2007 - The Dead Pool

by Sue Walker; Prefers to remain anonymous

  ‘I’m seeing him.’ She blurted it out with no attempt at control.

  Ross shifted round to look more clearly at her. ‘Oh, right. When?’

  She stood up and moved a few feet along the riverbank, keeping her back to him. ‘No, I mean I’m seeing, seeing Glen. He’s a nice guy.’

  Silence. And then she turned. Ross was staring down at the dry grass. His face blank. What she’d done, or rather the way she’d done it, had been cruel. He lifted his head to look at her. She avoided his gaze and scuffed a foot across the lawn, waiting for him to speak. Christ, she hated herself at this moment. She knew she was getting back at him. For not telling her about Jamie’s death. For being such a sod at times during their marriage. For finding happiness with someone else. For making a baby. And maybe, just maybe, for trying to sabotage her belief in an underdog.

  She moved towards him, hands outstretched. Ross was standing up now. ‘Look, Ross. I’m sorry. I sh—’

  But he was holding his own hands out as he stood up and stepped forward to take her gently by the shoulders. ‘Listen, listen. It’s okay, it’s fine. I’m glad for you. Truly. My…my only slight surprise is that it’s Glen. But, yes he is, I’m sure, a nice guy. Dad liked him very much. It’s fine. Really. Look, maybe we could all go out one night. In a foursome?’

  She clasped one of his hands and smiled. That was pushing it a bit. But she was relieved. There had been no scene. And there was an obvious reason for that. He didn’t love her any more. He was happy. If she had been trying to hurt him, she’d failed. Let that be a lesson. Let the past lie.

  Thirty-One

  The call from Morag had come just as she was saying goodbye to Ross and assuring him that she’d make a start on Jamie’s study. It had been disconcerting. ‘Hi, whereare you? Doing anything nice? I wondered ifyou’d do me a favour and collect some more stuff from my house?

  Kirstin now stood in Morag’s hallway, bulging holdall in hand. She was hovering at the front door when the phone rang. Morag again, with more orders?

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Is that Morag Ramsay?’

  It was a young, male voice. Strong, Glaswegian accent.

  ‘Eh…it’s Kirstin. I’m sort of looking after Morag. Who’s calling?’

  ‘I’m Jules Moncrieff. A friend of Bonnie’s. She said you were looking after Morag. Bonnie talked to me the day she died. After she saw you. Gave me Morag’s number. I…wondered if she’d like to see me?’

  Kirstin couldn’t answer immediately. This was a surprise. Given all that had happened, she had quite forgotten about Jules. ‘Oh…eh, yes. I’m sure Morag would like to see you.’ Kirstin felt wrong-footed. ‘I…I’m very, very sorry about Bonnie. Where, when would you like to see us? I’d probably have to come too. Morag’s not in a great state right now.’

  ‘That’s okay. I know it’s short notice but I thought Morag would want to know. The police have released Bonnie’s body. Her funeral’s going to be on Monday. Maybe we could meet there.’

  ‘I don’t think I’m up to it, Kirstin. Really, I don’t. Dr Mackeson’s recommended some new medication and it’s making me very tired. And the funeral’s in Fife? I can’t travel all that way. I’m sorry.’

  Kirstin glanced round the sitting room of the clinic’s inpatient wing. Not surprisingly on such a lovely day, everyone else was outdoors. Not Morag, though. She was looking pale and drawn. Far worse than the last time Kirstin had seen her. Her condition made Kirstin feel even more guilty at having met with Harry Kinnaird.

  ‘Okay, Morag. That’s fine. Why don’t I just go on my own? You can meet Jules another time.’

  Morag nodded slowly, seeming uncertain. ‘Yes…you go, by all means. God, I had no idea. Ally and Jules Moncrieff. That day, it was lona who trotted up and told me about Jules. I thought he was one of her latest conquests. Huh! Little did I know, Craig was fulfilling that role only too well. lona would have been livid if she’d known that Ally was seeing this Jules. They’d had big rows about that sort of thing before. She forbade him to see her gallery people.’ Morag nodded again, more firmly this time. ‘Well, well. How very interesting. Yes, you go. See what he’s got to say.’

  Thirty-Two

  Kirstin weaved her way through unusually heavy traffic but that didn’t trouble her. She felt better today. Since receiving Jules’s invitation to meet, she’d spent the weekend taking Ross’s advice. He’d recognized her need for rest, and so she had spent most of the time sleeping or enjoying the garden. There was plenty of time to get back to her task of clearing Jamie’s study. Perhaps later in the day, after seeing Jules.

  Being the holiday season, this corner of east Fife, with its coast of picturesque fishing villages, was as popular as ever. She knew the church Jules had directed her to. In happier times, she, Ross, Jamie and Jean would have days out visiting the prettiest spots within easy driving distance of Edinburgh. She parked away from the handful of other cars; she wasn’t a mourner and wanted to keep back until Jules made an appearance. He’d given her a physical description of himself and she’d told him what car she’d be driving. The open vista in front of her lifted her mood. The Fife coast was a few hundred yards ahead of her, down a gentle slope of farmland. The view over to East Lothian was clear, the Firth of Forth blue and calm. Strangely, although the river and the Cauldron were beautiful spots, the entire area, including Jamie’s house, was beginning to set off familiar feelings of claustrophobia in her. She lifted her head to the fresh, sea-scented air. It was mercifully cooler here than in town, and she welcomed the gentle breeze coming up from the coast. To her left, on the far side of the churchyard, she could see a sparse grouping of mourners. It was an appalling day for Bonnie’s loved ones. But, at least they had the chance to say their farewells.

  She moved forward to lean on the wall of the car park, enjoying the blowy day and thinking back to that tense encounter with Ross at Jamie’s graveside, such a short time ago. She: angry, outraged, determined. Ross: defensive, infuriating. And how did she feel now? The answer was simple. Confused and tired. She’d been caught up in an emotional storm of her own feelings, about Jamie and about Ross. And then she’d allowed herself to become involved in another person’s emotional storm. She’d made a rod for her own back these past days. It would be time to call it quits very soon. Once Morag was back on her feet, and after she’d sorted out Jamie’s study, that would be it. Where it left her in her feelings about Jamie, who could say. Just remember the good Jamie. And Glen? Just take it easy.

  ‘Are you Kirstin?’

  She broke off from gazing at the sea, and turned to find him standing behind her.

  Tmjules.’

  He was dressed in mourning, but with a difference. The three-quarter-length tunic with Nehru collar was of expensive black linen, and the matching baggy trousers, billowing out in the breeze, exposed tanned calves. Slim, brown feet were shod in soft leather sandals. Finally, his dark hair was loosely tied back in a ponytail to reveal fine, almost girlish features with a full sensuous mouth and striking but sad grey eyes. He was, quite simply, a beautiful young man. Kirstin thought he could be no older than twenty-four.

  She stepped forward. ‘Yes, I’m Kirstin.’

  He began darting quick glances at the approaching gaggle of mourners. ‘Do you mind if we take a wander down to the sea? Get away from that lot?’

  Kirstin held out her hand in invitation. ‘Please, lead on.’

  She followed him in silence down a dusty path at the side of a field, and then he turned sharply to his left. He obviously knew where he was going and, within a minute, they were sitting on a secluded bench overlooking a small inlet. Despite the calm conditions, the current was strong, forcing the waves to break heavily on the black rocks a few yards away.

  Slowly, he slid a battered tobacco tin from his tunic pocket, smoothing his long fingers over a scratched representation of an ornate bridge. He moved his hand and she could make out the words, Venezia, Ponte di Rialto, written in gold underneath.

/>   ‘Ally took me to Venice when we first got together. Bought this for me in a second-hand shop. It’s tacky, but I like it.’

  He pulled out a ready-made roll-up, cupped a hand as he held his lighter to it, and then inhaled deeply. ‘So, Bonnie told me your father-in-law had something to do with the river?’

  ‘That’s right. My ex-father-in-law. Jamie Munro. He’s dead now. He was a river warden and guide. He and Ally’s group, particularly lona, didn’t get on. They must’ve talked about him.’

  He shrugged. ‘Oh, I vaguely remember something about all that. But, you know, lona was always moaning and being irate about so much, I kind of switched off. I don’t like conflict.’

  He took two more slow puffs. He seemed reluctant to start talking about why they were meeting up, so she decided to take the initiative.

  Was Ally there today? I just wondered…you wanted to move away from up there.’

  He brushed a flake of ash from his thigh and gazed out at the sea. ‘I didn’t think he’d have the nerve. Eraser Coulter was there, though. He looked terrible, slugging away at a hip flask. He seemed pissed. Another one who’s gone off the rails. We had a brief chat. There certainly seems to be no love lost between him and Ally now. In fact, I think he hates him.’ He held up a hand, the hint of a smile playing around his full mouth. ‘Listen. Isn’t the sea such a fantastic sound? Comforting.’

  She smiled her agreement and they sat for a moment, listening. Then he shifted his eyes from the sea, and back to his tobacco tin. ‘I’ve been thinking about what happened last year at the river. Thinking a lot. More so since Ally and I split up. And…and the shock of what’s happened to Bonnie. It’s made me see things a lot more clearly.’

  She noticed a mild, nervous tremble as he raised the cigarette to his lips. ‘Jules? Are you okay?’

  He was still looking wistfully at the turbulent waves. There was a preparatory clearing of the throat before he began. ‘I’ve not been to many funerals. It was nice, in a strange way. Sad and nice. Odd combination. I don’t know if Bonnie would have approved of a conventional Christian burial, but I suppose it helped her folks. I liked Bonnie. Only got to know her recently. But she was an interesting person. Authentic. Despite what others might think. Ally used to call her hippy-dippy, stuff like that. But he made enough money out of her, and out of Eraser Coulter. Though he messed up with Craig and lost a fair bit then. But Ally knew how to make money, he was good at that. Using people. They both were. He and lona. They could suck you in, as if they had an invisible magnet. Looking back on it, I was playing way out of my league when I hooked up with them. Funny you can’t see things like that at the time, isn’t it? That’s not to say I didn’t have a good time. lona helped my career…and with Ally, I…I thought that I was in love with him. Maybe I was…or maybe I was just flattered.’

  Kirstin spoke gently. ‘And Ally? Bonnie said that he cared very much for you.’

  He ground the tiny roll-up stub under the heel of his sandal and let his eyes wander back to the waves. ‘He did. He was in love with me. And I think that’s why I’ve been loyal…quiet about last summer for all this time. But I know how much he’s changed…’

  At last he broke free from staring at the sea and looked at her. His eyes were even sadder than when she’d first greeted him. Kirstin watched as he fumbled with the tobacco tin. He seemed about to speak. Then he hesitated, clearly trying to choose the right words. ‘This is difficult for me. I feel guilty and disloyal. Even being here feels…sort of wrong.’

  Kirstin let the silence lie for a moment before gently prompting him. ‘Guilty and disloyal?’

  Jules shifted in his seat and then began in a low, even voice. ‘lona and Ally were big, flamboyant characters. Especially lona. She appeared…more one-dimensional than Ally. There was probably a lot more going on inside than she’d ever let you see. She was no fool. But, essentially, lona was a flatterer, a flirt. But, and I mean this, she was great fun and she did a lot for me. Launched my career. I will be eternally grateful to her for that. And for meeting Ally through her. We all had good times together. That I’ll never regret.’

  ‘How did you and Ally meet?’

  We met through the gallery. At a private view. When we got together, Ally said lona mustn’t know about us. Not for a while. I should have guessed from that, that there was going to be trouble.’

  Kirstin shrugged. ‘But why wasn’t he allowed to see who he wanted? I don’t get it.’

  He lit up and took a slow satisfying drag, his eyes again fixed on the breaking waves below. ‘Ally explained that lona had a habit of pouncing on guys he liked. Seeing if she could pull or ‘turn’ them. She positively revelled in that game. And…well, he’d let her get away with it. I once asked him why. He just shrugged and said that she could do what she liked. He had to let her. I dropped the subject then, but I thought it was a bit weird, to put it mildly. What Ally did say, though, was that if there was someone he really liked, he kept it to himself. And he said straightaway that he really liked me. And he caught my attention too. You see, like his sister, Ally could be the life and soul of the party, but he had depth…and something else. A melancholy air. I knew he’d been hurt in the past. You can tell these things, even though it was a long time before I knew what had happened to him. The thing that had made him who he is.’

  Kirstin thought back to the sobbing figure, collapsed over his snooker table. ‘You mean he’d had painful relationships?’

  ‘It was more than that.’Jules offered her a sad smile. ‘Let me tell you a story about Ally. The one I was going to tell Morag. I don’t think another living soul knows about this.’

  He stopped again to enjoy his cigarette, as if trying to put off the inevitable. After a few moments, he sat up straighter and seemed ready to go on. Kirstin began to feel the early, premonitory pangs of anxiety and knew what they meant; she was going to hear something awful.

  Thirty-Three

  ‘Ally was sent to public school in Edinburgh at an early age. As a boarder. His parents had a big country house and estate up in Perthshire at the time. lona was a day pupil at a local girls’ school. Needless to say, Ally felt rejected and abandoned. lona, meanwhile, got all the attention during their childhood and adolescent years. Ally hated, absolutely hated school. He was variously ridiculed and bullied for being clever and for being a weakling, a skinny beanpole. He was beaten up a few times. Of course, given the culture of these brutal and brutalizing places, he kept quiet about everything. Both to his teachers and his parents. He confided in lona, though. Despite her preferential treatment by their parents, and his feelings of resentment about her being their favourite, they were close. Or rather, Ally saw her as his only friend. It was his parents whom he hated, not her. So, every holiday he’d rush back home and spend the summer with her, dreading his return to school for the following term. On and on this went. Ally the needy, Ally the weakling. Until the worm eventually turned.’

  He looked at Kirstin and she nodded for him to go on. ‘Once Ally hit adolescence, he came into his own. He shot up in height, put on weight and muscle, and became a solid rugby player. At last, he could look after himself. He had brains, and brawn, to protect himself. And then he gained something else. He’d just turned seventeen and he fell in love. With another rugby-team member.’ Jules smiled to himself. ‘The way Ally told it, it sounded as if it had come straight out of a homoerotic, alternative Boys’ Own story. Miraculously, they managed to keep the affair secret. And during the holidays, they had the best cover. They would visit both sets of parents. Two best buddies—stars of the rugby pitch, and swots with top marks into the bargain. No one knew, no one suspected the truth. Until lona.’

  ‘lona?’

  ‘Ally had confided in her ages before about his ‘special friend’. Anyway, he and his lover had been invited to spend the summer in Perthshire. And that’s when it happened.’

  Kirstin was having trouble controlling her impatience. ‘What did?’

  ‘They and lon
a had spent a long, sleepy day down at the lake, larking about, skinny-dipping and generally having a laugh. They’d also had a bit to drink. Ally had sneaked back up to the house to plunder his father’s wine cellar yet again. As he reached the top of the stairs, he saw lona. She had just turned fourteen. A physically and temperamentally precocious fourteen, mind you.’Jules dropped his head and began smoothing out a wrinkle in his trousers. ‘She was weeping, looked dishevelled, had scratched and bruised thighs. And worse. Ally’s lover had raped her.’

  ‘My God!’

  Jules gave a single, knowing nod. ‘Oh, yes. Heavy stuff. Ally raced down to the lake to confront the boy. He, for his part, denied everything. But Ally stood by his sister. lona promised to say nothing if the boy left that evening. He did. On some pretext or another, citing illness I think, and his parents came to collect him. Before that, lona also made Ally promise never to talk to his lover again once they were back at school. He agreed. But, in the event, the promise wasn’t needed.’

  Kirstin frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The boy killed himself two weeks later.’

  ‘Jesus! Did Ally tell anyone about what had happened?’

  Jules shook his head, ‘Oh, no. It was just put down as another overachieving, depressed adolescent who had turned to suicide.’

  ‘And lona never told anyone?’

  ‘Nope. Not a word about the rape. Not a word about the gay affair. Ally was in her debt. He owed her.’

  Kirstin raised her face to the wind and stretched her legs. She was beginning to feel drained. It had been a dreadful story, but it at least gave some insight into the character of Ally. A man who could, it seemed, be both threatening and, at the same time, deeply sad inside.