Twenty-One
Kirstin sighed with exasperation. The rush-hour traffic was hopeless. They were stuck in a seemingly endless queue of hot, steaming cars. Beside her, Bonnie was sipping at a bottle of mineral water, talking quietly, unworried by the heat or traffic.
‘So, it’s true. Morag actually shoved him into the Cauldron? He told me she was violent, but I didn’t want to believe him. He must have been threatening. He’s a big guy and the way he’s behaving at the moment, I’d probably have done the same thing.’
Kirstin nodded. ‘Yes…though, I watched him after he got back home and…he cried, he actually broke down and cried. It just seems strange. Like two people. I hear he’s big, threatening, all that, and yet, there he was crying like his world was at an end.’
‘Well, I think it is.’ Bonnie raised her water bottle again and glanced back at Kirstin. ‘He’s a classic case of the bereaved male. Can’t talk about his feelings, doesn’t even understand emotions. And he’s angry. Furious at the world, railing at fate. But he wants, needs, to give fate a name and a face. Morag Ramsay.’
‘I’m sure you’re right. I was thinking of going to see this Ally myself. Reason with him, if that’s possible?’
Bonnie was staring ahead again, frowning. ‘I’d be careful, if I were you. I came to warn Morag and I’d issue the same warning to you. When someone’s on the edge like Ally is, you just don’t know what they’ll do. Harm themselves?
Harm others? Do both?’ She turned back to look at Kirstin. ‘But it’s very kind of you to help Morag out. It’s what Jamie would have done. I feel very ashamed of how she and Jamie were treated. By us, by some of us. I didn’t actually know for sure, but I suspected, that they were spiking her drinks, giving her too many drugs, all that. I think the prime mover would have been lona. And Craig was besotted with her, so he’d have followed her lead. Ally would have thought it a bit of a ‘jolly jape’. But then he couldn’t stand Morag. At first he got on okay with her, but he quickly decided that she wasn’t good enough for Craig. So, there you go, they could spike her drinks unchallenged.’
Kirstin turned her gaze from the line of cars to look at Bonnie. ‘Not exacdy the actions of friends?’
Bonnie shrugged her thin shoulders. ‘But that’s just it. The group dynamic was weird. I’ve thought about this a lot, believe me. The glue—the magnets, if you like—were Ally and lona. They were very spoilt people. No doubt the product of their privileged upbringing. But they had charm. Charisma. Very dangerous qualities, in my view. To those taken in by them. And they had money, of course. But…I don’t want you to think Ally is just that. Ally is…complicated. I don’t know for sure, but I get the feeling that he’s had things happen to him in early life, and he’s just never dealt with any of it. You can just sense these things, can’t you? Buried pain. He’s overcompensated in other ways, though. For example, he’s a very astute businessman. Pounces on an opportunity if he thinks it’s a good bet. My clinic, for example. Eraser too. He went into the property business with him. And Craig. He got a tip from Craig about some pharmaceutical research and bought a load of shares in this small company. That was one deal that went belly up, though. Still, he didn’t seem to hold it against Craig.’
Kirstin nudged the car forward. They were moving at last. ‘And lona?’
‘Oh, she had looks and money. She was a failed, or rather, talentless artist, who could buy her way to the top table of the rather parochial art world here in Edinburgh. Her gallery, egotistically entitled ‘The Sutherland Gallery’ of course, was gaining a reputation. Give lona her due, she had a keen eye for new work and ran a stable of young, pretty, male artists, art college graduates and the like…actually, thinking about that…you should talk to Jules.’
‘Jules?’
Bonnie glanced at her quickly. ‘Jules Moncrieff. He was lona’s star protege and, unbeknown to her, the love of Ally’s life. Jules has left him now, though.’ She turned to look at Kirstin again. ‘It was one of the reasons I went round to see Morag, though I’ve not had a chance to talk to her about it yet. I’ve already asked Jules if he’d meet up with Morag and he’s agreed. I’ll speak to him again and let him know what’s happened. Morag should meet him. He was there that day.’
Kirstin was surprised. ‘I’ve not heard anything about him. He was at the river party?’
‘Not exactly. He was there to meet Ally. A lovers’ tryst. But he’s got quite a good take on events later in the day.’ She took another sip of her water. ‘It’s a bit delicate, actually. He never went to the police but, a year on, he’s more relaxed about it all. His current partner is a long-term client of mine, so I’ve got to know Jules quite well lately. It might help Morag to meet him. And he’s thoroughly sick of Ally, so that’s a little incentive for him to help her.’
Kirstin smiled. ‘Sounds like a good idea. Should cheer Morag up. Okay, here we are.’
Bonnie fumbled about in her bag and scribbled down a number on the back of her business card. ‘Here. I’ve given you my home number too, just in case.’
Kirstin nodded her thanks as Bonnie slid the ‘card on to the dashboard. They were double-parked outside Ross’s office. ‘I’ve just got to pick up the keys to Jamie’s house and then I’ll run you over to your clinic.’ Kirstin reached for her mobile. ‘Let me get Ross to come down before I get a traffic warden on my case.’
Two minutes later, there he was, shirtsleeved, looking harassed and grumpy.
Kirstin tried a smile. ‘Hi. This is Bonnie. You’ve not met before?’
‘Nope.’ He gave a cursory nod to Bonnie. ‘Kirstin, I’m with a client, I can’t hang around. Here are the keys. I have to go.’
Kirstin cursed under her breath as she traced his rapid retreat up the office steps. ‘Rude sod. Sorry about that. Right, where’s your clinic exacdy?’
But Bonnie had already opened the passenger door. ‘Actually, it might be quicker for me to walk it. Look at the traffic. It’s rush hour now. I…it’s been good to meet you. I’m sorry about Jamie. Really. Maybe we’ll meet again. I must go, I’m so late. Bye.’
Kirstin stared after her until she disappeared down a side street. Funny woman. But she’d been far friendlier, more forthcoming, than she’d expected. If Morag didn’t think Bonnie had been much of a friend to her up to now, that looked to be changing.
Clearing the flat and picking up her bags had taken longer than she’d anticipated. Kirstin squinted through the darkness at her watch as she pulled up outside Morag’s house. Nearly eleven. Shit. Please don’t let her be awake yet.
She struggled with the various keys and then stepped into the dark hallway. Silence. Good. She wandered through to the kitchen and flicked on the light switch. No sign of any disturbance other than the dried tea spatters on the far wall and a couple of shards of shattered mug on the floor that Bonnie must have missed. Except? She noticed a low cupboard door was slightly ajar. Probably Bonnie when she was making tea. And had that back-door blind been rucked up like dial before? Taking the stairs two at a time, and painfully slowly to avoid any creaking floorboards, she made it to the first-floor landing. Morag’s bedroom door was open wider than she’d left it. Damn! She’d woken up. Kirstin hesitated before putting on the landing light. Morag may have fallen asleep again, and the last thing she needed in her state was to be woken with a start.
‘Morag? I’m back.’ She kept her voice to a near whisper, just in case.
She nudged the door fully open. There was nothing at first glance to show that anything had changed since she’d left. But she waited in the doorway for a moment until her eyes became accustomed to the dark. Still, all seemed as she had left it: Morag huddled under the bedclothes, the note by her glass of…but wait a minute! That wasn’t water and that wasn’t her note. It was an envelope clearly marked ‘Kirstin’. She raced the last few steps to the bedside and lifted the glass to her nostrils. Brandy. Then her eyes fixed on diem, shining almost luminous through the darkness. A heap of coloured capsules and white
tablets spilling over the edge of the bedside table, a handful lying scattered on the carpet underneath.
Twenty-Two
‘Bonnie,Bonnie? It’s Ally. Call me. We nee —’
Bonnie stopped the message and hit the delete button. He could wait. Tonight was not the night. She was still feeling deeply unsettled from the events at Morag’s a few short hours ago. Morag had seemed in such an odd mood. Perhaps Kirstin had talked some sense into her by now. She was staying the night with Morag, so all would be well. And as for Kirstin…there were more important things she had to discuss with her than Morag. But for tonight, that could wait. I need to block everything out for now. I need mysolitude.
She turned away from the phone. Every window was wide open and even though the night breeze was picking up, it remained warm. Time for a walk in the garden. Her stretch of the river was running shallow and slow tonight. She could easily wade across to the other side should the desire grab her. But tonight it didn’t. She felt the need to be in the cocoon of her home after such a strange and disturbing day.
She stifled a yawn and looked up to the sky. The stars were twinkling, it was a glorious evening. And yet, hard to enjoy. Perhaps if she had someone, or something, to share it with? She turned from the river view, its freshwater scent strong tonight, and made her way slowly up the garden, nodding to herself. Yes, when she made her new life, she’d get a couple of cats. Always far preferable to human company.
Somediing in the shrubbery to her left momentarily stopped her. A movement? A faint rustling? Breathing? Speaking of cats…or maybe it was one of the foxes or badgers coming out earlier than usual. She smiled and sauntered on up to the house.
It was time for a meditation. To ease her mind for whatever was to come and for whatever she decided to do. The candles were lit—a wide dispersal this evening. She felt that she needed their protection tonight. Settling into the chair, she began her breathing exercises, and then the clearing, the stilling of her mind. Readying it to allow whatever wished to come forth. Free-associating visualizations…
It came up in her mind’s eye as a wall calendar. Date: Sunday, 13 August 2006. Suddenly, a gust of wind tore at its edge and the page flew away. She followed the ragged paper, since she too could fly. And then she was looking down, miles below. At first they were ants, the river a piece of long, winding string. Then, she was coming in to land, the Cauldron, the weir, both looming large and shimmering below her. Picnic blankets, towels, all laid out on the riverbank, the group looking upwards, agog, mouths open. Craig and lona were standing side by side, arms waving. In welcome? Or warning…
She had gone so deep that she was oblivious to the entrance of the intruder. Her eyelids flickered. Captivated by her other consciousness. She might as well have been blind, deaf and dumb to any unwarranted entry to her home.
It would be some time before she became aware of the candle flames being held to the muslin curtains.
And perilously late when she felt the fabric of her dress ignite.
Sunday, 13 August 2006
‘Justl ike a couple of lovebirds today, aren’t they, Morag?’
‘Iona! God, jou gave me afright, sneaking up like that.’
lona directed Morag’s gaze to the sight of Fraser and Bonnie cavorting at the fringes of the Cauldron. His slim, deeply tanned torso was wrestling with the bird-like Bonnie as he threatened to throw her into the river. Her squeals drifted over the water to where Morag was lying.
lona held out the champagne, watching Morag’s eyes trying to focus on the bottle. Excellent, she was half gone already. ‘Fancy some more bubbly? C’mon, get it down you, girl. Not much left, but there’ll be another one along in a minute.’
Morag held out her glass and accepted the rest of the bottle with a nod. lona hovered for a moment and then sat down, handing her a freshly made spliff, lighter at the ready.
‘You know, Morag, I’m so excited.’ Morag accepted the light and took a long drag before speaking.
‘Excited? What, today? Here?’
lona shook her head, ruffling a hand through her short damp hair. She looked down, running a finger to and fro across the fine fabric of Morag’s sarong, spread out beneath them, and then stretched out her long, bronzed legs before answering.
‘No, not today specifically. I mean, generally. I’m going to be making changes to my life. It’s all got a bit samey. But I feel on the cusp of something more exciting. The gallery’s doing well and I have, at last, found the genius that will make my name. Have you heard me talk about Jules, Jules Moncrieff? No? Well, you’ll be hearing a lot about him everywhere soon.’ She accepted Morag’s offer of the joint and sucked at it, staring out at the Cauldron. ‘And, that’s not all. My sex life is as thrilling as ever. Like you, I’m no spring chicken and you do get to wonder, don’t you? But, it seems I’ve still got what it takes. So I’m grabbing everything I can! Let me give you a bit of advice. So should you. See you later,Morag. Hang on in there.’
Spliff in hand, she skipped off, smiling away to herself. Job done. She could feel Morag’s stare burning into her back, wondering what all that was about. She’d work it out. But not today. Not in her state. Now…where was Ally…over bythe booze.
‘There you are, lona! Come here!’
She beamed at her brother, who was waggling another bottle straight from the icebox.
‘Eight, little sister, what have you been doing? I’ve not seen you exchange that many words with Morag since I don’t know when.’
She patted him on the shoulder. ‘Since she became a total pain in the backside. No…I was just preparing the ground.’
She was glad that her brother was in better spirits today. He’d been absent recently, never available, and when she’d managed to get him on the phone, he could barely utter aword. But he seemed normal today. More than normal. In fact, he was almost euphoric. Good. They were going to have a fun day.
‘God, lona. What are you up to now? Hewas shaking his head in mock disapproval.
She could see that he was intrigued, and aimed a punch at his chest. ‘Oh, not a lot. Craig and I are going to slip off for a while, but that’s by the by. It’s just that I get the feeling from our gorgeous Dr Inine that he’s going to give our Ms Ramsay the push sometime soon. I know the signs and I was just getting her in the mood. A subtle warning, if you like.’
Ally refilled her glass, smirking.’Oh, yeah. So, are you running off with the lovely Craig, then?’
‘Pah! Hardly. If he is going to leave her, it’ll be for his own reasons. You know me, no ties, no baggage. I’m off for a dip. See you later!’
As she slid off her bikini top and slipped into the blissfully cool waters of the Cauldron, she gave a jaunty wave to Fraser and Craig, standing close together, like conspirators, on the wooden bridge. They waved back, ginning, and then burst out laughing, clearly enjoying their no doubt smutty joke. Gently, she lay back, naked breasts facing up towards the sun, and let the water hold her body. Ally’s remark picked away at her thoughts. She hoped Craig wasn’t harbouring any happy-ever-after feelings. For fuck’s sake, he was a grown-up. Surely he could recognise adult fun—and only fun—when he met it.
She squinted against the sun. Was that Craig’s silhouette still up on the bridge? Yes. Fraser must have gone elsewhere. Didn’t he want to enjoy the view too? Fraser had been the perfect example of no-ties fun. Their casual encounters had been pretty spectacular, but he knew when the end was the end. Although…he was looking so good at the moment, maybe she might try a little…reprise with him? And maybe too she might have to think about retreating from Craig sooner than she’d planned. A slow retreat. She hadn’t had enough of him yet. But he wasn’t the only one she needed to get out of her hair. There was other unfinished business. She’d need to think about how to handle that. Then, once free, she could make an all-out assault on the one she really wanted. The one she just might like to be tied down with.
Jules Moncrieff, here I come…
Hide and Seek
Dear Kirstin,
I have had enough. Nothing can justify me being thrown into the hell I have been living in. I can no longer endure it. Whatever I may or may not be guilty of, the reviled ‘Witch’ is about to pay for it.
Morag
Kirstin couldn’t stop blinking. Her eyes felt dry and gritty, from tears of shock and from the overwhelming, cloying heat of the hospital. She’d managed to find a darkened corner in the waiting area away from the infectious anxiety of others. For the umpteenth time a middle-aged man stepped up to the reception desk, worry etched deep into his exhausted face, only to be told quietly to sit back down and wait. She closed her eyes, fingers still clutching the note. Waiting: the nightmare.
‘Kirstin Rutherford?’
She blinked and brought the figure standing over her into focus. A tall woman, in her fifties, smiling gently and handing her a plastic cup.
‘Machine coffee. All I could get downstairs at two in the morning. I’m Isobel Lockhart. I’ve a lot to thank you for.’
Kirstin sat up, feeling her nerves subside, reading the woman’s smile as a message of hope. She accepted the cup. ‘So, she’s okay? Really? I’m so…so relieved. This note…I must’ve read it a thousand times tonight. Here.’
Dr Lockhart smiled again, nodding and sipping at her own coffee as she scanned the brief few lines. Her eyes too, behind the smart designer frames, were desperate for sleep. ‘I see. Okay, don’t worry. I’ll keep this if I may? And yes, Morag is all right. You got to her in time.’
She moved to sit beside Kirstin, the smile now gone from her face. ‘You’ll understand there is very little I can say about Morag professionally. Because of patient confidentiality. But I know she’s told you a fair bit about herself, the problems she’s having. I’m going to put her in the care of one of my colleagues, with the full support of my entire team, for the next two weeks. I have to go away to the US tomorrow.’ She snatched a look at her watch. ‘God, today actually. I’ve suggested to Morag that, when she’s released from here in the next day or two, she be admitted to a short-term unit, attached to my clinic, a kind of halfway house if you like. Just for the first couple of nights. The environment there is calm, there’s therapeutic help on tap. It’s not the first time I’ve made this suggestion to her. However, she’s adamant that she wants to get back home. I’m not going to stop her, as long as I know she’ll have outside support.’
2007 - The Dead Pool Page 14