by Denise Mina
After returning from mass this morning, Mum looked through the cupboards and found that the gravy powder was two years out of date. Evidently this was the start of the rot, the lack of Sunday gravy. I think she was more disgusted by this than my refusing to go to mass. She sent me out to get the makings of a Sunday roast. Yeni still wasn’t back from chapel, and for a terrifying moment I thought she might have run away.
The supermarket was quiet, and I nipped around in record time. As I was loading the bags into the car, I looked across the road to McFee’s and, through the condensation dripping down the window, thought I saw the back of Yeni’s yellow anorak at the table by the door. She could only have been hiding; the coffee’s terrible there.
She was sitting on her own, frowning hard and trying to read a Sunday tabloid, when I sat down opposite her. She glanced at my arm, politely sitting back to afford me a share of the tabletop before she realized it was me.
She pressed a hand to her chest. “ Lachlan,” she said, as she always says, as if her tongue were negotiating its way around a mouthful of oily marbles. “Jyou give me, mm, big scare.”
I smiled and said I was sorry. I nodded at the menu and asked if I could buy her an ice cream. She doesn’t have a lot of money and seemed quite pleased. Still, she tried to pay for the egg rolls she’d already had. I think she’s trying to make it clear that she is not available for good times. I didn’t know how to say “dream on, fat bird” in Spanish, so I smiled and let her pay and then ordered two Knickerbocker Glories and a pot of tea for two.
“My wife and I can’t thank you enough for staying during all of this,” I said.
She shook her head, but I could see she liked my mentioning Susie.
“My wife asked me specifically to tell you that she says thanks. You have been so good to Margie just when she needs extra care. Any other au pair would have left us. You are very kind.”
Yeni shook her head again and nodded and waved her head about some more. When she realized I’d finished, she smiled a beamer. “I like Margie very fine. She is good for to me.”
Her English is shocking. I suppose it’s my fault; I should talk to her more. We nodded and smiled at each other some more, and shrugged and were reduced to giving each other thumbs-up by the time the ice creams came. They looked great. The sun shone in through the window and lit up the strawberry sauce neon-clear. They looked gloriously indulgent.
Afterward we sat, drowsy with carbohydrates, sipping tea and ripping up paper napkins by wiping our sticky fingers on them. I read the papers while Yeni flicked through the pictures in the supplements. It was nice being with someone and not having to interact, just having the comfort of a bit of company. I noticed that she’d stopped smelling of yogurt, so she’s either sorted out her thrush problem or given up eating it. We didn’t talk about Trisha or my parents, but it was obvious why we were both hiding there. Afterward, when we could delay it no longer, I gave her a lift back to the house. It would be nice to have a pal.
Box 1 Document 3 Note of Circumstances (cont.)
SITUATION AT TIME OF OFFENSE
5. Mr. Gow was aged twenty-eight at the time of the indictment. He was married and living with his wife, Lara Orr, at 3582 Cumbernauld Avenue, Cumbernauld. They had no children.
6. The victims were all working as prostitutes in the Glasgow area.
6.1 Victim Mrs. Elizabeth MacCorronah, resident of Flat 3/1, 6 Ochil Place, Milton, Glasgow, had three children, all of whom were in local authority care at the time of the offense. She was a registered heroin addict and had attempted methadone-assisted withdrawal four times. She was married at the age of sixteen. Her husband, Davie MacCorronah, was killed in a house fire in 1991. He was also a registered addict. Mrs. MacCorronah was nineteen at the time of her murder.
6.2 Victim Karen Dempsey, resident of 46 Glen Tanar Street, Lambhill, Glasgow, was single and had a dependent mother. Although not a registered addict, she had a high level of both alcohol and codeine in her blood at postmortem. She was twenty-one years of age.
6.3 Victim Martine Pashtan, resident of Flat 1/1, 236 Saltmarket, Glasgow, was married and had a child aged four months. She lived with her husband of three years, Mr. Alvin Pashtan. She was twenty-four at the time of her death.
6.4 Alice Thomson, of Flat 16/3, 5 Calder Street, Polmadie, Glasgow, was thirty-three at the time of her murder. She had two children, aged thirteen and twelve, both living with their father, John Livingston, in East Kilbride.
6.5 Mary-Ann Roberts, of Flat 1/2, 38 Langa Street, High Carntyne, Glasgow, was single and childless. She was forty-one at the time of her murder. Ms. Roberts had convictions for prostitution stretching back to 1971, when she was nineteen.
7. Although Mr. Gow confessed to the murders, he was unwilling to talk about the commission of the offenses. DNA matches were made between Mr. Gow and the semen samples on the bodies.
PRISONER’S ACCOUNT OF OFFENSES
8. Gow volunteered a confession to the murders upon being stopped by two police officers for cruising in the Anderston area. He admitted to murdering the women, told police where he had left the bodies, and revealed details about the arrangement of the corpses. Forensic examination found traces of the women’s blood in his car. A preliminary DNA match was established between Mr. Gow and the semen samples left at the scene of the crimes. He has entered a guilty plea.
Subsequently, he refuses to discuss the offenses despite his guilty plea. On all other matters he is happy to talk. He is a pleasant, articulate man and presents himself well.
It’s now teatime and I’ve spent the best part of today up here hiding from the crossfire. Firstly there’s Trisha and all the nasty questions I’ve been avoiding: How did Susie look when I visited? What did she say? Is she well, not being mistreated, I hope? Does she have her own room? Is she having to empty her own slop bucket? How the hell am I supposed to know all this stuff? Trisha wants to know if she can come to visit Susie, but I said no, probably not. I’ve promised to ask Susie about her living conditions the next time I go, but I won’t. I’m not driving the forty minutes there and back with Trisha in the car and having her watch me being searched. Susie only gets four visits a month, anyway, and it may be wrong, but I want them for myself. Then Mum pipes up, standing up for me, telling Trisha to write to Susie if she wants to know these things, leave the boy alone, let my people go.
* * *
It takes eight hours to drive up to Cape Wrath from Glasgow. Susie could surely have changed her mind and thought of me, or at least of Margie, once during the eight-hour drive. They showed security film from a service station during the trial, and we all watched as Susie stopped to gas the car up and bought a family-size bag of wine gums and a can of Diet Coke. On the film she is laughing and chatting with the girl behind the counter, pointing back to the car because she didn’t know the number of the pump. As the prosecution said, not exactly the behavior of a woman beside herself with worry about Donna. I’d like to think she was buying the wine gums to bribe herself onward, like I was with the toffees, but I don’t think she minded going up there. I don’t think Susie’d go anywhere reluctantly. I wonder if she’d come and visit me in prison if the situations were reversed, and I can honestly say, I don’t think she would.
* * *
My chest has been hurting from all the smoking, and I’ve got no one to blame that on but myself. I’ve been up here since lunch, transcribing and playing computer solitaire. It’s a dull but hypnotic game. I’ve cut a picture of a Greek seaside town out of the Sunday papers and stuck it up on the wall. There are whitewashed buildings in the foreground and a steep cliff over an electric-blue sea. It relaxes me. Just looking at it, I can almost feel the sun on my neck. I want to go back there.
This time two weeks ago I was still hopeful that the verdict would go our way. This will be the worst of it if she never gets out, these interminable Sundays stretching off into the future until Margie goes to university. By that time I won’t remember what it is to be happy, the l
oneliness will be all through me like a cancer.
I wish Susie was home. I wish she was up here working and I was downstairs shouting up at her to come down and talk to me. Even if she was up here fantasizing about Gow, I wouldn’t mind. I wouldn’t care even if she was up here thinking about touching him.
That prison-lovers book says that the women hear whatever story about the murder they want to hear; if they want him to have been protecting a helpless friend, then they’ll hear that in the story he tells; if they want to excuse him on the grounds that he was forced to kill an abusive wife, then they’ll hear that. And if they can’t mitigate the cruelty, then they’ll factor in drugs or drink to explain it. But Susie couldn’t have misheard Gow. She had his records. She was his psychiatrist.
I’m so tired of thinking about it all the time. I’m tired of second-guessing every moment we’ve spent together. I can’t sleep for thinking. Even when I manage to fall asleep, I wake up with my mind careering back and forth over a big map of what-ifs and did-shes. Some did-shes bring me close to despair. Last night on the sofa I played with a did-she that made me feel elated and warm and centered. Suppose she didn’t care for Gow at all and it’s all just a mix-up. She was talking to him in the office, nothing more. She’s my wife, still my wife, and she lies in her little prison bed, hands behind her darling head, and sees me on her ceiling, longs for my presence as I long for hers.
Maybe Susie wasn’t working all the time she was up here. Maybe she was hiding the way I am now, bristling with resentment at the people downstairs. Maybe she was sitting here in this tiny closet thinking fuck them, smoking angrily, avoiding coming down.
What is it she doesn’t want me to see in here?
Box 2 Document 5 Donna’s First Letter to Gow
48 Evington Road
Evington
Leicester
2/2/98
Dear Andrew Gow,
Forgive my writing to you out of the blue but I have been in love with you for three years now so its about time we spoke!! I saw a picture of you in the paper and knew by your eyes your a kind man. You say your not guilty of those crimes and I know it’s true. In my heart I know you will not be trapped in prison forever.
Well who is your mystery admirer!?! I am twenty three and have already been divorced. My first husband was not a kind man. He drank and did not understand that I need room to breath and grow. I am not a complete dummy. I have a GCSE in typing as you can see and an HND in catering. I have a job in a health center where I work behind the reception desk. I like dancing and going out and having a good time on the town.
Sadly my dad died two months ago and it has made me see that I should grab life while I can. That is why I am writing to you. My friends tell me I am mad but I can see an angel from heaven when I look at your picture. I LOVE YOU! I dream about you at night and think about you all day!!
Maybe you will write back. If not just remember there’s a girl out here who thinks your the greatest guy in the world!!
Take care of yourself in there.
Yours sincerely,
Donna McGovern
Fucking hell, Donna!! Learn to punctuate?! I shouldn’t take the piss out of the dead, she might come back from the grave and beat me to death with an exclamation mark. Hope not!?! I should feel an affinity with her, I suppose; she was betrayed by Susie and Gow too. Why would Gow get married if he was involved with Susie?
* * *
I found this psychology report about Gow and keep thinking that one exactly like it is being drawn up about Susie.
Box 1 Document 6 Clinical Psychological Report 1994
CLINICAL PSYCHOLOGICAL REPORT ON ANDREW GOW (DOB 6/23/65): HMP BARLINNIE
1. In response to a request from the governor of the above-named prison and from Mr. Telford of the Scottish Office, I now submit this report on the above-named prisoner. The report is based on an interview of just over one hour, together with analysis of the data from a diagnostic personality test, the Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory (MMPI), which the prisoner agreed to complete. The writer has not canvased the views of any of the prison officers, since she understands that their impressions will be recorded elsewhere.
2. The prisoner, charged with murder, was admitted to Barlinnie prison on December 23, 1993. He is a large man who nevertheless moves easily and talks comfortably in interview. He told the psychologist that he considers himself to be a survivor and the sort of person who adapts easily to new situations. He foresees no problems in coming to terms with a lengthy sentence. He claims he is “easy-going,” can “get on with anybody,” and is “very popular,” although he prefers his own company. Later in the interview he became very angry when asked about his ex-boss at the minicab firm who had sacked him after his arrest. He said he would like to “teach him a permanent lesson.”
3. His early family life seems to have been quite troubled. He was born and educated in Bridgeton, Glasgow, a less than salubrious area. Mr. Gow’s parents fought, principally over his father’s excessive drinking. He enjoyed school and did well up until fifth year, when he failed his GCSEs and left. His parents separated when Mr. Gow was eight. He states that his relationship with his mother was “shite.” When asked to elaborate on this statement, he declared that his mother was “a cow” who never cared for him. He became quite agitated in discussing his mother. He said she made him take responsibility for his siblings and “spoiled his chances in life.” Asked whether his relationship with his mother related to the crimes he was charged with he smiled and refused to speak on the matter. He is high on anxiety and may well have more trouble forming social bonds and restraining impulsive behavior than he declares.
4. His father is now deceased. Mr. Gow no longer has con- tact with either his mother or three sisters. He is married and states that his wife will remain with him whatever the outcome of his trial.
5. Mr. Gow’s early criminal career centered on shoplifting minor items such as cigarettes, a newspaper, and a pair of lady’s tights. As regards to car theft: Mr. Gow took a neighbor’s car and drove into the country until he ran out of gas. He was picked up walking along the M8, making his way back to Bridgeton from Lanark.
6. With regard to the theft charges, he states he was “angry with himself” but wavered when questioned as to whether he regretted getting caught or stealing in the first place. He claims that he did not get caught but confessed to the police of his own volition, showing them the items and the shops he stole them from. He had intended to give the stolen items to girls to “try to get them to like him,” a statement which belies his claim to universal popularity. The charges of drunk and disorderly and breach of the peace were brought in relation to a single series of events. Having gone for a drink after work Mr. Gow became drunk and tried to catch the bus home. He argued with the driver and resisted being ejected by holding on to a seat-back. He was not violent during this or any other incident prior to the present charges.
7. With regard to the present charges, he will not talk. When questioned, he smiles and will not be pressed further. He claims he does not “fancy” talking about the incidents.
8. Throughout the whole interview, Gow was systematic and clear in his report. The veracity of what he told has of course to be taken on trust by the writer, who has only known him very briefly. What Gow has told me has to be taken as the image of himself he wishes to portray to a relative stranger at the moment. He showed no disturbance of thought or emotion at interview, although he tends to be guarded and given to inconsistent posturing, as in his claims to be easygoing/uncrossable, very popular/a loner. No intelligence test was administered on this occasion but he is probably of at least good average intelligence.
9. Gow was slightly wary of subjecting himself to the MMPI. The latter is a well-researched inventory-type test used on both sides of the Atlantic in clinical and forensic populations. Its purpose is to scan for significant personality malfunctions or psychopathy and to measure certain factors which may have predictive value for
the person concerned. It also has reliability indices which measure attitudes to test-taking, e.g., tendencies to lie, to alter responses to fit in with anticipated expectations, to exaggerate, or to deny adverse features, all of which are helpful in determining how much weight to give the overall test.
10. These indices were well above normal limits, suggesting that Mr. Gow has either a tendency to lie all the time or a desire to disguise his true profile in this test. However, the attempts to lie were done in a surprisingly intelligent and consistent manner, suggesting a degree of ability when it comes to duplicity. None of the scale scores were outside normal limits apart from the psychopathic personality scale which had a significant T score of 76. Clinically this is of note, being a relatively high score. The general pattern of his test scores and attitude to the psychologist suggest that attempts at rehabilitation may be problematic. Of particular concern is his attitude to the charged offenses. He is either refusing to talk about them because he cannot excuse them, or he simply has no memory of them. The former seems more likely. In light of his high score on the psychopathic personality scale, it is suggested that future treatment of this man should probably involve: (a) limiting his work and activities; (b) perhaps group work to attempt to prompt him to talk about his offenses; (c) always approaching his self-report with care and skepticism.
11. I will be pleased to clarify or expand on anything in this report if necessary.
I hope that it will serve some useful purpose.
Yours faithfully
Valerie Elliott
chapter sixteen
I’VE GOT A HANGOVER.
Morris and Bangor came over last night and took me out for a pint. When I saw them coming through the gate, I threw the kitchen door open and ran across the lawn to them. I found myself getting a bit carried away. Luckily Morris punched me on the arm and I could pretend that it brought tears to my eyes. It’s essential never to show fear or pain in front of Mum or she’ll sit you down and try to make you talk about it. It’s inconceivable to her that anyone would rather not talk, or would like to talk to anyone but her. Of course, I wouldn’t be saying this if there weren’t a lock on this door.
