Bonnie Jack

by Ian Hamilton

“People didn’t differentiate. Liz and I were lumped in with him,” she said. “I didn’t know at the time, but I soon learned he had taken money from many of my friends to invest, and they looked at the way we lived as the ill-gotten fruit of their labours. The final straw came when Liz was home from uni to visit her old chums. I thought she’d be gone for the afternoon, but she was back in tears in less than an hour. She’d been wearing designer jeans, and one of the girls taunted her about them. She told Liz the entire town hated us and that if we were going to stay we should stop parading around in clothes that had been bought with stolen money.”

  “That’s so cruel,” Anne said.

  “Aye, it was. I called Harry that night, and the next day Liz and I left for Edinburgh. I got the job at Goldbergs and Liz waits tables at a decent restaurant in between auditions. Things have improved. We don’t have a lot of money but no one knows who we are, so memory of the shame and humiliation is starting to fade. Now all I have to deal with is my anger at Atholl.”

  “Harry mentioned something about the Baxter brothers. Have they been a problem?” asked Jack.

  Georgie raised an eyebrow. “You said Harry told you a little about Atholl. It seems to me he told you a lot more than that.”

  “Only in passing. There wasn’t a lot of detail.”

  She emptied her glass. “The Baxter family are thieves, pimps, and drug-dealers. Atholl was stupid to take their money in the first place and then an absolute fool to lose it. I believe they’re the main reason why he left the way he did. He wouldn’t have cared what anyone in Bearsden thought, but he was petrified of the Baxter boys coming after him. And come after him they would.”

  “Have they bothered you?”

  “A couple of them paid me a visit shortly after he disappeared. I was in a fragile state that day, and I think they believed me when I told them I had no idea where he was,” she said. “I thought I’d seen the last of them when I moved to Edinburgh, but even though they don’t do much business there, one of their wives spotted me at Goldbergs and I received another wee visit. When they saw where I was living, they didn’t doubt that he’d left me skint. One of them — his name is Billy, he’s the youngest — slipped me two hundred pounds and said he’d give me ten times that if I was ever in a position to tell them where Atholl is. When I said I would if I got the chance, he put a tight grip on my arm and told me that if I knew something and didn’t pass it along, they’d make sure I had a long stay in hospital.”

  Anne gasped. “Do you think he meant that?”

  “Aye, I do.”

  “Do you have any idea where Atholl might be?” Jack asked.

  “Are you joking?” Georgie snapped. “Believe me, if I found out tomorrow morning, Billy Baxter would know by tomorrow afternoon.”

  “I can’t imagine hating someone that much. But then I haven’t gone through anything like you’ve experienced,” Anne said.

  Georgie lowered her head. “We all have our trials. I’ve come to believe that what they are is less important than how we respond to them. I’m trying to make a good life for Liz and myself, and hopefully one day I’ll get there. When I do, perhaps I can let go of the hate and be able to accept that Atholl was just a weak man caught up in circumstances he couldn’t face.”

  “Like Jack’s mother?” Anne asked.

  “My mother was nothing like Atholl.”

  “Of course not, but her life was difficult, and maybe she didn’t cope as well as she could have.”

  Georgie lifted her head and stared at Jack. “I feel so sad about what happened to you as a wee boy,” she said. “But tell me honestly, knowing what you know now, do you hate our mother?”

  He stared back at her, surprised by the question. “I’m not sure how to answer that,” he said finally. “I have all these conflicting emotions that I’m trying to sort out. But I can tell you this: I’m very glad to have found you and Harry.”

  “That’s so nice to hear.”

  There was an awkward silence, which Anne broke by saying, “Is it time to ask about McPherson?”

  “Sure, let’s do that,” Georgie said, sliding off the bench.

  They walked over to the bar. “I’ll take the bill, please,” Jack said to the barman.

  “You sound like a Yank,” the barman said.

  “We’re from Boston.”

  “We don’t get many Yanks in here. Thanks for coming. Hope you enjoyed your meat pies.”

  “We did,” Jack said as he pulled out his wallet.

  The barman passed him the bill. Jack glanced at it, took twenty pounds from his wallet, and put it on top. “Keep the change.”

  “Thank you. That’s right generous.”

  “We have something to ask you, though,” Georgie said, taking the photo from her purse. “Do you recognize this man? He may have been a customer. His name is —”

  “He looks like Dougie McPherson, only younger,” the man interrupted.

  “It’s an old photo.”

  The barman took a closer look. “Aye, that’s him. What do you want with Dougie?”

  “We’re related to him. He hasn’t been in touch for ages, and our family would be happy to know he’s alive. If that’s actually what you’re telling us — that he’s alive.”

  “He is indeed.”

  “Does he still come here?”

  “He does.”

  “When?”

  “He’s in most days, usually around six.”

  “How long does he stay?”

  “Until last orders. Dougie is a hardy old soul.”

  “Will he be here tonight?”

  “I doubt it. He was here the last two nights.”

  “So, tomorrow then?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Do you know where he lives?” Jack asked.

  “No more than I know where you live,” the barman said.

  “Well, could you do us a favour?” Jack said, reaching into his wallet. “Here’s another twenty pounds. Could you call us the next time Dougie comes in? And I’ll give you another forty pounds if you keep this between us.”

  “That’s a strange request.”

  “We want to surprise him — in the nicest way imaginable, of course.”

  “I guess that would be all right,” the barman said, taking the twenty.

  “We’re staying at the North British Hotel in Edinburgh. Do I need to give you the number?”

  “No.”

  “And my name is Jack Anderson. If by some chance I’m not there when you call, leave a message.”

  “Another forty pounds, you said?”

  “Yes, but only if we find him here. If he’s gone, then no extra money.”

  “I understand.”

  “Okay, I think we’re on the same page,” Jack said, and turned to Anne and Georgie. “We can leave now.”

  They were no more than ten yards from the pub when Georgie came to an abrupt halt. Her hands were shaking. “I don’t know how I held myself together in there,” she said. “I didn’t believe the man could still be alive.”

  “I’m stunned as well,” Jack said.

  “You don’t look it.”

  “I’ve spent more than thirty years developing a calm veneer for business. Believe me, my emotions are running high.”

  “What are you going to do?” Anne asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Are you really going to meet with the man, to talk to him?”

  “Why not?”

  “Why would you is a more appropriate question,” Georgie said. “What’s to be gained?”

  “Let’s go to the car,” Jack said, and started off in the direction of the parking lot.

  “That’s a fine way to answer,” Georgie said to Anne as they looked at Jack’s retreating back.

  “He might not have an answer to
give you,” Anne said.

  18

  Georgie sat in the front again on the drive back to Edinburgh. She was quiet until they reached the motorway. Then, as the car revved up to sixty miles an hour, she leaned over and touched Jack lightly on the arm. “I’m sorry if I sounded like a know-all back there,” she said. “I shouldn’t assume that you feel the same way I do about the man.”

  “He spooks you, doesn’t he,” Jack said.

  “I thought I made that clear last night.”

  “Then why did you volunteer to come with us today? We could have done it without you.”

  “I thought I’d feel different if you and Anne were with me.”

  “Safety in numbers?”

  “Precisely. But the second I heard he was alive, I felt the same anxiety I experienced when I saw him three years ago. I should never have gone there.”

  “He’s not going to harm you. I would never let him do that.”

  “There are more ways to harm someone than belting them. Some people have a knack for worming their way into your head. They can sense where you’re vulnerable and they attack your confidence, rip down your feelings of self-worth.”

  “You’re ascribing a lot to a man you’ve never met.”

  “Mum talked about him in the months before she died,” Georgie said, her brow furrowing. “She hadn’t seen him in forty years, but he was still in her head.”

  “What did she say?” Anne asked softly.

  “She said he was evil, a real Jekyll and Hyde. One minute all smiles and charm and the next a monster. She cried when she was describing how he would torment her. It always started with teasing. After a while she knew where that was going to lead, but she never figured out how to stop it. If she tried to humour him, the teasing become crueller until it was unbearable. If she tried to ignore him, the pretense would stop and he’d immediately turn to violence. The result was always the same. He’d rape her and then he’d beat her, accusing her of being an unfit wife, a foul person. He destroyed whatever self-esteem she had,” Georgie said, and turned to look at Anne. “And I don’t think she ever recovered it. She was a wee frightened mouse her entire life. Thank God Davey Montgomery came along and saved her.”

  “That poor woman. No one deserves to be treated like that,” Anne said.

  “Has Harry heard these stories?” Jack asked.

  “They’re not stories,” Georgie said. “That was her life.”

  “I apologize. I wasn’t trying to minimize what happened to her,” Jack said. “I just wanted to know if she confided in Harry as well.”

  “No, I don’t think she did, and I didn’t either,” Georgie said. “It was between Mum and me.”

  “What do you know about the man McPherson killed in the pub?” Jack asked.

  “Just what I read in the Standard. The other man was a plumber who was in the pub for a drink after work. He and McPherson got into some kind of argument over unions. It led to punches, and then McPherson stuck a knife into the man’s belly. The witnesses quoted in the paper said McPherson threw the first punch. The knife was his, of course.”

  “What about the man he killed in jail?”

  “I don’t know any details.”

  “And we don’t need any,” Anne said.

  “I agree. McPherson seems like a nasty piece of work,” Jack said.

  Anne leaned forward until her mouth was next to Jack’s ear. “I don’t want you to go back to that pub. There’s no need for it.”

  “He’s an old man,” Jack said.

  “He’s a vicious old man. I don’t want you to go.”

  “I’m no threat to him. Neither are Georgie and Harry, for that matter.”

  “You never know.”

  “I won’t make any promises. I need to think about it,” he said, then glanced at his watch and looked at Georgie. “We still have a few hours before dinner. Do you have any plans for the rest of the afternoon?”

  “I’ll go home and change. Jeans and this old sweater won’t fit in at the Bannockburn.”

  “Shall we take you home?”

  “I’ll catch the bus near the hotel.”

  “I don’t mind dropping you off.”

  “I’ll catch the bus,” Georgie said.

  It had begun to rain when they reached Edinburgh. Although Jack thought about renewing his offer to Georgie, he drove directly to the hotel. “Do you have an umbrella?” he asked.

  “Not with me.”

  “I’ll get one from the concierge,” he said.

  Georgie came into the lobby with him and Anne. The two women stood by the entrance while Jack arranged for an umbrella. “For what it’s worth, I agree with you completely. I don’t think Jack should go anywhere near McPherson,” Georgie said.

  “My problem is that he’s stubborn. When he gets an idea into his head, it tends to stick.”

  Jack’s return ended their conversation. After a round of hugs, Georgie turned to leave, only to be stopped by Jack. “Do you think Liz would like to join us tonight? She’d be very welcome.”

  “I don’t know what she has on, but I’ll ask her.”

  After Georgie’s departure, Jack and Anne headed up to their suite. Anne waited until they were through the door before saying, “You need to be more sensitive with Georgie. She probably didn’t want you to drive her home because she’s embarrassed about where she’s living.”

  “I didn’t think about that.”

  “No, I know you didn’t.”

  Jack looked at the desk and saw that the telephone light was blinking. “We have a message,” he said.

  “Who knows to contact us here?”

  “Harry. Or one of the kids could have spoken to Pam,” he said. He picked up the phone, followed the prompts, and listened. “The call was from Ross Goldsmith, vice-chairman of the Pilgrim board.”

  “What does he want?”

  “He wants me to contact him right away. He sounded like it’s urgent.”

  Anne sighed. “Go ahead and call him back.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Jack, I know if you don’t, you won’t be able to focus on the dinner tonight. Just do me a favour and try to keep it short.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m going to lie down. If I fall asleep, wake me around six so I have time to get ready for dinner.”

  Jack waited until Anne had gone into the bedroom and closed the door before reaching for the phone. He hadn’t been exaggerating when he told Anne there was urgency in Goldsmith’s message, which had been simply “Call me. We need to talk.” Has my proposal been shot down already? he thought as he dialled Boston.

  “Mr. Goldsmith, please. This is Jack Anderson calling.”

  “One moment, Mr. Anderson. I’ll put you through to his office.”

  “Mr. Anderson, could you hold on, please,” Goldsmith’s secretary said a few seconds later. “Mr. Goldsmith is in a meeting, but he asked me to get him when you called.”

  “I’ll wait,” Jack said, the certainty growing that he wouldn’t like what he was about to hear.

  “Jack, how’s Scotland?” Goldsmith said when he came on the line.

  “The same as it was yesterday.”

  “Not exactly the same,” Goldsmith said, and then paused. “For one thing, I believe you can stop worrying about Pilgrim falling into less experienced hands.”

  “What are you saying?” Jack asked, rising to his feet.

  “As promised, I made some phone calls this morning to feel out the board about the company’s succession plans. The response was a bit surprising, but not unwarranted,” he said. “When I mentioned the idea of your staying on for another few years, there was an outpouring of support. In fact — and this is not hyperbole — as long you keep generating the numbers you are now, I think your tenure could last as long as you want.”
/>   “Even Don Arnold agreed?”

  “I won’t lie to you, Don was a hard sell. He was resistant at first, but when I told him the majority of the board is onside, he said he would go along with it.”

  “You are a persuasive man, Ross.”

  “Truthfully, not much persuading was needed. Your impending departure was a ticking bomb that no one wanted to be first to acknowledge. When I pointed out that your departure didn’t need to happen, nearly everyone voiced their support for your staying.”

  “How about the Young resolution?”

  “We’ll deal with that at the next board meeting.”

  “And who will tell Gordon?”

  “Don will take him out to dinner the night before the meeting and advise him that we’ve asked you to stay on,” Goldsmith said. “Who knows, it might come as a relief to him. Filling your shoes was never going to be an easy task, and not all number-two men are qualified to be a number one.”

  “This is wonderful news. I’d hoped for it but I can’t say I expected it. Thank you, Ross. Thank you so very much.”

  “There’s nothing to thank me for, Jack. Your record speaks for itself.”

  “And thank you for getting back to me so quickly. I didn’t expect that either.”

  “I’ve known you a long time, Jack. I know how you worry about things. I could imagine you spending the rest of your holiday fretting about how the board would react, and after the responses I got, there was no sense in waiting. So now you should be able to relax and enjoy the rest of your holiday.”

  “Believe me, that’s what I’m going to do.”

  “We’ll talk when you get home,” Goldsmith said.

  Jack put the phone back in its cradle and sat down on the desk chair. “Yes, yes, yes!” he said, a huge grin splitting his face. He tried to think of the last time he had felt such joy. When he was first named Pilgrim’s president? When Allison was born? But as happy as those events had been, they hadn’t given him such a rush. Goldsmith’s phone call had validated his career at Pilgrim and every sacrifice he’d made. A future filled with empty days had been put off, as Goldsmith had indicated, indefinitely. What a wonderful word that was, he thought.

  Jack heard a noise from the bedroom and realized Anne was still awake. She was sure to ask him about the phone call. What should he tell her? How would she react if he told her the truth? She could be happy for him or exactly the opposite. Better to wait, he decided, until they were back in Boston and everything was official.