She saw Betty from the refuge with a trolley full of all sorts of groceries but Betty didn’t notice her at the back of the queue. Not for the first time, Mabel wished she was one of the refuge women and was under Betty’s strong, protective wing. She longed for the company of the women in the two refuge flats and at the social events in the meeting room. How fortunate these women were to have found such a place. Mabel struggled back to The Heights with her shopping bag dangling awkwardly over her arm.
‘Hello there, Miss Smith,’ Monty greeted her. ‘Some pea souper, eh?’
‘Yes. There’s usually such a wonderful view between the buildings of the whole of Glasgow, isn’t there? But it’s completely disappeared.’
‘Aye, real creepy, isn’t it?’
She nodded in agreement. She was reluctant to continue across to the lift and return to her silent, empty flat. It could be described as ‘creepy’ as well. Monty had returned his attention to his Daily Record, however, and she couldn’t think of anything else to say. The lift sped her up to the twenty-fifth floor. There she was forced to cross the dismal, graffiti-covered landing and go into her flat. She switched on all the lights.
She thought longingly of John. What would he be doing just now, she wondered? In one of his conversations, when he was desperately pleading for her to meet him, he had assured her that she had nothing to fear. He was a respectable businessman with a lovely home in Bearsden. Bearsden, he emphasised. Oh, how she longed to be with him in beautiful, leafy Bearsden. Her parents used to have a friend there and she had accompanied her mother and father on visits to Bearsden several times. It was a place, she remembered, of beautiful villas and tree-lined streets. It was indeed a very respectable place and she had no doubt whatsoever that John was a perfectly respectable man.
As she hobbled about in the kitchen putting her few purchases away and filling the kettle, she wept. Right now, she would have gladly done anything to be as young and beautiful as Cheryl Patterson up there on the thirtieth floor. Bitterness overcame her as she carried her cup of tea into the dark brown cave of a sitting room. It even smelled of age and decay. In desperation, she switched on the television. It could give the illusion of company. Yet, it couldn’t stop her from weeping.
It was a long time before it occurred to her that there might be one way to feel closer to John. If she took the bus to Bearsden, made a morning or an afternoon of the visit and had a cup of tea in Drymen Road. A cup of tea wouldn’t cost much. She remembered there was a café in a baker’s shop in Drymen Road. At least she would be nearer to John there than here, sitting alone in a high-rise flat on the Balgray Hill. She would be breathing the same air as John. She could sit at the window of the café watching the passers-by in the hope that she might even see John. Didn’t she have his description – very tall and thin with a long nose?
She told herself she was being foolish. Nevertheless, she felt a definite lift to her spirits and was grateful for it.
And after all, what was the harm?
26
‘Oh Tommy, it could have been you!’ Mrs McKechnie wrung her hands in distress. ‘That old woman was just up the stairs from where you were in that house in Kay Street and now she’s dead. It was in this morning’s paper.’
Tommy sighed. He had invited Cheryl to come for a meal with him on the evening he’d got home from hospital. He’d thought that would be all right now that he was a lot better. Obviously he had been mistaken.
‘But it wasn’t me, Mum.’
‘If you had never been there, you would never have been in any danger. This was all your idea.’ Mrs McKechnie turned on Cheryl. ‘Tommy was perfectly happy in his own home here with me and his daddy.’
‘No, you mustn’t blame Cheryl, Mum. I had already made up my mind that at twenty-one, it was time I branched out on my own. It had nothing to do with Cheryl.’
‘I don’t care what you say, Tommy. I believe …’
‘Well, don’t.’ Tommy’s voice strained with impatience. ‘And I’ve news for you. We’ve got another flat. A better flat. Not in Springburn. In Byres Road.’
‘Away in the West End? I bet you anything …’ Mrs McKechnie cried out.
But Mr McKechnie interrupted her. ‘Great, son. It’s really nice over there. I hope the pair of you will be very happy.’
‘Thank you, Mr McKechnie.’ Cheryl spoke up for the first time. ‘It’s a really nice flat. I hope you and Mrs McKechnie will come and visit us there.’
Mrs McKechnie’s mouth hardened into silence. The rest of the meal was eaten with only the occasional attempt at conversation by Tommy, his father and Cheryl. It was a terrific relief to Cheryl when they eventually said their goodbyes. She was shaken by the news that a woman had died in the fire. To some degree, she felt the same as Mrs McKechnie. It could so easily have been Tommy. They clung to each other all the way along the street, her arm around his waist and his encircling hers.
‘I wish we could be going home to our lovely Byres Road flat just now instead of you taking me back up to The Heights.’
‘It won’t be long now. We’ll be nicely settled in time for Christmas.’
‘Will we put decorations up?’
‘Of course.’
‘And have a tree?’
‘Definitely.’
‘Oh, Tommy. I can just imagine it. We’ll be so happy.’
She leaned her head against him and, as they walked along, they planned everything they’d do to the flat. As well as the Christmas decorations, they’d hang up pictures. It was classy to have paintings on the walls. They both liked Jack Vettriano and, when they could afford it, they might get prints. They weren’t too expensive. Some of his paintings were very sexy.
They would have preferred an unfurnished flat and had everything to their taste but they hadn’t been able to find an unfurnished place. Maybe if they’d given themselves more time but the truth was they couldn’t bear to wait. They were willing to take anything, anywhere, as long as they could be together.
‘At least the furniture’s modern-looking, although it’s a bit scuffed,’ Tommy said.
‘Don’t worry, cream cushions will cover any of the worn bits.’
‘Brilliant! Cream against the black. That’ll look real classy.’
‘And I thought a cream rug instead of that brown one.’
‘Great!’
‘Fancy having a piano there. I’ve never seen a house that had a piano in it before, have you?’
‘A bloke upstairs from Mum has a keyboard. How about if we both took piano lessons and learned to play duets?’
Cheryl did a little bounce of excitement.
‘I’d love it. I’d love it.’
It suddenly occurred to her that now she could do anything, learn anything. Neither her mother nor her father could hold her back any more. There was the Open University. That way she could study at home when Tommy was on late shift. Perhaps he’d be interested in doing an Open University course too. Then they could study together. She knew he was a great reader. He loved books. He’d been going to the library since he was a wee boy, he’d told her. It was one of the things she admired about him. He didn’t need to go to pubs. He didn’t need to drink or take drugs. He didn’t need props or escape routes. He had character. And ambition. He wouldn’t always be a bus driver. She wouldn’t always be a shop girl. They were going places together. She knew it. She was so deliriously happy, she felt she could die of it.
*****
Kate Smythe-Bellingham was trying to look calm. The other women could see by the light in her eyes that she was relieved and happy.
‘Well,’ Betty said. ‘It’s your decision. I just hope you know what you’re doing, Kate.’
‘My son assured me his dad was really, truly sorry. My husband actually admitted to David what he’d done. He’d been under a lot of strain with his job, he explained. I met David in town. He’s been on leave. He said he believed his dad is really sorry and he wants to make it up to me. He’s promised that he’ll ne
ver behave like that again. He’ll never be violent to me again. David said he was naturally shocked when he heard what his dad had done, but he really believes that he regrets it and that he’ll keep his promise and I’ll be all right.’
Rita rolled her eyes. ‘Promises, promises.’
‘He has been under a lot of strain,’ Kate said. ‘He has a very responsible job. He’s a judge.’
‘Aye,’ wee Mary’s voice was sarcastic, ‘so you’ve told us, hen.’
Sandra leaned forward. ‘So you’re actually going back into the lion’s den? Well at least you know how to escape and where to come to now.’
‘I know my husband,’ Kate said proudly. ‘He is a man of honour and if he gives his word, then he’ll keep it.’
‘Right,’ Betty repeated. ‘As I say, it’s your decision, Kate, but rest assured, Women’s Help is always here if you need it.’
Afterwards, when Betty had returned to her office and Kate had gone to her room to pack, the others took bets on whether or not she would be back.
‘I do hope she’ll be all right,’ Janet said. ‘You never know. He might be a man of honour, as she says.’
‘I bet the next time she leaves home, it’ll be on a stretcher.’
‘Trust you, Sandra.’ Alice shook her head. ‘You’re always such a ray of sunshine.’
‘Huh, look who’s talking.’
‘I bet no one in Newton Mearns suspects a thing,’ Janet said. ‘It’ll be much the same as Bearsden. No one will believe Kate. That’s the worst of it. I knew no one would believe me. That’s why I never even confided in the other ladies in the church. Especially the ladies in the church.’
‘It’s not surprising, when you think of it,’ Sandra said. ‘I mean, Newton Mearns and Bearsden are such posh places. Especially Newton Mearns. Everybody always takes it for granted that it’s drunken, working-class men who beat their wives, never anyone living in a respectable place with a respectable job.’
‘Ah well,’ Janet sighed. ‘We live and learn.’
Kate came to say goodbye to everyone before she left. Her face was shimmering with excitement.
‘Oh, I’m so looking forward to returning to my own lovely home. It’s such a relief to know it’s all over and I can get back to normal. Not that I haven’t been comfortable here,’ she added hastily. ‘But there’s nothing like one’s own bed and one’s own fireside, is there?’
Rita rolled her eyes after Kate had gone. She mimicked the polite voice.
‘There’s nothing like one’s own bed and one’s own fireside. Silly cow. I’ll give her two weeks, three at most.’
‘Poor soul,’ Janet sighed again. ‘It took me a long time … Oh well, never mind. I’m all right now.’
‘I don’t feel all right,’ Alice said.
‘Nor me,’ Sandra echoed. ‘My life’s ruined.’
‘You’re lucky,’ Rita said. ‘Your man’s dead, Sandra. What have you got to complain about?’
‘His parents have moved into what was my home. They blame me for what happened. They told that to the newspapers. He was a good boy before he met me, they said. I must have driven him to it, they said.’
‘So, you’ll get another house. Why should you care what they say?’
‘Yes,’ Alice agreed. ‘You’re all right, Sandra. I live in constant fear that my husband’ll find me. I wish he was dead.’
‘It’s time you stopped thinkin’ like that, hen,’ Mary said. ‘You’re doin’ yourself no good. You’re ruinin’ your own life, just as I ruined my own life wi’ the drink.’
‘Yes,’ Janet agreed. ‘We’ve all got to be brave and try to think positively.’
Rita’s laughter had a sarcastic ring to it. ‘I bet you’d be the first person to go to bits if your precious company director turned up.’
‘Here you, don’t talk to my pal like that. She’s been braver than you and she’s been out and about more than any of us. So just less o’ your cheek.’ Then to Janet, ‘Never mind her, hen. He’s no’ goin’ tae turn up. Don’t you worry.’
Janet got up. ‘I’ll go and put the kettle on.’
‘She’s been a good pal to me,’ Mary said. ‘Her and Sandra. I didnae take to her at first, you know. Janet, I mean. She looked that posh compared wi’ the rest of us, me especially. Her clothes have aw got them designer labels. I told her she looked like the Queen. Same kind of build as well.’
‘She’s not a bit snobby, though,’ Sandra said.
‘Never was,’ Mary agreed. ‘Not a bit. No, it was just me getting the wrong end of the stick.’
Once Janet returned, they all relaxed as they supped at the mugs of hot, comforting liquid Janet had passed around. Eventually Sandra said, ‘I was talking to Cheryl from upstairs.’
‘Oh yes,’ Janet passed around a plate of digestive biscuits. ‘She’s got a flat, hasn’t she? In the West End? She seemed very happy.’
‘Aye, her and Tommy,’ Mary agreed. ‘Nice lad.’
Sandra gave a big sigh. ‘That’s where I should be. Although having said that, after all that’s happened, I think I’d be better to start a new life in some other district now. Especially after all my in-laws said about me and with them being still there.’
‘Something’ll turn up, hen. I’m sure Betty’s doing everything she can.’
‘Cheryl said we must all go and visit her once she’s settled in.’
Alice closed her eyes. ‘The mere thought …’
‘Listen, hen. It’s high time you got a grip of yourself. You’re getting really ridiculous now. You cannae shut yourself away for the rest of your life. An’ we’re no’ going to let you. Are we, girls?’
‘No.’
They all agreed and Rita added, ‘We mustn’t let the bastards win. Let’s all start saving up to go out together for a really posh meal in a hotel in town. That’ll give us something special to look forward to. Meantime, we should get a bit more fresh air and exercise by having walks through the park.’
‘That’s a good idea,’ Janet said. ‘We don’t take advantage often enough of having such a beautiful park right on our doorstep. Even just now, it looks lovely.’
Alice’s face had gone pale.
‘I don’t think I could – not after that last time … Mr Clarke seeing me …’
‘That’s ages ago now.’ Rita rolled her eyes. ‘And nothing’s come of it. Anyway, even if he told your husband and even if your husband found you, what could he do? If you don’t want to go back to him, you just refuse to go and if he bothers you, you phone the police.’
‘Aye, hen. It’s time you got a grip of yourself. OK?’
Alice nodded.
27
Mabel had to phone for the doctor. He gave her a ticking off for not having had the flu jab earlier. He also said that it was high time she was thinking of ‘alternative accommodation’, as he put it. She took that to mean an old-folks’ home or a nursing home. Even the thought made her feel keenly apprehensive. There had been some horrific cases reported in the news recently about helpless old people being neglected and abused.
She tried to put on a brave face in front of the doctor. She even laughed.
‘Oh, I’m not ready to give up the ghost just yet, Doctor. I enjoy my independence.’
The doctor shook his head. ‘You’re obviously not fit to do anything at the moment. I’ll arrange for someone to call in and give you a hand until you’re able to get up and about again. At the same time, I’ll make some enquiries about alternative accommodation. The quicker the better. There’s often a waiting list but a letter from me should help.’
She tried not to think about that and only be grateful for the help at present. She felt far from well, unable even to get up and make herself a cup of tea. As it turned out, the carer was very kind and attentive. She came in the morning to heelp her to get up, washed and dressed. And she popped in again in the evening to get het settled in bed. She liked to chat as well and Mabel began not only to look forward to her visits but also to d
read when they would stop. It wasn’t so much for any physical help, it would be the cheerful company she would miss. Any kind of company was a blessing she would have been grateful for. Loneliness had become unbearable. It took every remaining vestige of her willpower not to weep broken-heartedly when she had to say goodbye to the carer.
The house had never seemed so silent. She hobbled through to the kitchen to fill the kettle. Then, sitting nursing her cup of tea beside the electric fire, she became aware of the howling of the wind outside. She had heard it many times before. It was a common feature of high-rise living. Never before, however, had it sounded so ghostly and menacing. It increased her feeling of loneliness, of helplessness, of fear, a hundredfold.
Later, in the kitchen, she filled a basin with water in which to wash her supper dishes and, leaning against the sink, she watched the water slop backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards. This continuous swaying of the building was another feature of The Heights and other tower blocks. Water was never still or calm. In the sink, in the bath, in the lavatory pan, water moved with the movement of the building as it swayed in the wind. When her parents were alive, Mabel had seldom time during the day to notice the swaying, or the depressing sounds. She was too busy running about attending to all the needs of her mother and father. Then at night she usually fell into an exhausted sleep.
Now every dismal moan and howl echoed in her heart.
The only thing that kept her going was the thought of getting enough strength back in order to visit Bearsden. She clung to the vision of sitting at the window of the baker’s café watching for her dearest John. She would know him when she saw him and just the sight of him would give her comfort and strength. She needed to be near him. She missed him so painfully. Perhaps he would come into the baker’s – even sit in the café. Perhaps she would hear his voice again. A little spurt of excitement cheered her and made her feel that perhaps life would be worth living after all.
A Deadly Deception Page 15
