‘You should have thought about that before you became involved with her.’
‘I wish I’d never set eyes on the woman. The only thing I can think of is to let her know that if I see her in the shop again, I’m going back down to South Castle-on-Sea. Then I could perhaps involve the police down there, or threaten to involve the police and the local paper. That would risk her B. & B. going down the drain. She wouldn’t want that.’
Moira shrugged. ‘I suppose you’ll be going anyway.’
‘Well, I need to be there on business, but don’t worry, last time I was in a hotel at the other end of South Castle-on-Sea from her B. & B. and will be every time from now on.’
The more he thought about it, the more he was sure that this was the best idea. The Floral was Viv’s livelihood and she was proud of the place. She would definitely not want it involved in any scandal. Families with young children were among her best customers because of The Floral’s closeness to the beach and the pier, with all its entertainments. If Viv was proved to be a bad and dangerous character, no family would want to go near her.
Next day, like the last few days, Viv was loitering near the entrance of the shop. He went straight over to her and said, ‘Look, you may as well give up hanging around here. I’m off to South Castle-on-Sea to see my wholesalers later today. So I won’t be here for you to pester.’
Then he went into the store and upstairs to report to Mrs Goodman. Or Benson if Mrs Goodman wasn’t around. He didn’t know what was up with her recently. You could never depend on where she was or what she was doing. It wasn’t like her. Maybe she was getting too old for the job. She must be close to sixty by now.
After making some phone calls and collecting some papers and his order book, he returned outside and picked up his car from the multi-storey car park. There was no sign of Viv. No doubt she would be away to the station to find out about the quickest train to South Castle-on-Sea.
It was too bad that it hadn’t been the summer season. She would have been tied to The Floral and not able to travel around pestering him. It was just his bad luck it had all blown up during the winter when she’d nothing better to do.
He tried to put her out of his mind as he drove down south. He concentrated on his driving. Or at least he tried to. But every now and again, she would intrude into his thoughts again. Even when he thought about plans for Christmas. He simply must get the problem of Viv solved once and for all during this visit to South Castle-on-Sea. She must not be allowed to control and spoil his and his family’s Christmas. They always had such a happy time. The girls were at home and the house was always beautifully decorated. The Christmas tree in the corner of the sitting room sparkled with light and there were presents piled at the foot of it. They had Christmas lunch as a family, but in the evening friends arrived for a Christmas party with everyone raising their champagne glasses and wishing each other a merry Christmas. Then there would be the other happy celebrations at New Year when they visited friends.
No way was he going to allow Viv to spoil all that. What on earth did she think she would get out of it? Did she actually believe that she would get him to go back and sleep with her at her B. & B.?
No, it was surely just badness and malice and a determination for revenge. Why hadn’t he seen she was a woman like that right from the start? He cur
sed himself for being such a gullible idiot.
Once in South Castle-on-Sea, he went straight to The Floral and banged on the door. There was no reply and the front windows were in darkness. He went round the back. Darkness again. Nevertheless, he thumped his fist against the back door. No reply. If she had been in, she would have opened the door. She would not have missed a chance of speaking to him and probably trying to entice him in. The only thing he could think of was that she had missed the train and hadn’t yet arrived in South Castle-on-Sea.
He decided to attend to business and then come back to The Floral later.
He saw his inventor first and then one of the wholesalers. After that, he went back to The Floral and tried the doors again. Still nothing. He had got back into his car and was sitting wondering whether to wait there or go for something to eat, when his mobile rang. It was Moira, in obvious distress.
‘Darling, what’s wrong?’
She started to sob so much, she couldn’t speak for what seemed an eternity.
‘Moira, for God’s sake, what’s happened?’
‘The house is on fire. The fire brigade are trying to put the fire out but it’s too late. Everything’s up in flames. Everything’s gone.’
‘Are you and the girls all right?’ he shouted back in panic.
‘Yes, thank God, we were along the road visiting the Davidsons. We saw the flames from there and phoned the fire brigade and the police. I’ve told the police about her. It could only be your madwoman who’s done this. I’ve told the police everything. You obviously hadn’t the guts to do it.’
‘Moira!’ He was heartbroken. ‘You did the right thing, darling. I’m on my way. I’ll be with you as soon as I can.’
He tossed the phone aside, put his foot down and the car shot forward into the darkness. He could have wept. His whole life was shattered. He would have told the Glasgow police himself, only he had believed that the threat of reporting her behaviour to the police in South Castle-on-Sea and the local paper there would have been enough to stop Viv. She would have known that such publicity would have ruined her business. She would have given up as a result and left him and his family in peace. They would still have had their home. He would still have had his job. Now, if there was publicity in Glasgow about what had happened, he was sure of nothing. Except that he had been the root cause of everything. If he hadn’t met Viv, if he hadn’t slept with her, nothing else would have happened. God knows what she would say now. Probably she would claim that he had seduced her, forced her against her will, raped her, and ruined her reputation. He shuddered to think what lies her twisted mind would think up. There was no telling what she’d do or say, what she’d be capable of. The woman was mad.
There would have been no use waiting to speak to her, even if she’d escaped the police in Glasgow and was on her way to South Castle-on-Sea. Speaking to her, he realised now, would just have made matters worse. The tears were escaping now. He blinked them away so that he could see to drive home. Only this time he had no home to return to.
As soon as he got back to Glasgow, and then to Bearsden, the first thing he saw was the police standing outside the burnt-out shell of the house, and a tape stretched across the garden with the words ‘Crime Scene’. He drove further along to the Davidsons’ house and although it was the very early hours of the morning, he jumped out of his car and knocked loudly on the door. It was opened by Mrs Davidson wearing a white dressing gown. She stood aside to let him enter, saying, ‘The girls are in bed in the spare room but Moira wouldn’t go to bed. Hardly worthwhile, right enough. We’ve all been up half the night. She’s lying down on the settee in the sitting room.’
He strode across the hall and into the sitting room. A tearstained Moira rose up from the settee and he rushed over to gather her into his arms.
‘Oh, Moira.’
He held her close and she sobbed out the words, ‘She tossed aside the petrol can she used and the police got fingerprints. I saw her hanging about earlier and gave them her description. They picked her up at the railway station, in the waiting room.’
‘Well, thank God for that. At least she won’t be tormenting us any more.’
‘What are we going to do?’
‘I’ll book us into a hotel in town until we can organise something more permanent. Has everything in the house gone?’
She shook her head. ‘Probably. I don’t know. I can’t bear to look.’
‘I’ll see to that. Don’t worry. We’ll get over this.’
Mrs Davidson came into the room then, carrying a tray on which was a pot of tea and a plate of warm croissants. She set it down on a coffee table and poured a cup of tea for each of them. She said, ‘The fire brigade are not long gone. Everything’s safe now apparently. The fire is completely out, thank goodness. At one point, I was afraid it was going to spread.’
Moira drank her tea and dried her eyes.
‘She’s mad. Just as you said. Completely mad.’
‘Try not to think about it, darling. After I drink this tea, I’ll go along and have a look and see if I can salvage anything. That’s if the police will allow me at this stage. But if necessary, I’ll hire a van or whatever. I’ll also book us into a hotel.’
‘You’re welcome to stay here,’ Mrs Davidson said. ‘I can always make up a bed for the pair of you in here.’
‘No, no,’ Sam said. ‘You’ve been kind enough as it is and we’re more than grateful. If you could just look after my wife and daughters until I come back from town and have everything organised, that would be a help.’
‘Of course. Take as much time as you need.’
He gave Moira another hug and said, ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’ Then he hurried away. He spoke to one of the policemen still on guard in front of the house, before looking around. He could see that there were some things he could salvage, but that job would have to wait till the police were finished with their investigations. He drove from Bearsden into town and parked his car near the store. After checking with a few hotels, he managed to get a booking in the Millennium Hotel in George Square. There had been a last-minute cancellation and he was lucky he had arrived just at the right time. Lucky indeed, because it was a good hotel right next to the train station and not far from the store. Fronting the Square, the hotel had a large glass conservatory area where customers and residents could sit and watch everything that was going on in the square while drinking tea or coffee, or something stronger. And there was certainly plenty going on in the Square at the moment. He prayed it would help even in a small way to distract his family’s attentions from their troubles.
He hurried across the Square, skirting the ice rink and the Christmas tree, and then crossed the road towards Glassford Street. The store was not yet open and so he went and sat in his car until Mr McKay arrived and unlocked the front doors.
He was taken aback by Mr McKay’s appearance. He looked a different man. However, he was too taken up with his own problems to think about any Mr McKay might have. He had to go up to his office and get a few things sorted out, while waiting for Mrs Goodman to arrive. Then he would have to confess everything to her. Tell her the exact truth. The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. He’d apologise and say he’d have to take at least a couple of days off to settle his family in the hotel and to see if and when he could salvage anything from the wreck that had once been his home. He would also have to bring his family over to Goodmans to purchase clothes and whatever they needed while they were living in the hotel.
He had no idea what Mrs Goodman’s reaction would be but it was better if everything came from him, rather than have her read about it in the newspapers.
Whatever her reaction would be, he had to face it.
He braced himself.
25
By the time Miss Eden got upstairs, she had missed Mr McKay. No doubt he was already doing his usual round of the departments. She went into his office and immediately saw a sleeping bag lying on the floor. He must have taken it fr
om the bedding department and slept in his office overnight. She groaned to herself. This obviously could not go on.
He had only reached the furniture department on the third floor when she found him. ‘Mr McKay, I need to have a private word right away. Can we go back upstairs to your office? Now,’ she added firmly.
He looked confused and she cupped his elbow in one hand and steered him towards the stairs.
‘This is not a good time, Miss Eden,’ he managed. ‘I’m very busy.’
She did not loosen her grip and they continued up the stairs and along the corridor to his office.
‘Really, Miss Eden,’ he protested, and tried to stop in his tracks outside the office door.
She opened it and forced him inside. She shut the door and faced him. ‘You cannot go on like this, Mr McKay. You’re liable to get the sack any day now. It’s a miracle you haven’t already been dismissed.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Yes, you do. I’m not a detective for nothing. I know all about you changing into shabby clothes and drinking with tramps. Drinking yourself silly. You’re well on the way to becoming an alcoholic and ruining your whole life. It must stop before anyone else finds out.’
To her acute embarrassment, he suddenly began to shake violently and sob.
‘Now, now.’ She tried to sound comforting. She patted his back. ‘I’ll help you. You’re going to be all right.’
‘How can I be? I can’t bear to go home. I can’t face life … I haven’t got any life without Jenny. I need a drink.’
‘No, you don’t.’ She hesitated, and then said, ‘You’ll come home with me until we get you properly over this. I’ve got a spare room. You’ll be safe and comfortable and you won’t be alone in the house. You’ll stay in my house until you get off drinking and are back to your old self again. I’ll help you. I’m going to make sure that you get over this and are strong and in charge of yourself again.’
Goodmans of Glassford Street Page 14