by Denise Mina
‘Yes. I don't like him . . . My pal seen him.’
‘Your pal saw the man with the moustache?’
‘No. She seen him. She seen him when he was dead.’
‘She saw Douglas?’ Tanya nodded frantically.
‘When he was dead?’
‘Aye,’ said Tanya.‘Then.’
‘Was he a ghost?’
Tanya looked at her askance.‘There’s no such thing as ghosts.’
‘No, sorry, you’re right. There’s no such thing.’
‘There’s no ghosts. Only on the telly.’
‘How did she see him when he was dead, then?’
‘Eh?’
‘Your friend who saw him, how did she see him?’ Tanya looked at her as if she was daft.‘With her eyes.’ ‘He was standing in front of her?’
Tanya opened her eyes wide and stuck out her lower jaw at Maureen, angry at being asked so many pointless questions.‘He was standing in front of her.’
‘When he was dead?’
‘Aye, when he was dead.’
Maureen was still confused.‘I’m sorry, Tanya, I don’t understand.’
‘He was dead and she seen him.’
‘When?’
‘When they asked me about—’
‘No, when did she see him?’
‘When he couldn’t see me because he was dead.’
‘Wednesday at one?’
‘Wednesday at one.’
‘What’s the name of your friend, Tanya, the friend who saw Douglas?’
‘Siobhain. I meet her at the day centre. She’s fat now too.’
‘What’s her surname?’
‘Why are you asking me that?’
‘I thought I knew her.’
‘Oh.’
‘Do you know Siobhain’s surname?’
‘McCloud.’
Maureen wrote the name on the back of her bus ticket.
‘Is that the day centre in Dennistoun?’
‘Yes.’
‘Does Siobhain go there a lot?’ Suicide snorted.‘She practically lives there!’
On the way into the town Tanya made rash comments about the other passengers at the top of her voice. Not a soul looked back at her. She told Maureen a complicated story about an Alsatian on top of her telly that smashed. Maureen thought she was describing an hallucination until she realized that the Alsatian was a china ornament. When they got off the bus Maureen took her to a fancy goods shop and bought her a replacement.‘That’s a better one,’ bawled Tanya, at a frightened man in the shop.‘That's got a chain on it.’
Tanya wanted to go with Maureen. Maureen had to explain several times that she was going to the university library and she needed to have a ticket to get in.
‘I can't get in because I don’t have a ticket.’
‘That’s it, Tanya. You need a ticket.’
‘Buy me one.’
‘You can’t buy them.’
‘No?’
‘No, they have to give them to you.’
‘Will they give me one?’
‘No.’
‘Why?’
‘You’re too tall.’
Tanya insisted on waiting with Maureen until the bus came. Maureen got on the bus and waved eagerly through the window but Suicide ignored her.
In the library basement she asked an assistant for some help finding the salary scales for clinical psychologists. The assistant gave her a professional publication from behind the desk. He would have been on about forty-five K. She thanked the woman and caught the lift up to the top floor. She pulled out the past papers and skimmed through them for news of the ecology conference in Brazil. It had been opened officially on Wednesday morning by the President. The story was accompanied by a picture of Carol Brady and some other people in expensive clothes.
Glasgow University library is eight storeys high and built at the top of Gilmorehill. The walls are floor-to-ceiling smoke-tinted glass, giving the sprawled city below an unreal quality. She sat down at a table and looked out over the neo-Gothic university building, down to the river, past Govan to the airport, looking for the light-bulb factory far to the west, next to the motorway. It’s possibly the most beautiful building in Glasgow. She couldn’t see it. Angus was the only therapist she had ever felt understood her properly, the only one she had ever connected with, and he thought she’d killed Douglas. He wasn’t even angry with her. He must think she was very mental. She folded the newspapers carefully and shoved them back in the pile. She left the library and caught the bus back to Benny’s house, hungry for the sight of him and his casual kindness.
12
Maggie
They had never seen Liam so angry. The police had raided his house. He had been lying in bed with Maggie when they kicked the front door in, four officers stormed upstairs into the bedroom and found them naked, covered with a sheet. They pulled the sheet away, made them get out of bed, watching as they dressed, and took Liam downstairs. Because of Maureen’s timely warning there was nothing incriminating for the police to find, but they had brought tracker dogs with them and found the scent everywhere. They gutted the house, pulling up floorboards and digging up bits of the garden. Liam said the house was un-fucking-inhabitable; it looked like 25 Cromwell Street.
Maggie sobbed hysterically for half an hour and then phoned her mum in Newton Mearns, begging her to come and fetch her. Until this point her mother had believed that Liam was a music-business entrepreneur. Maggie didn’t mention the police on the phone, her mum thought they’d had a fight. Good mother that she was, she dropped what she was doing and drove all the way across town to get Maggie. Nearing the house she saw the police cars and, good citizen that she was, pulled over, asking them what it was about and could she help. They told her. She took her daughter home and forbade her to see Liam again.
‘They can’t trash my fucking house and just leave it like that,’ said Liam aggressively. He turned on Benny.‘Can I sue them for compensation?’
‘There must be some way,’ said Benny, trying to placate him,‘given that you didn’t commit a crime, but I can’t think what it would be.’
‘Those fuckers can just rip my house apart and walk away? That’s fucking outrageous.’
‘Why don’t you write to your MEP?’ said Maureen, trying to lighten the prickly atmosphere.
‘That’s not fucking funny,’ shouted Liam.
‘Don’t shout at me,’ shouted Maureen.‘It’s not my fault.’
‘Well, if you hadn’t—,’ Liam realized how bad he was being and corrected himself.‘I won't be able to work for ages.’
‘I have to tell you,’ said Benny authoritatively,‘it'd be stupid for you to deal now.’ He said that, because the police had found the scent everywhere, they would be back time and time again until they caught him out. Even if he moved house they’d still be on his back.‘I wouldn’t even pass a spliff at a party now if I were you.’
Liam dropped onto the settee and covered his face with his hands.‘Jesus Christ,’ he said, his voice muffled,‘what the fuck am I going to do now?’
Maureen sat down beside him.‘Come on, now,’ she said. ‘You’re a bright guy, you’ve got loads of capital in the house and you’ve saved some money, haven’t you?’ ‘A bit.’
‘It’s a big bit, isn’t it?’ He shrugged.‘S’pose.’
‘Well, we’ll think of something.’
‘Shite, I’ve got a big deal coming off next week as well.’
‘Don’t do it, Liam, eh?’ Maureen pleaded.
‘That would be really stupid,’ said Benny.
Liam shook his head.‘If Joe McEwan and that mob hear about it I’ll be completely fucked.’
‘But they didn’t find anything in the house,’ said Maureen.
Benny and Liam glanced sidelong at each other.‘That’s fuck all
to do with it, Maureen,’ said Liam.‘If they find out I’m dealing there’s no way they’ll believe that Douglas’s murder had nothing to do with me. The police think all professional criminals are capable of anything.’
‘Oh,’ said Maureen.‘Sorry, I didn’t think.’
‘You even thought it was me.’
‘I didn’t think it was you, I just thought you might know something about it.’
‘God,’ he said.‘You’re a stupid cow sometimes.’
‘There’s no need for name-calling,’ said Maureen.
Her comment struck Liam as profoundly funny. He laughed and kissed the top of her head.‘You’re precious,’ he said warmly.
He got Maureen to phone for him. When Maggie's mum answered she asked for Maggie and handed the receiver to Liam when she came on the line. He took the phone out to the hall and shut the door. Benny caught her eye and made a panicked face. Maureen stood up.‘I know, I know,’ she mouthed.
She kept her eye on the door and snuck over to him.‘Mr Moodswing, eh? How long’s he been here?’ she whispered. ‘About an hour,’ Benny whispered back.‘He was going mental when he first got here. I had to calm him—’
They could hear him ringing off. Maureen darted back to the settee. Liam came back into the living room and slammed the phone down on the side table. He looked furious.‘She’s gutted,’ he said.‘She told her mother she’d smoked hash once and now she thinks Maggie’s a drug soaked gangster’s moll.’
Benny was puzzled.‘Why did she tell her mother that?’ ‘Because she asked,’ said Liam with a superior air.‘And Maggie’s family don’t lie to each other all the time.’ ‘My God,’ said Benny.‘They must hate each other.’ Maureen offered to make Liam a cup of tea but he refused it, saying if he wanted a fucking cup of fucking tea he’d make it his fucking self. ‘It’ll be okay,’ she said.
‘Stop fucking saying that,’ shouted Liam.
‘I’ve only said it once,’ Maureen shouted back.
Benny gave her a look. She wasn’t good at defusing Liam’s temper, she always ended up shouting back at him. Benny said he was welcome to sleep on his floor for a while, until the house was fixed up. Liam flatly refused. Benny said he was going out for some milk anyway and slammed the front door behind him.
‘You’ve pissed him off now,’ Maureen said.
Liam didn’t reply but he sat down next to her on the settee. It was as close to an apology as she would get.‘Did you see the picture in the paper yesterday?’ she said.
‘Yeah,’ said Liam,‘I saw ye.’
‘It wasn’t me.’
Liam looked worried.‘Aye, it was,’ he said.‘You were in the ticket booth and everything, Mauri.’ ‘Did you buy it and get a good look?’
‘Well, naw, I wouldn’t give them my money.’
‘It wasn’t a picture of me, it was a photo of Liz.’
Liam shifted uncomfortably and avoided her eye. She stomped across the room to her rucksack and pulled out the folded front page of the newspaper. She opened it out and handed it to Liam, sat down and watched him as he examined the picture.‘Is that me?’ she said. Liam handed it back to her.‘It’s not you.’ ‘Yeah, and I’m not responsible for you getting busted either. I want that one nipped in the bud.’ ‘I know that. I’m sorry, pet, I was angry.’
‘Everyone I meet thinks I did it,’ she said.
‘Everyone I meet thinks I did it,’ said Liam.‘It’s like being at school again.’
‘Yeah, we’re a pair of wrong’uns.’
They looked at each other. Liam reached out solemnly and took her hand in his.‘I’m gonnae go about saying you did it and put myself in the clear.’ Maureen laughed and Liam grinned back.
‘Do me a favour.’ She held up the newspaper.‘Look at this picture again and tell me, if you didn’t know me all that well, could you mistake Liz for me?’
Liam glanced at it.‘No. I thought it was you because of the booth.’
‘Liz doesn’t look like me?’
‘No. Her hair’s the same length as yours but that’s about it.’
She folded the picture away and slipped it back into her bag.‘How’s Mum?’
Liam’s face wilted with a despondency familiar from childhood.
‘You don’t want to know, Mauri.’
Benny opened the front door and stepped into the hall. Leslie was standing behind him. She looked into the living room and saw Maureen and Liam sitting close by one another on the settee.‘All right, Mauri?’ she said, skipping past Benny into the living room.‘You’re in the paper.’
‘What, again?’
‘Yeah.’
Leslie had the Evening Tribune. The headline picture was of Maureen on holiday in Millport. Liam and Leslie had taken her there just a month after she got out of hospital. The weather was sunny and they had hired tricycles for the day. Maureen was standing next to hers wearing cut-off shorts, a ‘Never Mind the Bollocks’ T-shirt and shades. She was grinning. The picture was grotesquely inappropriate next to Douglas’s murder story. She looked very different in the picture, her hair was long and straggly, she had dyed it darker since then, and she was painfully thin: she hadn’t been able to swallow comfortably when she was ill.
She avoided looking at the photos from that time because they reminded her so sharply of the aftermath of the breakdown, when she had had to keep smiling and telling people she was all right, when she struggled to assimilate all the things that had happened to her in the recent and the distant past. She had left the bundle of holiday photographs face down in a box at Winnie’s house. ‘Who gave it to them?’ asked Leslie.
‘My mad cunt of a mother.’
‘Oh, okay,’ said Leslie, arching an eyebrow at the carpet.
‘You look a bit less tired,’ said Maureen, trying to get off the subject.
‘Yeah, I got a sleep last night.’
Liam took the paper from Leslie and excused himself.
Maureen grinned up at Leslie and Leslie grinned back.
‘You ready to talk to me now?’ asked Leslie.
‘I am, pal. How’d the appeal go?’
‘Bad.’ She frowned, put her crash helmet down on the settee and took off her leather jacket.‘They won’t make their decision until next week but I think we’re fucked. I talked to the CAB lawyer and we’ve missed out loads of stuff.’
Liam came back and threw the newspaper down on the coffee table. He dropped heavily onto the settee and waited for someone to acknowledge his dirty mood. Leslie caught Maureen’s eye.
‘I could do with a shower,’ said Maureen, and stood up.
‘I’ll make ye a cup of tea,’ said Leslie innocently.‘D’ye want one Liam?’
‘Huh.’ He snorted.‘Actually, no. Tea happens to be the last thing on my mind at the moment.’
Maureen was standing under the shower, washing the shampoo out of her hair, when she felt a familiar shiver. The ghost of her father was in the bathroom. She was very small and was standing in the bath, waiting to get out. He bent down and put his face level to hers. She rinsed her hair quickly and opened her eyes but he was still there with her, she could almost smell him. She turned on the cold water and stood underneath it, sweating. Change the ending, Angus had told her. Change the ending. Keeping her eyes on her father, she reached purposefully into the bath water and pulled out a sawn-off shotgun. She aimed it at him and squeezed the trigger. His head blew off. His blood was all over the bathroom. Just like Douglas.
‘You look fucking terrible,’ said Leslie, as Maureen came into the living room. ‘Yeah.’
‘Benny and Liam have gone out for a pint, fancy it?’
‘Liam’s being a prick. Have you got your bike with you?’
‘Yeah. Why?’
‘Can we go to yours? I want to get away from him.’ Leslie gave her the spare crash helmet from the carrier box
and Maureen climbed onto the pillion, wrapping her arms around her friend’s waist and nuzzled her face into her shoulder. Leslie sat back a little as she kick started the bike, pressing into Maureen, letting her know she was all right. The cold rain nibbled Maureen’s legs numb as they rode to the northern outskirts of the city, to the Drum, the scheme where Leslie lived.
As they hit the lip of the hill overlooking the scheme a sudden burst of sunshine from the west lit the rain as it fell. In the deep valley below, the high-rise blocks stood like giants paddling in a shallow sea of bungalows.
13
Leslie
Leslie lived on the third floor of an old-fashioned block of six flats. She was lucky: her neighbours were good-natured and elderly; they were at home most of the day and asleep most of the night. They put net curtains, plants and bits of carpet in the close to give it a homely atmosphere.
She pulled up outside the close, dragged the bike through to the back court and chained it to a large metal ring attached to a block of concrete. Three tiny girls were playing at skipping ropes out the back. They stopped and stared at Maureen. The wee-est girl had a square head too big for her body and thin, wispy baby hair, pulled up into a ponytail at the top of her head. She was dressed in a pale pink skirt and a red woolly jersey with bleach scars on the sleeve. Her mouth was stained with orange juice. Maureen made a silly face at her. She blushed, giggled and pulled her skirt up to cover her juice-stained face.
‘That’s wee Magsie,’ said Leslie.‘She’s three and a half. Aren’t ye, wee teuchie?’
Wee Magsie kept her skirt over her face and giggled shyly, rocking from side to side.
‘Yes,’ said the biggest girl, who could only have been seven.‘I’m her big sister and I’ve to look after her today.’ Wee Magsie ran away.
‘Don’t be fuckin’ stupid, wee Magsie,’ shouted her big sister, running after her and dragging her back. She spat into a tissue and wiped at the orange stains on wee Magsie’s face. Magsie held onto her sister’s jersey with both hands and grinned as her face was roughly scrubbed.
‘See that?’ said Leslie.‘They’re wee mammies before they stop being kids.’