Risk of Harm

by Jane Renshaw

  ‘Aw Christ Maw –’

  ‘She needs to hear it like it is, son. Kids in care get treated like shite.’

  Bekki goes, ‘Is human resources even your job?’

  What the fuck has that got to do with any of it?

  But I dinnae lose it with the poor wee bairn. ‘Not exactly, unless you count this lot as either human or any sort of resource, eh? But – okay so my name’s not Caroline, but everything else about me – except the human resources shite – that’s me, Bekki. I’ve not been putting on an act or nothing.’

  ‘But you even speak differently now.’

  I puff. Right enough, it’s no been easy being Caroline now I’m back with my weans and they’re pushing my fucking buttons. ‘It’s what’s on the inside counts, eh? And what’s inside is that I love you to bits. When you were wee – you won’t remember, but me and you, we were that close. Eh Connor? Bekki was my wee princess, eh?’

  ‘Aye,’ goes Connor. He puts down the puree crap and goes and puts his arm round Bekki. ‘You were our wee princess right enough.’

  ‘Still are, sweetheart. You still are.’

  ‘I want to talk to my mum. I don’t believe you. I’m going to the prison to see her and you can’t stop me.’ And she’s out the door.

  ‘Right son, here we go.’

  Connor’s giving me evils.

  ‘Right son?’

  ‘Aye.’

  I’m after her. ‘Bekki. Bekki!’

  She’s putting on the puffer jacket, her wee face that determined.

  The bairn’s something else.

  ‘They don’t let kids in the prison unless they’re accompanied by an adult.’

  ‘Connor can come with me.’ And she’s pushing past me, back into the kitchen, giving it, ‘Connor, can you come with me please to the prison? We can get the bus. I can use my savings to get the bus tickets.’

  Connor’s got a right face on him.

  ‘That’s not happening,’ I goes.

  ‘You can’t stop us,’ goes Bekki.

  ‘If she wants to go, we should take her,’ goes Connor, finally.

  ‘Aye, and have her end up traumatised?’

  ‘I won’t be traumatised. If you don’t take me, I’m going to go to Edith’s and get Edith’s mum to come with me.’

  Bairns!

  I says, ‘Even if you’re with an adult, they won’t let you in the prison when you get there, because the prisoner has to be the one sets up the visit, not the visitor.’

  I’m giving Connor evils.

  The wee diddy’s gone and forgot the fucking script.

  ‘They won’t let you in the prison,’ I goes again, and I’m half turning towards the drawer where the letter’s been put.

  ‘Aye,’ he goes, finally, ‘that’s right enough, eh? But you could give Bekki that letter Flora wrote her, eh Maw? And Bekki could write her back?’

  I puff, like this is the last thing I’m wanting to hear.

  ‘Eh Maw?’

  ‘A letter?’ Bekki’s giving me evils.

  ‘Yes, Flora wrote you a letter, and I haven’t opened it, I don’t know what it says, but I don’t think... She’s not in a good place, Bekki, and I don’t think there’s going to be anything good in it.’

  ‘I want to see it!’ Bekki’s got a right face on her. ‘I want to see that letter now. Please.’

  ‘It’s best you don’t. It’s only going to break your wee heart, sweetheart.’

  ‘No it’s not. I want to read it. Where is it?’

  I’m no saying.

  ‘Please, Caroline.’

  ‘You have to call me Nana now, Bekki.’

  She takes a breath. ‘Please, Nana.’

  I’m choking up. ‘Bekki, darlin’, I can’t let you read that letter. I’m not letting you do it to yourself.’ And I get my arse outta there.

  Then I’m up the stair and in my room with the door shut. Connor better fucking step up to the plate or so help me I’ll swing for the boy. When I was typing the letter he kept giving it ‘That’s well harsh’ and ‘Naw Maw, you cannae’ and I was ‘That bitch’s been turning Bekki against her own fucking family, her own fucking family that loves her to bits, for seven fucking year, bad-mouthing us and making her feart of us like we’re fucking mentalists, seven fucking year, son, so dinnae you start, dinnae you fucking start on what I can and cannot do, right?’

  Letter’s a belter.

  Dear Beckie

  I’m sorry, darling, but I think it’s for the best that we don’t have any contact. You’re safe and happy with Caroline and it’s better for both of us if you just accept that this is your new life now. I’m sure you’re having lots of fun.

  I tried to be a good mum to you but the truth is that it didn’t come naturally to me. I think nature has a way of deciding who should and shouldn’t be a mum – Dad would agree about that, wouldn’t he? And it wasn’t right that we took you away from your real family, and I think we always knew that and that’s why Dad and I argued so much about you.

  I’ve come to realise that you’re better off with your real family – Caroline has told me who she really is, and although I was shocked at first it’s all making sense now. It’s making sense why she had an immediate connection with you that I never had. She’s your real family and you’ll be happier with her than you ever were with me. It’s just going to take time to get used to it. Remember when we had to move to Edinburgh? At first you were really sad, but soon you got used to it and everything was fine, wasn’t it?

  It’s not as if we were ever a proper family. I know that and I think you do too.

  You have to be a brave girl and try your hardest to be happy. I think it’ll be easier for us all if you don’t try to make contact with me again. I’m not a good person, Beckie, and I never have been. I get so angry – I don’t know why. I did some terrible things when I was younger. And worst of all, I killed poor Dad. The prison doctor who’s been trying to work out why I did it says that the strain of looking after someone else’s child, when I’m not a natural mum, was probably what pushed me over the edge.

  So please don’t send me any more letters or cards. But I know Caroline loves your drawings – maybe you can make a card for her saying ‘Thank you’ for all she’s doing for you. She’s your real nana and she loves you so much, and I know you love her too.

  Goodbye darling.

  Mum

  And here she’s running up the stair, and I’ve my door open giving it, ‘Bekki darlin’!’ and she’s in my arms, wee wet face pushed in my chebs.

  ‘It’s okay Bekki my wee love, my wee darlin’. It’s okay.’

  Chapter 36

  Flora knew it was good news as soon as Charles came into the little room set aside for visits from lawyers. He probably thought his professional demeanour was intact, but his eyes were sparkling. Brian, the lugubrious PI, slunk in behind him as if he was attending someone’s funeral, but Flora suspected he’d look the same if he’d just won the lottery. He was carrying a laptop under his arm.

  ‘We’ve been granted leave to appeal!’ Charles blurted out as soon as he’d sat down. ‘They really couldn’t not grant it, given the strength of the new evidence – but until you get the word you can never be quite sure.’

  Flora released a huge breath. ‘Thank God. Or rather, thanks to you and Brian.’

  ‘Ah, but that’s not all.’ He was practically rubbing his hands together. ‘Flora, the even better news is –’

  ‘Wait,’ she said. ‘Before you tell me...’ Her leg was jigging under the table like Danielle’s. She wanted to reach across and hug them both. Beckie. Soon she would be back with Beckie. ‘Before you tell me whatever it is, I want to show you this.’

  She pushed the letter across the table.

  ‘I know it’s got nothing to do with my conviction, I know it’s not going to influence the appeal...’

  Brian, sighing in a ‘What now?’ kind of way, started to read the letter over Charles’s shoulder.

  Dear Ra
chel

  I was going to put ‘Flora’ because that’s who you are now, but then I thought no, you haven’t chosen to be Flora Parry, you had to stop being Rachel Clark because people hated her. And that’s my fault.

  I’m so sorry.

  Really inadequate, I know.

  I’m going to tell the police what really happened. But first I have to do something even harder, and that’s tell you. Because I don’t think you know. I think you went into shock and your brain shut down or something. Otherwise, you’d have told them the truth. Like I should have.

  I know it’s nearly 40 years too late. I know I could have put things right at any point in those 40 years and I chose not to. Why now? you’re probably thinking.

  It was seeing you on TV getting into that van outside court. The look on your face.

  I don’t believe you killed your husband. But how were you going to convince the police you were innocent when they knew you were Rachel Clark?

  So I’m going to tell the police that Rachel was innocent then, and maybe there’s a chance they’ll see you’re innocent now.

  When Tricia gave you that bow and arrow and told you to shoot me, I knew you wouldn’t do it. You were nasty to me, yes, the way kids can be to each other, and I hated you for it, but you weren’t evil like Tricia. You were just acting out because your mum made your life a misery. You probably don’t see it that way, even now, do you? You always made excuses for her, like she wouldn’t let you come out to play and made you slave away doing housework because it was good practice for when you had your own home.

  Anyway. When Tricia gave you that bow and arrow, I knew you weren’t going to shoot anyone. You just sort of stood there frozen, while Tricia yelled at you to ‘Do it!’ and threatened all kinds of things if you didn’t. Tricia was ‘in your face’ as my kids would say, and you backed up, holding the bow and arrow in front of you to stop her coming any closer, as a kind of barrier, but then you stumbled on a tussock of grass and let go the arrow and it went into Tricia’s eye.

  It was an accident.

  I told the police you’d fired the arrow at her while the two of you were arguing, but that was a lie. I told them that because I hated you. I hated you for being horrible to me when we were supposed to be friends. But you didn’t fire the arrow. You tripped and let it go.

  And once I’d told the lie, it took on a life of its own and I didn’t have the courage to take it back. Until now.

  I hope it’s not too late to put right some of the damage I’ve done. I’ll go to the police a week after I’ve posted this.

  So sorry

  Gail

  Charles looked up at Flora, his grin widening. ‘But this is dynamite! You say it won’t influence the appeal, and in theory it shouldn’t – but I learned a long time ago that there’s no such thing as impartiality. We need this all over the press so whoever hears the appeal can’t help but be aware of it. This is great.’ And he half reached across the table towards her hand. ‘Write back to her, tell her how much this means to you – urge her to go to the press. And if she doesn’t, we will.’

  Flora nodded. ‘I still can’t believe it.’

  ‘You never thought of contacting Gail yourself?’

  ‘No. I suppose I just accepted her version of what happened because, as she says, I must have blanked it out... Well, I remember Tricia yelling at me to shoot Gail, and I remember the arrow... I remember it going into her eye...’ She swallowed. ‘But nothing in between. Although –’ She shrugged. ‘I suppose I always felt it was wrong, that I wasn’t the person everyone said I was, this – this psychotic girl called Rachel Clark. This monster. I couldn’t think of myself like that.’

  ‘Of course you couldn’t.’

  ‘By rights,’ said Brian, ‘Gail Boyle should be charged with perverting the course of justice.’

  ‘Oh – I wouldn’t want her to get into trouble.’ Actually Flora didn’t care if they locked Gail up and threw away the key – as Gail herself had said, she’d had forty years to put this right and hadn’t – but it was almost as if Flora had been handed back her virtue. As if she had to live up to everyone’s new idea of her.

  ‘She was a traumatised child,’ said Charles. ‘They won’t charge her with anything.’ He grinned at her. ‘So, don’t you want to hear the best part?’ He was like a favourite uncle about to present the birthday girl with the best gift of all.

  She nodded.

  ‘In the light of the evidence Brian’s unearthed, the police are reopening the investigation.’

  Flora could only stare at Brian.

  Such an unlikely saviour.

  ‘What evidence?’

  Brian sighed, and opened the laptop on the table. ‘Finally got the CCTV footage off Eden Security. The outfit who installed your system. And I’ve been through the lot, minute by minute, for the day of the murder.’

  Brian turned the laptop round so Flora could see the screen. ‘This is footage from one of the cameras covering the east side of the house. Nine-thirty a.m. on the morning of that day.’

  The shock of seeing the house, their house, their home, on the screen was physical. The footage was of a section of the driveway and the side of the house facing the garage, with the window of what had been the old pantry and was now a storeroom to the left, and the downstairs loo, and then the dining room which they never used. On the dining room windowsill she could see the dusty dried flower arrangement she and Beckie had made years ago, and through the frosted glass of the loo window, the vague shape of the ‘Victorian’ pendant light fitting.

  At 9:30 Alec was probably inside, in his study, little knowing...

  ‘Watch the dining room window... Now!’

  The dried flower arrangement suddenly jumped to the left.

  Brian reached over to the keyboard and rewound the footage. ‘Now watch the time at the top left... See? Jumps from 9:52 to 10:22. Same with the camera next to it. This system, which lets you switch the cameras on and off remotely, doesn’t show a blank screen when the camera is off – the footage is continuous.’

  ‘Oh my God. They switched off the cameras and got in at the dining room window?’

  Charles nodded. ‘And in doing so, accidentally moved the flower arrangement.’

  Brian sighed. ‘According to Eden Security, someone logged into the system at 9:52 a.m. and switched these two cameras off. Talk about negligence. Some PC Plod’s had the footage from eight cameras to go through, right, and he picks up the outage at 6:04 p.m. because it affects all the cameras – that’s when you switched them off yourself while you were moving Neil’s body. But the rest of the footage – he’s looking for an intruder, he’s not looking at the time, he’s fast-forwarding and he goes for a bite of Mars Bar and he’s missed it. He’s missed the outages from 9:52 to 10:22 on these two cameras.’

  ‘But how could the Johnsons have switched the cameras off?’

  ‘That is the problem. Your system’s state of the art, right? Sure it’s communicating over the net, but the data’s encrypted like something out the bloody Pentagon.’

  Charles shrugged. ‘They must have hacked into it somehow. The lad Connor works at PC World. He’ll be IT savvy.’

  Brian looked mournful. ‘A wee laddie from PC World up against programmers this good?’

  ‘How else could they have done it?’

  ‘Haven’t got a bloody clue.’

  ‘But however they switched off the cameras,’ Flora said, ‘we kept all the windows locked. And the police checked them all, and they were all still locked.’

  Brian nodded. ‘I’m thinking one of them must have got into the house at some point previously to unlock that window. They could have remotely switched off the camera covering one of the doors, snuck in, unlocked the window, snuck back out again, and switched the camera back on. I’ve been checking through the footage for another outage and haven’t found anything as yet, but I’ll keep looking.’

  ‘But how would they have got in? I was always careful to keep the f
ront door locked, and the patio doors at the back.’

  ‘What if you were in the garden? Very few people lock the door behind them if they’re in the garden.’

  ‘Oh. No, of course. If I was in the garden, I’d leave the patio doors unlocked.’ She frowned. ‘Okay, if they managed to sneak into the house at some point while I was in the garden, that would explain how they unlocked the window, but on the day that... after they’d... after they’d killed Neil, and got back out through the window... How did they lock it after them?’

  ‘No idea.’ Brian snapped shut the laptop. ‘It’s sometimes possible with the locks on these old windows to manipulate the mechanism through the gap between the sashes... Magician’s trick kind of thing.’

  ‘But however they did it, the important thing is that there’s evidence of tampering with the cameras to create an opportunity of entry,’ said Charles. ‘And there’s more. Jasmine Young has made a statement to the police to the effect that she saw a man in a boiler suit going in at your gate at approximately ten to ten that morning. Which dovetails nicely with the camera evidence.’

  Flora blinked. ‘Jasmine?’

  ‘Yes.’ Brian sighed. ‘I had a word with the neighbours, badgered them a bit maybe, went back to the Youngs a few times because I thought there was something there, you know?’ He rolled his eyes as if to say The people I have to deal with. ‘Last time, the daughter’s saying “Mum, we should –” but the mum, Ailish, shuts her down. So I stake the place out and a couple of days later, Jasmine’s coming out the door with her earbuds in, oblivious, and I follow her into town. Make like it’s a coincidence when I bump into her in French Connection, buying a present for the wife. And I tell her straight: “Jasmine, if you know something that could get an innocent woman out of prison and back with her child, you have to go to the police.”’

  ‘Oh my God. So...’

  ‘Seems that when the shit hit the fan and it came out Neil had been murdered et cetera, Jasmine told her mum she’d seen this guy at your gate on the morning of the murder, and the mother tells her to keep quiet and not get involved. Said it was probably your lover, your accomplice. But I put the girl straight. And she’s done the right thing at last, been and made a statement and even picked Ryan Johnson out of a photo line-up, although he was wearing a disguise when she saw him – long curly blond wig in a ponytail and sideburns. Teenage girls might be the most bloody annoying sector of the population, but at least they can be counted on to notice every detail about a good-looking guy. In particular, in this case, thick black eyelashes and a scar at the side of his right eye. She got a good close look – was walking past him on the pavement when he was opening your gate. Oh yes, she’s going to be our star witness, no doubt about it.’