Sewing the Shadows Together

by Alison Baillie

  Tom stood up. ‘Should I hide?’

  ‘Archie’s no problem. You’re just an early caller.’

  Archie’s footsteps could be heard coming slowly up the stairs before he arrived at the front door panting. ‘These Georgian flats are all very well but why did they no install lifts?’ He gave an ironic grin and kissed Sarah on the cheek. ‘Hi Tom,’ he said, not seeming to find it strange that he was there. ‘Have you seen any papers this morning, Sarah?’

  Sarah shook her head and led him towards the kitchen. ‘Coffee?’

  ‘I’ll take one in a minute but I think you ought to see this first.’ Archie took a folded newspaper out of his pocket. ‘The Daily Recorder is not usually my reading of choice but this was drawn to my attention this morning.’

  He opened it up and revealed the headline: Rory Dunbar’s secret funeral over a picture of the children standing in a line in front of the spreading wings of the granite angel at the Seafield Crematorium.

  Sarah’s mouth dropped open. ‘That picture was taken on Abigail’s phone. How could she have…?’ She was stuttering, her mouth seeming incapable of forming words.

  Archie shook his head. ‘Look at the picture quality and the shadows. This has been taken from a long way away, with a telephoto lens.’

  ‘But how could they have found out? We were so careful.’

  ‘There are always people willing to sell a bit of information. Or maybe they just followed you there.’

  ‘What! People are watching us and following us?’ Sarah was aghast.

  Archie patted her arm. ‘Don’t worry. It’s not MI5, just some small-time pap wanting to earn a quick buck. But you’d better take your phone off the hook and don’t let anyone you don’t know into the stair because the sharks will be on your trail. Actually it’s quite surprising they haven’t already been onto you. The Recorder must have got the photos at the last minute before the printing deadline.’

  Sarah picked up the paper and began to read.

  ‘Early yesterday morning at a secret ceremony at Seafield Crematorium, the body of Rory Dunbar, who died in a tragic fall at Arthur’s Seat last week, was laid to rest. The popular television personality was accompanied on his last journey by his wife Sarah, first wife TV star Babs Barrowfield of Sergeant Mone fame and several other women. We show the picture of the seven young people gathered there, children who all bear a remarkable resemblance to the charismatic chat show host. Was this the last gathering of his secret family?’

  Underneath there was an even more blurred photo of the women standing at the chapel door. Rosie had her back to the camera but Sarah, her mother and Miranda could be seen very clearly. The strapline read. Rory Dunbar’s Wives Club? A second fuzzy photo showed Babs and Abigail with the strapline:

  Babs ‘Sergeant Mone’ Barrowfield with her daughter Abigail Dunbar, Rory Dunbar’s child from his early first marriage.

  Sarah felt breathless with shock. They’d been so careful and this was exactly what she’d wanted to avoid.

  The doorbell rang again. Archie raised his eyebrows warningly as Tom moved over to the intercom and said, ‘Your mother.’

  Sarah shrugged and nodded her head. How was her mother going to take this? Tom buzzed her up and the click of high-heeled shoes could be heard coming up the stairs. Flora arrived at the door, beautifully dressed in a lilac two-piece with matching shoes and handbag. She was holding the newspaper.

  Sarah’s heart sank.

  ‘Have you seen this?’ Flora waved the article in Sarah’s direction. ‘We’re in the newspaper, not one of the quality ones, of course, but nevertheless. And have you seen the photo? They think that I’m one of Rory’s wives!’ She patted her hair. ‘It isn’t a very clear photo, of course, but it’s quite a good one of me and it’s really quite flattering that they should think I’m young enough to be his wife.’

  Sarah’s mouth fell open, shocked at her mother’s self-absorption. To think she’d been worried about how she’d take the revelations about Rory’s other children. To her amazement she’d accepted it with total equanimity, excusing Rory everything and acting as if it were all Sarah’s fault.

  Archie watched Flora with an amused smile, before turning back to Sarah. ‘Seriously, perhaps you should think about making a statement, just to fend off any questions. Something to the effect Sarah Dunbar and Rory’s immediate family laid his body to rest in a private ceremony at the Seafield Crematorium. They now ask that their privacy be respected and they are left to grieve in peace.’

  Sarah breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Could you do this for me? You could also add that a memorial service to celebrate his life and achievements will be held at St Giles Cathedral.’

  ‘Do you know the date?’ Archie took out a notebook and was scribbling some notes with a stubby pencil.

  ‘Not yet, it’s being organised by BBC Scotland, but I’ll let you know.’

  ‘And otherwise, no comment. What about the rest of the family? Do you think they’ll say anything?’

  ‘Their legacy seems to be dependent on them adhering to some kind of confidentiality agreement that was in operation while Rory was alive. I don’t think we need to worry about them. And anyway now it’s all out in the open it isn’t that much of a story.’

  Archie looked up from his notebook. ‘There might be some slappers trying to cash in on the story, but just ignore them. A dignified silence is the way to deal with them.’ Sarah nodded, relieved that Archie was on her team with his practical, unsensational take on things.

  After everyone had gone, her mother to the Bridge Club, clutching her photo, Tom to meet HJ, and Archie to his usual Café Royal lunchtime drink, the phone started ringing. Nick and Lottie were both back at work, but had phoned when the photo had been brought to their attention. Neither of them seemed very upset about it, amused rather. Sarah was surprised that Nick immediately sprang to the defence of Abigail, insisting that the photo couldn’t have come from her, even though Sarah had not even suggested it.

  ‘It couldn’t have been Abigail. She’s a great girl, very loyal.’

  Sarah was puzzled that he could have formed this judgement after only one meeting. Or perhaps the children really did have more contact with each other.

  After a series of calls from journalists Sarah took Archie’s advice and left the phone off the hook. She wanted peace to think about everything that had happened. She was so confused: she didn’t know how she felt about Rory anymore. In some ways she was angry with him for all the lies and deceit, but at the same time they’d been together for nearly thirty years and there had been some good times.

  Then she remembered Tom. She’d almost made up her mind to leave Rory before he died and now the relationship with Tom might be easier. But what would her mother say about that?

  Rory! She slapped her forehead. Why was everyone so sure his death was an accident? She had a sudden vision of Rory and Kidd on Salisbury Crags. Kidd was the only person who’d been there, and because he was so charming, so public school, so old Edinburgh law lord family, everyone had believed his version of events without question. But Rory had suspected the teacher of being a paedophile; he’d also found out about the family scandal with the young housemaid. What if he’d found out that Kidd was guilty of Shona’s death and challenged him about it? How very convenient his death would then be for Kidd…

  Chapter 23

  The doorbell rang. At first she ignored it but when it became more insistent Sarah’s patience snapped. She answered the intercom prepared to vent her anger on whoever was there. ‘Hiya, Sarah. It’s me, Patsy. I tried to get through on the phone but it was always engaged. Are you all right?’

  Sarah hesitated. ‘Is there anyone else out there, Patsy? Reporters or photographers?’

  ‘I can’t see anyone.’

  ‘All right, come up, but please don’t let anyone slip into the stairwell.’

  Patsy hurried up the stairs and came dramatically through the door, stretching her arms out towards Sarah. ‘My poor de
ar girl, are you all right? As soon as I saw that dreadful story in the newspaper, I just had to come. How are you?’

  Sarah looked at the concern in Patsy’s small pointed features and wondered how genuine it was. Then she was annoyed with herself – she mustn’t see evil everywhere. Patsy was good-hearted and, awful thought, her ‘best’ friend. ‘I’m fine, really.’

  Patsy went into the drawing room and sat on the Chesterfield. She patted the space next to her and Sarah obediently sat down. Patsy’s voice oozed empathy. ‘It must have been terrible. You said the funeral was for family only, but I didn’t realise that his family was quite so large.’ Patsy stifled a giggle and then put on her serious concerned expression. ‘I knew about Babs Barrowfield, of course. We used to have quite a laugh at school, saying that she would have to sign Rory’s absence notes! But all those others! How could you have borne it? How could you have stayed with Rory when he was having children all over the place?’

  ‘I didn’t know,’ Sarah said and instantly regretted it as horror spread over Patsy’s face.

  ‘You didn’t… know? Did they all just turn up at the funeral?’

  Sarah decided as she’d gone so far she might as well explain. ‘I did get a little warning. Babs seems to have been very well-informed and her daughter, who’s a lawyer, acts as a sort of shop steward for the young ones.’

  ‘Unbelievable,’ Patsy lowered her voice confidentially, ‘I mean, I did suspect Rory might play away a little, but I never dreamed… I thought you must know and just accept it.’

  Sarah sighed. ‘I was happy when the children were at home and I did accept that Rory had to work long hours. I thought that it was just part of his job. But anyway, none of that seems very important now, compared to the fact that Rory is…’ Sarah hesitated. She couldn’t bring herself to say dead. But she would have to get used to saying it, to telling people. She changed tack to avoid the word. ‘All this, and Logan Baird getting out, has made me think of Shona so much.’

  ‘And Tom coming back?’ said Patsy with an inquisitive look.

  Sarah ignored the remark and tried to find out if Patsy had any useful information about Kidd. ‘I’ve been thinking alot about Shona. Were you in the After School Writing Club?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Patsy’s face lit up. ‘We all were – it was with Captain Kidd after all.’

  ‘Do you remember meeting round at his house the day Shona disappeared?’

  ‘I do remember being in his house, very vividly. Was it the same day?’

  ‘What can you remember about that meeting? What was said?’

  ‘Sarah, it’s nearly forty years ago. I can remember being there, but I can’t think of anything that happened. Why are you asking? Is it something important?’

  Sarah sighed. ‘Not really. I’ve been thinking about that day and some memories are coming back. I keep going over things, wondering what happened to Shona.’

  Patsy glanced at her watch, and stretched over to give Sarah an awkward hug. ‘I think you should try and move on. We’ll never find out what happened now. It’s so long ago. It really doesn’t do any good mulling over things that can’t be changed.’ She pursed her thin lips reflectively. ‘You’re really very strong. I don’t think I’d ever be able to cope if anything like that happened to me.’ She paused. ‘Not that anything like that would happen to me, not with Gavin…’ Sarah arranged her face in a deliberate grim smile and Patsy stood up hurriedly. ‘Well, I just wanted to know that you are all right.’

  ‘As you can see, I’m fine.’

  Patsy pulled her jacket round her shoulders. ‘Yes, well, just let me know if there’s anything, anything at all that I can do.’

  Sarah thanked her for visiting with as much politeness as she could muster and watched Patsy beetling down the stairs. Sarah was certain that the story would very quickly be doing the rounds on the jungle drums of Patsy’s school reunion pals.

  As she closed the door, her mobile rang. It was Tom. ‘Listen, Sarah. I’m with HJ, he wants to talk to you. Can we come round and speak to you now?’

  Sarah hesitated. She didn’t want HJ Kidd in her house. ‘Are you at the centre? I’ll come over and talk to you there.’

  ‘That’s fine, and you can look round my new home. I’ve got the job.’

  Sarah put the phone down, feeling annoyed with Tom. He was totally taken in by HJ. Could he not see that he was being used by him? She collected her coat and car keys and set off for the Cowgate, her mind racing with the thought that was gathering ever more substance in her mind – that HJ Kidd was responsible for two deaths.

  *

  Although the sky was bright, the sun did not penetrate the Cowgate where the gloomy hulk of the Canongate Centre loomed in the shadows far beneath the George 1Vth Bridge. HJ and Tom were waiting as Sarah went into the interior of the church, still shadowy despite the pale daylight struggling though the grimy windows.

  Tom came towards her and they looked at each other, wondering whether to embrace. In the end they didn’t and turned towards HJ. He was sitting on the edge of the makeshift podium.

  He stood up and smiled. ‘Sarah, I wanted to talk to you because I feel I owe you an explanation.’

  Sarah steeled herself inside. She wasn’t going to be won over by his charm, even if Tom seemed to be unable to resist it. She nodded her head and they all sat down at a dusty table.

  ‘Firstly, Tom told me that you found that silly poem.’

  Sarah nodded. ‘That’s what you came round to collect in such a hurry, the day after Rory died.’ She emphasised the final word, imbuing it with some of the revulsion that she’d begun to feel towards him.

  HJ looked sheepish. ‘I must admit I did. I’d forgotten all about it until Rory mentioned it to me.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I wrote it forty years ago. It was a joke. It doesn’t seem like a very good one now, but at the time it was just to tease a young colleague of mine. Once when we were out having a pint he admitted that he had this fantasy of being licked all over by the girls in his first year class.’ His face clouded. ‘It’s hard to imagine now, but things were so different then. We all thought it was funny. I wrote him that poem to make fun of him. Nothing more.’

  Sarah couldn’t imagine on which parallel universe a poem like that could be a ‘joke’ and pressed on further. ‘But there are other things. Rory found out something about your family, why you fell out with them. Something about a young maid.’

  HJ laughed. ‘Rory mentioned that too – he’d heard this garbled story and leapt to the wrong conclusions. There was indeed a falling out, but it wasn’t because of a young girl. On the contrary, the old mater and pater were upset when they found out that my nanny, their faithful old family retainer, had been giving me a rather special kind of care and attention. She had to leave – after twenty years.’

  HJ cleared his throat, his eyes far away in memory. ‘I tried to defend her, saying it was the best thing that could happen to a young boy, but they took it as a breach of trust. The fact that it had started when I was fourteen and had gone on for years particularly annoyed them, I recall. Anyway, I stood there and said, ‘If she goes, I go.’

  ‘In the end we both went. Nanny got another position up north somewhere, I met dear Hannah, but the family never forgave me for the things that had been said. And I didn’t want anything more to do with them – their values and attitudes were not mine.’

  Sarah and Tom exchanged glances as Kidd carried on.

  ‘I told Rory that and we had a good laugh about it, actually, especially after I admitted to still having a thing for large knickers and white flannel nighties.’

  Sarah looked into his blue eyes and felt his charm. She hardened herself against it. ‘But, at the After School Writing Club, you picked Shona out particularly.’

  HJ’s eyes saddened. ‘It’s true, I did see something special in Shona. As a teacher you want to develop all your pupils, to enable them to do the best they can. But there are some that touch you especially, with that extra spa
rk of creativity, that freshness of perception, that indication of genius that makes you think this is someone who will outstrip you.’ His eyes moistened. ‘Rory was another one.’

  ‘But Shona said she had a secret that night she ran away from me.’ Sarah decided to say everything. ‘She came to you, didn’t she?’

  HJ’s face drooped. ‘The police have contacted me about the reopened case and when they interview me again I’m going to tell them the truth. There was something I kept hidden from them at the time of the original investigation. Shona did come round. I had submitted some stories from the writing group to an international competition. Shona received a certificate ‘Highly Commended’. I wanted to give it to her, but I didn’t want to make a big thing of it. She hadn’t won a prize, after all, and none of the others had been mentioned, but I wanted to encourage her. She came round, she collected it, and I never saw her again.’

  Sarah looked at him and saw that his eyes were glassy with tears. It was so easy to believe his version of events but she still couldn’t forget that poem.

  ‘I should have told the police then. I didn’t mention it the first time they interviewed me, before she was found, and after that I couldn’t. Not after failing to mention it earlier. It would make me look so suspicious, as if I had something to hide. I may well have been the last person to see her alive.’

  ‘The last person to see her alive was her murderer,’ Sarah said grimly. ‘It certainly seems that a lot of evidence points towards you.’

  ‘Sarah…’ HJ looked from her to Tom, who’d been watching silently. ‘Tom, believe me, I had nothing to do with it. Hannah was there all the time. She was furious I hadn’t told the police and it was her that insisted I had nothing more to do with the After School Writing Club, or teach any junior classes after that. From then on I specialised in the seniors and exam classes. I was far better suited to those anyway.’