Bonnie Jack

by Ian Hamilton

  “I’m sure she’ll get around to telling you.”

  “I just hope it isn’t anything unsavoury.”

  “Don’t think the worst.”

  “It’s hard not to. People don’t leave their family and country without a reason.”

  “True, but don’t start imagining a problem before you have some facts.”

  “Anticipating problems is part of what made me such a good CEO.”

  “Except here you aren’t the CEO of anything. You’re a man trying to connect with his family. As you discovered with Moira, you aren’t going to find perfection.”

  Jack stared at the road. Anne saw his jaw stiffen and knew she had annoyed him. “I found it heartening that your mother wondered what had happened to you, and that Georgie has been looking for you,” she said.

  “I agree with you about Georgie.”

  “Good, because I sense that Georgina and her mother were close. Maybe she’ll be able to answer some of your questions about her.”

  The sky had been grey with a few blue streaks when they left Edinburgh, but now the blue disappeared entirely and rain teemed down. The windshield wipers could barely keep up with the downpour. The visibility was so bad that Jack considered pulling over, but he couldn’t see where to do that safely, and so kept going. “I should concentrate on driving,” he said. “We can talk later.”

  It took half an hour longer than their trip to Edinburgh to get back to Troon. The rain was beginning to let up when they reached the hotel, so they didn’t get too wet walking from the parking lot. Jack went immediately to the concierge. “I’m afraid we have to cut short our stay here. Something has come up in Edinburgh that needs our attention. Can you recommend a hotel there?”

  “Do you have any preferences as to cost and amenities?” the concierge said.

  “I want the best hotel you can find. I don’t care about the cost.”

  “That would be the North British on Princes Street, in the heart of the city. It’s close to the castle and other sights,” he said. “Do you want me to check for a vacancy?”

  “Yes, do that. If there’s a suite available, go ahead and book it,” Jack said. “We’re going upstairs to pack.”

  When they reached their room, Jack went directly to the desk, found the number for Caledonia, and dialled it. A moment later Harry came on the line.

  “Have you spoken to Georgie?” Jack asked.

  “Several times. She’s so excited she keeps calling me back.”

  “Are we going to see her tonight?”

  “Of course. My wife and I would like you and Anne to come to our house for dinner. Georgie and her daughter, Elizabeth, will join us.”

  “That’s very kind of you, but we could go out to eat if that’s more convenient.”

  “No, we insist that you come here. It will be less formal.”

  “All right, we will come for dinner,” Jack said. “It’ll be nice to meet Georgie and Elizabeth in a more casual environment. By the way, how old is Elizabeth? We didn’t discuss Georgie’s family earlier, except for her husband.”

  “Liz is Georgie’s only child. She’s in her early twenties. An aspiring actress.”

  “Anne dabbled in that when she was young, and we have a son-in-law who works in the film industry in Los Angeles.”

  “I wouldn’t tell Georgie about your son-in-law. She can be a bit pushy when it comes to helping Liz.”

  “You know best,” Jack said. “We should be back in Edinburgh by late afternoon. What time do you want to see us for dinner?”

  “Seven would be dandy. Where are you going to stay?”

  “The concierge is making a booking for us at the North British.”

  “That’s a wonderful old railway hotel, but the route from there to my house is a bit complicated,” Harry said. “I think it would be best if I picked you up in my car, say around quarter to seven.”

  “That’s fine with me.”

  “Then we’re set. If you change your plans, you can reach me here at the office until five. After that you can call me at home. Here’s the number,” Harry said, and rattled it off.

  Jack put down the phone and saw Anne looking at him from the bedroom door. “What did I dabble in?” she asked.

  “Acting. Georgie has a daughter who wants to be an actress. We’re meeting both of them tonight over dinner at Harry’s house. He’s picking us up at our hotel.”

  “Being a member of the dramatic society at UMass hardly qualifies as acting.”

  “It gives you a little something in common.”

  “If you say so. Now we need to finish packing. Do you want me to take care of your case?”

  “Please. I’m going to call the concierge.”

  Twenty minutes later they left the hotel with their suitcases and a reservation for a suite at the North British Hotel. “I’m looking forward to Edinburgh. I just hope we’re done with surprises,” Anne said as the car left Troon.

  13

  It was already dark at six-forty as Jack and Anne stood outside the North British Hotel waiting for Harry. Behind them loomed the brightly lit Victorian stone and brick edifice. Over their heads the Union Jack and St. Andrew’s Cross above the hotel entrance fluttered in the wind.

  In Jack’s opinion the hotel wasn’t quite as wonderful as the concierge had promised. Its two-hundred-foot clock tower was spectacular and its location less than a mile from Edinburgh Castle ideal, but the building was more than eighty years old. Its age was showing in faded curtains, thinning carpets, and well-used furniture. In its prime it might have been one of the U.K.’s greatest railway hotels, Jack thought, but the only feature that impressed him was the massive tower with its clock hands permanently set three minutes fast to aid travellers.

  “I should have asked Harry what kind of car he drives,” Jack said as they watched a steady parade of cars and taxis pass.

  Anne’s arm was looped through Jack’s. She looked up at him but didn’t respond to his comment. He was on edge, like he’d been that morning during their drive to Edinburgh. She wasn’t accustomed to seeing him like this; it suggested that discovering this larger family had made more of an impact on him than he was willing to admit.

  “I think he’s here,” Jack said, interrupting her thoughts.

  A green Jaguar came to a stop directly in front of the hotel and Harry waved at them from the driver’s seat. Jack opened the back door for Anne and then climbed into the front passenger seat. “Right on time,” he said.

  “Traffic was light, and I did leave a bit early,” Harry said. “Everyone is eager to meet you.”

  “Will your children be there?” Anne asked.

  “No. Both of them attend universities in England, but you can be sure I’ll be telling them about the new American branch of our family,” Harry said. “By the way, we didn’t talk about it this morning — how large is your family?”

  “We have three children and two grandchildren,” Anne said. “I’m an only child, so until a few months ago my children were under the impression that they had no aunts, uncles, or cousins. Then Jack told us about Moira, so they acquired an aunt. Now we’re adding six more relatives.”

  “Have you told them yet?”

  “We thought we’d wait until we’d met you and Georgie,” Jack said.

  Harry nodded and then tooted his horn at a slow-moving truck as he made a left turn. They had left the city centre quickly and were now passing rows of low-rise housing with street-level shops. Jack saw a sign indicating that Leith was two miles further.

  Harry drove straight for about a minute and then started making right- and left-hand turns in an almost dizzying fashion until they found themselves in a small cul-de-sac. Harry’s house was built of brick, with a red slate roof, a large window to the left of the front door, and three windows across the front of the second storey. The door was etche
d frosted glass and the downstairs window had drawn lace curtains.

  Jack didn’t see a second car. “How did Georgie get here?” he asked.

  “By taxi,” Harry said.

  “She doesn’t have a car?”

  “She had to give it up.”

  “Because of the husband?” Jack asked.

  “It doesn’t matter why she had to give it up,” Anne said. “Besides, not everyone needs a car. I’ve read that public transport is very good in the U.K.”

  “It is quite efficient,” Harry said as he turned off the car, and climbed out.

  Anne tapped Jack on the shoulder before he could get out. He turned to face her. “Stop asking questions about the husband,” she whispered. “This isn’t the time.”

  “Okay, but if the opportunity presents itself —”

  “Do what my mother used to tell my father to do. Think twice about what you’re going to say, and then don’t say it.”

  “I hear you,” he said with a noncommittal shrug.

  They joined Harry on the gravel path that led to the front door. Anne could see the blurred outlines of two people behind the frosted glass. As they approached the door, it opened. A short, stout woman wearing a knee-length tartan skirt and a dark blue cardigan smiled at them. “Hello, I’m Barbara Montgomery,” she said.

  “Hi, I’m Anne Anderson,” she replied, looking past Barbara at the much taller and thinner woman standing behind her. Anne took in the square chin, wide brow, and thick, tousled hair. “You don’t have to tell me who you are.”

  “Likewise,” Georgie said to Anne, but her eyes were focused on Jack.

  “Come in, come in,” Barbara said, stepping to one side.

  They crowded into a narrow hallway that led to the kitchen. To the right was a stairway and on the left a door that opened into the living room. Anne thought the second door further down probably opened onto the dining room. She had been raised in a house exactly like it.

  Barbara stood by the living room door, motioning for the others to join her. Harry and Anne did, but Jack and Georgie hesitated. “Harry was right. You do have some of our physical traits,” Georgie finally said.

  “Since I’m older, it’s probably more proper to say you have some of mine,” Jack replied.

  Georgie burst into a loud, throaty laugh. Anne examined her more closely. Her features were broad and bony, and a mass of hair hung around her face and fell loosely to her shoulders. She was quite tall, at least five foot ten, and had a generous build beneath her white silk blouse. She was what the ladies of the Junior League in Wellesley might refer to as a handsome woman.

  “Please, come into the living room,” Barbara said.

  They filed into a room with a fireplace in the far wall. Two large sofas upholstered in a purple and green plaid flanked the fireplace, separated by a large mahogany coffee table. A mahogany buffet laden with liquor and wine stood behind one of the sofas. Two chairs sat next to it.

  Jack and Anne sat on the sofa with their backs to the window. Georgie sat across from them. Harry took one of the chairs, placing it at the end of the coffee table furthest from the fireplace.

  “I’ll be right back. I have some wee nibbles prepared in the kitchen,” Barbara said.

  “Is your daughter going to be joining us?” Anne asked Georgie.

  “She wanted to, but something came up at the last minute,” Georgie said. “If you’re staying in Edinburgh for a few more days I’m sure you’ll get a chance to meet.”

  “Drinks for everyone?” Harry interrupted.

  “White wine for me,” Georgie said.

  “And me,” said Anne.

  “I’ll have a Scotch,” Jack said.

  “How do you take it? American style?”

  “Which is what, exactly?”

  “On ice or with mix. Here we tend to drink it neat, or perhaps with a splash of water.”

  “On ice will be perfect.”

  As Harry went over to the buffet, Barbara returned carrying a large tray. “A selection of some of our Scottish cheeses and crackers,” she said, and then sat next to Georgie. “I can’t ever remember so much excitement in the house.”

  “It’s been an emotional day for me as well,” Jack said.

  “I’ve been looking for you, you know,” Georgie said. “I’ve been looking for you for years.”

  “That’s what Harry said.”

  “I never imagined you’d turn up like this, completely out of the blue,” she said. “And on top of that, you’re famous.”

  “I’m hardly famous.”

  “Harry says you are.”

  “Harry is being too kind.”

  “Actually, I’m not,” Harry said as placed three glasses of wine on the table. “Even on this side of Atlantic, people in our business know about Bloody Jack Anderson.”

  “Jack doesn’t like being called that,” Anne said.

  “I don’t know why. I love it,” Georgie said. “How many people have a nickname, especially one that’s so dashing?”

  “I’d prefer not to talk about it,” Jack said.

  “Yes, let’s drop it. I really shouldn’t have mentioned it in the first place,” Harry said as he returned with two glasses of Scotch. He handed one to Jack and then slowly raised his. “Here’s to family. Old family and new family and what should have been family long before now.”

  “Slàinte mhath,” said Georgie.

  They all drank. Then Anne asked, “Georgie, when did you start looking for Jack?”

  There was an uncomfortable silence. Anne saw Jack’s jaw tense and knew he wasn’t happy about her being so direct, so she tried to keep her focus on Georgie.

  “Yes, do tell us. It seems so many years ago that I’ve quite forgotten how it started,” Barbara said.

  Georgie sipped her wine and then sighed as if she was answering a question she had been asked a hundred times before. “It began the year before Mum died. She had cancer and knew she wasn’t going to last long. She was desperate to find out what had happened to Jack.”

  “Did you know I existed before that?” Jack asked.

  “No, we didn’t. Mum had never mentioned you,” Georgie said. Seeing the pained expression on Anne’s face, she quickly added, “It wasn’t because she didn’t love you or didn’t think about you. She was ashamed of what she had done, and that’s why she kept it hidden all those years. Telling me about you was a great relief to her. My regret is that I couldn’t locate you before she died.”

  “When she told you about me, did she explain how we got separated?” Jack said.

  “Of course. It was the first question I asked her,” Georgie said. “She had trouble talking about it, but eventually I got the whole sordid story.”

  “Sordid?” Jack said.

  “That’s my word, not hers. Although whenever I think about Andrew McPherson, it fits,” Georgie said.

  “Her husband. Our father,” said Jack.

  “He was indeed, though he never would have believed Harry and I were his children.”

  “Are you saying McPherson thought she was pregnant by another man?”

  “He didn’t know she was pregnant when she left. She was too afraid to tell him.”

  “Moira said nothing about him not knowing.”

  “It isn’t something I’ve ever discussed with anyone outside this room. It was my mother’s wee secret and she wanted to keep it that way.”

  “Moira told us that McPherson beat her.”

  “Moira told you? You didn’t know already?” Georgie asked.

  “I have little memory of those years.”

  “Well, it’s true enough. Mum said he beat her like a drum — every Saturday night after the pub and sometimes on Sunday for good measure. He never hit her around the head, but the rest of her body was always bruised. In the Gorbals in those
days, no one thought twice about a man strapping his wife. All she could do was put up with it or leave him. Then she met a neighbour, a widower, and they became friends.”

  “You mean they were lovers?” Jack asked.

  “No, she swears they were just friends. He liked the lads more than the lassies,” Georgie said. “But they were affectionate with each other, and one day McPherson caught them having a cuddle outside the house. He went crazy. He screamed at them, calling her a whore. He broke her friend’s nose and kicked him after he fell to the ground. Then he dragged her into the house by the hair and belted her so badly she couldn’t go outside for days. Shortly after that she realized she was pregnant.”

  “What a horrible situation,” Anne said.

  “An abortion wasn’t an option. Even if it had been, she was a staunch Roman Catholic,” Georgie said. “So she had only two choices — tell McPherson about the pregnancy or leave. The problem with telling him was that she was convinced he would believe her friend was the father. She could imagine McPherson attacking him again, and she was sure he’d beat her senseless or, even worse, she thought he might kill her. So she left.”

  Jack lowered his head and stared at his empty whisky glass. The room was so quiet that Anne could hear the clock on the mantel ticking.

  “I think some of you could use a refill,” Harry said. “Any takers?”

  “Yes, I’ll have another,” Jack said and held up his glass.

  “I’ll wait,” Anne said.

  “Me too,” said Georgie.

  “It’s a right sad story,” Barbara said as Harry went to the buffet. “It’s difficult in this day and age to accept that life back then was so hard for so many women.”

  “It is sad, I grant you, and I certainly don’t blame her for leaving him,” Jack said. “But I still don’t understand why she decided to abandon me.”

  Harry stood next to Jack with a refilled glass in his hand. Jack took the drink from him and looked across the coffee table at Georgie. “What did she tell you about leaving me?”