by Pat Young
‘You did a fantastic job, you and Ruby. We’ll have to send her a big bunch of flowers once this is over.’
Sheila looked horrified. ‘Please don’t ask Violet to deliver them.’
They sat and chatted like old pals who’d not seen each other for ages. Marty was amazed how comfortable and relaxed they all seemed, considering they were in the process of carrying out a serious crime. One that would see them all going to jail if they got caught.
As if she had picked up on Marty’s anxiety, Sheila suddenly asked, ‘Are you absolutely sure Smeaton will be okay without food and drink.’
‘Yes,’ said Joe with conviction. ‘He will lose a little weight, of course, but he’ll come to no harm in the short time we’ll keep him here.’
Marty rose to fill the teapot for the third time. As she crossed to the kettle something crashed through the window and smashed onto the floor at her feet. Marty screamed and dropped the teapot.
Joe swore and ran to the window. Peeking round the edge of the curtain, he said ‘Fuck! It’s those idiot boys, back again. Turn up the white noise.’
Joe ran to the bothy door.
Marty said, ‘Sheila, you need to get out there and pretend you and Joe are a couple. Embarrass them into going away.’
Sheila opened her shirt a few buttons to reveal an astonishing amount of cleavage spilling from a red bra. She ruffled her spiky hair, took a deep breath and went out the door. From a hiding place by the window, Marty watched her slink up behind Joe and put her arms around him. If Joe was surprised, he hid it well, but the look on the boys’ faces was priceless. Joe pulled Sheila round to his side and held her close. The boys started to back away, muttering apologies. Then Joe asked, ‘Where’s Dykesy?’
‘Roon the back, Sur, looking fur a canoe.’
***
CHAPTER 76
Joe rounded the corner in time to see Dykesy poke something sharp into the lock.
‘Hey,’ Joe called, hoping his voice would be neither audible nor recognizable to the man inside. Dykesy stopped, caught in the act. Then he pocketed his tool and turned slowly. A look of sly cunning changed to a mixture of guilt and relief when he recognized Joe.
‘Hello, Sur,’ he said, attempting his usual bantering tone.
Joe stepped close to the boy, and made his voice as low and threatening as possible. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Shock made him sound angrier than he’d intended.
Dykesy took a step back and raised his hands in a gesture of defence. ‘Easy, Big Man,’ he said, sounding a lot more relaxed than he looked.
Joe was keen to get away from the door, lest any of their conversation carry in to Smeaton. He put his hand on the boy’s elbow to guide him towards the corner but Dykesy shrugged him off, as if resisting arrest. Joe told himself to handle this carefully. ‘Come on, lad,’ he said, ‘let’s go and talk about this with the others.’ He walked off and was relieved when the boy followed a few steps behind.
As they approached the front door, one of the other two said, ‘Hurry up, Dykesy. We’re getting a bacon roll.’
Joe demanded, in his best teacher’s voice, to be told what they were up to.
It was Dangermoose who spoke. Dykesy had the sense to know when to keep quiet but Joe noticed his slight nod to Danger. Permission to speak on his behalf. ‘Sur, we just wanted a last shot at the canoeing.’
‘We went through all this the other day,’ said Joe, in a voice that implied his patience was wearing thin. ‘I told you the place was cleared, didn’t I?’
Dangermoose and Slug hung their heads. ‘Aye, Sur,’ they muttered. Slug added, ‘but we wanted to see for ourselves.’
‘Great. Okay, now you’ve seen, so sling your hook.’
The boys looked like kicked puppies. Joe immediately regretted his harsh words. He did not want to squander the goodwill he had built up with these lads. Most of them had been let down by males in their lives and he did not want to become one of those who got angry and rejected them. ‘Sorry lads, I didn’t mean that.’ He turned to include Dykesy in his next words. ‘But you can’t go around breaking into places. I don’t want you to end up in jail. I thought I’d taught you to live by society’s rules.’
No one said anything until Sheila stepped out of the bothy with a tray of mugs and a pile of bacon rolls. ‘Tuck in, lads,’ she said.
Dykesy looked her up and down, then said defiantly, ‘Is that what you’re doing here, Sur? Living by society’s rules?’
Joe felt his face turn red. He hoped Dykesy was referring to Sheila and not to Smeaton. ‘Look, lads,’ he said, as if the boy had never spoken, ‘enjoy your rolls and then head off back to town. It breaks my heart to say it, but there’s nothing left for you here. Nothing at all.’
Again Dykesy looked at him with a challenge. ‘I don’t mean to be cheeky, like, but what are you doing up here?’ A heartbeat later he added, ‘Sur.’
‘Having a wee break before I shut the place for ever.’ Joe did not need to fake the sadness in his voice when he said, ‘I’ve been bringing kids like you up here for nearly twenty years. That’s longer than you’ve been alive.’
He smiled and said, ‘That adds up to a lot of memories. I’m due to resign and I’m up here to think about the good old days.’
‘Before the war and stuff?’ asked Slug, attempting to show his understanding.
Sheila laughed. ‘We don’t go back quite that far,’ she said.
Dykesy looked from Joe to Sheila and back again. ‘So that’s all you’re doing up here? Remembering?’
‘Reminiscing, Dykesy. That’s the word for it. Reminiscing.’
‘Aye, right,’ muttered the boy, loud enough for Joe to hear. The other two sniggered, suddenly appearing very young and immature.
‘Come on, eat these up before they get cold, lads,’ said Sheila, offering the tray to Dykesy, who took a roll and a mug and murmured his thanks.
Joe had to admire her ability to stay cool under pressure. She had adopted precisely the right manner to deal with troubled boys like these.
‘Do you want one, Joe?’ she asked.
‘No, thanks. I’ll wait for the full Scottish you promised me.’ Joe did not miss the look that passed between Dykesy and the other two. If he didn’t know the lad had a good heart, he’d be itching to give him a slap.
‘Any word from TJ?’ Joe asked, keen to re-establish the rapport he’d always enjoyed with his boys. ‘How’s he getting on?’
‘Fine. He likes it. Right bastard of a drill sergeant but he’s giving TJ peace so far.’
‘TJ’s a great lad,’ said Joe, filled with relief that the boy was grabbing the second chance he’d been given. ‘He’ll do well in the army.’
‘Aye,’ said Dykesy, through a mouthful of roll. ‘It’s the right place for him.’
‘Tell him I’ll buy him a pint the first time he’s home on leave, eh?’
Dykesy gave him a look. ‘Sur, have ye ever seen TJ’s “home”?’ He wiggled his fingers around the word.
Joe shook his head.
‘TJ will never be back here and ah don’t blame him. He was lucky to get away.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘Thanks to you.’
Joe rubbed at his chin. ‘Yeah, well, maybe I could have done more.’
‘Ye did plenty, Sur. Thanks.’
‘Ah’ll be back, the first leave ah get,’ said Slug, with a grin on his big, soft face. ‘Tae show off ma uniform. Aw, ah cannae wait to go, Sur.’
Joe slapped him on the back. ‘Good luck, pal. I’m proud of you.’
Turning to Dykesy, Joe asked, ‘You sticking to your plans to go to college?’
‘Aye, if I don’t get the jail first.’
When Joe realised the boy was joking, he gave him a playful punch on the arm, causing him to spill his tea. ‘Careful, Big Man,’ said Dykesy.
Joe was cheered by the warmth of their relationship and wondered why it mattered to him that he got on well with these youths. After this was over, he was unlikely to ever
see them again. He coughed to remove a strange lump from his throat. ‘You make sure you behave yourself from now on. I’ll patch up that window, but no more breaking and entering.’
‘Aye, aw right, I hear ye.’
‘You can be anything you set your mind to, Dykesy. You’ve a right clever head on those shoulders of yours.’
Dykesy’s face turned pink and he covered his embarrassment with a cheeky retort. ‘Mair than you could say for wee Danger, eh?’
Dangermoose grinned as if Dykesy had paid him a compliment.
‘Sur, there was something we wanted to see you about, by the way.’
‘What’s that?’ He expected to be asked to provide a reference or something but Dykesy shocked him with his next words.
‘See the guy that shut this place, is he a wee guy called Thomas Smeaton?’
‘What makes you ask that?’
‘Sluggo wis lookin on the cooncil website and we think he’s the basturt you were talking about. Is he?’
‘Why do you want to know?’
‘We were thinking we could do him in for ye. Kinda revenge, like.’
Joe was lost for words. He was touched by their loyalty but shocked by how easily they saw violence as a solution. ‘Boys, the last thing I want is for you to get into any more trouble. Have you not been listening to a word I’ve said, Dykesy?’
‘Aye, but we’ll no touch him, like. No us, personally. But he sounds like he needs a right kickin. We’ll get him done for ye. There’s plenty nutters in Bankside that love roughin folk up.’
Dangermoose added, ‘Aye, like McCafferty or that bamstick Jarvie. They’ll dae it fur nuthin.’ He laughed as if beating up members of the public was a sport.
Joe was horrified by the casual way these kids discussed GBH. ‘Boys, please don’t do that. It might come back to me.’
Dykesy laughed, ‘No chance, Sur. How would the polis connect it to you?’
‘Please don’t, boys. I’m asking you. Don’t get yourselves into trouble on my account. It wouldn’t be right.’
‘Okay, Big Man, take a chill pill. We’ll no touch him if that’s what you want.’ He grinned at his two mates, ‘But I cannae promise his car’ll no get keyed.’
Joe repeated his request for them to keep out of trouble. It was all he could do. The three boys drained their mugs and put them back on the tray Sheila had left on the doorstep.
‘Right then,’ said Dykesy, ‘are we ready for off, boys?’ He pushed back the elastic cuff on his waterproof and checked the time on a watch that had to be either replica or stolen, perhaps both. ‘We’ll get the half-past bus, if we don’t hang about.’
One by one, the boys gave Joe a very grown-up handshake, then Slug, looking shame-faced asked, ‘Sur?’
‘Sluggo?’
‘Sur, do you think it would be okay if ah gave ye a hug? In case ah never see you again?’
‘I thought you were buying me a pint on your first leave?’
Slug looked confused.
Joe said quickly, ‘I think a hug’s a great idea, Slug.’ He grabbed the boy, giving him a quick hug and a hefty slap on the back. The others stood back for a moment and then took a step forward into Joe’s embrace.
Dykesy muttered, ‘Be seein you, Big Man.’ Handing over a grubby slip of paper he said, ‘There’s ma phone number. If ah can ever dae anythin for you.’
Wee Dangermoose said nothing and Joe too found it hard to speak for a moment.
Finally, he managed to say, ‘Cheerio, lads. Take care of yourselves, now, will you?’
He stood and watched the three red-anoraked figures walk away. A chapter closing. Before they disappeared, the boys turned and saluted. He was glad he’d stayed outside to see that. He waved till they were out of sight, then, wiping a tear from his eye, he opened the door and stepped into the bothy.
***
CHAPTER 77
Thomas Smeaton was doing his best to draw up a mental list of those he could count on to turn up at his funeral. Having no social life, his thoughts turned to work.
He immediately thought of Carole, she’d be there; he could depend on her for anything. She remembered his mother’s birthday, bought the gifts he needed to distribute at Christmas, made his dental appointments and reminded him to keep them. He could always rely on Carole. She was a sweet little thing, always so cheery and willing to please him. Try as he might, the only image of Carole he could conjure was one of her tear-stained face. Having employees in tears was part of the job, as far as Thomas Smeaton was concerned. Any manager naive enough to believe it was possible to please all of the people all of the time was a fool.
However, he couldn’t recall seeing Carole in tears very often. In fact, he could only think of that one time, perhaps that’s why it had stuck in his memory. She had wanted to go off on a wild goose chase to America to try to conceive a child by some new-fangled scientific process. Why couldn’t people accept God’s will? If she was meant to be a mother, she’d get pregnant without flying half way across the world to some charlatan of a doctor. He had told her as much the first time she’d asked. He couldn’t give in to employees who asked for extra leave and he certainly wasn’t prepared to make an exception for a secretary, even one as good as Carole.
He remembered how she had pleaded with him to grant her unpaid leave of absence. He’d said no, obviously. How was he to know she wouldn’t be swanning around Disneyworld or lazing on some beach? Anyway, he’d stuck to his guns and she’d defied his wishes and gone. So they’d both got their own way in the end. Except, he’d lost the best secretary he’d ever had and she’d have no job if the baby thing didn’t work out. Perhaps, on reflection, he could have been a little bit more understanding. After all, he could have managed for a few days without her.
That tiny seed of doubt in his mind suddenly sprouted into a little shoot of regret. In his imagination, he saw it grow into a small tree, with branches reaching out to right and left. To his surprise, Carole’s face appeared, hanging from the lower branch. She looked bereft, tears streaming down her face and running into her mouth which formed, over and over, the word, please.
Thomas Smeaton did not want to dwell on that picture, did not like the feeling he might have made an error of judgement. Could such a simple mistake count as sin? He’d no idea.
He turned his mind to other folk with whom he’d worked closely.
He thought of the committee room at HQ, full of head teachers from the many primary schools for which he was responsible. As he searched for a friendly face, he saw false smiles, averted eyes. Right at the centre of the group, framed by that frizzy hair of hers, shone the fat, frumpy face of Liz Douglas, the woman who’d recently taken her own life.
There had been a lot of strange stuff going on at that school. Parents were clearly unhappy, why else would they go on Facebook to complain about the head teacher? But, as he’d told her that last day in his office, there’s rarely smoke without fire. He remembered the look on her face, as if he’d loosened her fingers from the edge of a lifeboat and cast her adrift. Then, when he’d mentioned, quite appropriately, in his opinion, Her Majesty’s Inspectors coming in to offer advice, the woman had looked unhinged.
One thing about her, she did work awfully hard. Until this recent Facebook carry-on, he’d never had a single complaint about Cavenhead Primary, and it wasn’t in the most affluent, easy part of town. Come to think of it, Liz Douglas had done a good job for many years. Pity it ended the way it did. Suicide.
What in God’s name drove her to that?
The strange tree appeared to him again, with Carole’s sad little face on one branch and dangling from another, noose around her neck, the bloated face of Liz Douglas. Like baubles on a Christmas tree, faces appeared on branches till each one bore a picture of employees, past and present.
***
CHAPTER 78
When Joe went for a shower, Sheila studied Marty. She appeared calm enough, but there was something going on.
‘You okay, Mar
ty?’ she asked. Marty was sitting by the screen, eyes fixed on the image of Smeaton.
‘Not really. Joe’s asked me to go away with him.’
‘Go where?’
‘He’s moving abroad and wants me to join him.’
‘I don’t understand. Joe knows you’re married, doesn’t he?’
‘Yeah, but he also knows I haven’t been happy.’
‘Oh,’ said Sheila, not sure what else, if anything, she could add.
Marty said nothing for a moment, as if she were considering her next words. ‘Sheila,’ she said, ‘Did you know Joe and I go way back?’
Sheila recalled some throwaway line, ages ago it seemed, about how they had been at school together or something.
‘I adored him when I was fourteen, but he didn’t seem to notice I was on the same planet. Now I’ve run into him again and he’s asking me to start a new life with him. It feels like I’ve been hit by a hurricane. I’m all over the place. Look at me.’ She held out her hands. They were trembling. Sheila took them in her own and squeezed.
‘And how do you feel about him now, Marty? That’s what counts, not how you felt when you were fourteen. We all had mad crushes on unsuitable people.’
Marty pounced on the word before Sheila had time to regret its choice. ‘Unsuitable? Is that what you think of Joe? He’s unsuitable?’
‘I didn’t say Joe is unsuitable, Marty. I hardly know the man. I’m a bit surprised things have moved so fast, I suppose, but I imagine Joe feels he has nothing to lose by asking you and it’s clear there’s chemistry between the two of you.’
Marty looked like an excited teenager. ‘Do you think so?’
‘Oh yes. I’ve been suspicious about the two of you for weeks.’
Marty smiled, seeming to take it as a compliment.
‘What do you think you’ll do?’
Marty said, ‘I wish I knew, Sheila, but, to be honest, I have no idea.’
‘How do you feel about him?’