Their Final Act

by Alex Walters

McKay walked over until he was standing only a metre or so away from the uniform. McKay was a short, slight man but the uniform took a half step back as if expecting a physical blow. 'That right, son?'

  'I–'

  'Thing is, son, that fine upstanding pillar of the community has just given me what might turn out to be a useful lead. I wonder if any of those worthy citizens you told to bugger off might have had any useful intelligence to share with us?'

  'I don't think–'

  'Aye, well, try not to. It doesn't seem to be your strong point. Now, if anyone else turns up here, I want you to be polite, listen to anything useful they might have to tell you. And then, and only then…' He paused theatrically, before treating the uniforms to one of his rare smiles. 'Then you can tell them to bugger off.'

  22

  Jane had no watch, so at first she had no idea what time it was when she awoke. It had taken her a while to get to sleep, and she'd felt restless for most of the night, waking occasionally to see the light brightening in the gaps around the curtains. She'd fallen into a deeper, more relaxed slumber after that, and now felt as if she'd overslept. Munro had said she should rise whenever she was ready, but Jane thought that really she should have been up early to do something useful.

  She dragged herself out of bed and fumbled for her mobile in her bag, which she'd left by the bed. To her surprise, it was only just past eight, earlier than she'd expected. Tomorrow, she'd remember to set an alarm before she slept.

  She walked over to the window and pulled back the curtains. It looked as if it was set to be another fine day. The sun was behind the house, casting long shadows down towards the firth. A faint mist lay on the water, but the surface was extraordinarily still, reflecting the hills and trees on the far shore.

  There was a towelling dressing gown hanging on the bedroom door, presumably intended for her use. She pulled it on and stepped out onto the landing, standing still for a moment to listen for any sound.

  She could hear nothing. Elizabeth's and Alicia's bedroom doors were closed, and there was no movement from below. It occurred to Jane that she didn't know where Munro slept. There didn't seem to be another bedroom up there, but there were presumably rooms downstairs she hadn't been shown.

  The bathroom door was ajar. Jane hadn't had an opportunity to shower the previous day either before leaving the centre or since her arrival, and she'd felt bad about that the previous evening, wishing she'd spruced herself up more for the dinner. That had been one of the problems at the centre. There were too few showers for the number of women staying there, and often none available in the mornings. Too often, she'd taken the path of least resistance and simply not bothered. But she knew from experience where that could lead. You stopped caring about yourself, and then you stopped caring about much else. If you didn't care about yourself, no one else was likely to.

  There was a walk-in shower as well as a bath. Maybe she'd brave the bath when she felt a little more at home. It took her a few moments to work out how the electric shower was operated, and then a little longer to adjust the water temperature to her liking. Finally, she undressed and surrendered herself to the streams of hot water, feeling, for the first time since she'd climbed out of bed, as if she was waking up. She was tempted to turn the water to cold just to feel the shock through her body, to remind her that she had begun a new life, that everything from here on would be different. In the end, she did the opposite, turning the water as hot as she could bear, enjoying the sting of the near-scalding liquid on her skin.

  She finished washing her hair and body, and then, turning off the water, stepped out of the shower, reaching for the towel. As she did so, there was a banging at the door. She stopped, feeling as if she'd been caught out in some inappropriate act.

  'You going to be long?' It was Elizabeth's voice from the far side of the door.

  Jane could feel her initial guilt curdling into a mild resentment. It wasn't as if she'd been in the bathroom for long. And it wasn't as if Elizabeth had any more right to be in there than Jane had. She called back, 'Won't be a minute.'

  'Hope not. I'm dying for a wee.'

  Jane wondered whether to point out that there was a separate toilet next door, as well as the one in here, but decided it wasn't worth the effort. Maybe the other toilet was already occupied. Still damp, she pulled on the dressing gown and drew back the bolt on the door.

  Elizabeth was standing directly outside, her expression suggesting she'd been considering forcible entry.

  'Sorry about that,' Jane said, unsure why she was apologising. The door of the adjacent toilet was standing open.

  'No worries. You sleep well?' Elizabeth's apparently urgent need to use the bathroom seemed to have vanished.

  'A bit restless. New bed and all that. Are you all right?' Jane thought back to Elizabeth's odd behaviour of the previous night, and wondered what sort of state she might be in.

  'Ach, I slept fine. Out like a light. I always do.'

  'That's good. I thought you might be a bit under the weather…' She trailed off.

  'Last night, you mean? That was just me being a wee bit daft. Probably a glass of wine too many.' As far as Jane could recall, Elizabeth had drunk very little. Jane had watched the other diners carefully because she hadn't wanted to do anything inappropriate herself. 'Just get a bit sentimental with those old songs.'

  Elizabeth's response had sounded anything but sentimental, Jane thought. 'We were all a bit more tired than we realised too. Long day.'

  Elizabeth gazed at Jane as if about to challenge this assessment. 'Aye. I'll let you go and get dressed. If you're down there first, tell Netty I'll be down shortly.' She gestured towards Alicia's door. 'No sign of Princess Alicia, I'm assuming?'

  'I've not seen her,' Jane said, wondering whether the nickname dated back to Elizabeth's previous acquaintance with Alicia, or was a comment on Alicia's status there. Either way, Jane had no intention of being complicit in whatever joke Elizabeth might be making.

  'See you downstairs.' Elizabeth disappeared into the bathroom, and Jane returned to her own bedroom. Elizabeth's presence was one of the factors that left Jane still feeling uneasy. She had the sense that Elizabeth wasn't playing by the rules, even though Jane had no idea what those rules really were.

  Then there was the previous night's conversation between Munro and Dowling. Good material. What had that meant? Good material for what?

  23

  Jane dressed quickly, increasingly conscious how few clothes she had. She'd have to find out from Netty Munro what the arrangements here were for washing. Jane also wondered about the possibility of getting into Dingwall or Inverness to buy something. She still had a little stashed away from the money she'd managed to take with her when she'd finally left Iain. The money he'd never known about that had enabled her to make the break. She assumed she wouldn't be able to claim any benefits while staying there, and at some stage that could become a problem, especially when she wanted to move on. But that was a problem for the future, and she couldn't bring herself to worry too much about it for the moment.

  Closing the bedroom door behind her, Jane stood on the landing, listening. The bathroom door was still closed and she could hear the sound of running water from inside. She suspected that Elizabeth had already been in the bathroom as long as she had been.

  Apart from the hiss of water, the house was silent. She made her way downstairs and stood in the hall, wondering where to go. The door to the living room was open and the patio windows pulled back, but there was no sign of life. Feeling slightly nervous, she continued through to the kitchen.

  Henry Dowling was sitting at the table, a copy of The Guardian spread out before her. She looked up as Jane entered. 'Morning. I'm still here, I'm afraid.' She gestured towards a mug sitting on the table beside her. 'Netty said to help yourself to anything you want for breakfast. Coffee's in that cupboard, real and instant, I think. Milk's in the fridge. Sugar's… actually, I've no idea where sugar is.'

  Jane stood in si
lence for a moment, nonplussed by Dowling's manner. 'Can I get you another drink?'

  'I'm good for the moment. If you're hungry, there's bread over there for toast. Cereals in the cupboard. Other stuff in the fridge, I think – bacon and suchlike…' She stopped as if she'd exhausted her knowledge or inspiration.

  'I'll be happy with a slice of toast,' Jane said, as she filled the kettle. She certainly had no intention of trying to prepare anything more complicated. 'Is Netty not around?'

  'She's out in the wide acres of the estate somewhere. She's had some workmen here doing stuff on the fencing, so she's gone to check what they've done. Reckoned she wouldn't be long.'

  'Looks like another lovely day.'

  'It does. Though I hadn't intended to be up this early to enjoy it.'

  'Do you live in the village?' Jane wasn't sure whether she was being overly inquisitive, but it seemed a harmless enough question.

  'Yes. It's not far. But I didn't trust myself to walk back in the dark after Netty and I had finished punishing the Scotch. So she found a bed for me.'

  Jane nodded, unsure how else to respond. 'I feel slightly hungover,' she offered. She wasn't really sure this was true. Her mouth felt a little dry and she was still a little woozy, but otherwise she was fine. It was just what people said. Grown-ups, she thought. People who understood how life ought to be lived.

  'You're not used to it, darling. I never seem to get hangovers these days, though I'm not sure that's anything to be proud of.' She yawned and took another mouthful of coffee. 'Didn't expect to wake up so early. I can normally sleep through anything. Even Netty bustling about.'

  Jane had found the bread and was trying to work out how to operate the toaster, which seemed more sophisticated than any she'd come across before. 'Netty said that you help out on the farm?'

  'I do a few bits and pieces where I can. I'm good with my hands so I've done a few carpentry jobs and the like for her.'

  'Carpentry?' Jane didn't quite manage to conceal her surprise.

  'The day job's building guitars, these days. I have my own workshop, making high-end acoustics. So hammering in a few nails is child's play by comparison.'

  'I suppose so.' Jane had finally persuaded the toaster to work, and was waiting for her slice to pop up. 'Was the guitar you were playing last night one of your own? One you made, I mean.'

  'Certainly was. And Netty's too. I gave her that one for her birthday a few years back. She reckons it's the best guitar she's ever played. But then she has to say that, doesn't she?'

  'I'm no judge but they sounded lovely to me. Netty doesn't make guitars as well then?'

  Dowling laughed. 'No, there are only a few of us about. But Netty makes songs, which is just as important. If not more so.'

  Jane didn't know quite what to make of that, and was almost relieved when they were interrupted by the kitchen door opening. She expected Elizabeth to join them, but it was Alicia, blinking and looking half awake, still in her dressing gown. 'I'm sorry. Am I very late coming down?'

  'Christ, no,' Dowling said. 'What’s wrong with you people? This is not a civilised time to be awake.'

  'Would you like some coffee?' Jane asked. 'I'm just making some.'

  'Please,' Alicia said.

  Dowling turned and held out her mug. 'Actually, I've nearly finished this. If the kettle's boiled…'

  'That's fine.' Jane could feel she'd already slipped back into her familiar domestic role. Provider for others. She immediately felt a little more comfortable, as if she'd found a niche to slip into. It was what she was accustomed to. Providing for her dad and her younger siblings when her mother hadn't been able to. Providing to Iain. Even in the centre, she'd often been the domestic one – the one who'd bring cups of tea and coffee to others, the one who'd clean up when no one else could be arsed, the one everyone turned to if they needed something. At times she'd been taken advantage of, but she hadn't minded too much. She'd felt she had a legitimate place, that she could justify her presence. She needed that and she thought she'd still need it there, however kind and generous Netty Munro might be.

  She finished making the coffees and brought them over to the table. Alicia had sat down and was staring blankly at the tabletop. Dowling had returned to her newspaper and was chuckling gently at whatever she was reading. Jane found a plate and a knife for her toast, and carried them over to join the other women. There was butter in a dish on the table and a jar of marmalade. 'Sleep well?' she asked Alicia.

  'Pretty well,' Alicia said. 'Took me a while to get off, but then I don't remember anything till I woke up just now. I thought it must be later than it is.'

  They lapsed back into silence while Jane spread butter on her toast. She hesitated, then added marmalade.

  'That's Netty's,' Alicia said.

  For a moment, Jane thought she was being accused of stealing their host's marmalade but Alicia added, 'She makes it, I mean. It's really nice.'

  Jane nodded, still chewing. She'd never been sure whether she liked marmalade, but like everything else in this house, this was better than any she'd had before. It tasted of fruit rather than just bitterness. 'It's very good.'

  'Netty's a dab hand at pretty much anything in the culinary department,' Dowling said. 'Sweet, savoury. Bread, cakes. Jams. You name it.' She paused, glancing between the two younger women. 'Did you both come here from the centre?' She held up her hand, as if to prevent them replying. 'Sorry. Tactless. Netty's rules apply, as always. You don't need to tell me anything unless you want to.'

  Alicia shrugged. 'I came from the centre. It's nothing to be ashamed of.'

  Jane nodded in agreement. 'Me too. They were pretty good to me, as good as they could be.'

  'I'm sure they were,' Dowling said. 'Most of Netty's visitors tend to come from there. And that's pretty much what they all say. That they felt safe. And well looked after.'

  Alicia laughed, though it wasn't clear how much humour was in the sound. 'I spent my first week or so there certain my ex was going to track me down. They were very cautious though. I don't suppose they could keep away someone who was determined enough, but they do pretty well.'

  'And they're smart enough to know that most violent types are just feckless no-marks when it comes to it,' Dowling said. 'They wouldn't have the gumption to track anyone down.'

  That had been true enough of Iain, Jane thought. After she'd walked out, he'd gone round to her sister's – the only one of her relatives he'd actually met – and started causing trouble. But Mo's hubbie had shown him the door, and Jane hadn't heard a word from or about him since then. Even so, she'd been relieved to see the quality of security at the centre. On the rare occasions some bastard did manage to track his ex down, they hadn't been able to access the interior of the building and the police had been called before they could proceed any further.

  'They do good work there,' Dowling said. 'What was it in your two cases? Boyfriends? Husbands? If you want to tell me.'

  'Boyfriend,' Alicia said. 'Nasty piece of work. I can always pick 'em.'

  'Husband in mine,' Jane said. Was Iain a nasty piece of work, too? She'd never thought of him in those terms. Theirs had never been what you might call a great romance, but they'd initially liked one another well enough. Then, just like her dad, he'd started drinking and getting violent. There'd been enough times when he'd scared her. But she still couldn't bring herself to think of him as a bad man. A stupid man, definitely. A weak man, almost certainly. An overgrown child – well, she thought so. But under all that he was maybe okay, she thought. Or at least he could be. She'd hoped she could help him make that change, but by the time she'd left she knew it wasn't going to happen. There was too much booze, not enough work. Too many pressures he thought it was okay to take out on her.

  One day he might change, but someone else would have to help him through it. She had no intention of being there. She'd already spent too long making excuses for him. Whatever the future might hold, she was moving on.

  'We've all been there,' D
owling said. 'Me and Netty too.'

  Jane looked up in surprise. She'd never envisaged that that kind of thing happened to the likes of Netty or Henry. Apart from anything else, they weren't shackled to a relationship by lack of money or other opportunities. If there were problems, they could just walk.

  But even from her own experience, Jane knew it was rarely that simple. She'd stuck around with Iain partly because the alternatives were always going to be challenging. But something else had kept her there. She hadn't wanted to give up on what she and Iain had once had. She hadn't wanted to admit she'd got it wrong, that he wasn't the man she'd thought. So she'd hung on, hoping to rekindle a magic that had never existed in the first place. It was a kind of madness, she could see that. But, talking to others in the centre, she'd discovered her feelings were far from unique.

  'Is that why Netty does this?' Alicia asked. 'I mean, takes in people like us.'

  'I suppose that must be part of it,' Dowling said. 'But Netty's a complex woman. And a generous one. She does things because she wants to. She genuinely likes the company. She likes having young people here. It helps her to stay young.' She stopped suddenly and looked towards the back door. 'Talk of the devil.'

  Jane had heard nothing, but Dowling had been right.

  A moment later, the back door rattled open and Netty Munro stepped inside. She was wearing jeans and a faded T-shirt with the logo of a band that Jane vaguely recognised. 'Buggers!' she exclaimed to no one in particular.

  'Problems, dear?'

  Munro looked around the room, as though surprised to see the other women there. 'Oh, not really. Just that they haven't done everything they were supposed to on the fencing. I'm going to have to get them back again.'

  'Anything we can do?' Dowling asked.

  'They were supposed to do it and I'll make bloody sure they do.' This sounded to Jane like a different woman from the Netty Munro she'd met the previous day – much more focused and businesslike. 'Is there a cup of tea going?'