by Pat Young
‘It is.’
‘Could ye no take us? Ma nana went on a trip wan time. She said it wiz, like, pure beautiful.’
‘Your nana was right.’ Joe took a deep breath and decided now was as good a time as any. ‘Lads, there’s something I need to tell you.’
‘The Big Man’s gonnae take us tae Arran,’ said Smithy.
‘Gonnae shut up and let Big Joe talk?’
Joe could hardly bear to look at them. He thought of the line from a song he loved - I started out with nothing and I still got most of it left. Now he was having to take something from kids who had nothing.
Dykesy prompted him, ‘What is it, Big Man? Ye’re no leavin, are ye?’
The other boys picked up on it. ‘Aw no, don’t, Sur.’ Then one of the boys started a football chant, and the others joined in. ‘One Joe Docherty. There’s only One Joe Docherty.’
Joe couldn’t help smiling. He shook his head. No, he wasn’t leaving. At least not yet. Joe let them sing, enjoying the moment. When they finished, his eyes were filled with tears. He was turning into a right softie since Sally died.
Joe decided these boys would get their trip to Arran. Even if he had to pay every penny himself. They deserved it.
The lump in his throat made it hard to swallow and Joe barely tasted his sandwiches. All he could think about was the news he was due to deliver and the effect it would have. When every scrap of food had gone and the last dregs had been poured from Liam’s Thermos, Joe said, ‘Listen up, lads. I’ve got good news and bad news.’
He looked at the expectant faces, some gaunt with poverty, Sluggo’s fat and childish, Dykesy’s streetwise beyond his years. What shone from every face was the trust they had in him.
‘Okay,’ he hesitated, ‘the good news is … I’m gonna take you lot to Arran for a day. My treat. I’m paying.’
When the cheering died down, Liam asked, ‘Sur, whit’s the bad news?’
***
CHAPTER 24
David came into the kitchen dangling a bunch of keys from his pinkie, looking as if he’d found the Holy Grail. ‘Got them,’ he said, stating the dazzlingly obvious. ‘Right, I’ll be off. I should be back about five.’ He stood at her side, like Chance, and waited for her to respond.
‘Okay, bye,’ she said, staring at the newspaper. When she sensed he hadn’t moved, she looked up.
‘Kiss?’ he suggested.
She offered her cheek and he plopped a wet kiss on it. Something inside her shuddered but she pinned on a smile. ‘Bye then.’
Still he didn’t go. What was the man waiting for?
‘Could you take my dinner suit to the dry cleaners, if you’ve nothing else to do? I need it for the Gentlemen’s Dinner on Friday night, remember?’
‘As you so rightly say, I’ve nothing else to do. Yes, I’ll see to it.’
‘You meeting Sheila?
‘Might be.’
‘Righty-oh. Have a good day.’
Chance came and sat at her feet, then laid his head on her knee. Raising his fluffy eyebrows, he looked straight into her eyes. She leaned over and kissed him on the nose, with considerably more affection than she had managed for her husband.
Joe answered on the third ring.
‘Joe, it’s Marty. Did you get my email?’
‘Oh hi, good morning to you too.’
‘Sorry. Good morning. And sorry to ring so early. I wasn’t sure you’d be up.’
‘Not only up, but been for my run.’
‘Impressive.’ Marty relaxed, pleased that there didn’t seem to be any tension between them. ‘Have you had time to look at the Herald this morning?’
‘No, I was about to sit down with a coffee and have a read.’
‘Look at page four.’
Marty could hear the sound of pages turning. ‘Do you see it?’
‘Head-teacher’s suicide blamed on inspectors. Is that what you mean?’ He read aloud, ‘Elizabeth Douglas was found dead at her home three weeks ago. Miss Douglas, who lived alone, was Head-teacher at Cadenhead Primary School, where pupils and teachers have been offered bereavement counselling. One pupil, Shevonne Haggerty, described Miss Douglas as ‘a lovely lady, like a granny but more brainy’ and Facebook messages echoed her sentiments: ‘To the best teechir ever. RIP Mrs Douglas. We will never forget you.’ There is speculation in the community that Miss Douglas feared the school was due to undergo a full inspection in the near future but a spokesman for the local authority would not confirm this. The school was last inspected four years ago when inspectors identified the following key strengths: the high quality of leadership provided by the head-teacher, Miss Douglas, and the strong partnerships with parents and the community. A spokesperson for the main teachers’ Union said that teachers and head-teachers are under more pressure than at any time in the profession’s history. She declined to comment on individual cases.’
Joe stopped reading and Marty held her breath, waiting to see what he would say next. In the silence she heard him sigh. Then he said one word, ‘And?’
‘I know about this woman, Joe. She was a force for good. She was building bridges over the sectarian divide that blights this part of the world. She believed we need to start when children are young, before the bigots poison their minds.’
‘And?’
Marty swore she could feel her blood pressure rising and her patience dwindling. ‘And Smeaton didn’t seem to recognise any of the good she was doing. Instead he was constantly hounding her to stop parents parking on the zigzags, make sure the school buses didn’t keep their engines running - crap like that. He failed to back her up against ignorant parents who kicked up hell because their out of control kids weren’t allowed to behave like thugs in the playground. Sheila told me one man was even running a smear campaign on Facebook. What did Smeaton do to help? Nothing. Just his usual ‘No smoke without fire’ routine that we’ve all heard. He threatened her with the inspectors. That was the straw that broke poor Liz’s back.’
Joe said nothing.
‘Joe, are you there?’
‘Yes, I’m listening. Marty, did you phone me up to ask me if I’d seen this article?’
She took another precarious step over the ice. ‘I phoned you up to ask if you’ll help me stop this man.’
‘Stop him how, Marty?’
‘I haven’t worked that bit out yet, but someone has to do something before he wrecks any more lives. I thought I could count on you.’
‘Don’t think so, Marty. I really don’t need the hassle, to be honest. You’ll have to find someone else to join you on your mission.’
***
CHAPTER 25
Joe was thinking he should have stuck to his guns and was wondering if he should leave before Marty got there, when he saw the dog. Chance was prancing on skinny, ballet dancer’s legs around the edge of the pond. He stopped beside a group of small children who were feeding the ducks. Close enough to have a nosy at what they were doing, but not close enough to scare them. Joe heard a voice say, ‘Doggy, Mummy.’
‘Yes, he’s a nice doggy, isn’t he?’
Chance appeared to take the words as a compliment. As Joe watched, the dog sat and offered a delicate paw in acknowledgement.
Then two things happened at the same time. Marty appeared on the scene and Chance dived into the pond after a piece of bread. Ducks scattered in all directions, honking their outrage. A little girl took fright and started screaming and another mummy grabbed her toddler and clutched him to her chest. When Marty called his name, Chance bounded to her side and shook the water from his coat, spraying everyone within wetting distance.
Marty spotted Joe, probably heard him laughing. Together they found a table at the café and sat down. Chance, now on a lead, skulked under Marty’s chair, his eyebrows twitching as he tried to work out what he’d done wrong this time.
‘Poor Chance,’ Joe said.
‘Poor Chance? He’ll be the death of me, this dog.’
‘Sure you’re okay to sit
outside? It’s cool but quite nice in the sun.’
‘Might as well make the most of it, while it lasts. And we won’t be overheard out here.’
A young waitress brought their coffee and Marty took a sip, put the mug down and said, ‘Thanks for agreeing to meet me, Joe.’
‘Against my better judgment, by the way. I almost did a runner before Chance distracted me.’
With her voice lowered, Marty said, ‘Okay, I’m going to cut to the chase. Here’s the plan. We abduct him.’
‘Abduct, as in kidnap?’
‘Yes. Kidnap and frighten the living daylights out of him. Can you think of a better way to take revenge?’
Actually he could, but said nothing.
‘It’s still vague,’ she admitted.
‘It’s not just vague, Marty, it’s crazy,’ he said. ‘It won’t work.’
‘Oh, it’ll work alright. I’ll make it work and once we get the right people to join us, we’ll have assembled so much talent, we can’t fail.’
Joe tore the top off three little sugar sachets and emptied them into his coffee. ‘This is a pretty outrageous thing you’re suggesting. How do you plan to get these “right people” on board? What if you approach the wrong person and they go to the police?’
Marty looked around, as if checking for eavesdroppers, but the mid-afternoon buzz was over. ‘I’ve thought about that. And you’re right, we can’t say to any random punter, “Hey, we’ve got this great idea. We’re not entirely sure it’s legal, but hey-ho, are you in anyway?”’
Joe snorted and said, in a low voice, ‘Not sure it’s legal? I’m damned sure it’s il-legal. Very illegal.’
‘Yeah, but we don’t need to tell folk the whole plan right away, do we? Not until we’re sure they are rock-solid dependable.’
‘What whole plan? You’ve not even got half a plan, it seems to me.’
Joe shook his head again. This was the last thing he needed. To get involved in some madcap scheme when he had enough life-changing plans of his own to worry about. He had mapped out the future and there was no place in it for this crazy woman and her scheming, no matter how easy she made it sound. ‘Like they say on Dragon’s Den, “it’s an interesting project, but I’m not investing. I’m out.” Sorry, Marty.’
‘Please don’t say no without taking some time to think about it.’
‘Okay, I’ve thought about it. No.’
‘Joe, we can’t let him get away with hurting any more people. Not when we have the power to do something.’
‘That’s just the thing. We don’t have any power.’ He told her about his attempt to whistle-blow and how badly it had ended.
‘Just because that didn’t work doesn’t mean to say we can’t try something else.’
‘This is personal for you, Marty.’
‘Of course it’s personal,’ she said, her voice rising indignantly. ‘How much more personal can you get than depriving someone of their livelihood, their reason for getting up in the morning, their persona, their role in society, their usefulness. How can it not be fucking personal?’
Joe heard someone tutting and looked round. A white-haired couple at a nearby table glared at Marty, making evident their disapproval of her bad language. He turned back to Marty and raised his eyebrows at her.
‘Sorry,’ she muttered, her eyes on the coffee dregs she’d been stirring for ten minutes, ‘but no wonder. It’s enough to make anyone swear.’ When she looked up at him, he could see she was disappointed in his lack of enthusiasm for her plan. ‘Will you at least give it some thought?’ she said. ‘I need your help.’
‘Sorry, Marty. The answer’s no. And I don’t think you should contact me again.’
***
CHAPTER 26
The boys’ reaction to Joe’s bad news had been as anticipated. Not the real bad news that the bothy was shutting. He didn’t have the heart to drop that bombshell. He’d chickened out of that one.
Instead he told them that outdoor activities were to be limited from now on.
The boys had groaned. When he told them they had to complete five indoor sessions to merit one outdoors, the groans had turned to curses and expletives.
‘Nae chance!’ said Dykesy. ‘Sittin in a classroom? No fuckin way, man.’
So Joe did not expect a good turn out today. The first indoor session.
When nobody had turned up by half past eleven he was about to give up and leave. He was packing up the handouts he’d prepared when he heard voices in the corridor.
Dykesy was dragging TJ by the arm. ‘M’oan, TJ.’
Joe sighed. Only two boys, and half an hour late. The project was doomed if this was to be a typical turnout. Smeaton would win an easy victory. There would be no boys to take to the bothy and therefore no reason to keep it open.
Dykesy, as usual, appeared to be spokesman. TJ stood behind, his head hanging as he picked at a scab on his hand.
‘Sur, TJ needs tae talk.’ Punching the other boy on the arm, he said gently, ‘G’oan, TJ, tell the big man whit happened.’
TJ shook his lowered head and said nothing.
‘Ye need tae, TJ, and ye’ll have tae dae it quick.’
Still TJ said nothing.
‘Don’t be a dobber, TJ. Sur’s your only chance. Ask him.’
‘Ask me what?’
‘He needs yer help, Sur. Big time. TJ, ah’ll wait outside. Aw right, mate?’
‘Come on, TJ,’ said Joe. He touched the boy’s elbow. ‘Let’s sit down and you can tell me what’s troubling you.’
‘Ah stabbed a guy.’
Joe hoped he had heard wrong. ‘What did you say?’
As if it had taken all his energy to say it once, TJ shook his head, then blurted, ‘Last night. Ah stabbed a guy.’
Joe laughed nervously and TJ’s head jerked up. The boy’s eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot with crying. This was no joke.
‘Ah owed him money. For drugs. Ah’m clean noo but ah still owed the basturt an he wouldnae let it go. Tells me tae meet him last night an when ah turn up without the cash, he pulls a knife on me.’
The boy started to sob, then sniffed loudly and swiped his hand across his face. ‘Ah never meant for it tae happen, Sur, ah swear oan ma mammy’s grave. Ah wis jist defendin masel an the next thing the knife’s in his neck. Ah don’t even ken whit happened. Ah swear tae God. It wis that fast.’
‘What did you do?’
TJ looked as if Joe had just asked the world’s most stupid question.
‘Ah legged it. Whit else could ah dae?’
Joe chewed his lip.
‘Sur, will ye help me? Please?’
TJ looked about five years old, pleading, but without hope, as if he knew he was asking too much.
‘TJ, your fingerprints will be on the knife.’
‘Naw, ah hud ma gloves oan. It wis pure baltic last night.’
He held out his hands in their cheap knitted gloves. The left one had a slash and the right a stain that could have been blood or ketchup. Joe’s forensic experience was too limited to tell.
‘Don’t you think you should maybe get rid of the gloves?’
The boy looked down at his hands in horror. ‘Aye. Goadsake, man.’ He stripped off the gloves and stuffed them in his pocket.
‘Give them to me. I’ll dispose of them. What about the rest of your clothes?’
‘Dykesy got rid. We forgot the gloves.’ He shook his head as if he could not believe their stupidity.
Joe said, with genuine sadness, ‘I don’t see what else I can do to help, TJ. I’m sorry.’
‘Ma alibi.’
‘What?’
‘Ma alibi. Dykesy says you could be ma alibi. You an’ him.’
‘How, son? How can I be your alibi?’
‘Jist say ah wis wi’ you last night. Up at the bothy. You, me and TJ.’
Joe thought about it. It was crazy. But it wasn’t impossible.
‘Did anybody see you last night?’
‘Naw, jist ma da
an’ he wis aff his face oan cheap voddie.’
‘Will he remember?’
‘Nae chance, he wis passed oot.’
Joe’s head was buzzing. This was exactly the kind of situation he’d warned Smeaton about. This was what happened when kids with no hope got involved with drugs. Why couldn’t Smeaton see that?
Joe knew he should tell this lad to go to the police, or call them himself.
‘Maybe you should own up, TJ.’
The boy looked as desperate as a drowning pup. And about as vulnerable. ‘Ah telt Dykesy this wis a mental idea. I said you’d have to go straight tae the cops.’
‘I won’t TJ, I promise you.’ Joe’s hand went to his heart. ‘But I can’t give you an alibi.’
The kid got to his feet and sent Joe a quick, apologetic smile. ‘Sorry, Sur. It was stupid tae ask.’
As TJ slouched to the door like a condemned man, Joe battled his conscience.
‘Wait!’ he called, just before the door swung shut.
The boy turned back, tears rolling down his face. ‘What?’
‘Tell Dykesy to come in. We need to get our stories straight.
***
CHAPTER 27
Her number was still in his phone. She answered immediately. As if she’d been waiting.
‘Joe?’ she said.
‘I’d like to hear more about this revenge plan of yours.’
‘Are you in?’
‘Might be.’
‘What made you change your mind?’
‘Circumstances you don’t need to know about. Suffice it to say, I fear for those boys of mine if that bothy gets taken away from them. Who else is involved?’
‘At this stage, only Sheila.’
‘Who’s Sheila?’
‘Someone I can trust who has a very good reason to be on board. Remember Liz Douglas?’
‘That woman who committed suicide?’
‘Yes. Sheila was her closest friend. She found Liz’s body. Can you imagine? Thing is, she hoped something good might come out of the tragedy, that Smeaton would realise how much damage he has caused and back off council staff.’