by Kerry Watts
Shannon watched her mum’s expression when she glanced over at Rob dancing with Cassie. Louise struggled to take her eyes off him and Shannon didn’t like that. She didn’t like that one bit.
‘Come on, let’s hit the dance floor.’ Eric dragged Shannon by the arm. ‘This is a party, let’s show these oldies how it’s done!’
Shannon couldn’t help but laugh as the tempo increased and Eric waved his hands high with his hips swinging in time to the music. Rob grinned at him, then glanced at Shannon, who blushed and smiled awkwardly then grabbed Eric’s hand.
Chapter Three
Monday
Eric stared unashamedly at his drama teacher. The Calum Bailey, from the now off-air television series he’d enjoyed when he was ten. A child actor, Calum Bailey had become disheartened by the business and retrained as a teacher, which was what he had wanted to do as a boy. So here he was, Head of Drama at Inverlochty High. Although being head of a two-man drama department wasn’t exactly his ambition, it was less hectic than his previous life. He loved the enthusiasm of the teenagers; well, most of them, but this class had two particularly keen members, and he liked that.
‘Take a script and pass them back. This is a short piece I wrote myself when I was at drama school…’
The short eruption of sniggers made Calum smile. He would have done the same thing when he was at school. Eric caught his gaze and he was sure he saw his teacher blush.
‘Yes, yes, very funny. Shannon, are you OK with your part?’ Calum Bailey asked.
‘Of course, I like a challenge,’ she replied.
‘Good girl, I knew I could rely on you.’ Calum Bailey winked as he grinned.
This time it was Shannon’s turn to blush.
‘That’s a rare heat you’ve got glowing there,’ Eric teased with his hands close to her cheeks.
Shannon frowned and stuffed her script and pens into her bag.
‘Shut up,’ she muttered under her breath. ‘Listen, I’ll catch you up.’
Eric laughed and stole a glance in Calum Bailey’s direction, then blinked flirtatiously and looked away. He hated himself for it, but he knew exactly which one of them would win Mr Bailey’s heart. Eric waited in the corridor while Shannon talked to Calum.
‘Shannon, I really don’t think I can,’ Calum Bailey whispered, and glanced towards the classroom door. ‘This isn’t a good idea. We could both get into trouble, you know that.’
Shannon moved closer and whispered something in his ear. Calum stepped back and rubbed his hands up and down his cheeks.
‘Just think about what I said,’ she told him before turning to walk out.
Eric quickly removed his ear from the door where he was straining to hear what was being said.
‘Come on, let’s get out of here.’ Shannon grinned.
‘What was all that about?’ Eric asked, unnerved by Shannon’s behaviour.
Shannon shrugged, then linked her arm with his. ‘It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.’
‘Do you fancy going to the cafe before you head home?’ Eric asked, when it was clear Shannon’s secret would remain just that. He would have to find out another way.
Shannon hugged her folder close to her chest with her lips pursed.
‘I’m buying,’ Eric added playfully, tapping his back pocket.
‘Go on then. You’ve twisted my arm.’
Shannon did really fancy a strawberry thick shake before going home to face her German essay. It was easy for Eric. Having a German mum was surely cheating, and she was knackered. She hadn’t told Eric about the project she was working on which was keeping her up late, but when she’d stumbled on the information she had to see where it might lead.
‘Shit, look.’ Eric pointed. ‘Ben and his crew of merry dickheads are getting their kicks as usual.’
‘Hold that.’ Shannon’s folder slammed into Eric’s chest and her bag drooped from her shoulder before dropping to the ground at his feet.
‘Shannon, don’t get involved!’ Eric shouted after her, knowing his words were futile. He sighed and rolled his eyes.
‘Ben, cut it out!’ Shannon boomed as she jogged over to them. ‘Give him back his keys.’
‘Or what? What are you going to do?’ Ben growled.
Shannon twisted her head back to Eric. ‘I’ll catch you up. Get me a thick shake.’
Andrew Foster sat perched on his front step covering his ears with his hands. ‘It’s too loud. Stop it. It’s too loud.’
Eric knew better than to argue the point. Shannon had a soft spot for Andrew Foster, and Ben bullying him irked her. Andrew had been Louise’s best friend when they were both young. Since the death of Andrew’s mum, Shannon did what she could to support him. Eric watched the argument between Shannon and Ben play out. It was hard to believe the two of them were related; they were so different. It was also hard to believe he was actually Shannon’s uncle, with the two-year age gap.
‘Are you happy now, Ben?’ Shannon’s five foot two frame was dwarfed by Ben at a whisker shy of six foot. What Shannon lacked in stature, though, she more than made up for in determination. ‘Just give me the damn keys and I won’t have to tell Mum you’ve been bunking off and drinking again.’
Ben Randall was the complete opposite of his younger niece. Where Shannon was kind, friendly and generous, Ben was sullen, bitter and angry. Louise made allowances for her baby brother all the time, and explained away his behaviour as a reaction to his troubled past. Clashes with a variety of unsuitable stepfathers had turned the cute blue-eyed boy into an angry young man. When Jason explained to Shannon that Louise hadn’t had the best of starts either, she shrugged and walked away.
‘Come and get them, short-arse.’ Ben dangled Andrew Foster’s house keys in front of her, snatching them back at the last minute before she had a chance to grab them, much to the amusement of his friends. Shannon shot them a steely glare. Anger rose in her belly as she smashed her shoulder into Ben’s chest, grabbing the keys from him before he fell to the ground at her feet.
‘Come on.’ Shannon placed her hand on Andrew’s shoulder and smiled. ‘I’ll make us a cup of tea.’ She threw one last angry glare in Ben’s direction before heading inside with Andrew.
Ben Randall’s pride wasn’t the only part of him that Shannon hurt when he landed on the ground. She would regret making a fool of him.
Chapter Four
‘I cannae believe this is book five already.’ Maggie Malcolm held her copy of Rob’s new book close to her face and patted the cover. ‘And I cannae wait to find out what happens. Please dinnae tell me you’ve killed anyone in this one.’
Rob’s laughter was genuine. He was fond of Maggie. She had served behind the bar of The Black Witch the whole time he had lived in Inverlochty. Maggie loved telling Rob the legend of old Morag McIvor. She even suggested Morag make an appearance in one of Rob’s books. Maggie had explained that if he was ever to venture alone into the wood, he should remember always to nod a greeting to Morag. Show her respect, so she didn’t curse you and yours. Something Rob never forgot. Not that he was superstitious. It was just such a quaint story. Maggie was always first in the queue to have her book signed. He supposed, in some ways, that she was motherly in the way she spoke to him. Rob liked that. That was something he missed.
‘I don’t want to spoil the surprise, but be sure to leave a review as always,’ he teased.
Rob still had to pinch himself some days. Signing his name on book five was just as exciting as it had been on book one of the series, which had begun as a simple thought that had evolved into an idea then a plan and eventually into a bestseller. He hoped Fantasy had saved other people from reality the way it had him.
‘Can I get a picture?’
‘No!’ Rob immediately put his hand up in front of her phone. ‘No photos.’ He offered an awkward smile when it was obvious his outburst had startled her. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Thanks, honey.’ He sipped, then licked the froth from his top lip.
Cassie’s arm draped round the back of Rob’s shoulders and she dropped a soft kiss on his head. ‘Maggie said she would be here.’
He grinned. ‘Of course. Bless her. My superfan.’ Rob sank the last of his coffee to the scraping of chair legs on wooden floor.
‘Thanks, Bill,’ he shouted through to the back of the post office-come-general store-come library. His publisher had persuaded him to do book signings at the larger book stores in Glasgow and Edinburgh, but Rob hated them. Inverlochty was where he was comfortable. The quietness of the place helped him relax His years in his Glasgow flat within earshot of Buchanan Street railway station had created a yearning for peace; solitude even, some days.
‘Are you ready for home?’ Cassie’s hand dropped easily into his. ‘We can pick up fish and chips on the way.’
‘That’s sounds perfect.’ Rob kissed her hand and smiled in agreement. He liked the sound of that.
The feel of Rob’s hand in hers made Cassie feel safe, protected.
‘Whoa, watch where you’re going!’ Rob yanked Cassie back from someone thundering past; head down, hood tucked tightly over his head. Ben Randall. He did mutter something inaudible which might have been sorry, Rob wasn’t sure.
Cassie’s eyes narrowed. ‘Ben Randall has one mood these days, and it’s not pretty. I wouldn’t be a teenager again if you paid me. Poor Louise, he’s doing her head in with his nonsense. She’s had the school on the phone twice this week about his attendance. If he’s not careful he’s going to end up getting chucked out, and then what’s he going to do with himself? There are no jobs here, unless there’s something going at the hotel or with Maggie in The Black Witch.’
Rob wrapped his arms round her and pulled her close to kiss her lips.
‘That’s me away to make a start on this.’ Maggie Malcolm’s words startled the couple. She held aloft her copy of Rob’s book and shuffled past.
‘Goodnight, Maggie,’ Cassie shouted after her and cuddled close to Rob.
In the half-light they saw Ben sat alone on the bench at the gates of the ancient Inverlochty churchyard that was a common shortcut through to Back Street or the Dark Walk, as it was known for as long as anyone could remember. Some said it was connected to a time when the witches were burned in the town. Not that it was actually dark these days, with the lights of the adjacent houses glowing along its length. Before they could catch up to him, Cassie’s phone buzzed in her pocket.
‘Hang on.’ Cassie’s phone lit up while she scrolled. ‘That’s weird.’ She frowned.
‘What’s up?’
‘Louise has cancelled tomorrow night. We were going to have a girls’ night. Just the two of us. I thought maybe she wanted to talk about something.’
‘Again?’ Rob raised an eyebrow.
‘Yes, that’s the third time she’s cancelled on me. Is everything OK with her and Jason?’
Rob shrugged. ‘I think so, but I can ask him.’
‘Would you?’ Cassie suddenly clasped her hand to her mouth. ‘It’s not the baby, is it?’
A small tear gathered at the corner of her eye.
‘Honey, no, they’re both happy for us.’ Rob hugged her.
‘I know, but…’ She sniffed. ‘After the miscarriages, maybe she resents me.’
Rob’s hands moved to Cassie’s cheeks and he bent to press his lips against hers.
‘Of course she doesn’t resent you. She’s your best friend. I’ll talk to Jason,’ he whispered.
Cassie’s smile was evidence that she was satisfied with his answer for now.
Shannon knocked once, then slowly pushed the door open with one finger.
‘Andrew, it’s just me.’
Shannon closed the front door behind her and covered her nose with her hand against the smell of stale food. The kind of smell that builds in a poorly ventilated house and sticks to curtains and carpets. She walked through the hallway to the kitchen, past newspapers piled high on either side. A delusion based on messages written in newsprint made it difficult for Andrew to throw papers away. He had to be alert for the signs, he said. The stench of dust stuck in her throat and she coughed. Then the sight that greeted Shannon froze her to the spot.
‘Andrew, what have you done?’
Her bag slid through her fingers and onto the floor.
‘Andrew?’
Chapter Five
1996
Journalist Blair Crawford considered himself to be a strong man, but the sight of Laura and Ray Nicoll sat in that courtroom, day after day, nearly broke his heart. It was bad enough for him to hear the details of Sophie’s murder, but the agony her parents faced must have been horrific. The boys were not in court to hear the evidence, and their plea of not guilty to murder divided the country. There were those who described Daniel Simpson as a victim, incapable of understanding the enormity of what he had done. Both boys were described as vulnerable to the influence of violent movies and the widespread availability of extreme pornography. Jack MacKay was a spoilt brat who should know right from wrong. The other side wanted them locked away for life without the chance of parole – and they were the more liberal. Bringing back the death penalty became a hot topic of conversation, and for a lot of people it didn’t matter that they were juveniles. Death should be punishable by death.
Seventeen-year-old Tom Nicoll was struggling to come to terms with his loss. The constant nightmares were making schoolwork impossible. The woman from Victim Support tried her best, but Tom wasn’t ready to say it yet. He had not yet uttered the words ‘Sophie is dead’. If he didn’t say it, then it couldn’t be true. He couldn’t accept that his little sister was gone, particularly in such a brutal way. The fact that he knew her killers was torture. He had spoken to them in the school cafeteria. He had sat close to them on the bus. He knew Daniel well from football. Tom was struggling to make sense of it all. It was impossible to comprehend why they would do that to her. Jack had a reputation as a bit of a troublemaker, sure, but murder?
Judge James Blackman took his seat for the last time and stared into Laura Nicoll’s eyes as he sat. The overwhelming evidence made a guilty verdict inevitable. A plea of manslaughter on the grounds of diminished responsibility was not accepted. Semen belonging to both boys was found on Sophie’s body and skin cells from Jack MacKay were scraped from under her fingernails. Daniel Simpson’s version of the events of that day were very different to Jack’s. Jack claimed that Sophie was the one who had instigated the sexual encounter, and that she had a reputation as being sexually promiscuous. As expected, his accusation caused uproar from Sophie’s family and friends, who were forced to defend her honour.
Jack sparked outrage when he suggested that Sophie was responsible for his actions and that her advances drove him over the edge. Daniel, on the other hand, broke down under police questioning when they were arrested and told how they had raped and murdered Sophie. He sobbed that he was sorry, and Judge Blackman truly believed the teenager, but was bound by law to punish him. Their being juveniles limited the judge’s sentencing options. When the sentence of five years was handed down it sparked a frenzy countrywide. Ian and Susan MacKay had to flee their home in the middle of the night after a petrol bomb was thrown through their kitchen window. Death threats were issued against Daniel and Jack daily.
Blair Crawford peered in through the filthy window at the chaotic mess inside the living room. He was surprised that she’d agreed to talk to him. The press had been scathing about her during the trial. Rita Simpson was portrayed as a drug-addicted, alcoholic single mother who neglected Daniel from a young age. Abuse at the hands of a variety of boyfriends was also alleged. A figure sprawled over a chair in the far corner caught Blair’s attention.
‘Shit!’ He hammered his fist on the front door, flecks of paint chipping off and falling to the ground. ‘Rita Simpson, it’s
Blair Crawford, open the door.’
He grabbed the door handle and dialled 999, but it was too late. The needle was still in Rita Simpson’s arm as she slipped away; escaping, in the eyes of the world, her responsibilities again. Her neglect had created the monster that stole Sophie’s future.
‘Are you a relative?’ PC Alex Duncan asked when he arrived at the scene.
Blair Crawford was appalled at the prospect that he thought he was related to her. He reached into his jacket pocket and thrust his business card at the officer. Alex Duncan raised his eyebrows.
‘You lot can go now. There’s nothing left for you here.’ Alex pointed his finger at Blair. ‘The stuff you lot wrote about little Sophie was disgusting. You should be ashamed of yourselves. Go on, get away from here before I find a reason to arrest you.’
Blair Crawford didn’t quit that easily.
‘It wasn’t my newspaper that did that. I agree with you, it was awful. My editor refused to stoop that low. Listen, if Mr and Mrs Nicoll want to talk about Sophie then I will be more than happy to write her story. Sophie’s story.’
Blair directed his words directly into Alex’s eyes, with his card tucked into his outstretched hand. He didn’t have to wait long for the officer’s response.
‘OK, I’m going.’ He yanked his arm back from the officer’s grip. ‘At least give them my card. Give them a chance to think about it.’
The fact that PC Duncan stuffed Blair’s card into his pocket gave him a glimmer of hope that he might scoop an exclusive after all.
Chapter Six
‘You put your money away, Rob Taylor. This one’s on me,’ Maggie Malcolm insisted as she placed the two pints on the bar. Jason gulped almost half of his down before Rob had a chance to thank her. He frowned at Jason.
