Archie raised his hands in surrender. ‘Peace. I just came down to Portobello to get a few background photos and a bit of local colour. I thought the school presentation would make a good cover so none of the other papers could get a whiff of the story. It was only when Patsy so kindly identified you all that I realised that most of the surviving big players were fortuitously all gathered together.’
Patsy went scarlet. ‘You only asked me if there was anyone who might have known Shona! I was just trying to be helpful. You didn’t tell me that monster was being released.’
Tom looked straight at Archie. ‘I remember the press at that time, always on the doorstep, tricking photos out of schoolfriends… the lurid, lying articles and the sackfulls of mail that followed. All those letters to my parents saying they didn’t deserve to have a daughter, if they couldn’t look after her. Spiteful, illiterate rants saying we should have watched over her better. That was the last straw, the thing that drove my parents to South Africa. I won’t give you anything.’
Archie nodded, ‘I can understand that this is a shock for you. Journalists can be a slimy bunch, but I like to think that I’ve still got some integrity. I tried to trace your family, Tom, but I’d got nowhere so I don’t think any of the other papers will be able to find you as long as we all keep quiet.’ He glanced towards Patsy. ‘If you grant me an exclusive for my book, I’ll keep you out of the story now.’
Sarah looked up, her cheeks wet with tears. ‘That isn’t the worst thing. The question is: if Logan Baird didn’t kill Shona, who did?’
Chapter 4
They left Captain Kidd’s house in silence. Rory slung his arm round Tom’s shoulder. ‘I think we need a drink. Tom, come to Paddy’s Bar. Remember he was the only one who’d serve us when we were sixteen?’
‘No, Rory, I’ve had enough. I need to go back to the B&B.’
Rory threw his hands up in mock horror, ‘What for? You’re not going to sit around by yourself this evening, brooding over the past, are you? We haven’t had a real chance to talk. We’ve got lots to catch up on after the last forty years. Come on!’
Tom hesitated. It was true it would be better to be with people tonight. He nodded towards Rory and fell into step beside Sarah. She moved her head close to his. ‘Remember lunch tomorrow, 1.30 at 95 Great King Street. Please come.’
Tom’s step faltered. ‘Aren’t you coming to the pub?’
Sarah indicated Rory, striding ahead. ‘Not invited.’
Patsy pulled her arm. ‘Come for a drink in the Wine Bar with me.’
Sarah shook her head, ‘No, Patsy, I’m going home. I’ve got things to do – six people for lunch tomorrow.’
Patsy’s face fell and she looked hopefully towards Rory. Ignoring her, he took Tom by the arm and led him away. Tom followed him, but looking back he saw Sarah’s eyes fixed on him.
Paddy’s Bar hadn’t changed much over the years. The darts board had gone and had been replaced by a huge television screen showing a football match from Sky Sports. There was a small group of locals sitting in front of it, eyes glued to the screen, clutching their pints. Paddy, who used to serve anyone who had the money to buy a pint, had long gone. Behind the bar was an attractive girl with high Slavic cheekbones and a tight top. She poured the pints and dispensed the whisky chasers with an air of disdain.
Rory and Tom sat down at a dimpled copper-topped table at the back of the bar. Tom was relieved that Rory didn’t mention Logan Baird straight away – he needed some time for the enormity of Archie’s bombshell to sink in.
Rory started reminiscing about the old days and Tom felt himself falling into the easy friendship of their teenage years. They talked about football, teachers, the scrapes they’d got into.
‘Do you remember the day we set fire to the Fun Palace?’ Rory laughed.
Tom winced. That was another thing he’d attempted to blank from his memory. At first it was only a small bonfire behind the run-down amusement arcade on a frosty evening. But a winter wind had sprung up and the fire had quickly spread to the peeling wooden fence. They’d tried to beat the flames out with their jackets, but the fire spread inside the amusement park and when it reached the rides some oil or gas exploded.
‘God, it was like a firework display!’ Rory’s eyes sparkled at the memory.
Tom relived the horror. The whole complex had caught fire, flames and sparks floating high into the night sky. As the fire engines arrived, Rory and Tom had fled to a nearby street and cowered in the darkness, watching with awful fascination as the firefighters raised their ladders and tried to drench the blaze.
‘I was shaking in my boots for the next few days,’ said Tom. ‘Every time the door bell rang I thought it was the police coming to get me.’ Amazingly, the dreaded knock at the door had never come, although it had been the hot topic of conversation on every street corner for weeks, and the smell of the charred wood was a constant reminder of what they’d done. How fortunate they were that the Fun Palace was so badly run and dangerous that the firemen had put it down to an electrical fault without deeper investigation. Nobody had been hurt, thank God, and once the site was bulldozed and new flats built, the fire was soon forgotten.
‘We were lucky, damn lucky,’ Rory slurred slightly. ‘If we’d been caught we’d have been marked men, given a police record, sent to Young Offenders, started on the slippery slope to crime.’
Tom was cautious. ‘We shouldn’t even talk about it. I’ve never mentioned it to anyone. Couldn’t we still be charged now if they found out about it?’
‘Nah, there’s statute of limitations or something. You can’t be done for old crimes. I think we’ve got away with it, Tommy boy.’
There was a cheer from the football-watchers and they both looked up at the large screen as the goal was replayed. Emboldened by the pints he’d drunk, Tom changed the subject. ‘Sarah’s a lovely girl.’
‘She is.’ Rory leant forward. ‘She’s my rock. A clichéd expression but true. A real earth-mother and I know she’ll always stay with me.’
Tom felt a wave of annoyance. Here was Rory married to this beautiful, empathetic woman and was that the best he could say? Suppressing his anger, he carried on. He wanted to talk about Sarah and find out more about her. ‘You know she was Shona’s best friend? They were always together until…’
‘Yes, she said that to me when we first met, but I couldn’t remember her from school at all. She can’t have been very noticeable then. But she was certainly noticeable when we met at the Scotsman offices.’
‘When was that?’
‘She must have been about twenty. Gorgeous-looking girl. Tall, slender, those long legs, long dark hair. Irresistible. You know, the cool exterior and the fire beneath. And what was really attractive was that she was totally unaware of how beautiful she was.’ Rory paused and took another gulp of beer. ‘She’s put on a bit of weight since then, of course.’
Tom felt another surge of anger. ‘Still very good-looking, though.’ Did Rory not appreciate what he had? ‘Did you get married soon after that?’
‘Well, not that soon. I was already married when we met, of course.’
Tom looked up, astonished.
‘Didn’t you know? It must all have happened after you left. You remember Babs Barrowfield, the Drama teacher?’
Tom did remember her. She had caused quite a stir when she’d arrived at the school, small and vivacious, with dramatic curves and only a few years older than them. Drama Studies and school plays had suddenly become very popular.
‘She used to invite some of us older students to her flat and she certainly taught me a few things that weren’t on the school curriculum. It would probably just have been one of those rite of passage things, but then she fell pregnant.’
Tom felt his jaw drop.
‘She said she was going to have the child adopted but I persuaded her to marry me. I was still at school, but I was nearly eighteen and it was Captain Kidd who really helped me then, encouraged me to go to unive
rsity, helped me get a scholarship. Just one of the reasons that I think he’s such a great bloke.’
Tom was still digesting the shock information about Rory’s first marriage. ‘So you have an older child? Not just the twins?’
‘Yes, Abigail. She’s in her thirties now. Babs wasn’t keen on me seeing her when she was young, but we re-established contact when she was older.’ Rory stared reflectively into his pint. ‘Always saw Babs though. A very temperamental woman. Spiteful in many ways, but very passionate.’ He drained his drink, before standing up and walking carefully to the bar. He leant over it as he ordered the drinks and even the ice maiden seemed to be thawing under the influence of his charm. She smiled as she pulled a couple more pints. Rory brought them back to the table.
Tom looked at the pint. ‘I really shouldn’t have any more.’
‘Come on. We’ve got forty years drinking to catch up on. And you never said no to a drink in those days.’
‘Forbidden fruit when we were sixteen. Made it more exciting. But I saw the way drink affected my dad…’
‘Aye, your dad could really put them away. I saw him really steaming several nights. In fact, I saw him that night.’ Rory put his glass down and looked directly at Tom. ‘He was in the park the night your sister disappeared. He was in a right state.’
‘He was out looking for Shona. He was upset, we all were!’
‘No, this was earlier.’
Tom sipped his pint and realised that Rory was much drunker than he was.
‘I was in the park, looking for you. Remember, we were supposed to meet up. Where were you?’
Tom blushed beneath his tan. He thought he’d got it made when Jennie Howie agreed to meet him that night. They’d met at the other end of the prom by the bandstand but… even after nearly forty years he cringed at the memory. It had all gone so well at first. She’d let him feel inside her bra and had guided his hand under her skirt. He’d felt inside her lace-trimmed panties, the warm moistness. All the anticipation, the whispered boasts of his friends – he was going to join the club, going to be a man.
Then the excitement had peaked and he’d felt the dampness in his jeans. He tried to carry on, but the moment had passed. Jennie had pulled up her knickers in scorn, snapped that he was no use to her and stamped off into the night, leaving him feeling humiliated, frustrated and uncomfortable.
But the worst thing was, after he’d slunk home, his mother had asked where Shona was. She’d asked him to keep an eye out for his sister, but he hadn’t been there when she needed him and… he’d never seen her again.
Rory was persistent. ‘Where were you? Were you with a lassie?’
Tom tried to steer the conversation away from all that. ‘You saw my dad that night in the park, but you testified you’d seen Logan Baird there?’
Rory slumped towards him, still with his boyish charm, but slurring his words. ‘Well, Tommy, I was in the park looking for you. There were quite a few people around. I definitely saw your dad and Captain Kidd. And I think I saw Logan Baird, hanging about in the trees. When the police came round and asked if I’d seen him I told them I had.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘I knew other people had said they’d seen him – there were even some lassies who said he’d exposed himself to them. I didn’t go as far as that but I did beef it up a bit.’
He knocked his whisky back and looked at Tom again. ‘I remember now! You were trying your luck with Jennie Howie. But where-y, when-y and howie exactly we don’t know-y!’ He laughed uproariously at his own joke. ‘She was a generous girl in those days, all right. Still is, mind you, but her head’s a mess.’ He took another slurp of beer and wiped the foam from his mouth. ‘Last night was miserable. I took her back to her hotel room. She could hardly stand. And then she just lay on her bed and lifted up her skirt. Begged me to shag her. I just didn’t have the heart to say no. I just had to stop her crying. She’s suffered so many knock-backs.’
Tom stared at Rory. ‘But you’re married to Sarah!’
‘Ah, Tommy boy, I am. But there are so many women out there, vulnerable, lonely women. They throw themselves at me. It would be ungentlemanly to refuse. I don’t want to hurt their feelings. You must know that, being a wild young bachelor, as you are.’
‘Well, hardly.’ Tom didn’t know what to say. Rory had been a womaniser when they were young; it was easy for him because he was so good-looking. He’d always had an eye for the girls – in fact, Tom remembered the time he’d punched Rory in the nose when he’d leered at Shona in her shorts, saying she was a wee cracker and was going to be a goer in a few years’ time. He’d been furious that day.
Rory leant forward and waved his hand in Tom’s face. ‘Just grab your opportunities. There are so many of them, especially in my business. Like that Mara O’Callaghan the other night. A bit of sympathy and she went like a rabbit.’ He caught sight of Tom’s shocked expression. ‘Don’t feel bad, Tommy boy. It’s just part of the job.’ He gave his mock-rueful little boy smile.
Did Sarah know what Rory was like? She seemed so composed and in control. Tom didn’t trust himself to say much. ‘Your job must be very exciting.’
Rory shrugged. ‘It’s getting boring, always the same interviews. People coming on to push their new film or book. I need a new challenge. I’m looking out for something new, something real, meaningful journalism.’
A cheer from the football crowd signified another goal. Tom took the opportunity to stand up. ‘I’d better be going but I’ll see you tomorrow anyway. Sarah has invited me to lunch.’
Rory groaned. ‘Oh God, the famous Sunday lunch. Her mother will be there, and the twins too – but they usually push off as soon as they can. The food’ll be good, but don’t say you haven’t been warned about the conversation. Her mother talks all the time – can’t listen, not that she ever did, mind.’
Tom stood up and pulled on his jacket. As they went out into the crisp night air, the moon hung heavy over the water of the bay. Rory pointed to the sky, ‘Nearly full moon – still romantic. And I know you won’t say anything to Sarah, will you? It would only hurt her.’
The diesel whirr of a taxi saved Tom from having to reply. Rory leapt out into the street, hailing it. ‘There’s my Joe Baxi. I’m away off home, Tommy boy. You must be a good influence on me.’
The taxi driver switched off the yellow sign and Tom was left standing in the road, watching it rolling away into the night, the image of Sarah’s face imprinted on his brain.
Part 3
The room is airless, silent except for the tick of the clock. The heavy curtains are drawn, the weak ceiling light sending shadows across the gloom of the best front room.
My father looms over me, thick steely hair combed severely back from his heavy face, deep-set eyes boring into me. His meaty fist is on the Bible. I’m sitting on the edge of a hard chair, my hands clutching the table through the harsh cut velvet of the tablecloth.
‘This was the work of the devil.’ His voice booms harsh and resonant. ‘You will leave that school. You will bring no one to this house. You will go to the homes of no other pupils. You will not go out in the evenings. You will work at school and do the Lord’s Will.’
*
Sarah’s eyes opened. She was in bed with her husband beside her. Although her father had been dead for more than thirty years, his voice rang through the darkness of the bedroom and his eyes looked down on her, condemning her. She sunk her head in the pillow, trying to bury the shame and guilt she still felt so keenly.
Chapter 5
Sarah busied herself in the kitchen, peeling potatoes and preparing the Sunday roast. Rory had got up and left early, and she had a few hours before her mother and the twins arrived. And Tom, too. She smiled despite herself, but then shuddered – thinking of him brought back the memory of Shona and that awful night. Should she have followed her? Could she have done anything to save her?
She’d waited in the park for what seemed like hours, until the air turned cold and the last rays of
evening light disappeared. Walking home slowly, she’d looked round every time she heard footsteps, hoping they were Shona’s. Her friend running off had made her feel angry at first, but as the darkness fell she started to feel scared. Shona had never left her alone before.
By the black front door of their granite house next to the Free Presbyterian Church, she’d hesitated. She’d be in trouble; she was not supposed to stay out after dark.
Her mother was waiting at the door, crying. Her father had gone out looking for her. Sarah became even more frightened. Her distant, silent father always had an air of barely-suppressed anger, but when this broke through, he could be terrifying.
When he’d come back, he was trembling, angrier than she’d ever seen him before, his stern face dark with rage and his deep-set eyes red-rimmed. She’d been only too glad to retreat to the sanctuary of her bedroom. As she lay quaking in bed, the phone rang. Her father didn’t like people phoning the house at an hour he considered ‘unsuitable’ and had answered sharply: ‘Yes, Sarah is at home. No, nothing at all,’ and replaced the handset firmly. Sarah was sure it was Mrs McIver. Did that mean that Shona hadn’t gone home?
Sarah hadn’t slept well that night.
She basted the meat and went through to lay the table in the high Georgian dining room, going through the comforting ritual of making the table beautiful, laying the cutlery, polishing the glasses, folding the napkins and arranging the freesias as a centrepiece. She must concentrate on today, making it a lovely day for her family, and for Tom. She smiled, despite herself.
*
Tom woke up with a start and looked at his watch.
12.20.
With the long journey, the beers, and the emotional whirl of the last two days, he must have slept for nearly twelve hours. He heard Sarah’s voice in his memory: ‘Lunch 1.30 at 95 Great King Street’.
He showered and dressed quickly, and hurried down the stairs.
Sewing the Shadows Together Page 4
