by David Moody
‘Why’s that?’
‘Don’t like the folks there. Bit strange.’
‘Stranger than this lot?’ Michelle whispered.
‘Believe it or not, yes!’ Jackie replied, also whispering. Michelle’s laughter filled the hall, her noise loud enough to warrant a few sideways glances.
‘I might see you Friday, then.’
‘Sure.’
She went to walk away, then stopped. ‘Listen, d’you fancy meeting up for a coffee some time?’
‘Yeah, definitely.’
Michelle hesitated. ‘Where exactly do people go for coffee around here?’
‘Usually Mary’s.’
‘Mary’s?’
‘Aye, Mary’s café in town. If you want Starbucks or Costa, anything fancy like that, then you’re lookin’ at an hour’s round trip.’
‘You’re kidding.’
‘I wish.’
‘Right, a date with Mary it is then.’
‘Ah, bugger the expense. Just come around to mine. I’m only five minute’s walk from the café, so if you don’t like my coffee, we can still go to Mary’s. Here, let me give you my number.’ Jackie scribbled her phone number and address on the torn off corner of a red gas bill, then handed it over. ‘I’m stuck at home with the twins most of the time. Dez has the car, so you’ve a good chance of catchin’ me.’
‘Excellent. Look forward to it.’
‘Aye, me too.’ One of Jackie’s twins yelled out, fighting over a toy with the other. ‘Got to go,’ she said. Michelle just smiled, scooped up George, and headed for the door.
8
Scott tried to keep on the road and away from the yard as much as possible, but it was a quiet day for deliveries. As well as himself, Barry Walpole and Warren, there were two other members of staff working today, far more than was necessary. A wiry-framed man in his fifties called Alan shifted slabs, and Chez, a streak of piss and wind who could only have been in his late teens or early twenties, helped. Alan, who Scott really wasn’t sure about, seemed to have an unhealthy preoccupation with the dead girl in Ken Potter’s garden. He kept pressing Scott to talk about her, and when he didn’t oblige, Alan just made stuff up instead. It wasn’t just him, they were all seriously pissing Scott off. He was glad when lunchtime arrived, though his relief was short-lived when Barry shut the yard and disappeared off with the truck. That move in itself took him by surprise. This is the twenty-first century, he’d protested, businesses don’t shut for lunch anymore. Then Warren made a point he found difficult to counter: they’d barely had any custom all morning, what were the chances of missing someone at lunch time? The others all went home to eat leaving Scott alone, stranded.
When they returned, just after half-one, Alan had news. There were still no customers and Barry hadn’t yet come back, so Scott, Chez and Warren were a captive audience.
‘Shona McIntyre,’ he announced excitedly.
‘Who?’ Warren asked.
‘Shona McIntyre,’ he said again. ‘That’s her name.’
‘Whose name?’
‘The girl Barry and him found in Potter’s garden yesterday.’ There was something about the way Alan dismissively avoided using Scott’s name which rankled him. It was almost as if he wasn’t there.
‘Never heard of her,’ Chez said. Scott said nothing. He knew no one.
‘And?’ Warren pressed.
‘And what?’
‘That all you got?’
Alan shook his head and continued. ‘The missus says she wasn’t local.’
‘So what was she doing at Potter’s?’ Chez asked.
‘Been out hiking, apparently. She was a student, Marj reckons. It was on the local news. Involved in geography or geology, she was, sumthin’ like that.’
‘But why was she at Potter’s house?’ Scott asked, repeating Chez’s question. ‘It doesn’t make sense. Took me long enough to find that bloody place yesterday.’
‘Maybe she was lost?’
‘So did she get lost and walk there, or did Potter pick her up and take her back to his?’
‘Not sure what you’re alludin’ to,’ Alan said, his tone a little aggressive. ‘You need to be careful what you’re sayin’. Ken Potter’s a good man. I’ve known him years. He taught me and both my kids, he did, and he never did nothin’ he shouldn’t. He didn’t do nothin’ to that girl.’
Scott couldn’t help himself. The words just came out. ‘So who did then?’
They turned on him as one. ‘I reckon you’d be the best person to answer that,’ Chez said. ‘You’re the one what found her.’
‘Piss off. It had nothing to do with me. Anyway, Barry was with me. You think Barry did it?’
Alan cleared his throat. ‘Barry was with you second time,’ he said, ‘but you was on your own when you first went there. An’ you had a run in with Ken.’
‘Fuck’s sake,’ Scott said, his temper rising. ‘Sure, I had an argument with him, but that doesn’t mean I cut up that girl and left her in his back garden, does it? What do you think I am, some kind of madman?’
‘I don’t know what you are,’ Alan said. ‘I don’t even know who you are. Now Ken Potter had his moments, but he weren’t no pervert and he weren’t no murderer. We’ve all known him for years. You ain’t even been here a week.’
‘I didn’t say he was a murderer or a pervert, I just said I don’t understand. It doesn’t make sense.’
Alan walked up to Scott, his body language suddenly hostile. ‘Fact is, mate, you need to be careful when you’re throwin’ accusations around in a small place like Thussock, ’specially if they’re as serious as the things you’re sayin’. I don’t know what happened at Ken’s house or why that girl was there. It’s my thinkin’ someone did her in and dumped her body, then Ken found her and panicked. Ken can be a bit of an arse at times, but he’s no killer.’
‘How do you know?’
‘What?’
‘I mean, how much do you really know about each other? You’re quick enough to say how little you know about me, but what about you lot? Chez, do you know what drives Alan wild in bed?’
‘Fuck off. What d’you think I am, a fucking perv?’
‘That’s my bloody point. You just don’t know. We all think we know other people, but you never do really, do you? For all you know, Ken Potter might really get off on slicing up young girl’s fannies. Whatever floats your boat, eh?’
Alan was about to say something, but he didn’t get a chance. Barry Walpole came at Scott from out of nowhere, grabbing him by the scruff of his neck and slamming him against the side of the caravan which rocked precariously on its piles of bricks. Scott tried to fight him off, but Barry had surprise and weight on his side. ‘Watch what you’re sayin’ you little bastard,’ he hissed.
‘I’m sorry, Barry. I didn’t mean—’
‘Watch what you’re sayin’, and watch who you’re sayin’ it to, right? This place isn’t like where you’re from. Folks here are less forgivin’, understand?’
‘I understand.’
Barry let him go and staggered back. Scott massaged his throat and chest.
‘To be fair,’ Chez said, doing what he could to calm the suddenly volatile atmosphere, ‘I don’t think he meant nothin’ by it. He just... Barry? Barry, mate, you all right?’
The men crowded around their boss at first, then they backed away. He wiped his eyes. He was crying.
‘S’matter, Barry?’ Alan asked cautiously.
‘Looks like you was right, anyway,’ Barry said, looking straight at Scott.
‘What do you mean?’
Barry composed himself. His anger faded slightly. He looked pained... devastated. ‘They found him.’
‘Found who?’ Warren asked, though he thought he already knew.
‘Ken.’
‘Where?’
Barry paused again. Took deep breaths. ‘He’s dead. Sam Adamson’s kids found him on the train track north of Thussock. Silly bastard killed himself.’
; ‘Can’t believe it...’ Alan mumbled.
‘Nor me, Al,’ Barry said, the emotion draining from his voice. ‘I don’t know what was goin’ through Ken’s head to make him do what he just did, but I’ll still stake everythin’ I have on the fact he did nothin’ to that girl.’
Scott kept his mouth shut and went back to work, knowing that whatever he said would be the wrong thing.
9
Michelle was glad to get out of the house again. By Friday morning she’d had enough. She’d spent most of their first week in Thussock unpacking everybody’s stuff, trying to make it feel like home, but she was already climbing the walls. It had come to something when an appointment with the doctor was a highlight.
The receptionist was just as fearsome as last time but Dr Kerr, fortunately, was as friendly as she remembered, perhaps even more so. He seemed in no rush to deal with the rest of the patients in the waiting room and was content to sit and talk for a while. He seemed to be more interested in her house than her health.
‘He was a smashing lad, Willy,’ he said.
‘Who?’
‘Willy McCunnie. The chap who lived in your house before you.’
‘Oh, right.’
‘He spent almost as much time in this surgery as me near the end, you know. Lovely fella. Was cancer that finished him off. Such a shame.’
‘Sorry to hear that.’
‘Ah, well, he was past his prime,’ the doctor said, navigating his computer with ponderous speed, looking from keyboard to screen after virtually every key press. ‘We’re practically neighbours, you know.’
‘Are we?’
‘Yes... May and I live just down from Jeannie and Lou.’
‘Who?’
‘Jeannie and Lou. The twins. You must have seen them. Lovely girls.’
‘We’ve seen them,’ she smirked.
The doctor checked her blood pressure and measured her height and weight, then checked George over too. Dr Kerr had been talking constantly throughout the appointment and Michelle wondered if he’d listened to anything she’d said. He had. He’d taken it all in. He’d been doing this job for so long he made it look easier than he should have, to the point where it seemed he was no longer concentrating. It took Michelle by surprise when his expression suddenly changed and became more serious. He looked straight into her eyes and held her gaze. ‘Your wrist,’ he said. ‘I noticed it was tender. I could see from the way you were holding it.’
‘I twisted it the other night.’
‘A bit accident prone, are you?’
‘No more than anyone else. Why?’
‘Just that you’ve had a lot of little injuries recently.’
She shifted awkwardly in her seat. ‘It’s par for the course when you have kids. Always on the go, you know how it is...’
He smiled. ‘I know how it is. Is everything all right at home?’
‘Fine. It will be once we’re settled, anyway.’
‘Good,’ he said, smiling again. He adjusted his glasses and looked at his computer screen, struggling to control the cursor with the mouse. ‘Fluoxetine. Now, how long have you been taking that?’
She struggled to remember. ‘Six or seven months, I think. Maybe a little longer.’
‘Things been tough?’
‘Very tough.’
‘The depression any better?’
‘I’m getting there.’
‘Is that why you’re here?’
‘No, we just wanted to register as patients and the lady said I had to book an appointment so...’
‘No, not here, here. Is that why you moved to Thussock?’
‘Partly.’
‘Do you want to come off the pills?’
‘Eventually. Now’s really not the time, though.’
‘Why not?’
‘New house... my husband’s got a new job and the girls have started a new school...’
‘Fair enough. Got enough to last you a while?’
‘A few weeks.’
‘Will you come in and see me again when you’re running out?’
‘Okay.’
‘And in the meantime, don’t do anything silly. If you’re feeling low, come straight back and see me. Take no crap from Alice. Call at the house if it’s out of hours.’
‘Thanks. I’m not about to do anything stupid, you know.’
‘Glad to hear it.’
‘I think I’d have already done it by now if I was.’
‘I get that impression. You seem like you have your head screwed on, Michelle.’
She wasn’t sure how to respond to that. ‘Thanks.’
He paused and looked at the screen again, doing all he could to make his next question sound as casual as possible. ‘And how are things between you and your husband? You’ve been under a lot of pressure, I imagine.’
‘You don’t know the half of it.’
‘I’m sure that’s true. You’re okay, though?’
A moment of hesitation. ‘We’re okay.’
‘And you?’
‘I’m okay.’
‘I’m looking forward to meeting the rest of the family.’
‘They’re great kids.’
‘I’ve no doubt. Just remember, if you need to see me, I’m only a little way down the road.’
‘I will,’ she said. ‘Thanks.’
And Michelle watched the doctor as he added to his notes, and all she could think was he knows.
#
Michelle phoned Jackie and arranged to skip the toddler group session and do coffee together instead. She didn’t feel like spending time with the sour, stony-faced women in the community hall. She felt like going back home even less.
Jackie’s terraced house was right on the main road through town, protected from the traffic by a waist-high wire-mesh fence and a narrow sunken pavement. Over the years the constant fumes had blackened the front of the building. Half-hearted attempts had been made to clean patches, but that had just spread the muck about. The whole building was dirty-looking.
Michelle drove past then took the next left and pulled up behind a car she thought she recognised. It was an old Ford Focus. Dirty and full of crap, it was splattered with mud and its exhaust was hanging off. It took her a while to remember where she’d seen it before. It had been less than a week, but it felt much longer. When she saw the man who’d stopped to speak to her and Tammy at the bus-stop last Sunday evening, it clicked. He emerged from Jackie’s front door and gave way to Michelle. Shifty-looking bugger, she thought. He was wearing the same faded football shirt as before, the same denim jacket too.
‘Sorry,’ she said as they side-stepped each other and both did a double-take. The man made less of an effort than she did, brushing up against her.
‘No apology necessary,’ he said, staring for a little too long. ‘You must be Michelle.’
The seedy man made her flesh crawl, but she did what she could not to let it show. ‘That’s right. How did you...?’
‘Psychic,’ he said quickly. He broke into a huge smile and an over-exaggerated laugh which seemed to fill the entire street. ‘Not really. I’m many things, lover, but psychic ain’t one of them. Jack’ll tell you.’
Michelle looked up and saw Jackie standing on the doorstep, wearing a short dressing gown and not a lot else. ‘Piss off, Dez,’ she said. ‘That useless bugger is my other half,’ she explained as she beckoned Michelle inside. ‘Really landed on my feet with that one, eh?’
‘Nice to meet you again,’ Michelle said, turning back around, but Dez had already gone. A couple of seconds later his car raced past the front of the house at a ridiculous speed, the noise of its tired exhaust taking an age to disappear.
‘Again?’ Jackie asked, puzzled. Michelle explained as she followed her into her small, cluttered house. They went through into the kitchen, every available bit of work surface covered with crockery, saucepans and food.
‘I was having a bit of trouble with my eldest last Sunday evening. She had a strop and walked off.
I was sitting in the bus shelter with her, trying to get her to come home, and he stopped to check we were okay. I think he was just concerned.’
‘You reckon? Perving, more like. Funny, though, he never said anythin’.’
‘Probably forgot about it ’til now. I had.’ Michelle thought she should try and steer the conversation into safer waters. ‘So what does Dez do?’
‘As little as he has to,’ Jackie answered quickly as she filled the kettle.
‘And you’re okay with that?’
‘Don’t have a lot of choice, really. As long as he brings enough money in, I’ve learned not to ask too many questions.’
‘Like that, is it?’
She laughed. ‘I’m making it sound worse than it is. Dez isn’t scared of hard work, but he can’t hold down a regular job to save his life. He does odd jobs for people, helps folks out, all cash in hand. Everybody knows Dez.’
Michelle couldn’t help asking. ‘What kind of odd jobs?’
‘Whatever needs doin’. Look, I know it sounds dodgy, but it’s all kosher. He just does things different to everyone else, that’s all. People jump to the wrong conclusion too easy about Dezzie.’
‘Sorry, I...’
‘I didn’t mean you, love. He gets it all the time. Just this Saturday gone Sergeant Ross stopped him for no good reason. Mind you, he was off to see his mate with a load of beer and knocked-off DVDs in the back of the car. Dez don’t exactly help himself.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Ah, he asks for trouble half the time. Carryin’ on like he’d a load of hard-core porn stashed away or worse.’
‘And he hadn’t?’
‘It was a stack of Star Trek videos. Him and his mate Murray, that’s the guy who works up on the fracking site by Falrigg, are proper geeks. Sergeant Ross thought Dez was into sumthin’ mucky, fact is him and Murray were just plannin’ a Star Trek all-nighter.’
Michelle laughed at the ridiculousness of the story, then took her coffee from Jackie and followed her into the living room where the children were playing. The room was scattered with toys. Scattered. She thought that was a good word to use to describe the whole house; everything where it had been last used, nothing where it should be. She picked her way through the chaos to get to a seat, having to shift newspapers, TV listings magazines, remote controls and toys so she could sit down. Jackie took them from her. ‘Sorry about the state of the place,’ she said, noticing Michelle’s wandering eyes. ‘Fast as I clean it up, Dez and the kids trash it again.’