by Pat Young
‘And?’
‘Well, has he?’
‘Not that I can see. He’s still hounding me about the bothy. I’m sick of it.’
‘You’re not the only one he’s still bullying, according to Sheila. I’m sure we don’t know the half of it.’
‘So Sheila’s in. Anyone else in mind?’
‘There are a few people I know whose lives he has made hell. Remember that lovely guy he appointed to Castledene Academy? Great depute head but no way was he up to the responsibility of running a big secondary school, but Smeaton gave him the job. Everyone said it was a political appointment, a puppet for Smeaton to control and hold up to the rest of us as an example. Six months later, poor guy’s ill. He’s still off work so I was thinking of him. Another two of my former colleagues are off sick at the moment; they’ll have plenty of time on their hands.’
‘Hold it, off sick with what?’
‘Well Jimmy McCracken had a breakdown, caused by Smeaton’s interference in the way he ran his school. And Margaret Boyle has been treated for depression, I understand, due to work-related stress. They’re both good people, trustworthy.’
‘I know McCracken, he’s sound and I’m sure Ms Boyle is too, but I don’t think you should involve them, Marty. We need a team that is robust in mind and body.’
‘It’s not an expedition up the Amazon.’
‘Come on, don’t play games. If you’re going to do this, and if I’m going to get involved, it has to be organized as well as any Amazon expedition. In fact, better, because it needs to be kept secret. Plus, we’ll all get the jail if we’re caught. Don’t forget that.’
‘I take your point.’
‘Look, Marty, you, me and this Sheila. Why can’t we manage it on our own? The fewer folk we have involved the better.’
‘Three of us. Is that enough?’
‘It’s enough to get started and I’ve got the ideal place for us to have our first meeting. Can you and Sheila be on the road to the castle tonight at six? I’ll be in a very ancient Land Rover.’
*
It had been dark for almost two hours when Joe turned off the main road. Days were short at this time of the year.
Up ahead he could see the red tail lights of a car parked in one of the laybys. He slowed as he approached. The driver’s door opened and Marty stepped into his headlights, dressed for the hills.
‘Hi,’ he said. ‘Want to jump in the back?’
Another woman joined Marty in the back seat. He didn’t recognise her.
‘Joe, this is Sheila,’ was all Marty said. He could tell she was nervous.
‘I know Joe,’ said Sheila. ‘Don’t you help out with transport up at Bankside, bringing kids to the panto rehearsal?’
‘Yeah, sometimes, Big Sean talked me into it, but don’t let Smeaton know, for God’s sake. That’s strictly off the record. I pay for the diesel myself, by the way. In case you think I’m ripping off the council or anything.’
‘Well, thanks. It’s appreciated. Don’t suppose I could talk you into being in the chorus?’
‘I’ll sing to you for the rest of the journey and, trust me, you’ll wish you’d never asked that question.’ The tense atmosphere evaporated into laughter.
‘Bothy’s up here a couple of miles,’ said Joe. ‘Afraid the road gets a bit bumpy after a while.’
‘Won’t it look suspicious, us being here at this time of night?’
‘You wouldn’t want to leave your car in that layby too often, but nobody will bat an eyelid at this old girl heading for the bothy.’ He thumped the dashboard. ‘Very few people live up here and they’re used to me coming and going.’
The two women said nothing as the old Landy made its way along the side of the loch. A sliver of moon was just enough to scatter a line of sparkle across the surface. The distant city cast a pale orange glow to the sky that silhouetted the hills on the far side.
‘I’ve never been here before,’ said Sheila.
‘Then you’ve never lived.’
‘I didn’t even know Loch Etrin existed before the Moorcroft kids came to the bothy for Duke of Edinburgh expeditions,’ said Marty.
‘We’re lucky to have it,’ said Joe, then corrected himself. ‘We were lucky, I should say.’
‘It’s definitely going to shut?’
‘Yip. The great man has decreed.’
‘Right, ladies,’ said Joe, hauling on the handbrake. ‘Jump out, if you can get your doors to open. She’s a temperamental old bugger, this one.’ He leaned over and gave Marty’s door a thump and she got out.
Sheila took a deep breath. ‘Smell that air, Marty. It’s fresher than any air I ever breathed.’
‘That’s what the boys always say too. “Disnae smell like this in Bankie, Sur.” Pretty special, isn’t it?’ Joe unlocked the bothy and ushered them inside. He pulled the curtains across the little windows and hit the light switch.
‘Electricity,’ said Sheila.
‘What did you think? Candles? Oil lamps?’
The women laughed.
‘I can even make you a coffee, if you like. Though it’s powdered milk.’
‘I’ll pass,’ said Marty, taking a notepad and pencil out of her bag. She put them on the table and sat down.
‘Sheila?’ said Joe, holding up a plastic mug and a jar of instant coffee.
Sheila shook her head and took a seat next to Marty. ‘No, thanks.’ She cleared her throat. ‘I’m quite keen to get started actually. I want to know how I can help. I’m prepared to do anything,’ she said, turning towards Joe. ‘My best friend committed suicide, perhaps you heard? Liz Douglas?’
‘Yes, I heard, it’s tragic,’ said Joe, ‘and I’m very sorry for your loss, Sheila. I believe she was a fine woman.’
‘Thanks. Just so you know, I hold Smeaton one hundred per cent responsible for her death.’ Sheila’s lips trembled as she spoke. She clamped them tight, then made a brave attempt at a smile. ‘I don’t think he should get away with it.’
Joe saw the anger in her eyes and something else. Something strong that told him she was trustworthy. ‘He won’t. Don’t you worry.’
Marty said, ‘I think it would be a good idea to share our expectations. Shall I start?’
‘Go for it.’
‘I’m not sure how we go about it, yet, but I want to do something that makes Smeaton pay. Really pay for what he’s done. I need revenge. Pure and simple.’
‘Well,’ said Sheila, ‘I can understand, but for me, it’s got to be something that makes him realise what a bastard he’s been. Pardon my language.’
Marty spluttered with laughter. ‘Oh, Sheila, you’re priceless. You think that’s bad? You should hear what I call him.’
Sheila went on, ‘I think I’m so angry because what he’s doing to people is criminal, and yet he gets away with it.’
‘Some crimes, however evil, go unpunished.’
‘Because they’re unpunishable, it seems,’ said Sheila. ‘I’ve done my best. The law isn’t interested.’
‘I’m going to be completely honest here,’ said Joe.
‘I think we have to be.’
‘Revenge is what I’m after too. The man’s determined to take away the only thing those boys of mine have got going for them. You should have seen the faces on them when I broke the news the bothy was shutting and there was no money to run the bus or pay for outings.’
The others shook their heads in sympathy.
‘Would you believe some of them offered to get him beaten up for me? According to Dykesy, one phone call would sort it and our man will wake up in hospital.’
Sheila gasped. ‘Were you tempted?’
‘I’ve heard worse suggestions.’
Sheila said, ‘Revenge is kind of a powerful word. A bit scary, if I’m honest.’
Marty stared at her. ‘What did you have in mind, Sheila?’
‘As I say, I’d like to do something that would make him look at himself and the way he treats people. Something that w
ould make him change.’
Joe snorted. ‘Change? How do you make someone change who gets off on wrecking other folk’s lives? The man has no conscience whatsoever.’
‘Doesn’t everyone have a conscience?’
‘Not Smeaton. He’s had a conscience by-pass.’
‘Or he was born without one.’
‘You might be right,’ said Sheila. ‘I was called in to HQ yesterday. No warning, just a phone call from Carole to say whatever I had on, I’d to prioritise a meeting with Mr Smeaton.’
‘Did you go?’ asked Marty.
‘What do you think?’ Sheila gave her a look. ‘And you know what it was about?’
Joe said, ‘About him, likely. It usually is.’
‘You’re not far wrong. It was about my attitude. He doesn’t feel we’re “on the same page at the moment”. When I asked him what he meant by that, he accused me of being rude at the last primary heads’ meeting.’
‘What?’
‘Apparently, I didn’t make eye contact with him, I constantly looked at my phone or my iPad. I was making notes, by the way. Eventually he said my behaviour and body language had caused concern.’
‘Did you challenge him on it?’
‘Yes. He wasn’t pleased that I “didn’t engage with the discussions”. It seems I showed “a complete lack of respect” from start to finish.’
‘And there we have it,’ said Joe. ‘All about him.’
‘It was as if he was trying to goad me into a reaction. Tears, anger, I don’t know. But I would not give him the satisfaction. So he hit me where it hurt.’
Marty gasped. ‘He mentioned Liz?’
Sheila nodded slowly, her eyes filling.
‘Bastard,’ said Joe.
‘Said he’d been concerned about her mental health for some time. Had suggested she take a sabbatical, offered her support from Occupational Health etc. A bunch of lies.’
‘Covering his own arse.’
‘Of course he was. He mentioned what a pity it would be if my performance were to be compromised because of her death.’
‘What does he mean by that?’
‘It was a threat. Veiled, but still a threat. And it’s absolutely imperative that there should be nothing more about her “unfortunate demise” in the newspapers and certainly nothing that suggested a link with any officer of Logiemuir Council.’
‘Himself, in other words? How did you keep your hands off him?’
‘By sitting on them. Then he dismissed me.’ Sheila snapped her fingers in the air. ‘Like that. “You may go,” he said, like I was in the presence of royalty.’
‘The man’s lost the plot.’
‘You think? I was shaking with rage when I came out. Wee Carole took her lunchbreak early so she could take me over to The Tea Set to calm down. She knows exactly what he’s like. She sees the damage every day.’
‘We have to stop him,’ said Marty. ‘This bullying and harassment has gone too far.’
‘It won’t bring Liz back,’ said Sheila. ‘Or undo the damage he’s doing to dozens of good people. Half the primary heads are on some kind of anti-depressant, it seems. Or their health has broken down because of stress. These are good, professional people doing a difficult job.’
‘I know you don’t like the word revenge, Sheila, but that’s what they deserve and we’re the ones who are going to get it for them,’ said Marty. She held her hand in the air, palm out.
‘Sheila, are you in?’
Sheila slapped it. ‘I’m in.’
‘Joe?’
***
CHAPTER 28
Sheila took the calendar down from its hook in the kitchen and turned the page. A jolly snowman held up a banner wishing her a Merry Christmas. It would be here before she knew it. She noted a dental appointment and counted up the number of days till the end of term. She would be glad to get a break.
In the weeks since Liz’s funeral Sheila had been trying to get on with her life. She had treated herself to a new hairstyle and blown her last three months’ salary on trendy clothes. School was hectic with the build up to Christmas and all that it entailed, but she was coping.
Itchybella rehearsals in Bankside were going from strength to strength and were the highlight of her life, full of laughter and fun. In between rehearsals, she and Marty were managing dozens of helpers who were making costumes and painting scenery. At these happy times she wondered if she might, eventually, be able to come to terms with her loss.
Then there were her clandestine meetings to look forward to. She and Marty had decided they needed at least one other person on board and Joe had finally agreed. Wee Carole had been approached last week, Sheila taking the chance to speak to her after a meeting at HQ. Carole had looked shocked, then intrigued, then excited. She had tentatively agreed to come to their next meeting in a city centre bar. Sheila hoped she would turn up.
In the bedroom, Sheila smiled at her reflection, admiring her new look. With her greying hair dyed russet brown she looked years younger and the funky short cut definitely made her cheekbones more prominent. Of course, the make-up helped. She’d started wearing it to hide her blotchy face in the days after Liz’s death. There was no doubt she’d let herself go over the last few years, a spinster teacher sliding, with Liz, into middle-age.
She gave the wardrobe door a nudge and watched it glide out of the way. At one end of the rail hung her school clothes, a mass of brown, beige and cream. At the other were her off duty clothes, fleeces, denims and pastel-shaded t-shirts. Sheila clattered the hangers along to join the frumpy school clothes on the left and took out one of her new outfits. She’d blown a small fortune in one Saturday afternoon, tempted by a personal shopper in Fraser’s and the high-end shops in Buchanan Street. Well, why not?
Glasgow was at its dreariest, despite the glitz and glitter of the Christmas displays in shop windows. There was a drizzle falling, not quite heavy enough to be called rain but wet enough to soak those who ventured out in it. Sheila made a careful run for the door of the pub. It was a long time since she’d worn heels this high.
A loud wolf-whistle, followed by ‘Any change, ma’am?’ made her look down at the pavement where a young man sat, lotus position, huddled under a wilting sheet of cardboard. An empty Costa cup sat between his crossed legs and a sorrowful pitbull lay at his side. ‘Don’t worry aboot the dug, ma’am, he’ll no touch ye,’ he reassured her as she bent to put a donation in his cup. ‘You have a nice night now.’ He whistled again as she walked away making Sheila wonder if it was stupid to feel flattered.
Opening the pub door she was met with a simultaneous blast of hot air and Christmas music. She scanned the bar and then the booths but she seemed to be first to arrive.
They had chosen a different pub from last time, agreeing it would be better not to risk being seen together too often, especially in the same place.
For a week night, the bar was busy and filling up fast. Maybe something to do with the Karaoke that was due to start later. She bought herself a white wine and a gin for Marty then chose a table in the far corner and sat down to wait for the others.
Carole arrived first, looking very flustered. Before Sheila could attract her attention, Joe came in, pulling down the hood of his waterproof. He greeted Carole at the bar, ordered some drinks and sent her to join Sheila. As he wandered over towards them, a glass in each hand, he smiled at Sheila and said to Carole, ‘Diet Coke for you, Madame?’
‘Evening, Sheila,’ he said, his eyes twinkling. ‘No sign of our esteemed leader? You’re looking good, by the way.’
‘I’ve just told her she looks twenty years younger dressed like that.’
Sheila was still smiling at their compliments when Marty appeared, apologising for being late. She too commented on Sheila’s new look and said, ‘Maybe it’s time I had a makeover.’
With a quick glance round to make sure no one was listening, Marty said, ‘Right, let’s get down to business.’ Between sips of gin she asked how everyone was
feeling. Then, as casually as if she were organising a day out, she revealed the details of her plan.
‘Well, what do you think?’
Carole rubbed at her forehead. ‘Hang on, Marty. Am I missing something? It sounds like you’re planning to kidnap him.’
‘I prefer to think of it as an abduction. Less criminal.’
Joe snorted but didn’t sound amused. It was always hard to tell what Joe was thinking. He had seemed at ease, enjoying his drink while Marty spoke, nodding every so often, as if he approved of what he was hearing.
Sheila said. ‘That’s some plan, Marty. Have you thought about how you’ll get him to cooperate?’
‘Yes,’ said Marty, ‘We’ll have to drug him. I’m thinking Rohypnol.’
‘The date-rape drug?’
‘Yes, if we can get it.’
‘Jeeso, serious stuff.’
‘And where are we going to take him?’ asked Joe.
‘That’s where you come in, Joe. Since our visit, I’ve been thinking we could use the bothy. You know, that big part at the back where you keep the canoes and everything? You should see this place, Carole, it’s ideal, remote yet accessible. Very few folk know it’s there and, unfortunately for Joe and his boys, it will soon be vacant.’
Sheila fiddled with her hair. ‘This is going to take a lot of organization, not to mention time. I’ve kind of got my hands full at the minute, what with the panto, and school. Christmas is mental for me.’
‘Don’t worry about that, Sheila. There’s no hurry. I reckon we’ve got almost four months to get everything in place.’
‘Okay then, count me in. After New Year, I’ll have more time.’
Joe said, in a very decisive voice, ‘Count me in too.’ He shrugged. ‘I’ve got nothing to lose. And the bothy is a great idea, Marty.’
Carole seemed to be studying her glass which she was moving in circles on the table. ‘I’m flattered you trusted me with your plan, but to be honest, it’s all getting a bit heavy for me, kidnapping, sorry, abducting, if that’s even a word, and drugs and all. Sorry. I hate to let you all down but I’d no idea.’