The Quiet Ones
Page 27
She made her way back up the stairs and through the double doors that led onto the main corridor. The lecture theatre at the end faced north. It was her favourite; the light was always so blue, with little shadow cast throughout the day. She eased a crick in her neck as she walked slowly, allowing the few stragglers to get to class before she did. Her students knew by now she did not suffer fools gladly, and latecomers were more than aware of her ‘three strikes and you’re out’ policy.
Tiredness tugged at the corners of her eyes. These last few weeks had taken their toll, but it was getting better, as she’d known it would. For the first two weeks sleep had been a luxury denied to her. Nights had been spent pacing the floor, begging for the relief morning could bring. Even closing her eyes for a moment had brought back the memory of his dying breath. His sobs as he’d begged for mercy. The smells as he’d lost vital control towards the end. But slowly that had been replaced by his last words. She knew now what it felt like to die. Or at least what Harry Nugent had felt as he was dying. He’d felt scared, she’d known that even without him uttering a word. But once he’d accepted that there was no way out, he’d seemed to surrender himself. He’d taken several minutes to pass out. That must have seemed like a lifetime to a dying man. All the while, she’d held the knife close to his groin, the tip piercing the soft fabric of his chinos, edging its way closer to his balls as he’d given in to her demands to narrate his dying thoughts. He’d known that at any time she could have cut the rope around his neck, but that would have been worse. For then he truly would have died in agony. This way, it had been more peaceful.
She made her way along the corridor, only vaguely aware of the colourful posters crammed onto the noticeboards at either side. She paused for a few seconds before entering the lecture theatre. A quiet sense of calm had descended on the corridor and she took a deep breath, allowing her thoughts about Harry Nugent to subside.
She’d thought that killing him would solve her nightmares of the past two decades. The agony of not knowing what her darling Hannah had felt in the last few hours of her life had haunted her every waking moment. Had her baby known that the cold would seep in and take her life as she fell into a final sleep? Vivienne wrapped her arms instinctively around her stomach and remembered those precious months before Hannah was born. Those beautiful moments when it had been just the two of them inside one body. When her baby had been snuggled up in her womb. Where she’d kept her safe. Had Hannah cried out for her in those last few moments?
The thought of her daughter’s final cries had haunted Vivienne for over two decades. Images of her final moments replayed in her imagination. Each image growing more painful as time had worn on. Then when she’d discovered what had happened to her daughter a new nightmare had emerged. One where Hannah was begging for mercy. Crying out for her as those men abused her.
Now those nightmares were slowly being replaced with the final cries of Harry Nugent. Her memory as she watched him take his final steps, remembering how he lowered himself from the balcony. Too terrified to jump. Clinging onto the edge with his fingertips before his strength gave way to his body weight and he finally fell, dangling by the rope around his neck. That was what filled her nightmares now. But at least they were of a different sort. At least now they weren’t of Hannah, and for the first time in a long time Vivienne Gray felt her daughter was at rest.
Author’s Note
In September 2018, I had just starting on this book when I got chatting to a Glasgow taxi driver. On the short journey into town, David Gordon told me he’d been a promising young footballer in his day, but tragically his career had been cut short – he’d been abused by his coach, turning his whole world upside down. Four decades later he can still recall every detail.
Jim Torbett was jailed for two years in 1998 – David’s testimony along with the other boys helped put Torbett behind bars. It also encouraged others to come forward and in November 2018 Torbett was jailed for a further six years.
The characters and storyline in this book are totally fictitious. David’s generosity in sharing his experience with me helped shape part of that story – but it is entirely fictitious.
Thank you, David.
Acknowledgements
As ever this book is a team effort.
First and foremost my husband, Jeremy Fellick – for his love, enthusiasm and lack of grumpiness.
Everyone at Team Aria, especially Hannah Smith, Vicky Joss, Sue Lamprell and Rose Fox – and not forgetting my lovely agent Nicola Barr. They all deserve a huge hug – but would probably rather champagne!
A whole host of experts pitched in: D.I. Dougie McKinlay (retired), Crime Scene Manager of Strathclyde’s finest; Chief Superintendent Stewart Carle; Dr Margaret Balsitis and Andrew MacLeod. Their collective expertise ensured I didn’t look like too much of an eejit – any ‘errors’ are down to my poetic/dramatic licence. (I’m an author – I make stuff up.)
While I’m on the subject – I used a bit of leeway here & there. The old Glasgow city mortuary is no longer on Saltmarket St and although Strathclyde Police is now part of Police Scotland there’s no equivalent term for ‘Strathclyde’s Finest.’ But coorie IS a word, and a close is the common entrance to a block of tenements.
Fellow writers who’ve supported me – too many to mention – but Shari Low, Denzil Meyrick and early readers Douglas Skelton and Brian Hannan deserve a special thumbs-up.
Sandy Murray who let me use his name and didn’t mind being described as grumpy.
Every reader, blogger, bookseller, librarian – anyone who loves books enough to breathe life into characters and make this all worthwhile.
And a very special thank you to David Gordon, a lovely man who shared his story with such quiet dignity.
About The Author
Theresa Talbot is a BBC broadcaster and freelance producer. A former radio news editor, she also hosted The Beechgrove Potting Shed on BBC Radio Scotland, but for many she will be most familiar as the voice of the station’s Traffic & Travel. Late 2014 saw the publication of her first book, This Is What I Look Like, a humorous memoir covering everything from working with Andy Williams to rescuing chickens and discovering nuns hidden in gardens. She's much in demand at book festivals, both as an author and as a chairperson. The Lost Children was Theresa’s debut crime novel.
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