Benefit of the Doubt
Page 30
“Do you remember when I came back from hospital?” she asked. He only nodded, partly out of exhaustion and partly out of doubts about what might be coming next. “We came upstairs, you helped me in and we sat on this sofa. Do you remember I could hardly move, I was that tired and sore?” Another nod. “Well, if I remember rightly, a handsome man took advantage of my incapacity. Now it’s my turn…” She leaned over, kissed him on the forehead, and undid his tie, then went for a blanket, manoeuvred him round, lifted his feet up, took his shoes off, snuggled up beside him, and pulled the blanket over both of them.
Thanks to Irene MacInnes’s good offices and a certain amount of arm twisting David was given indefinite leave of absence from Southside duties. Since they weren’t paying him anyway this sounded more substantial than it was, but in any case it was one less pressure. Everyone was pleased to have him back in any capacity and delighted Jen was back with her mum. Collective hair stood on end as the story spread. Apparently it involved drugs gangs, machine guns, a secret code, exotic locations, a medieval castle, helicopters, and kidnapping. Nothing as exciting had been heard of since… since… well, since never actually. Mrs MacInnes wanted exclusive rights for the church magazine and David happily agreed. Despite being relieved of preaching duties he did manage along the next Sunday morning, Gillian driving. She, Juan, Alison, and Jen were all there. Jen seemed like a new person, so unlike the girl that Alison had remembered from only weeks before. She was bright, enthusiastic, cheerful, polite, communicative, and considerate – everything Alison had feared was missing in the teenage stage of MacInnes family genes. Alison didn’t mind being reminded of what she was like as a teenager, just smiled and nodded.
Alicia was healthy and glowing in her pregnancy. She had already had to extend her range of clothes – in every sense of the word – and Juan was helping her up and down, bringing her glasses of water and trying at every turn to make up for the time away. Gillian was besieged by well-wishers who were scandalized by the horrors of a reported abduction and – would you believe it – a shoot-out in a medieval fortress. “Well I never,” didn’t quite seem adequate but it was the best respectable Edinburgh had available and was offered with feeling. Gillian smiled, fended off further questions, and kept an eye on David and how tired he was looking.
For David himself the strain of the past few weeks was real, but right now he felt in the grip of some sort of weird god-like, dreamy, disconnected feeling – exhausted, happy, peaceful, almost floating up above it all. In fact, quite a bit like some of the chemistry he’d ingested in the eighties but this time strictly kosher. It felt ok. Eric and Lorraine didn’t quite get the mood of the moment and insisted on updating him on their wedding plans, oblivious to his lack of capacity. Mrs MacInnes had advised him the night before on her run-in with Mrs Buchanan so he was forewarned and forearmed. Mrs B. was expecting “words” to be had and tried to keep a low profile; however, David sought her out. Soon she was gulping like a goldfish as he killed two birds with one stone by recommending her to be in charge of wedding decorations. The attraction of organizing other people soon overcame her reservations about “that sort of people”.
Finally, after all the hymn singing, something entirely inappropriate and immediately forgotten from a visiting speaker, and coffee and biscuits after the service, Juan finally caught David by the elbow and guided him into a corner.
“So that’s it then amigo,” he said with a grin.
“Well it’s certainly something,” David conceded, wondering what was coming next.
“What I mean is,” Juan pressed home his point, “mission accomplished. Here we are. Home. With the girl. None of us dead. And your novia too. Gillian is a lovely girl. El Señor has given you just what you needed. Even when you didn’t believe, he was planning it all along.”
“I imagine so. Can’t complain. Six months ago I thought it was all over. I just couldn’t see my way back. It’s all worked out better than I could have hoped.”
“So was I right? Sí or sí?”
“About what?”
“About trusting God again, tonto.”
“I suppose so.”
“Suppose? What’s ‘suppose’ about it?”
“Ok. You’re right. Things have worked out well. I thought we were rescuing Jen but in the end I suppose she rescued me. But still. It changes you, you know, something like this. Gillian isn’t Rocío. It’s not as if it didn’t all happen. Trusting has a lot to do with knowing what might happen next. About things being predictable. Life just isn’t like that. I know that more than ever now. So God knows what’s coming but I don’t. I’m sorry Juan. It’s just going to take me some time to be able to completely trust again.”
Juan made a sound like a lottery player who had missed El Gordo by just one number.
“You want my honest opinion, Señor David? You’re crazy. If one of my customers was as grateful for dinner as you sound now for all God’s been doing I’d ban him for life. Just stopping thinking for once, can’t you? God is good. Whatever happens next. Now take that lady home and start enjoying life again. And stop worrying.”
Gillian came up, hats and coats in hand.
“Did I hear the word home?” she asked, looking pointedly at David and passing him his hat. “Enough talk for one day. Doctors are supposed to give orders, you know. Even doctors of literature.”
David didn’t complain and they didn’t do a big farewell, just slipped quietly outside and downstairs. It was a sunny Edinburgh summer day. Crossing the road to the car they both noticed a huge CLOSING DOWN – 50% Off Everything in the window of Rings and Things and stopped to have a look as if by unspoken agreement.
The last thing Rodriguez had said to David before they left Spain was to keep alert. Just because the jefe was out of action didn’t mean that some young blood lieutenant out to make a name for himself wouldn’t want to take a pot shot and consign the great David Hidalgo to history. But South Clerk Street – on an Edinburgh Sunday afternoon – in the sunshine? So he didn’t see the glint of the rifle sight in the window of the black 4x4. Hardly heard the sharp crack like a broken twig. Didn’t notice anything until he felt a weight fall against him. It wasn’t a cry, more like a cough. Then a sigh. Dumb disbelief. Tiny flecks of red glinted on the jeweller’s window. Trays of diamonds sparkled behind shards of shattered glass.
The story continues in…
OUT MAY 2018