Risk of Harm

by Jane Renshaw

  ‘Come on, love.’ And Caroline’s arm was round her, and Flora was suddenly crying, suddenly howling in her friend’s arms, and Caroline was closing the door behind her and saying, ‘Let’s get you sorted, eh?’

  ‘I’m not sort-able!’ Flora wailed.

  Caroline was brisk. ‘We’ll see about that.’

  The Botanic Gardens had always been a favourite place of Flora’s. It had been the house’s main attraction, having the Botanics right opposite. She used to love to just stroll along the paths, touching the leaves of the plants, reading the Latin names on the labels, sitting on the grass with a book while Beckie lost herself in one imaginary world after another, bringing Flora leaves or blades of grass to hold that featured crucially in the dramas going on inside her head.

  Today there was no Beckie, of course; nothing to capture her attention. Everything seemed flat, dull, one tree very much like the next, the late spring borders with their blocks of colour so painting-by-numbers ordinary that she couldn’t understand why Caroline was bothering to stop and admire them.

  ‘Coffee?’ said Caroline brightly.

  ‘What is wrong with me?’ Flora blurted. ‘What am I even doing here? The Johnsons are out there, they’re planning God knows what – They’ve got it in for us just as much as they had it in for Saskia –’

  ‘Flora.’ Caroline took her arm. ‘Come on. Even if the Johnsons did kill Saskia, which is pretty unlikely – I mean, how would they even know where she was? – they had good reason to hate her, after what she did. I’m not saying it would justify murdering her... But the point is, they can’t have anything against you and Neil personally, not like they did against Saskia. It’s not your fault, what happened with Beckie.’

  Flora breathed. She knew Caroline was wrong. She knew the Johnsons hated her. But she couldn’t explain it. ‘Okay, maybe not, but that doesn’t mean they won’t try and get Beckie back. Beckie needs me, and I’m a useless wreck.’

  ‘Coffee,’ Caroline said firmly, pushing Flora in the direction of the tearoom.

  They chose a table outside in the sun, and while Caroline went in to buy the coffees and cakes, Flora sat and looked across the expanse of lawn to the Edinburgh skyline. Even that looked wrong, like a hackneyed illustration in a tourist brochure, not a real city, not somewhere real people lived real lives.

  Oh get a grip.

  She closed her eyes.

  When she opened them again, the sun hitting her retinas made it difficult to see, washing out the colours of the lawn, and the shivering bright leaves, and the tall shape of the man standing under a tree looking at her.

  He levelled his hand at her, holding it with his other hand as he mocked firing off shots, his hands kicking up with the recoil.

  And something in her snapped.

  Leaving her bag on the table, she ran towards him as he slipped away round the tree. Behind her she heard someone shouting her name, but she didn’t stop, she kept going under the huge shadowed canopy, jumping over the slippery black roots in the grass, running to the path beyond –

  Which way?

  There were two elderly ladies on the path in one direction, a family with a buggy in the other –

  No Ryan Johnson.

  ‘Flora!’ Caroline came skidding up. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘It was Ryan Johnson.’

  Caroline was holding her by both arms. ‘Flora –’

  ‘He was pretending he had a gun, pretending to shoot me... But I was too slow, and I – and now he’s gone and –’

  ‘And what do you reckon you’re going to accomplish by chasing after him?’

  She felt all the energy, the adrenaline, draining out of her.

  ‘Let’s go back and get those coffees down us, yeah?’

  ‘He must have been following me. They must be watching the house.’

  ‘Okay, so maybe Neil can fix up a camera pointing at the street. And Flora, instead of running after him maybe you should have got out your phone and filmed him?’

  Flora stared at her. ‘What would happen to Beckie if we died? If Neil and I died...’

  ‘God, Flora! That’s not going to happen!’

  ‘The Johnsons would get her back, wouldn’t they?’

  Caroline shook her head, taking Flora’s arm like she was ninety years old and guiding her back to the tables. ‘Of course not. The courts would hardly hand Beckie back to the family responsible for the murder of her adoptive parents.’

  Flora stopped walking. ‘But what if they made it look like an accident or... or suicide...?’

  ‘Even then...’ But was there a hint of uncertainty in her frown?

  ‘Beckie was taken from them in a miscarriage of justice. While we’re still alive, yes, the courts aren’t going to disrupt Beckie’s life by giving her back to them, but if we were dead and there was no one else to take her...’

  ‘Someone in your family would take her. Look, if it would set your mind at rest, why don’t you appoint a guardian to look after Beckie if anything happens to you?’

  Flora looked up into the canopy of the tree. Two birds were squabbling, flying at each other, beaks stabbing.

  ‘Our only close living relative is Pippa, Neil’s sister. She’s not exactly...’ She grimaced. ‘She’s into having adventures, backpacking, rock climbing...’

  ‘But she would put all that on hold for Beckie. I bet she’d do anything for Beckie.’

  ‘Pippa’s hardly had anything to do with her. A few flying visits, the odd five minutes on Skype...’

  ‘But blood’s thicker than...’ She stopped. ‘Sorry. I mean, she’s family, isn’t she? She’d step up?’

  Chapter 26

  ‘Here it’s, Maw,’ goes Connor, and chucks an envelope at my chebs. I’m lying back in my chair with a family-size Galaxy waiting for Bargain Hunt to come on.

  ‘’Bout fucking time,’ I goes, and I rip it open.

  It’s from the National Records of Scotland. The death certificate we ordered for Flora’s maw. I unfold it and me and Connor eyeball it.

  Seems like Elizabeth Susan Innes died aged fifty-three, cause of death ‘Motor vehicle accident’ in St Andrews. But the interesting bit’s no her death – it’s her maiden name. Hertz. That’s barry because it’s no exactly common, eh?

  ‘Right son. Get online at Scotland’s People and see what marriages you can find for some bastard Innes and Elizabeth Susan Hertz.’

  ‘If they really were Australian, I’ll have to get on the Australian site.’

  ‘Aye, get on that an’ all.’ I turn up the telly and sit back with my Galaxy. Fuck the fucking diet.

  All through Bargain Hunt and the News, Connor’s tapping away on his laptop. News is all shite about Brexit, just a ten second update on Mair on Reporting Scotland, saying the police enquiry is continuing and a neighbour has been taken in for questioning. Stupid fuckers havenae a fucking clue.

  Literally.

  That’s worth sharing so it is. ‘Havenae a fucking clue, eh son?’ I goes.

  Connor rolls his eyes.

  Neighbours starts and I’m onto the ginger and then Connor’s bringing me the laptop with a wee smile that’s no fooling no one, and I’m all ‘Cracked it son?’ and he’s trying to play it cool but he cannae, he goes ‘God aye!’ and he dumps the laptop on me and goes, ‘Here’s a Scotland’s People entry for Elizabeth Susan Hertz, right, getting married to Alan Clark in Peebles in 1968. Must be her, aye? That’s the only marriage listed. Doesnae give the details online, you have to send off for the certificate if you’re wanting it. Then there’s another record for Rachel Elizabeth Clark, born 1969 in Peebles. That fits with Flora’s age, eh? And an Alan Clark died in Peebles in 1975.’

  ‘Get us copies of they certificates, Connor. Elizabeth marry again to some fucker Innes?’

  ‘Naw.’ Connor’s grinning all over his spotty wee face. ‘I’m thinking Rachel and her maw must’ve changed their names, right, because when I Googled Rachel Clark... Check it!’

  He b
rings up another screen. A Daily Record article.

  ‘There’s loads a’ hits!’ He’s peeing his pants. ‘Hundreds. But this’s it in a nutshell.’

  I’m looking, and my gob is hanging open. ‘Christ on a cheesy biscuit.’

  ‘Aye. And that bitch has Bekki.’

  ‘No for much longer, son. No for much longer.’ I’m reading down the article and God, I’m raging. Those bastards gave Bekki to this bitch? I’m wanting to get out my chair and get round there and snatch our wean, but I cannae. This changes everything, aye, and it changes nothing.

  ‘Looks like we’re having us another wee road trip the morn, son.’

  ‘To Peebles?’

  ‘Naw, to the fucking moon.’

  Flora knew they’d been talking about her. As Beckie gobbled her lunch and Flora sat at the table pretending to listen as she outlined her latest plan to get Edith to like her, she could see Neil and Caroline standing in the garden – ostensibly looking to see where the Johnson thug had got over the wall in case he had left any evidence – but she knew they were talking about her; poor pathetic Flora falling apart.

  Caroline was touching Neil’s arm, and he was giving her a little grimace.

  ‘Isn’t it?’ Beckie said.

  ‘What, darling?’

  ‘Mum! You haven’t been listening!’

  ‘Sorry, I’m just tired, Beckie.’

  Beckie’s little face was suddenly heart-breakingly serious. ‘I know. I’m sorry. You don’t want to be bothered by all this, like, stupid kids’ stuff. I don’t want a party anyway.’

  ‘Of course you do! I’m fine really, and it’ll be good for me to have something nice to concentrate on.’

  ‘Let’s just cancel. No one’s going to come anyway. It’s going to be shit.’

  ‘Beckie, don’t be ridiculous! And please don’t use that language.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Of course people will come. You’ve got lots and lots of friends.’

  ‘But they’re not allowed,’ said Beckie slowly, looking down at her bowl and scraping at the last of the soup.

  ‘Not allowed to come to the party? Why not?’

  ‘Thomas says his mum has been spreading these... rumours...’

  Flora sighed. ‘What rumours?’

  ‘About Dad being violent to a pregnant woman and you having... mental health issues and hitting me. And... that you and Dad are psycho and... stuff like that...’

  ‘Oh Beckie!’

  Beckie looked up at her with a tight smile. ‘It’s okay Mum, anyone with half a brain knows it’s not true. Thomas says he’s been telling everyone that his mum is just a stirrer and that you and Dad are like really nice and fun. And that everything that’s happened is just because of the Johnsons twisting everything round on you when it’s them who’re the psychos and –’

  The glass doors to the garden came open and Neil and Caroline came breezing in with false bright smiles for Beckie.

  ‘Beckie’s not going back to school this afternoon,’ said Flora, getting abruptly to her feet. ‘We need to speak to Mrs Jenner – Beckie has been on the receiving end of some very nasty – very nasty rubbish about us being violent and –’

  ‘Mum! I don’t mind. It soooo doesn’t bother me.’

  ‘What?’ Neil was at the table in an instant, crouching down beside Beckie and putting an arm round her thin shoulders. ‘What have they been saying?’

  ‘I’ve not even really been listening. They’re all like “Blah blah blah” and I’m like “Whatever!” Really, Dad. I could. Not. Care. Less what those losers say.’

  ‘They’ve been saying we’re violent?’

  ‘Ailish,’ said Flora. ‘It seems Ailish has been spreading stuff.’

  ‘That bloody woman!’ said Neil.

  ‘Language, Dad,’ said Beckie.

  Neil grinned and gave her a little squeeze. ‘Sorry Beckster.’

  ‘Stress of the moment.’

  ‘Indeed... So, would you like to stay off school for a bit?’

  ‘Nope, it’s fine. I’ve spread this rumour of my own about Ailish. You know how she’s always on about how she was the best team leader ever at the Bank of Scotland, before she became the best mortgage advisor ever in the whole of Edinburgh, or maybe the UK? And there was this guy Malcolm in her team who she’s always making fun of in a like really nasty way, saying he smelt and stuff and she gave him Sure deodorant in the Secret Santa? I’ve been telling people that Malcolm has just got the courage to come forward and accuse her of like discrimination against people who sweat a lot because they’ve got something wrong with them, and he’s suing her for ten thousand pounds.’

  ‘Oh wow Beckie,’ chortled Caroline. ‘That’s... very wrong.’

  Beckie was smug. ‘Ailish is maybe going to jail and that’s why she’s spreading rumours about other people – she’s hoping everyone will stop talking about her and –’

  ‘Beckie.’ Neil shook his head, his mouth twisted in an effort not to laugh. ‘Spreading lies about people is never the right thing to do.’

  ‘It certainly isn’t,’ said Flora.

  Caroline was grinning. ‘Ailish obviously doesn’t know what she’s up against.’

  ‘She started it,’ Beckie agreed. ‘But yeah Mum, I know, two wrongs don’t make a right.’ She stood, wiping her hands on her napkin. ‘Anyway, I’m going to just leave it there because if you go on too much people don’t believe you. And when people ask him about it, Thomas is going to say “Yeah she’s maybe going to jail but I can’t talk about it”.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Flora weakly. ‘That’s –’

  ‘Really disturbingly Machiavellian,’ finished Neil.

  ‘I know! Let’s go, Dad!’

  ‘No,’ said Flora. ‘I don’t want you going back to school. You can stay here with me. This is all getting... out of hand.’

  ‘Honestly Mum, it’s fine. Dad, I’ll just go to the loo?’

  ‘Okay Beckster.’ And when she had left the room: ‘Let’s not make a big thing of this.’ His voice strained to stay light, unconfrontational, in front of Caroline. ‘She’s fine to go back to school, and I think that’s for the best. You can take it easy and chill this afternoon.’ And his eyes lingered on her. ‘Maybe – relax in a hot bath or something.’

  She knew she looked a mess. She knew she probably whiffed a bit. ‘Let’s just keep her off today and then see about tomorrow. I’m not going to be able to “chill” if I’m worrying myself sick about her –’

  ‘This isn’t about you, though, is it?’

  Caroline was edging towards the door. ‘Okay guys, see you later.’

  ‘Yes, thanks so much, Caroline.’

  A charged silence until they heard the front door close. ‘How dare you?’ Flora spat at him. ‘How dare you say I’m making this “all about me” when it’s you saying Beckie being at school will give me a chance to “chill”. As if I’m going to be able to “chill”!’

  ‘Well, for Beckie’s sake, Flora, if for no other reason, you’re going to have to try and do something to...’ He flapped his hands in the air. ‘The last thing she needs now is a neurotic mum to worry about on top of everything else. School is the best place for her at the moment, a normal environment –’

  ‘Oh, it’s normal is it, to be ganged up on by a load of little bastards taunting her, saying her parents are psychos –’

  ‘She’s not being ganged up on! I’m there in the car watching, remember, when she’s in the playground, and she’s got plenty of friends, there’s no problem that I can see –’

  ‘That you can see. That is the whole problem, Alec!’

  He opened his mouth; closed it. He moved to touch her, but she stepped back. ‘Okay. We can talk about this later.’

  Flora was lying on a sofa in the family room, drowsily watching the Ten O’Clock News, when Neil came back into the room. ‘Asleep. She’s amazing, isn’t she? The way she’s taking all this in her stride.’

  ‘But is she taking it in
her stride, or is it an act to keep us from worrying about her?’

  He sat down on the arm of the sofa. ‘Maybe a bit of both.’

  ‘I don’t want her going back to school. It’s only a couple of weeks until the summer holidays, it’s not as if she’d miss much...’

  ‘She’d miss out on the class trip to the watersports centre, and she’s been looking forward to that for ages.’

  ‘We could take her there over the holidays.’

  ‘Hardly the same.’

  ‘I don’t want her going back to that school. Don’t you think... If we’re going to move, now would be a good time to do it?’

  ‘Move?’

  ‘We’re never going to be safe from the Johnsons unless we do.’

  ‘No. I’m sorry, Flora, I know all this has really freaked you out – freaked us out, I should say... given that I was the one charged with assault.’ He attempted a weak smile. ‘But there is no way we’re moving again. We have to get some perspective here. What have they actually done? Nothing, other than indulge in a bit of low-level harassment –’

  ‘Low level?’

  ‘But I agree, of course, that it’s sensible to take reasonable precautions.’

  ‘A few CCTV cameras and some self-defence tuition from an HR consultant?’

  ‘If they were going to do anything –’

  ‘They’re toying with us! Ryan Johnson in the Botanics today – They’re enjoying it, they’re enjoying making us suffer before closing in for the kill! You weren’t there. You didn’t see the way he was looking at me –’

  ‘Flora... Caroline didn’t see anyone.’

  ‘What, so I’m hallucinating now?’ She got up; put distance between them. ‘They killed Saskia! What’s to stop them killing us? A few CCTV cameras? What would happen to Beckie then? Who would look after her?’

  He just shook his head at her wearily.

  ‘You have to wake up, Alec. Seriously.’

  ‘I –’

  ‘And the first thing we have to do is appoint someone to be her legal guardian in the event of our deaths. We have to make sure she’ll be okay whatever.’

  ‘Flora –’