by Anne Bone
Marty was thankful that Beth had not heard Des’s account of Maureen’s statement. He was even more thankful that Beth did not seem to want to know anything about what had taken place. Also, she did not know about Michael Cook. There would be time enough in the future for her to hear the gruesome details of this man’s deeds.
As for himself, he wished now he had landed a few kicks and punches into his fat belly. Despicable creature, he should not be allowed to walk the same ground as the innocent children whom he had hurt. Marty asked, ‘What happens now Des?’
Des explained that he had made arrangements for a fight back to the UK for him and Maureen the following day, and the paperwork relating to Michael was underway and would take its own time. The Home Office would be pursing the needful as far as having him returned to the UK. In the meantime, he would deal with Maureen, and the case had grown to a gigantic size now as it seemed many of the police forces in Scotland were making enquiries into Michael Cook’s movements.
Vicky’s loud tones beamed an order for Richard to come inside and help her sort out something in the house. Richard nodded compliantly and got to his feet, which were on the unsteady side due to the quantity of alcohol he had managed to quietly consume during the evening. He resignedly followed the sound of his wife’s tones as she barked orders to all and sundry.
Marty excused himself and followed. He was knackered and needed to go and find Beth and the children. The fantasy they had held of the joy and wonder of being reunited with the children had been sullied by the events which had been uncovered since they had found them. He could not even bear to think about what would have happened if the couple had got away again.
Des took another deep mouthful of his whisky and allowed the amber liquid to swill around his mouth before he swallowed. As he swallowed his eyes were on the woman across the table, bathed in the clear moonlight. Her features seemed to have become less sharp and her attractiveness struck him.
Daphne smiled back at him, she raised her glass and toasted. ‘Now Detective Sergeant Groves, you must be very satisfied about the outcome of this enquiry.’
He nodded. ‘Relieved, I would say more than satisfied. I just hope that Michael Cook ends up back in a British jail for a good many years, and that he gets natural justice from the other inmates. I can’t help it Daphne, but he is evil.’ He swallowed another mouthful feeling the effects of the alcohol and allowed it to seep through his mind, trying to eradicate the details which were rattling around in his head about the offences the bastard had committed.
Daphne found herself reaching over the table and stroking the back of the strong hand. ‘Des, you look whacked. I know that Vicky’s bathrooms are wonderful, they all hold very deep and wide baths. Do you know what I think?’
He caught the glint in her eye, found himself watching her red lips and wondering what it would be like to join them to his. ‘No I don’t know, do tell me.’
‘I think what you need is a lovely deep relaxing bath and someone to massage your shoulders.’ She paused, ‘And do you know, massage is one of the things I am very good at.’
She stood and reached her hand out towards him. He needed no second asking, and allowed himself to be guided back into the house, his loins already reacting to the thought of what was to come.
Chapter 39
London 2005
Marty was not good at lying to Beth. He had never managed to keep the tiniest of secrets from her, but this time he seemed to be managing it. Perhaps it was because they had to concentrate on tomorrow’s conference. It was a big international event with many participants who would be arriving from all over the world to talk about the effects of trauma on children. Amongst the many eminent speakers would be his dear Beth who would be one of the keynote speakers, and she was full of anxiety. She shared her level of concern with Marty believing that this was one of the biggest conferences she had addressed in the past twenty-five years.
Marty congratulated himself as no lies had been told; the journalist had duly met Beth in the lounge of the rather smart London hotel. Beth had answered the many questions about The Trust Helpline and related many of the very happy reunions which had taken place over the past twenty-five years. She also took the opportunity to mention some of the children who were still missing, ever hopeful that by doing this someone reading the article would be able to respond with positive information.
The journalist was young, young and very pretty, and yet he could see how mesmerised she was by Beth. If anyone could tell a story she could. He could not help smiling. He was not quite sure how she would take the big surprise of tomorrow night; he just hoped that there would be no hold ups and she would just do as she was told. She hated anything which was about giving personal praise to her. But he had just sat back and allowed it to be arranged.
It was sad that Aunt Molly would not be there to enjoy the special surprise. She had passed peacefully away just last year at the grand age of eighty-four. She had been incredibly proud of Beth. She once said that she thought of Beth as her daughter and that it was difficult to accept that she had not actually given birth to her.
Molly had been an absolute treasure to them through those early years when they returned from Spain with the children. She had been beside them every minute of the day while they struggled to help the children make sense of what had taken place. She had helped the children with their loss and helped them to understand and to know that they were now with their proper parents.
Wee Stevie, although he thought, not so wee now had been quite difficult to handle. The tantrums could be better described as blind utter fury as he vented his confusion and emotions towards everyone. Beth had taken him down to the Children’s Hospital where he was seen by a child psychiatrist, who told her that his behaviour was probably due to the loss of his main carer… Maureen. It was also possible that he may have witnessed things he should not have. The psychiatrist had summed up what they had already known, they had been advised to give him time, time to work through his distress and eventually he would come through it.
Lucy was different; she did not display any anger and temper tantrums. Equally worrying was that she was always fearful and anxious. She was a very sensitive little girl who would become distressed at any loud voices. She was forever watchful as if she was waiting for something to happen and needed to be ready to spur into action and hide.
Lucy had terrible nightmares; night terrors the psychiatrist had called them. She would scream that the monsters would get her and wake soaking in sweat and shaking like a leaf. It was terrible to see and Beth was the only person she would let comfort her.
God, he remembered, it was so hard to keep going in those early years. They were told to keep everything routine and secure and things would improve. Painstakingly slowly, they did. Molly was there every step of the way helping out and had become the most beloved granny in the world. She was never a great aunt as far as Stevie and Lucy was concerned, she was their lovely Granny.
Harbour View had been an easy house to convert to meet Molly’s needs as she became frail. She would curse that her limbs had become stiff and awkward and would not allow her to do all the things which she wanted to do.
The large dining room had been turned easily into a bed sitting room with an en suite. This had allowed Molly to continue to reside in her childhood home, and retain her dignity as she became more infirm.
It was pneumonia which eventually carried her off. Beth had nursed her every day and was sitting beside her holding her hand when she finally left this world to go to the next one. Beth said she had smiled at her and told her she loved her, just before she closed her eyes for the last time and slipped gently away. A lovely death for a lovely woman.
Molly was always very pleased and proud of Beth and The Trust. She, like them, had been involved in the early days when they had set it up. Of course, the headquarters of The Trust in those days had been the front room of Harbour View, and Beth, Molly and he had been the voices on the end of the tel
ephone. They had taken down the details and talked to the parents who were looking for help, and trying to cope with their own trauma about their own missing children.
It had been a slow and steady growth: from the front room it had moved to a small office in Union Street, the main street in Aberdeen. The Stolen Child Trust had been formally named as a charity when a local beneficiary had pledged a large sum of money to allow it to grow and develop. The small office had been able to be kitted out and employ a couple of staff. While there had always been few members of employed staff, Beth always paid tribute to the many people who had come forward to help and answer the calls. The small band of directors always knew that The Trust would fold if there were no volunteers to answer the telephones. Beth became the Chair of The Trust and she insisted that it had started in Aberdeen and while it was growing arms and legs the headquarters would remain in Aberdeen.
It certainly had grown arms and legs. While the Helpline was still based in Aberdeen it was only part of The Trust’s work. The other area which Beth had been determined to develop was helping families to readjust when they were reunited. So groups were set up all over the UK. Some of the most eminent psychologists became advisors and this helped raise the profile of The Trust, and the work it did to help the families.
The steady growth in the services also caused more headaches, and Marty had often pleaded with Beth on many occasions to let others take it over. He knew there was no chance of this. Beth was The Trust and The Trust was Beth.
She was not answering the phones any longer, her role was now to continue to raise the profile, attract funds and be the voice. She was also used to standing in front of an audience of hundreds of people to passionately tell not only her story, but also the stories of others. She took the interviews and television appearances in her stride. Whenever a child went missing she would be sought out for her view. She would be the first to be asked for advice on how to cope and manage. Dreadful stories some of them, some parents did get their children back, but sadly, not alive, others never found out what happened to them. They just stayed missing.
In happier cases, the child was often found and safely returned. Many of these situations involved one parent abducting the child to wreak havoc for the child and their former partner. It often came down to tracing the child and then supporting the parent until the Court made an order for the child to be returned.
The Trust had become an important organisation for so many and one for which Beth had received honours on more than one occasion. She never sought the accolades she had been given, and only accepted where she thought it would ultimately benefit The Trust.
Marty often reflected on who would have ever thought that the pretty young girl he had found and eventually rescued from that hillside croft in rural Aberdeenshire would have made such a difference to so many people’s lives. He was one of the very few people who recognised the personal and emotional costs it had made on his lovely warm-hearted wife.
All he hoped was that she would forgive him for his part in tomorrow night’s event.
Chapter 40
Across London in an upmarket restaurant, three people were finishing off their main course. Stevie, his dark hair groomed to bring out his strong features, glanced at the desert menu. ‘I don’t think I will bother with a sweet, I’ll just have a cappuccino. It’s you two who will no doubt be wanting to indulge.’ His long dark eyelashes swept across to cover the glint in his eye as he teased the two women sharing the table with him.
Lucy was carefully studying the menu, not sure what she was going to choose. ‘I can’t remember when we last had a meal together, just the three of us.’
Stevie smiled, ‘I know you being the baby of the family are not used to dining out with your older more sophisticated siblings.’
Joanne made a face back at him.
Lucy looked up from the menu, ‘Right, I know what I am going to have, and don’t you two start your nonsense. Remember we are in a posh restaurant in the middle of London so don’t show us up.’
Stevie laughed again. ‘What are you two like, this… I have to tell you, my two little sisters, this is not a posh restaurant. On the other hand it probably is by Aberdeen standards, but not by London’s.’
Stevie should know, he lived and worked in London. At twenty-nine he was enjoying his life and did believe that he was indeed sophisticated. He was certainly doing alright in his chosen career as a cameraman for a daily news programme. He loved his life and especially enjoyed travelling to different parts of the world. He hoped this would continue for many years to come.
His sisters had not left Scotland. Lucy was happy, in fact, extremely happy as she had yet another secret, which she was going to add to tomorrow night’s events. She had followed her dear father into the hairdressing trade and was just sorry that Dave, her live-in boyfriend, was stuck on the oil platform in the middle of the North Sea and not sitting beside her tonight.
The baby of the family, Joanne, at twenty-four had still not completely decided on what her future career was to be. She had tried quite a number of different jobs; this was following two attempts at university. She had always been the more harum-scarum type of person. Never seemed to be able to settle, but would be off chasing rainbows at a moment’s notice. She had planned to take a gap year and travel the world. She had, however, only managed to get as far as Australia where she spent some time with her biological grandmother’s family. She came home two months after leaving Scotland, ten months earlier than expected, complaining that Australia was not all it was made out to be. Others believed that it was more likely due to the fact that she had run out of money. It had seemed to slip her memory that she had agreed before she left on her gap year that she would find work which would fund her travels.
At the present moment she was living in Inverness sharing a flat with two other young women and working for an airline company based at Inverness Airport. She must admit she was enjoying the lifestyle especially as there were a number of rather dishy pilots whom she came into contact with.
‘I wonder how Mum will react tomorrow?’ Lucy wondered aloud.
‘Goodness knows, the one thing about our Mum is that she is full of surprises,’ Stevie responded, a smile plastered across his face as he thought about Beth.
They all went silent for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts about their mother.
Lucy started to giggle. ‘There is one thing for sure, if Dad has managed to hold his tongue then he will be the one to get the biggest lashing of Mum’s.’
This was met with shared laughter. Lucy was the closest to Marty even though she was not his biological daughter; she was still very much his daughter. She loved him with a passion and from an early age would love to sit in the salon watching him work miracles with some of the middle-aged women’s hair, while they ogled him through the mirror.
There was never another thought other than she would follow him into the business. She had a real talent and flair for working with hair. She was the shyest of the three siblings. She was never sure whether this was because she was the middle child or because of what had happened to her as a small child.
She would be the one to sit quietly watching. She also was the one who worried the most, usually over nothing much. Dave was always reassuring her that she was pretty and although she could look into the mirror and see her blonde hair and her mother’s violet eyes, still this did not confirm to her that she was as others saw her. She was always the child who seemed the frailest. On occasions, she still suffered from bad dreams and if she was stressed these would transfer into nightmares. She was lucky that when Dave was onshore and she was curled up spoon like in their double bed, he held her tight when she cried out suddenly about some demon which had surfaced to the top of her mind. The recurring dream was that she was lost in a maze and could not find her way out. Once when she was in her early twenties she had ventured into counselling. She had found this revealing and was surprised that she remembered so much from her childho
od. The recurring dream made sense; the feeling of being lost had remained with her in her subconscious and would surface mainly when she was stressed. Although understanding her dream did not help much when she awoke drenched in sweat and shaking.
‘Have you seen much of Mum and Dad over the past few weeks?’ Stevie enquired as he glanced again at the menu and began to regret that he had not chosen a sweet.
‘I see Dad every day, of course, at the salon. I think he still finds it difficult some days; losing Granny Molly last year has left a huge gap in his life. Mum misses her too, but then Mum seems to just get on with things.’
‘I thought she was supposed to be taking more of a back seat in The Trust now,’ Joanne posed.
‘Oh you know what she is like, she can’t do it. The Trust is her baby after all.’ Lucy replied.
Joanne screwed up her pretty face. ‘Huh, don’t I know it. I always had to compete against The Trust.’
Stevie looked across at his pretty younger sister and watched her face as it contorted when she dipped into her own private world of bitterness.
‘Jo, I think we all took a back seat sometimes, but at least you had a more settled early childhood than Lucy and I had.’