Watch Over Me: A psychological thriller with a jaw-dropping twist

by Jane Renshaw

  ‘Thanks, Wendy. That would be great.’

  The phones in D Wing were in the next corridor along. Flora had to wait in the queue for an interminable ten minutes before she could snatch up the receiver, enter her pin number and dial Caroline’s mobile.

  ‘Hi, Flora.’

  ‘Oh God, Caroline, I’ve just been speaking to another prisoner who knows the Johnsons, and she’s saying they probably are going to try to take Beckie – you have to move, I’m sorry, but you really have to move away, somewhere they won’t find you… You can’t stay in Glasgow.’

  ‘Whoa, Flora, okay. If they were going to snatch Beckie, wouldn’t they have done it by now?’

  Flora breathed. ‘Yes, maybe, but… Caroline, I’ve been thinking… Unless there’s some sort of miracle with the appeal – and let’s face it, that’s not going to happen. The evidence against me is just too strong.’ She breathed again. ‘I’m going to be in here for at least ten years. Beckie – She’s cut herself off from me anyway. Even if I did get out… She’s happy with you.’

  She was pressing the receiver so hard against her ear it was aching. She concentrated on that as some detached part of her brain sent the words into her mouth: ‘I’d like you to adopt her.’

  ‘Oh, but Flora –’

  ‘I want you to adopt her and move away. As far away as possible.’

  Carly comes up the road pushing the buggy. Bekki’s dawdling behind, fucking adorable in her wee red puffer jacket. That snobby fucking school maybe can make the weans wear the school fucking skirt and jumper and tie, but I goes to Bekki in TK Maxx, I goes, ‘You get whatever jacket you want, Bekki, they can’t touch you for it.’

  I get back from the windae and point the remote at the TV, and I channel surf until I get Tracy Beaker, and then I fold up the Mirror and push it down behind one of the cushions on the settee, but with Flora’s face just keeking out, like I’ve tried to hide it, so I have, but in too much a fucking hurry.

  ‘Well then, Bekki,’ I goes when they’re in the door, ‘how was school today?’

  She shrugs her wee shoulders.

  She’s been that depressed, poor wee soul, since the conviction. Sentencing was three days ago and the bitch got twelve year, but we’re making out to Bekki that it’s all fine, Flora’s gonnae appeal and she’ll be let go and then maybe she’ll come and get Bekki.

  ‘You wanting a juice and a bit of Battenberg? Or a wee piece of fruit? The fire’s on in the lounge, it’s all cosy in there and your programme’s on. In you go and relax, eh? What’re you wanting?’

  ‘Can I have Fanta?’

  ‘Course you can. Fanta and what all else?’

  ‘Crisps?’

  ‘Prawn cocktail or pickled onion?’

  ‘Pickled onion, please.’

  When Bekki’s in the lounge, I goes to Carly: ‘Right you, get that Fanta and crisps.’ And I keek through the crack in the door. Bekki’s got her wee slippers off and her feet up on the settee. And now she’s pulling the cushion away and she’s got the Mirror out and I can hear the poor wee bairn going, ‘Oh!’

  And she’s reading all about it.

  And my heart’s breaking for her so it is.

  Now she’s got it open to where the story continues on page five, and here’s Carly with the Fanta and crisps. I grab them off of her. I leave it a bit and then I’m breezing in the lounge, all cheery.

  ‘Here you go, Bekster.’ And then I’m: ‘Oh, Bekki –’ And I’m putting the glass of Fanta and the crisps down on the coffee table and grabbing the paper off of her.

  Bekki’s jumping up from the settee. Her wee face is white as a ghost. ‘It says – it says Mum… There was this girl called Tricia Fisher that Mum was friends with when she was twelve, and Mum… Mum killed her. That’s not true, is it? She didn’t really kill Dad and she didn’t really kill that girl either.’

  I puff. ‘I’m sorry, Bekki. I never meant you to see that.’ I fold up the paper. The headline’s barry:

  Flora Parry was Child Killer

  It’s all coming out now, eh, they couldnae report on her previous conviction until the sentencing and that, but now it’s all over the fucking press.

  ‘It’s not true.’

  I get my arse on that settee and pull her down next me. I smooth her hair where it’s coming out the French braid. ‘Sweetheart… You’re going to have to be a really brave girl, okay? Because there’s some things I have to tell you.’

  Bekki’s no leaning in. She’s sitting there twisting the wee bracelet she got from Connor for her Christmas, made of lemurs all pulling each other’s stripy wee tails.

  ‘Flora… Last time I saw her, she told me… I’m sorry, sweetheart… Just remember that I’m always going to look after you, I love you to bits and nothing bad’s going to happen to you, okay?’

  She’s biting her lip.

  ‘I wish I didn’t have to tell you this, but… You have to know.’

  She’s nodding. The wee soldier.

  ‘Flora told me she killed Neil.’

  Bekki’s shaking her head. ‘No. That’s not true. Why would she say that?’

  ‘She didn’t mean to do it. She says they were arguing, and she just snapped.’

  Bekki’s going, ‘No.’

  I grab her hand. ‘Bekki, you’re going to have to be really brave… I wasn’t sure whether to tell you this or not, but I think it’s important to know the truth, isn’t it?’

  She swallows and whispers: ‘Yes?’

  ‘They were arguing about you. Flora wanted to give you back to the Johnsons, and Neil didn’t.’

  Bekki doesnae say nothing. She doesnae look at me.

  I go to coory her but she pulls away.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Bekki. I didn’t believe it either when Flora told me, but the more I think about it… Well, the police are sure she killed him, and the jury were as well, and there had to be a motive, eh?’

  ‘But she didn’t kill him.’

  ‘Aw sweetheart. She’s been convicted, after all those smart people sifted through the evidence for months and months, you know? The justice system in this country, Bekki, the way it works, anyone who’s really innocent isn’t going to get convicted, or hardly ever.’

  ‘But sometimes.’

  ‘Aye,’ I puff, ‘but Flora told me she did it.’ I’m no gonnae lose it with the wean. It’s only natural, eh, that she’s in denial. ‘That appeal, sweetheart – that’s not going to work out. Flora’s going to be in that jail for ten years at least. You’re going to be nineteen years old by the time she gets out of there, and Bekki, I’m not going to lie to you, I’m not confident she’s going to want to see you when she does get out. She kept going on about how you weren’t hers. How you weren’t her real daughter.’

  Bekki’s wee finger is stroking they lemurs.

  I coory her. ‘But don’t you worry, sweetheart, don’t you worry, because I’m here for you. I love you to bits. We all of us love you to bits. And there’s one good thing Flora said.’

  Bekki flicks her eyes at me.

  ‘She said I can adopt you if I want. And I’d be that made up if I could, sweetheart, if you could be part of this family that would be wonderful, wouldn’t it?’

  Bekki doesnae say nothing.

  I pat her wee leg. ‘You have your Fanta and crisps, eh, and watch your programme.’

  And then I leave her be. Comes round six o’clock, Connor’s back from his shift and he’s feeding wee Willow in her high chair in the kitchen, and Willow’s girning away and I cannae blame her, wee soul, Connor boils up carrot and sweet potato and that and purees it for the wean and it’s pure boggin’ so it is. And now here’s wee Bekki giving it, ‘On the internet it says there was this little boy called Nathan and his mum died and the mum’s best friend wanted to adopt him but they didn’t let her. They might not let you adopt me.’

  She’s standing there so straight, God love her, like she’s gonnae be a brave lassie, and she’s breaking my fucking heart.

  ‘
Bekki, it’s okay, no one’s going to take you away from me. Now, I’m going tell you a secret, right, but it’s really important you don’t tell anyone, not Mia or Edith when you’re Skyping them, right, and not anyone else?’

  ‘Aw Christ Maw,’ goes Connor.

  ‘It’s okay son, it’s time. Right, Bekki?’

  She’s nodding.

  ‘My real name’s not Caroline Turnbull. It’s Lorraine Johnson, and I’m your nana.’ I can hardly get the fucking words out I’m that choked up. ‘I’m your grandma, sweetheart, and you’re our wee lassie that was lost and that we love to bits, and now you’re back safe and sound, eh, and no one’s ever gonnae take you away again.’

  Bekki’s giving it rabbit in headlights. ‘You’re – you’re the Johnsons?’

  ‘Aye, Bekki.’

  ‘But you can’t be. You’re Caroline.’

  ‘That’s not my real name.’

  And she’s running, she’s out the room and in the lounge and she’s snatching up Connor’s phone, she’s going, ‘I’m calling the police!’ and I’m grabbing the phone and going, ‘You call the polis and they’ll put you in a children’s home, and bad things happen to kids in children’s homes, Bekki, real bad things. I don’t want you going in one of they places. If you don’t want to stay with us, you can go and live with someone else, maybe a friend of Flora’s or a relative – as long as they’re nice, as long as you’re happy, I’m not caring. But I’m not having the polis taking you to a children’s home. I’m not having you put in care like that wee boy Nathan, because kids in care get hurt. That’s a fact.’

  Bekki’s gulping.

  ‘Okay, you don’t want to stay here, that’s fine. You’re breaking our hearts, but we just want what’s gonnae make you happy, Bekki, and that’s the honest truth.’ I hold out the phone to her. ‘Go ahead and call whoever you like, sweetheart, but not the polis because they’ll take you to a children’s home.’

  She just stares at the phone. She doesnae take it.

  ‘You can’t be the Johnsons,’ she goes. ‘How can you be my grandma? You’re not old.’

  I’ve got out a tissue and I’m wiping at my face. I give a wee chuckle. ‘Thanks Bekster, but I’m forty-two years old. Willow’s my wee granddaughter, eh? And so are you. I was young when I had my kids, right enough, but I’m your nana. Eh Connor?’

  Connor’s standing by the door with a face on him. ‘Aye, Bekki, Maw was just a lassie, fifteen year old, when she had your maw and R–’

  ‘That’s right,’ I goes before he can say it. It’s been hard enough for Bekki getting her wee head round Carly and Connor being my weans, and now she’s hearing I’m her nana? She doesnae need Ryan and Travis in the mix. No yet.

  ‘The Johnsons are bad people,’ she goes again.

  ‘Is that right?’ I give her a wee smile. ‘When you thought my name was Caroline, did you think I was a bad person? I thought you and me were pals.’

  Bekki bites her wee lip.

  ‘Do you think Connor’s a bad person?’

  She looks at Connor. Then she whispers: ‘No.’

  ‘What about Carly and Willow?’

  ‘No!’ Bekki’s greeting. ‘You’re not bad, but those men – those men who tried to snatch me, who followed us in the street…’

  ‘They didn’t try to snatch you. Jed – he’s my husband. He’s your granda. He’s got mental problems, like I said. He’s got depression. He didn’t mean to scare you, just like Edith’s mum didn’t mean to not give her enough to eat.’

  She takes in a massive breath and goes, ‘I want to go home. I want Mum.’

  Fucking hell.

  ‘Home, is it?’ I puff. ‘This is your home, sweetheart, and we’re your real family that loves you, right? Not Flora. Aye, it’s gonnae be weird at first, but you and me and Connor and Carly and wee Willow, we’re going to have a magic time. But you can’t tell anyone about this, aye, especially not the police and not social workers, or you’ll maybe get taken off of us and put in care.’

  ‘Aw Christ Maw –’

  ‘She needs to hear it like it is, son. Kids in care get treated like shite.’

  Bekki goes, ‘Is human resources even your job?’

  What the fuck has that got to do with it?

  But I dinnae lose it with the poor wee bairn. ‘Not exactly, unless you count this lot as either human or any sort of resource, eh? But – okay so my name’s not Caroline, but everything else about me – except the human resources shite – that’s me, Bekki. I’ve not been putting on an act or nothing.’

  ‘But you even speak differently now.’

  I puff. Right enough, it’s no easy being Caroline now I’m back with my weans and they’re pushing my fucking buttons. ‘It’s what’s on the inside counts, eh? And what’s inside is that I love you to bits. When you were wee – you won’t remember, but me and you, we were that close. Eh Connor? Bekki was my wee princess, eh?’

  ‘Aye,’ goes Connor. He goes and puts his arm round Bekki. ‘You were our wee princess right enough.’

  ‘Still are, sweetheart. You still are.’

  ‘I want to talk to my mum. I don’t believe you. I’m going to the prison to see her and you can’t stop me.’ And she’s out the door.

  ‘Right son, here we go.’

  Connor’s giving me evils.

  ‘Right son?’

  ‘Aye.’

  I’m after her. ‘Bekki. Bekki!’

  She’s putting on the puffer jacket, her wee face that determined.

  The bairn’s something else so she is.

  ‘They don’t let kids in the prison unless they’re accompanied by an adult.’

  ‘Connor can come with me. We can get the bus. I can use my savings to get the bus tickets.’

  Connor’s got a right face on him.

  ‘That’s not happening,’ I goes.

  ‘You can’t stop us,’ goes Bekki.

  ‘If she wants to go, we should take her,’ goes Connor, finally.

  ‘Aye, and have her end up traumatised?’

  ‘I won’t be traumatised. If you don’t take me, I’m going to go to Edith’s and get Edith’s mum to come with me.’

  Bairns!

  I says, ‘Even if you’re with an adult, they won’t let you in the prison when you get there, because the prisoner has to be the one sets up the visit, not the visitor.’

  I’m giving Connor evils.

  The wee diddy’s gone and forgot the fucking script.

  ‘They won’t let you in the prison,’ I goes again, and I’m half turning towards the drawer in the hall table where the letter’s been put.

  ‘Aye,’ he goes, finally, ‘that’s right enough, eh? But you could give Bekki that letter Flora wrote her, eh Maw? And Bekki could write her back?’

  I puff, like this is the last thing I’m wanting to hear.

  ‘Eh Maw?’

  ‘A letter?’ Bekki’s eyeballing me.

  ‘Yes, Flora wrote you a letter, and I haven’t opened it, I don’t know what it says, but I don’t think… She’s not in a good place, Bekki, and I don’t think there’s going to be anything good in it.’

  ‘I want to see it! I want to see that letter now. Please.’

  ‘It’s best you don’t. It’s only going to break your wee heart, sweetheart.’

  ‘No it’s not. I want to read it. Where is it?’

  I’m no saying.

  ‘Please, Caroline.’

  ‘You have to call me Nana now, Bekki.’

  She takes a breath. ‘Please, Nana.’

  I’m choking up. ‘Bekki, darlin’, I can’t let you put yourself through it. I can’t let you do it. I’m not letting you do it to yourself.’ And I get my arse up that stair and in my room with the door shut. Connor better fucking step up to the plate or so help me I’ll swing for the boy. When I was typing the letter he kept giving it ‘That’s well harsh’ and ‘Naw Maw, you cannae’ and I was ‘That bitch’s been turning Bekki against her own fucking family, her own fucking fa
mily that loves her to bits, for seven fucking year, bad-mouthing us and making her feart of us like we’re fucking mentalists, seven fucking year, son, so dinnae you start, dinnae you fucking start on what I can and cannae do, right?’

  Letter’s a belter.

  Dear Beckie

  I’m sorry, darling, but I think it’s for the best that we don’t have any contact. You’re safe and happy with Caroline, and it’s better for both of us if you just accept that this is your new life now. I’m sure you’re having lots of fun.

  I tried to be a good mum to you, but the truth is that it didn’t come naturally to me. I think nature has a way of deciding who should and shouldn’t be a mum – Dad would agree about that, wouldn’t he? And it wasn’t right that we took you away from your real family, and I think we always knew that, and that’s why Dad and I argued so much about you.

  I’ve come to realise that you’re better off with your real family – Caroline has told me who she really is, and although I was shocked at first, it’s all making sense now. It’s making sense why she had an immediate connection with you that I never had. She’s your real family and you’ll be happier with her than you ever were with me. It’s just going to take time to get used to it. Remember when we had to move to Edinburgh? At first you were really sad, but soon you got used to it and everything was fine, wasn’t it?

  It’s not as if we were ever a proper family. I know that and I think you do too.

  You have to be a brave girl and try your hardest to be happy. I think it’ll be easier for us all if you don’t try to make contact with me again. I’m not a good person, Beckie, and I never have been. I get so angry – I don’t know why. I did some terrible things when I was younger. And worst of all, I killed poor Dad. The prison doctor who’s been trying to work out why I did it says that the strain of looking after someone else’s child, when I’m not a natural mum, was probably what pushed me over the edge.