Young people weren’t all bad. After having got to know Cheryl and Tommy, she had no longer any doubt about that. This young woman (she had a metal bead or some such awful thing in her nose) even helped her on to the bus.
‘Thank you, dear. You’re very kind.’
‘Cheers!’ the girl said. She appeared to be chewing gum or something. Oh well, Mabel thought, what was the harm in that? She dozed off in the bus. She hadn’t been sleeping well recently, what with all the anxiety and uncertainty about Cheryl. The building seemed weighted down with worry. Maybe it was her imagination but that’s how it felt. She was really glad to get away from the place, even for just a few hours.
The bus driver had to waken her up at the bus station. He helped her off the bus.
‘OK, hen?’
‘Yes, thank you for your help. You’re very kind.’
‘All part of the job, darlin’. Have a nice day.’
Yes, she would have a nice day. A lovely day, if she saw John again. His too-tall, too-thin figure. His poor, unhandsome face. They had so much in common. She was not tall like him, of course. But her face was unattractive indeed. She and John were both lonely souls. They both needed to love and be loved.
When she eventually got off the Bearsden bus at the church, she waited patiently for an opportunity to cross the road safely. Slowly she hobbled past the barber’s shop, the blue frontage of the Royal Bank and the optometrist’s. Thankfully, she reached the coffee shop and lowered herself on to a chair at the window. The girl at the coffee counter who had served her previously called to her, ‘It’s all right. I’ll bring it over. Tea, wasn’t it?’
Mabel nodded. She was quite out of breath with her exertion.
The girl came over with a pot of tea, a pot of water and a cup and saucer. Mabel fumbled in her purse.
‘How kind of you.’ She was so lucky. People were proving to be really good to her.
‘No bother. Enjoy your tea.’
‘Thank you.’
She did enjoy it. And fancy getting a jug of hot water as well. Now she could have several cups if she wanted to. And she actually preferred weak tea.
Apart from waiting for John, it was quite a pleasant way to pass the time, watching the passers-by in the street outside. It was interesting as well to study the variety of people coming into the shop to buy bread or rolls or cakes or scones or pies or sausage rolls at the bakery counter. Then of course there were the people who filled the tables to enjoy a cup of tea or coffee or a chat with friends. The people sitting at the tables were mostly women. There were only a few men, retired probably and just passing the time, like her.
Her spirits rose. There, at last, was John. Her first and only love. Then, suddenly, she felt worried. His face looked so pale and drawn. Far more so than when she’d last seen him. Was he unwell? Or was he suffering so much because of her? She felt pain at the thought of the pain she had caused him. He could not understand. He would feel hurt and betrayed. She felt regret at ever having started the phone calls. She should never have contacted the agency in the first place. It had been a selfish and wicked thing to do. She ought to have known that no good would come of it.
She had an overwhelming desire to go over to the counter and stand beside him in the hope that somehow her desperate wish to comfort him would radiate from her to him and he would somehow be comforted. She could stand near to him, perhaps, with her arm actually touching his. She wouldn’t look round at him. The important thing was his nearness. She would just gaze across the counter at the assistant and, like him, ask for a packet of sandwiches. She could take them home and have them for her evening meal.
She struggled up from the table but, by the time she’d retrieved her stick and started to move towards the counter, he had been served and was away. She felt so disappointed and so annoyed with herself. She ought to have known. She ought to have got up sooner. It would have been better even to stick to her original plan of going outside the moment she saw him approaching the shop and waiting and watching him. That way, at least she would have learned where either his home or his business was. She consoled herself by thinking that there would be other days and other opportunities. With a sigh, she made her way out of the shop, along to the bus stop and started the journey back home.
The house seemed more silent and oppressive than ever. She switched on the television and sat down to listen to the news. At least the television gave the illusion of company and a connection with the world outside this gloomy house and this dismal, dilapidated, graffiti-covered building.
It was the Scottish News. The announcer was saying something about a couple who’d seen what they now realised was Cheryl being kidnapped on the Balgray Hill near The Heights. Mabel’s attention sharpened. She leaned forward in her chair. It had been very dark because one of the lamps had been broken. But they’d seen a man who, they thought at the time, was lifting a drunk woman into a car. Despite the darkness, they’d been able to give the police a description that it was hoped would help to find the kidnapper. He was an exceptionally tall, very thin man, they said, with hunched shoulders.
Mabel gripped the arms of her chair and fought the faintness that all but overcame her. There must be lots of men answering that description. Nevertheless, recognition accompanied by terrible, fearful thoughts jumbled about at the back of Mabel’s mind. Why would a man of that description want anything to do with or have anything against Cheryl Patterson?
No matter how she fought to bury the thoughts, deny them, ridicule them even, they refused to go away. She knew. Everything became horrifyingly, terrifyingly, undeniably clear.
The announcer was giving the number of the local police and urging anyone who had any information to contact them, or Crimewatch. The Crimewatch number also came up on the screen.
Mabel leaned back against the cushions. She felt ill. She was ill. She was painfully breathless. Sweat was running down her face. Her heart was thumping loudly through every part of her body.
Nobody could fathom why anybody could have anything against Cheryl Patterson, of all people. Everybody in the building had said, ‘Why kidnap? Why Cheryl?’
There seemed no answer. But oh, there was. A perfect answer. It was so obviously her fault. It was too terrible to think about but she couldn’t stop thinking about it.
The kidnapper had mistaken Cheryl for Angela.
‘God forgive me. God forgive me,’ Mabel sobbed out. ‘What can I do?’
The Crimewatch number had disappeared from the screen and she couldn’t remember it. She was too afraid to phone the police in case they could trace her or question her. She would never be able to tell anyone about the shameful phone calls and how she had implicated Cheryl and put her at such risk.
It was so shameful, so wicked. Yet she must do something, anything, to help Cheryl. Gathering as much strength and calmness as she could, she tried to work out a plan. Eventually she was able to phone directory enquiries. Then, after dialling 141 so that her call could not be traced, she dialled the Crimewatch number.
‘I know the man who kidnapped Cheryl Patterson. He lives in Bearsden. He’s a Bearsden businessman. He’ll have taken Cheryl to be with him in Bearsden.’
She hung up. It was the best she could do. Now all that was left was to pray that Cheryl would be found alive and well.
‘Oh please God,’ she kept repeating. ‘Oh please God.’
33
‘Changes. Changes,’ Betty said.
She was down in the entrance hall saying goodbye to Rita and her children. Dorothy was giving them a lift to the new house that had been allocated to them. The children were already outside with Dorothy in the car. Rita suddenly pounced on Betty and gave her a hug. Then, suddenly embarrassed at herself, she jerked away.
‘Thanks for everything.’
‘I’ll see you at one of our get-togethers, I hope.’
‘Sure.’
Rita turned at the door and waved. Betty waved energetically back, especially to the children sittin
g in the car, their small faces pressed against the window.
‘That another lot gone?’ Monty appeared from his office, gripping a pipe at one side of his mouth.
‘Uh-huh. Unfortunately there’s plenty of other poor souls waiting to take their place. As long as they feel safe and able to start a new life by the time they leave here, that’s the main thing. I have to get back up, Monty. Wee Mary’s all excited. I’d better have a go at calming her down.’
The safe house was in chaos with cases in the lobby and jerseys and skirts and knickers and vests and tights and scarves scattered about the floor and draped over the lobby chair and door handles.
Mary said, ‘Sorry about this, hen, but it’s times like this when I miss my bloody arm.’
‘Where’s Janet?’
‘In the bedroom. I flung everything out here before she could stop me. I wanted to get out of her road. She’s finishing off packing her stuff. Her stuff’s all that good, she’s got to fold it aw in tissue paper and be awfu’ careful. She likes to do things right. But she said she’s going to pack my things.’
‘Here, let me help you.’
‘Isn’t she an awfu’ good soul? I couldnae have gone an’ left her. She’s been such a pal. But ah never thought she’d offer to come wi’ me.’
‘It’ll be good for Janet to start a new life in another district and she’s fond of you. The pair of you will get on great.’
‘I know. I know. Ah can hardly believe ma luck.’
‘Well, you’ve been waiting a long time, Mary. You were due a house.’
‘Ma luck at ma pal comin’ wi’ me, I mean.’
‘Oh well. Janet’s lucky too.’
‘At least she’ll no’ need to worry about sufferin’ that husband o’ hers. She told me all about him, you know. She’s never spoken to anybody else but she told me. A posh company director – two-faced bastard. Ah’m that glad she’s divorcing him and getting rid of him for good.’
Betty was lifting clothes and packing them into Mary’s case and shopping trolley.
‘You’ll like the south side, Mary, and I can just see the pair of you enjoying nice walks in Queen’s Park.’
‘Och, ah’m that lucky, right enough.’
Just then, Janet appeared from the bedroom.
‘Goodness, you’ve done it all.’
‘Och, it wisnae me, hen. It was Betty here. She’s aye been that good to me, so she has.’
‘Well, that’s us all ready then, just waiting for the taxi.’
Betty glanced at her watch.
‘It’ll be here in about ten minutes. I’ll help you down with everything. Here, let me balance a couple of cases on top of Mary’s trolley. Give me that big case of yours, Janet.’
Sandra had gone to her sister’s in Edinburgh. Rita and the children had already left for their house. Kate and Alice now crowded around to say their goodbyes to wee Mary and Janet.
Betty had to hurry them eventually.
‘Come on, you two. The taxi won’t wait for ever. And I’m lumbered here.’
‘Oh, I am sorry,’ Janet said. ‘I was forgetting you’ve got our heavy luggage, Betty.’ She gave a quick last look at the lilac and green of the safe house before following Betty out to the landing.
The others saw them to the lift and they waved until the doors shut and the lift plummeted down. There was silence in the lift until Betty said cheerfully, ‘Don’t worry, folks. Their turn will come.’
*****
Mabel heard the doorbell and guessed that it must be Mrs Patterson. No one else ever came to her door. She was huddled in bed and did not know how she would be able to get up. The bell didn’t stop, however, and she was forced to make the effort. She dragged a cream, crocheted shawl around the shoulders of her white flannelette nightie. Then she reached for her stick.
It took her a long weary time to reach the front door.
‘Oh, there you are,’ Mrs Patterson said. ‘I was getting worried about you. Have you sent for the doctor yet?’
She hadn’t, of course. What was the use?
‘Can I come in?’
Mabel opened the door wider.
‘You look terrible, Miss Smith. You go back to bed and I’ll make you a cup of tea.’
In a minute or two, Mrs Patterson called from the kitchen, ‘Your milk’s gone sour. I’ll go back upstairs for some of mine. I’ll leave the door open so you won’t have to get up again. I won’t be long.’
Mabel lay back in bed. A sense of hopelessness weighed her down. Guilt too. How could she live if Cheryl’s life was taken? Cheryl had everything to live for. She was young and beautiful – as she had so often described her to John. Her eyes closed at the memory of how often, and in what detail, she’d described Cheryl to him. She couldn’t bear it. Her only hope was that the police would, at this very moment, be searching Bearsden and that they would find the poor girl.
‘It’s me,’ Mrs Patterson was calling now. ‘I’m just going to make the tea.’ In no time, she was through in the bedroom carrying a tray.
‘I had some rolls upstairs, so I buttered one and put a wee bit honey on it. Honey’s good for you. Here, let me help you to sit up.’
She propped Mabel into a sitting position with a couple of pillows.
‘There now, that’s better.’
‘I’m sorry. I don’t think I could eat anything.’
‘You must try, Miss Smith. At least drink your tea just now.’
‘Has there been any news?’
‘Yes, the police seem to have a good lead, thank God. They’re concentrating on Bearsden. They’ve got sniffer dogs there and everything. I feel a bit more hopeful. Bearsden is swarming with police. My husband has been out there. Tommy too. Tommy moved in with us. He couldn’t concentrate at his work or anything else, he said. He saw for himself. The police are going all out to find our Cheryl. They’re doing their very best, Tommy says. We’re all a bit more hopeful now.’
‘I keep praying and praying,’ Mabel said.
‘Now, I’ve told you before, Miss Smith, you mustn’t feel that you had anything to do with it. It wasn’t anything to do with Cheryl going out for your messages. She was going out anyway. Try to drink up your tea.’
Mrs Patterson held the cup up to Mabel’s lips.
‘That’s it. Another sip now. It’ll help strengthen you. But I don’t care what you say, Miss Smith. You need a doctor and I’m going to use your phone right now to call one.’
Mabel hadn’t the strength to stop her. The phone call was made. The doctor was coming. The same doctor, no doubt, who had wanted to send her to an old-folks’ home. Despite the guilt and helplessness, she suddenly felt alert with fear. But why should she care about what happened to her any more? But she did care about being shut away in some dreadful institution. She couldn’t help it.
‘I’ll let you know immediately if there’s any news,’ Mrs Patterson said, ‘and I’ll leave your door off the latch so the doctor can just walk right in.’
Speechless with apprehension now, Mabel nodded.
*****
If it took him every day of the rest of his life, Ingram determined he’d find the evil bitch. Nothing and no one now would deny him the pleasure of killing her. The problem was to get out of his flat. The whole of Bearsden was seething with police. There were even police dogs sniffing around.
He didn’t dare go near the car park to get his car. But if he could just reach the bus stop and get on a bus, he’d be safely on his way. He’d get into town, then catch another bus from there to the Balgray Hill. In one of the myriad of flats in The Heights, towering into the sky from the Balgray Hill, he’d find Angela. Even if it meant knocking on every door from the bottom flat to the top. Every single door. All he would need would be for her to open the door and say something, anything. It was by her voice that he would know her.
He kept peering out from behind the curtains of his window. He stayed hunched there from first thing in the morning until the afternoon, when a wintry dark
ness descended on Bearsden.
As far as he could see, the police had moved away from Drymen Road. At least from along the front of the shops. He put on his raincoat and turned up the collar. Now was the time he could take a chance and venture out. Now was the time.
Very quickly he locked his front door and crept down the stairs. Keeping his head down, he let his long legs carry him swiftly towards the bus stop.
Great! A bus was also approaching along Drymen Road. No hanging about waiting for one. He jumped on, the fare ready in his hand. As he sat on the bus, his legs twitched with impatience. Mentally he was willing the driver to stamp his foot down harder on the accelerator. He ached to scream at the man, ‘Quicker, quicker, for God’s sake!’
It seemed an age before he arrived at the bus station and was loping along to where he knew he would find a bus to carry him to the Balgray Hill.
At last, there was The Heights, a dark giant reaching up to the clouds. Only the occasional pinpoint of light told him of life unseen behind its windows.
Many people, Ingram realised, would still be at work. Perhaps Angela would be one of them. But he was a patient man. If necessary, he’d wait.
He couldn’t wait, however, to make a start. He saw the concierge emerging from the office at the side of the entrance hall. He was biting into a large roll.
John muttered ‘Evening’ to the man and quickly looked away. He went over to the lift. Perhaps better to start at the top floor and work his way down. Several people emerged from the lift. Ingram kept his head lowered. Another man got into the lift before Ingram could press the button for the top floor. Ingram did not raise his eyes to see what button the man pressed.
‘What floor do you want?’ the man asked him.
‘Top.’
‘Right.’ The man pressed another button.
After a couple of floors, the man got off and Ingram was left standing alone. He watched the numbers as the lift floated up higher and higher. At long last, it reached thirty and he stepped out on to a dismal-looking landing, its walls splattered with spray-painted graffiti. There were four doors.
A Deadly Deception Page 19
