by Jane Renshaw
24
‘Here it’s, Maw,’ goes Connor, and chucks an envelope at my chebs. I’m lying back in my chair with a family-size Galaxy waiting for Bargain Hunt to come on.
‘’Bout fucking time,’ I goes, and I rip it open.
It’s the copy of the death certificate we ordered from the National Records of Scotland for Flora’s maw: Elizabeth Innes, died in St Andrews in 1989. I unfold it and me and Connor eyeball it.
Seems like Elizabeth Susan Innes died aged fifty-three, cause of death ‘Motor vehicle accident’. But the interesting bit’s no her death – it’s her maiden name. Hertz. That’s barry because it’s no exactly common, eh?
‘Right son. Get online at Scotland’s People and see what marriages you can find for some bastard Innes and Elizabeth Susan Hertz.’
‘If they really were Australian, I’ll have to get on the Australian site.’
‘Aye, get on that an’ all.’ I turn up the telly and sit back with my Galaxy. Fuck the fucking diet.
All through Bargain Hunt and the news, Connor’s tapping away on his laptop. News is all shite about Brexit, just a ten-second update on Mair on Reporting Scotland, saying the police enquiry is continuing and a neighbour has been taken in for questioning. Stupid fuckers havenae a fucking clue.
Literally.
That’s worth sharing so it is. ‘Havenae a fucking clue, eh son?’ I goes.
Connor rolls his eyes.
Neighbours starts and I’m onto the ginger and then Connor’s bringing me the laptop with a wee smile that’s no fooling no one, and I’m all ‘Cracked it son?’ and he’s trying to play it cool but he cannae, he goes, ‘God aye!’ and he dumps the laptop on me and goes, ‘Here’s a Scotland’s People entry for Elizabeth Susan Hertz, right, getting married to Alan Clark, in Peebles in 1968. Must be her, aye? That’s the only marriage listed. Doesnae give the details online, you have to send off for the certificate if you’re wanting it. Then there’s another record for Rachel Elizabeth Clark, born 1969 in Peebles. That fits with Flora’s age, eh? And an Alan Clark died in Peebles in 1975.’
‘Get us copies of they certificates, Connor. Elizabeth marry again to some fucker Innes?’
‘Naw.’ Connor’s grinning all over his spotty wee face. ‘I’m thinking Rachel and her maw must’ve changed their names, right, because when I Googled Rachel Clark… Check it!’
He brings up another screen. A Daily Record article.
‘There’s loads a’ hits!’ He’s peeing his pants. ‘Hundreds. But this’s it in a nutshell.’
I’m looking, and my gob is hanging open. ‘Christ on a cheesy biscuit.’
‘Aye. And that fucking bitch has Bekki.’
‘No for much longer, son. No for much longer.’ I’m reading down the article and God, I’m raging. Those fuckers gave Bekki to this bitch? I’m wanting to get out my chair and get round there and snatch our wean, but I cannae. This changes everything, aye, and it changes nothing.
‘Looks like we’re having us another wee road trip the morn, son.’
‘To Peebles?’
‘Naw, to the fucking moon.’
Flora knew they were talking about her. As Beckie gobbled her lunch and Flora sat at the table pretending to listen as she outlined her latest plan to get Edith to like her, she could see Neil and Caroline standing in the garden – ostensibly looking to see where the Johnson thug had got over the wall in case he had left any evidence – but she knew they were talking about her: poor pathetic Flora falling apart.
Neil was grimacing, and Caroline was touching his arm.
‘Isn’t it?’ Beckie said.
‘What, darling?’
‘Mum! You haven’t been listening!’
‘Sorry, I’m just tired, Beckie.’
Beckie’s little face was suddenly heartbreakingly serious. ‘I know. I’m sorry. You don’t want to be bothered by all this, like, stupid kids’ stuff. I don’t want a party anyway.’
‘Of course you do! I’m fine really, and it’ll be good for me to have something nice to concentrate on.’
‘Let’s just cancel. No one’s going to come anyway. It’s going to be shit.’
‘Beckie, don’t be ridiculous! And please don’t use that language.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Of course people will come. You’ve got lots and lots of friends.’
‘But they’re not allowed,’ said Beckie slowly, looking down at her bowl and scraping at the last of the soup.
‘Not allowed to come to the party? Why not?’
‘Thomas says his mum has been spreading these… rumours…’
Flora sighed. ‘What rumours?’
‘About Dad being violent to a pregnant woman and you having… mental health issues and hitting me. And… that you and Dad are psycho and… stuff like that…’
‘Oh, Beckie!’
Beckie looked up at her with a tight smile. ‘It’s okay, Mum, anyone with half a brain knows it’s not true. Thomas says he’s been telling everyone that his mum is just a stirrer and that you and Dad are like really nice and fun. And that everything that’s happened is just because of the Johnsons twisting everything round on you when it’s them who’re the psychos and –’
The glass doors to the garden came open and Neil and Caroline came breezing in with false bright smiles for Beckie.
‘Beckie’s not going back to school this afternoon,’ said Flora, getting abruptly to her feet. ‘We need to speak to Mrs Jenner – Beckie has been on the receiving end of some very nasty – very nasty rubbish about us being violent and –’
‘Mum! I don’t mind. It soooo doesn’t bother me.’
‘What?’ Neil was at the table in an instant, crouching down beside Beckie and putting an arm round her thin shoulders. ‘What have they been saying?’
‘I’ve not even really been listening. They’re all like “Blah blah blah” and I’m like “Whatever!” Really, Dad. I could. Not. Care. Less what those losers say.’
‘They’ve been saying we’re violent?’
‘Ailish,’ said Flora. ‘It seems Ailish has been spreading stuff.’
‘That bloody woman!’ said Neil.
‘Language, Dad,’ said Beckie.
Neil grinned and gave her a little squeeze. ‘Sorry, Beckster.’
‘Stress of the moment.’
‘Indeed… So, would you like to stay off school for a bit?’
‘Nope, it’s fine. I’ve spread this rumour of my own about Ailish. You know how she’s always on about how she was the best team leader ever at the Bank of Scotland, before she became the best mortgage advisor ever in the whole of Edinburgh, or maybe the UK? And there was this guy Malcolm in her team who she’s always making fun of in a like really nasty way, saying he smelt and stuff and she gave him Sure deodorant in the Secret Santa? I’ve been telling people that Malcolm has just got the courage to come forward and accuse her of like discrimination against people who sweat a lot because they’ve got something wrong with them, and he’s suing her for ten thousand pounds.’
‘Oh wow, Beckie,’ chortled Caroline. ‘That’s… very wrong.’
Beckie was smug. ‘Ailish is maybe going to jail and that’s why she’s spreading rumours about other people – she’s hoping everyone will stop talking about her and –’
‘Beckie.’ Neil shook his head, his mouth twisted in an effort not to laugh. ‘Spreading lies about people is never the right thing to do.’
‘It certainly isn’t,’ said Flora.
Caroline was grinning. ‘Ailish obviously doesn’t know what she’s up against.’
‘She started it,’ Beckie agreed. ‘But yeah, Mum, I know, two wrongs don’t make a right.’ She stood, wiping her hands on her napkin. ‘Anyway, I’m going to just leave it there because if you go on too much, people don’t believe you. And when people ask him about it, Thomas is going to say, “Yeah she’s maybe going to jail but I can’t talk about it.”’
‘Oh,’ said Flora weakly. ‘That’s –’
> ‘Really disturbingly Machiavellian,’ finished Neil.
‘I know! Let’s go, Dad!’
‘No,’ said Flora. ‘I don’t want you going back to school. You can stay here with me. This is all getting… out of hand.’
‘Honestly, Mum, it’s fine. Dad, I’ll just go to the loo?’
‘Okay, Beckster.’ And when she had left the room: ‘Let’s not make a big thing of this.’ His voice strained to stay light, unconfrontational, in front of Caroline. ‘She’s fine to go back to school, and I think that’s for the best. You can take it easy and chill this afternoon.’ And his eyes lingered on her. ‘Maybe – relax in a hot bath or something.’
She knew she looked a mess. She knew she probably whiffed a bit. ‘Let’s just keep her off today and then see about tomorrow. I’m not going to be able to “chill” if I’m worrying myself sick about her –’
‘This isn’t about you, though, is it?’
Caroline was edging towards the door. ‘Okay guys, see you later.’
‘Yes, thanks so much, Caroline.’
A charged silence until they heard the front door close. ‘How dare you?’ Flora spat at him. ‘How dare you say I’m making this “all about me” when it’s you saying Beckie being at school will give me a chance to “chill”. As if I’m going to be able to “chill”!’
‘Well, for Beckie’s sake, Flora, if for no other reason, you’re going to have to try to do something to…’ He flapped his hands in the air. ‘The last thing she needs is a neurotic mum to worry about on top of everything else. School is the best place for her at the moment, a normal environment –’
‘Oh, it’s normal, is it, to be ganged up on by a load of little bastards taunting her, saying her parents are psychos –’
‘She’s not being ganged up on! I’m there in the car watching, remember, when she’s in the playground, and she’s got plenty of friends. There’s no problem that I can see –’
‘That you can see. That is the whole problem, Alec!’
He opened his mouth; closed it. He moved to touch her, but she stepped back. ‘Okay. We can talk about this later.’
Flora was lying on a sofa in the family room, drowsily watching the Ten O’Clock News, when Neil came back into the room. ‘Asleep. She’s amazing, isn’t she? The way she’s taking all this in her stride.’
‘But is she taking it in her stride, or is it an act to keep us from worrying about her?’
He sat down on the arm of the sofa. ‘Maybe a bit of both.’
‘I don’t want her going back to school. It’s only a couple of weeks until the summer holidays; it’s not as if she’d miss much…’
‘She’d miss out on the class trip to the watersports centre, and she’s been looking forward to that for ages.’
‘We could take her there in the holidays.’
‘Hardly the same.’
‘I don’t want her going back to that school. Don’t you think… If we’re going to move, now would be a good time to do it?’
‘Move?’
‘We’re never going to be safe from the Johnsons unless we do.’
‘No. I’m sorry, Flora, I know all this has really freaked you out – freaked us out, I should say… given that I was the one charged with assault.’ He attempted a weak smile. ‘But there is no way we’re moving again. We have to get some perspective here. What have they actually done? Nothing, other than indulge in a bit of low-level harassment –’
‘Low level?’
‘But I agree, of course, that it’s sensible to take reasonable precautions.’
‘A few CCTV cameras and some self-defence tuition from an HR consultant?’
‘If they were going to do anything –’
‘They’re toying with us! Ryan Johnson in the Botanics today – They’re enjoying it, they’re enjoying making us suffer before closing in for the kill! You weren’t there. You didn’t see the way he was looking at me –’
‘Flora… Caroline didn’t see anyone.’
‘What, so I’m hallucinating now?’ She got up; put distance between them. ‘They killed Saskia! What’s to stop them killing us? A few CCTV cameras? What would happen to Beckie then? Who would look after her?’
He just shook his head at her wearily.
‘You have to wake up, Alec. Seriously.’
‘I –’
‘And the first thing we have to do is appoint someone to be her legal guardian in the event of our deaths. We have to make sure she’ll be okay whatever.’
‘Flora –’
‘It’s hardly ideal, but I guess that person has to be Pippa.’
He breathed. ‘Okay.’ Making a Herculean effort, it seemed, to humour her. ‘If you want. I guess that’s something we should have sorted years ago anyway.’
‘Let’s call her now.’
‘Now? It’s the middle of the night where she is.’
‘If she agrees, we can at least get the legal stuff moving.’ She reached for the landline handset and held it out to him. ‘Put her on speakerphone.’
Pippa answered groggily. ‘You do know what time it is here?’
‘Sorry,’ said Neil. ‘We’ve, um… We’ve got something to ask you, Pip.’
‘Is everything okay?’
‘Yes, well, more or less…’ He sighed. ‘You know what’s been going on with the Johnsons… But no, we’re fine. It’s just that… Flora… We’re thinking we need to appoint someone as Beckie’s legal guardian – not that we’re thinking anything’s going to happen to us or anything, but all this has concentrated our minds and, well – Would you be okay with being next in line to look after Beckie?’
Several hundred miles of static.
In that second’s, two seconds’ pause, Flora knew that it was the wrong thing. She knew it before Pippa’s ‘Sure, of course’; the false note in her voice.
‘No, Pippa, actually it’s fine,’ she said quickly. ‘It’s not fair to ask you. You don’t want a child in tow – what were we thinking? I mean, I hope you’d still be part of Beckie’s life, just not – in a parenting role.’
‘It’s all hypothetical anyway,’ said Pippa sleepily. ‘Come on. Okay so these people are bad news, but they’re not going to murder you. Come on.’
‘Yeah, I know, sorry… Sorry to wake you,’ said Neil, giving Flora a What the hell? look. And as soon as he’d ended the call: ‘For Christ’s sake, Flora!’
‘Pippa would be a terrible guardian for Beckie. Last time she saw her, she got Beckie drunk.’
‘It was a few sips of wine.’
‘Beckie was staggering around giggling, and Pippa thought it was hilarious. She couldn’t understand why I was so angry.’
‘Mm.’ Neil grimaced. ‘But Beckie does love her.’
‘She hasn’t seen her for three years.’
‘But still.’
‘Beckie loves her because Pippa lets her do whatever she wants. I know she’s your sister, and I’m really fond of her, but…’
Neil stood abruptly. ‘This was your idea, remember? But somehow it’s been turned back on me, as usual.’
‘Pippa’s not the right person.’
‘Okay. So who else do you want to phone up and badger with a bizarre and frankly really disconcerting request in the middle of the night, before changing your mind and insulting them by pretty much coming out and saying they’re not parenting material? Who else is there, Flora? Because let’s face it, we don’t really have any friends any more, do we?’
‘There’s Pam and James. Now the Johnsons know where we are, there’s no reason not to contact them. We could ask them…’
‘After disappearing on them like we did?’
‘They’ll understand if we explain it to them.’
‘Right. “Hi, Pam, remember us? Yeah, sorry about that, sorry about dropping you like hot potatoes, but we had to disappear because Beckie’s psychotic biological family were after us. If they murder us, you’ll take her on, won’t you? Okay so you might have to move to Alask
a to avoid the same thing happening to you…” Look – Pippa’s family. I know she’s not ideal, but if you’re intent on appointing a legal guardian for Beckie, we can’t ask anyone else to do it.’
‘I’m phoning Pam in the morning.’
‘Oh, okay, fine. Do whatever the hell you like, Flora, and as usual I’ll grin and bear the consequences.’
She blinked at him. ‘What?’
‘It’s always about what you want, isn’t it?’
‘Alec, we wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place if you hadn’t been conned by Lorraine Johnson into giving her your name and address back in Arden. They probably found us this time because of something you did too, some absent-minded professor stunt –’
‘Yep, let’s play the blame game. That’s really helping. That’s really constructive. I’m trying to do what’s right for Beckie, but you keep coming up with these mad schemes, like we just up sticks and move again –’
‘It’s mad to want to do everything possible to keep our daughter safe?’
‘We should never have moved from Arden in the first place! We had a good life there, Beckie was happy – We should have dealt with this then, instead of running away.’
‘And you’re “dealing with it” now how, exactly? What do you think would have happened if we’d stayed in Arden? We’d probably be dead and Beckie –’
‘Oh Christ, Ruth! We wouldn’t be dead! I’m “dealing with it” – with the hypothetical “it” – by consulting a solicitor and going to the police and putting up cameras to catch them if they try anything. Excuse me for being halfway rational about it!’
And he banged out of the room like a four-year-old.
25
‘Right son,’ I goes to Connor, parking up outside the newspaper office. ‘Let me do the talking, aye? Keep it zipped.’
Connor goes, ‘Can I no do the bit about the lawyers? It’s wrote down here.’ He taps the documents on his clipboard.
‘No you cannae. Maybe you can say it’s a nice fucking day but that’s it. This bastard’s an old pro and he’s gonnae be scrutinising every fucking word comes out our mouths. Nice day, nice wee town, nice wee paper. That’s it. Right?’