Remember Me 2

by Ian C. P. Irvine

  “About what” McKenzie nudged, when the man seemed to drift off into his memories and stop speaking.

  “David Weir, Ronald Blake and Mark McRae were three of the best teachers I had. They were young, enthusiastic and great motivators. They were great friends of each other, both inside school and socially. They knew their stuff and were part of the new generation. The students loved them. Literally.”

  “One girl in particular. She came from a troubled background. An only child with parents who mostly ignored her. She lacked self-confidence. She was an intelligent girl, and very, very pretty. A lot of the boys at the school had crushes on her, but quite early on during the second year, she developed a crush on Ronald Blake, the Religious Education teacher. She also never really accepted just how attractive she actually was. I think mainly because the one man she did like, did not reciprocate. Ronald Blake didn’t see her that way, and she took it very personally. Ronald was a very handsome man, and took a keen interest in his pupils. He’d travelled widely as a student and young man, and was very spiritual. While his main focus in teaching at the school was Christianity, I knew that he’d begun to combine the philosophies he learnt from his different studies in religion, and he used them to help students who increasingly came to him with their problems, and who sought help or counselling. He was a good man. And like I said, a wonderful teacher. His grades were brilliant, sorry, by that I mean that the pupils in his class all scored excellent grades. At the time, I wished I had more teachers like him.”

  McKenzie sat silently, letting the old teacher reminisce, and mentally storing everything that was said.

  “As the years went by, I think it’s fair to say that the girl became slightly obsessed with Ronald Blake. She didn’t bring him an apple every day, but she tried almost everything else. Although Ronald Blake himself never discussed it with me, until it was too late, she talked about it with her school counsellor, who later told me everything when I conducted an internal review, after the incident.”

  He paused then and looked at McKenzie. It was the first time he’d referred to the fact that something of significance had occurred. McKenzie didn’t probe on what that incident had been, trusting that Mr Gray was just about to elaborate on it.

  When McKenzie gave him the freedom to continue, Gray did exactly that.

  He came over to his sofa, sat down, took a sip of the tea that Grant offered him, and then pushed back into his chair and closed his eyes.

  “I was told later that she became increasingly jealous of another girl in the school, who she nicknamed ‘GasBag’. I wasn’t sure who Gasbag was, but apparently, as far as the girl who’d fallen for Ronald Blake was concerned, Gasbag was the reason why Blake didn’t like her. Instead, Blake liked Gasbag. Not her. So, increasingly, she tried to be just like Gasbag. She dressed like her, copied her. Took the same classes as her. None of which worked. As far as I know Blake never did anything with the other girl, ‘GasBag’, but I think that Blake’s admirer believed that he had. Anyway, like I said, I was oblivious to all of this until things got way out of hand.”

  The headmaster opened his eyes, and tears formed on the edge of his eyelids and began to run down his cheek.

  “It was the final year of school for the girl… ” the headmaster began again, but McKenzie interrupted him gently for the first time.

  “May I ask, what was the girl called? Her name?”

  The headmaster hesitated, seemingly reluctant to say anything.

  “Can we just call her… Amelia, for now… that wasn’t her name. But it’s the first name I thought of… .”

  McKenzie nodded. He sensed that if the name was important, it would come out later.

  “Okay, so Amelia stayed until the 6th year, did some SYS… Sixth Year Studies, and added to the very good Highers she’d already got in the fifth year. The end of the school year came. School was finished. Technically, she’d now left the school and she had nothing more to do with me, or the school.”

  “But… ” McKenzie couldn’t help but asking when the conversation seemed to dry up and Mr Gray reached for some tea. The cup hovered in front of his lips but he didn’t drink from it. Slowly he began to speak again, and the tears which had now dried up, started to flow again. The cup began to shake, and some tea spilled out over the sides and dripped onto the table below. Grant reached out with two hands and steadied the cup, and then guided Mr Gray’s hand back to the table top.

  He looked across at her, a bewildered look on his face. She smiled back.

  “But… ,”McKenzie prompted again. “What happened after the school had finished?”

  “It was the end of the school ball… people like to call it the School Prom nowadays… you know, another one of those things that’s infected us from the States. It was just getting popular than, and because the school hadn’t officially organised one, the Sixth Year pupils got together and organised it themselves instead. We agreed to give them the use of the school, or rather, the Council agreed, and they planned the rest. The teachers and staff were invited too. Not all went, but some did.”

  “Did Ronald Blake, David Weir and Mark McRae all go?”

  “Yes.” The headmaster answered. “They did. And so did Amelia. Apparently, she turned up at the ball looking exactly like Gasbag. Same dress. Same hair. She was going all out to get Ronald Blake that night. Her last chance. And why not? She was over eighteen by now. School was finished. Technically she was an independent adult, and he was no longer her teacher.”

  “How long after the school had officially finished was this?” McKenzie asked.

  “About two weeks. During the holidays… I mean, what would have been the holidays, but since… ”

  “Since, they had now left school, it was no longer part of the holidays anymore?” McKenzie agreed, using the point to strike some empathy with him. McKenzie could sense that they were getting to the crux of the matter, and that the closer they got, the harder it was for Mr Gray to continue.

  “Exactly.”

  “Did you go?”

  “Yes. But I didn’t know what happened until much later. I was completely unaware of it. I was so busy in the main hall enjoying the ball. At the time, I thought it was truly wonderful. My wife was there too. We both enjoyed it. Everyone did… Except Amelia.” He sobbed.

  “Why?”

  Mr Gray took a very deep breath and then committed himself. McKenzie could tell this was going to be it. This was the moment of truth…

  “Amelia started to get drunk. I’m told she was flirting heavily with Blake. He was dancing with her, too. I don’t think flirting, but he was relaxed. School was finished. His pupils were all adults now. It was a moment when they could all relate to each other as adults for the first time. Blake was drinking too. Quite a lot. I also think he’d been smoking some weed with some of the other teachers. It was quite common then, and this was not a school event, really. After a while, everyone got very, very relaxed. Barriers began to fall. Perhaps too far. At one point, Amelia was drinking with some friends, and she saw Blake dancing with Gasbag. Same dress. A bright red dress. And the same hair. It really upset her. She didn’t say anything then, but she told me later that was the point when she decided to get Blake for herself. To prove she was better than Gasbag. To make sure she got him, and not her. Apparently, she’d hovered around until Blake and Gasbag had stopped dancing, and then she’d slowly moved in and taken her place. They started talking. She was really flirting. He’d said he wanted to go for another smoke, with his friends. She’d asked him what they were smoking. He’d told her. She’d smiled. He’d asked her if she’d wanted to join him. Bingo. Oh, yes please! So, they’d left the hall, he’d gone to get his friends together. They all gone upstairs. They found a classroom in the RE department, two floors up. They got perfect peace and quiet there. Nobody would disturb them. They’d all started smoking marijuana together, getting really high. And then… ”

  Gray coughed. Took a quick sip of tea, and then continued. McKenzie sensed
that Gray was keen to get it out. To reveal the truth about what had happened. To get it off his chest, finally, once and for all.

  “I don’t know exactly what happened then, just what I was told, but I had four versions of the truth, and from hours of conversations, perhaps even days of talking about it, I believe I know roughly what happened. Incredible and no matter how bad it may seem.” A final deep breath. And then it all came out.

  “At some point Amelia had taken Blake’s hand and led him out of that classroom to the one next door. Blake’s classroom. The one he taught in during his time at school. They sat on a desk together, smoking some more marijuana. On top of the alcohol which Amelia had drunk, it all became a bit too much. Amelia came on to Blake in a big way. She was a very attractive girl. I don’t know exactly what Blake had ever thought about her before, but here was an incredibly attractive girl, now an adult, no longer a pupil, basically throwing herself at him. She kissed him. He kissed her. He’d been drinking and smoking too. They were both very relaxed. Both drunk. Both adults. He’d started kissing her. She took her top off. Then something changed. Amelia later insisted that at some point then, she lost control. He began to take the initiative. It was no longer her pursuing him, but him lusting after her. For the first time ever. He got on top of her. Removed her bra. Then took off her panties.”

  Gray sighed, wiped some sweat from his forehead, and then continued, committing himself to the events of that night, so long ago.

  “He was kissing her neck, was just about to enter her for the first time, - and Amelia had later insisted that at this point she was still a virgin – when Blake had called her by the wrong name. He had called her Gasbag’s name. Amelia went nuts. She started to cry. Apparently, she claimed later, she’d cried ‘Stop!’, repeatedly, and tried to get him off her. But Blake didn’t stop. He claimed that she hadn’t said stop. Or at least that he hadn’t heard her. That she was really keen for it. That she’d been coming on to him for years. And so he made love to her.”

  Grant had coughed and was about to say something but McKenzie shot her a glance and warned her not to interrupt the flow. He knew that Gray was not finished yet. There was more to come.

  “Just when he’d finished, you know… making love to Amelia, they’d heard voices at the door. It was Blake’s friends. They’d been watching from the doorway. They came into the classroom then. They closed the door.”

  Mr Gray coughed several times, closed his eyes, shook his head and finished what he’d begun.

  “She later claimed that after closing the door, they’d come into the room and had both raped her at the same time while Blake had watched. But when questioned later, Weir and McRae had insisted that she had invited them in and initiated it. She had wanted everything that had happened, that she willingly incited them on, and that everything that had taken place had been mutual, between consenting adults. Admittedly, it was unusual. But they had insisted that she had been a willing party if not the instigator of everything that happened.”

  “In spite of her insisting that she had been gang-raped?” Grant suddenly burst out, no longer able to contain herself.

  “Yes.” Mr Gray, the ex-headmaster of the school had admitted. “But I wasn’t there, and I don’t know what really happened that night. In spite of everything that happened since.”

  “Can you tell us who Amelia and Mr Blake’s friends were?” McKenzie asked. “I think we need to know that now.”

  “Mr Blake’s friends that evening were David Weir and Mark McRae.”

  “And Amelia?” Grant pushed.

  “I’ll tell you, but I wonder if it’s all best left in the past now. Amelia can’t have had anything to do with the recent murders in Portobello, … with any of this,” the Headmaster insisted.

  “Why not? Blake, Weir and McRae are all dead now, and it could be highly likely that their deaths and that evening, no matter how long ago, are all connected together somehow.”

  “No, Amelia can’t be responsible.”

  Mr Blake looked quickly from McKenzie to Grant, as if seeking some form of understanding.

  “Her name was Maggie Sutherland. She’s dead now. She committed suicide three years ago.”

  Chapter 29

  Sunday

  Forth Rail Bridge

  South Queensferry

  22.05

  Stuart Nisbet and Marie McDonald left the Hawes Inn restaurant and crossed the road hand-in-hand to sit on the sea wall. They sat directly beneath the Rail Bridge which stretched above them for over a mile from one side of the River Forth to the other.

  They had just enjoyed a wonderful meal, with candlelight, and Marie was still on a natural high from the jet skiing adventure earlier that day. She couldn’t stop laughing.

  “I can’t believe you made me do that! I’ve never done anything like that before… it was amazing.” She gushed, recalling the experience excitedly.

  “Would you do it again?” Stuart asked.

  “Absolutely. If I lived here, I’d buy one of those things and commute to work on it!”

  “Actually, you probably wouldn’t when it was cold and miserable, and the rain was pouring down. Today was a good day. The conditions were just right.”

  “Thank you,” she said, and kissed him one more time.

  “Have you been here before?” Stuart asked, moving his head to indicate the bridge above them and the spot beside the river where they were now sitting.

  “Yes. Many times. I love it. It’s one of the places I sometimes come to think when I’m back home. Either here or the top of Arthur’s Seat.”

  Stuart smiled.

  “Me too.”

  “Thank you for today, Stuart. It’s been wonderful and a big surprise. I never expected to meet someone last night that I’d get on so well with, let alone end up here, sitting with him like this, having spent such a lovely day together.”

  He squeezed her hand and smiled back. “Actually, genuinely, the pleasure has been all mine. I was pretty nervous about last night, and how it would be to meet everyone again, but thanks to you, it was actually very bearable. I’m sorry if I was a little distracted for a while when I found out that Maggie Sutherland had died. It was a bit of a shock. I want to be honest with you… I had actually hoped to see her again last night. When I was at school, I had a massive crush on her - which went nowhere by the way - and last night I was hoping to show her that I’d not turned out so bad after all. Meeting you and then finding out about her death conflicted my emotions for a while, but I don’t want you to feel that I was ignoring you at all. Does that make any sense?”

  Marie smiled gently and squeezed his hand back.

  “It’s funny how our past lives influence our futures so much. The memories of those who we knew when we were so young have such a powerful effect on us all our lives, even if we grow up and become people who are completely different from those who we were when we were younger. That includes our past crushes. You never forget them. Ever.” Marie said, turning her head and looking out over across the water.

  “And for the record,” Marie continued. “You didn’t make me feel bad. So far, I have enjoyed your company immensely.”

  He smiled back, then adjusted his sitting position slightly and sat with her side-by-side on the wall, their feet dangling over the sea which lapped against the sea wall beneath them.

  They sat like that for quite a while.

  Neither feeling the need to speak to fill up the lull in their conversation. Each just enjoying the moment, and comfortable to think their own thoughts, whatever they were. In silence.

  Stuart’s mind filled momentarily with a vision of Maggie Sutherland the last time he had seen her.

  Then he blinked a couple of times and consigned her to the past.

  Where she belonged, and where, in truth, she had always been.

  Maggie Sutherland was gone now.

  He would never think of her again.

  -------------------------

  Sunday

&nb
sp; Island of Coll

  Port na Luing Cottage

  22.10

  “I need to get a breath of fresh air.” Daniel Gray announced, and slowly pushed himself up out of his sofa. Grant went to help him, but he shrugged her hands away. “Just give me a few moments, please.”

  McKenzie and Grant watched him make his way out the back door and over to some rocks at the bottom of his garden, where he sat down and gazed over the beach below and at the sky beyond.

  “There’s still a lot more to tell,” McKenzie cautioned Grant. “I appreciate that this may be very uncomfortable for you to listen to, but for now we need to give him the space to say what he feels able to tell us. If he clams up now, there’s going to be a lot of unanswered questions.”

  Grant nodded.

  “A lot of questions,” she replied. “It’s very likely that the poor girl was raped, repeatedly, and those three men got away with it!”

  “We don’t know that, Grant. But it’s one of the possibilities we will need to consider. I’m afraid we will also now need to bring her death into the case and view it with suspicion until we can establish the exact cause of death from the records. Could she, for example, have been killed by one of the three men? Or even Mr Grant? He could maybe even be a suspect. Unlikely. But possible. There’s going to be a lot of questions. Which is why we need to get as much as possible out of him while he’s still willing to talk. Agreed?”

  “Yes,” she replied. But McKenzie could tell that she was upset.

  “Could you please make another cup of tea?” McKenzie asked. “I’ll go out and talk with him. If we don’t come back in, please join us. Since we’re not recording this, I need you as a witness to all that is said.”

  Grant nodded, and McKenzie wandered outside.

  It was almost dark now, as dark as it was going to get anyway, but the sky on the horizon still held on to some light. Enough to see by, or walk around in.

  “May I?” McKenzie asked, as he came to sit beside Mr Gray.