by Anne Bone
Chapter 18
Wednesday 19th September Aberdeen
The following morning the area around Aberdeen Sheriff Court was a buzz of activity. Not only were the press and media there in abundance, but the news had spread throughout the town that a man was due to appear in court charged with Mary’s abduction. This had brought the folk of Aberdeen out, and they lined the street outside the court, waiting to catch a glimpse of the prison van, where they could shout their messages to the occupant.
Robert Laird’s appearance was short. The procurator fiscal informed the sheriff that the man who stood in the dock had been charged with two serious offences, and the gravity of the offences were such that he should be remanded in custody. Laird’s defence agent argued that he had a fixed address, and would give an assurance that he would not abscond.
The sheriff took a very short time to agree with the fiscal, and he duly remanded Laird in custody. The newspapers later reported that Laird, a man of average build, with sandy hair, and an unshaven face, looked stunned as he was led out of the dock to make his way to a prison van. He would be taken to HMP Craiginches to wait for his next court appearance.
As the prison van made its way out from the back of the court, and started its journey along Union Street, the lines of Aberdeen folk screamed abuse at him. Some tried to get passed the police cordon so they could hammer on the side of the vehicle. The man inside of the van felt their anger and fury, and just for a moment he was pleased that the van was sturdy enough to provide safety to him. He couldn’t help but feel the shudder of fear and apprehension at the level of animosity and anger that was being sent in his direction.
Veronica Davidson was meeting two of her friends, Barbara Swinten and Julia Cairstair, for lunch at the House of Fraser. Barbara and Julia were long-term friends of Veronica’s; they were in a way also neighbours, living in adjacent roads. Barbara’s husband was a notable solicitor, while Julia’s was a bank manager. The two men had gone to school together and then on to university. They were considered part of the Aberdeen elite, and their wives, therefore, were expected to take a lead in doing the good works of Aberdeen. Marcus, however, was not considered as being at the same level: he had attended a local academy and while he had not achieved academically, he had excelled in his business acumen. Veronica had met him soon after his dad had died, and he had just taken over the family business. Then he had been involved in running a distribution company, buying and selling, was how he had described the business. He had owned a couple of warehouses and a couple of lorries and there were, at that time, only about half a dozen men employed by him.
Veronica had been enthralled by him, he had even then held a certain charisma, and she had been delighted when he had chatted her up at a dance held at the Beach Ballroom. She had been there with Barbara, both only just out of their teens and had hoped that they would be noticed by the tall, dark good-looking guy who had been propping up the bar and watching the dancing. She had noticed him watching her as she had danced the jive with Barbara’s brother, Don. She had smiled at him a few times, and he had smiled back, and fortified by two gins and orange she decided to be bold and go up to the bar to speak to him.
It was his eyes that drew her into him; they were like two chocolate hazelnuts that melted once she looked into them. His thick dark hair and his swarthy skin led her to wonder whether he had any Mediterranean blood in his veins. She fell for him in an instant and when he asked her if she wanted the final dance that night, she was extremely happy to oblige.
Their courtship had been fast, he had taken her virginity on the third date., She had been more than a willing partner, and even though she would be considered fast by her peers she gave not one jot of concern. She was deeply in love.
Her family, however, hadn’t been quite so pleased with her choice. When she had introduced Marcus to her father, a recently retired army officer who was still known as the Major, he was patently wary of her choice of a man. He regarded himself as a good judge of character, having been used to leading men from all parts of society, and his assessment was that Marcus Davidson was a bit of a wide boy, a chancer, and one he hoped his daughter would tire of.
Veronica had noticed the crowds in Union Street, and watched as the large prison van was being chased along the road. She stood back to allow a crowd to pass her, hearing the bad language that was being professed. Veronica hated hearing what she described as gutter language, and quickly made her way into the department store and up to the restaurant.
Her two friends were already seated, and soon brought her up to date about why the crowd was there. Apparently it had been all over the news; they had got someone for the child who had gone missing. They still hadn’t found the child though, and all three women, all mothers themselves, couldn’t help but feel sorry for the young mother.
‘Apparently the mother is a single parent,’ declared Julia, ‘no sign of the father. Poor girl has had to go through all of this on her own. Did you see how upset she was on the news on Monday?’ she asked.
‘I don’t watch much television,’ replied Veronica, ‘I can’t stand the constant news about terrible things happening in the world. I prefer to read the newspaper for my information.’
Barbara would silently agree that this was indeed likely; Veronica had never shown much interest in current affairs. It was debatable as to how much news she read about in the newspaper, the fashion pages or recipe pages were more her. She was one of her oldest friends, and while she remained one of her friends, it did irritate her immensely that she was also extremely selfish and self-centred. Whereas Julia, like her, was involved in a range of good works, Veronica chose to distance herself from actually doing any work, but enjoyed turning up to any social events that meant she could wear her latest outfit and act as though she was lady bountiful.
Veronica was more interested in reading the menu, deciding what she would eat today. She listened to Julia who was sharing a thought about whether there was anything they could do to send a message of support and sympathy to Jenni Dinnet. Veronica couldn’t help interjecting that she didn’t think it was any of their business. The girl would surely have lots of her own sort to support her and, anyway, whatever could any of them do to offer support.
Barbara thought for a moment and then aired her thoughts. I would imagine that Beth Paton and her charity are offering her support; we must do something to raise some funds for the Stolen Children Trust. She searched her friend’s faces for agreement, but noticed that it was only Julia’s face that showed any interest. ‘After all,’ she continued, ‘it is a local charity and now that this poor local child has been taken then it has raised their profile.’
‘I couldn’t agree more, Babs,’ replied Julia, ‘I met Beth a couple of months ago and she is a lovely young woman. We should be supporting a local charity, she has great hopes for it becoming a national one. She told me that they have calls from as far away as London. I will give her a call and see whether she will come to lunch and we can perhaps form “A Friends Of” committee and start helping her. At least that would be one way of offering support to poor Jenni Dinnet.’
Veronica listened, without adding anything to her two friends who were always busy raising money for some poor group. It wasn’t really her scene, but she would go along with it, as it meant she would be mixing with the people who impressed her. Marcus wouldn’t be interested, and had shown very little interest in wanting to socialise with these two friends and their husbands. He had shied away from dinners and suppers with them preferring to socialise with Jeff and his wife. Occasionally, he would announce that she needed to set up dinner for some of his associates, but they were never regarded as close friends. Veronica had become used to acting as the hostess, she did enjoy planning and staging what the guests would describe as an exceptional meal. She was good at ensuring that everything was in its place, the house would look and smell wonderful, the dining room would look outstanding, with the cut glass wine glasses sparking and the silver cutlery
gleaming. When Marcus asked her to put on a dinner, she would come alive and spend hours evolving a menu that would mirror the best restaurant in town. Veronica relished being the perfect hostess, and she knew that Marcus was grateful that she would pull out all of the stops, a real asset he had told her.
When he had moved his business interests from buying and selling to developing his promotional business about ten years after they married, she had often been called on to help out. He had initially purchased two bars, and needed to ensure that the local councillors would support him in getting late licences. Veronica remembered that this had been an interesting time in their marriage, and while he would still be absent some nights, he involved her in his plans. He had had a vison, one where he would own a number of bars in and around Aberdeen. He wanted to make them the most popular places to go, so he then became involved with the entertainment industry, and started inviting agents and entertainers to their home.
The boys had been quite young and they also enjoyed their father’s guests, which had even included a few minor celebrities. The house had at that time been buzzing, and she had been called on more often to stand by his side, while he wined and dined people who would oil doors that he needed to become open to him. She didn’t ask questions, and some of the guests left her feeling slightly underwhelmed. They were not the type of people who she would choose to socialise with, yet she did so for Marcus. It was always for Marcus. When he bought the club, he had also purchased other property, seeing that Aberdeen’s oil industry would need to rent accommodation for their workers. She knew that he had a large portfolio, but while he was regarded as a successful business man in the area, he didn’t quite make the muster with some of the more elite men in Aberdeen society.
When the three women finished eating, they went their separate ways. She had an appointment with the hairdresser, and thought she would maybe change her hair colour. She was, if she was honest, bored. She had enjoyed the few days away in Spain, but since she had been more or less on her own since they returned, she was fed up. Tom still officially lived at home, but he and Kim were working on their future home, and he now stayed over there rather than coming home. She missed Derek, but was proud that he was out seeing the world, and was completely envious of his freedom. She had suggested to Marcus that they could maybe take a longer holiday, and arrange to meet up with him in one of the exotic places he was visiting. He had told her to go on her own, as he would not be in a position to take extended time off to travel to meet their son. Rather than go on her own, she decided not to go at all.
She didn’t know where Marcus had been over the past few days, she had never quizzed him as to his whereabouts; some people would find that strange. Her own intuition told her she would be better not to know as, if she knew, then she would have to deal with it. It was less demanding if she allowed his absences to flow over her. She would suppress her annoyance and ignore those tell-tell signs that there was someone, somewhere who was sharing her husband.
Her feeling of depression diminished once she arrived at the hairdressers. Her stylist was a jolly young man who fussed and flirted with her. She wasn’t daft and recognised that this young man was only flattering a fifty year old woman for the rather large tip that she would bestow on him. She settled back and while her hair was worked on, she decided that when Marcus returned home tonight, she would present a lovely meal and ensure that the frosty atmosphere that had permeated their last meeting was eradicated. She would, once she reached home, phone Tom and invite Kim and him to supper as well. They could discuss their wedding that was due to take place at Christmas. She felt better already.
Meanwhile in Treeside Road, Marcus was feeling not just guilty but regretful that he was going to have to leave Jenni and return to his home. Christine had returned and had been distressed when she heard all the details of the arrest, but equally that they were no further forward in being able to know what had actually happened to her granddaughter. She had used the time while at home to vent the anger she felt, taking it out on Alex, blaming him, not only for Mary’s disappearance, but for the Jenni’s distance. If, she had told him, he had welcomed their daughter and granddaughter into their lives she may have moved back to be either living with them or at least have found somewhere to live back in the town. She had gone on at some length that it had been because of him that they hadn’t. If they had not been in Aberdeen then Mary wouldn’t have been taken, she would be safe. She had not realised how angry she had felt until it came bubbling over, leaving Alex bemused. He wouldn’t have it that it was anything to do with him, that the child had been taken; it was more likely retribution for her mother’s whoring behaviour. If he was sorry he said these words he hadn’t apologised, but he had felt the sharp end of his wife’s tongue, an experience that in all of the thirty odd years of marriage he had rarely encountered.
Christine had been happy to return to Aberdeen for no other reason than to get away from Alex and his bigoted views. How dare he say it was Jenni’s fault. He, apparently, did not have an empathic bone in his body. She was disappointed that he hadn’t had the Christian capacity to reach out to their daughter, the Christianity he preached to all. And there was her thinking that his heart had begun to melt, from his reaction when the police had arrived at the door that day. How wrong could she be!
She had, however, had a slight change of heart in relation to Marcus; he had come across as being caring towards her daughter, and had seemed as devastated as the rest of them in their loss of Mary. She did not feel the change of heart significantly enough to tell him, but her responses towards him were less jagged. She still didn’t understand what her daughter saw in a man who was old enough to be her father, but whatever it was it had lasted more than ten years and that must mean something.
While she was glad to be with Jenni, she also realised that she would have to return to her husband, and her time with her daughter was only a temporary arrangement. Now they had caught this man, she suspected that there would be less energy spent on trying to find Mary, wherever the wee soul lay. She couldn’t help feel that they had seen the last of her granddaughter, and while she felt the grief bubbling up and threatening to overwhelm her, she wouldn’t let it do so. The least she could do was to remain stalwart and support her daughter, something she had seriously failed to do before.
Jenni had been pleased to see her mother, although she knew that the news about the arrest would not provide the resolution they desired. Her mum had so far come up trumps, and the old bond they had shared before she had left home to come to Aberdeen had re-surfaced and was, she realised, still intact. While they still didn’t agree on her choice of man, she did sense that there was at least a thawing in her mother’s attitude towards Marcus.
The three of them were able to sit down together and be on the same page about some things, namely their love of the child. While Jenni had been in the bathroom, Christine and Marcus had even been able to discuss what they could each do to support Jenni. Marcus had been apologetic towards the older woman, trying to explain to her that his intention was to spend more time with her, but couldn’t be with her all of the time. Christine had also had to admit that she too couldn’t remain with her longer than another few days. It would have been on her mind to try and persuade Jenni to return to Blairgowrie for a while, but after Alex’s outpouring and his derogatory views, she didn’t think that it would be the best place for her. Unless she could guarantee that he would keep his thoughts to himself, then she couldn’t expose her daughter to him in her current vulnerable state.
When Jenni returned to the sitting room she found them in conversation, and it looked like they were in agreement in whatever they had been discussing. Christine outlined that they had come up with a plan; Marcus would stay with her at the weekends, while Christine would stay from Monday to Thursday. Jenni wasn’t sure how this could happen, and she looked carefully at Marcus, trying to scan his face to see whether he was truly in agreement with this, or whether he had been cornered i
nto making this offer by her mother.
He smiled and nodded his head, to reassure her. ‘I will work things out,’ he told her, ‘and not to worry.’ He did however have to take his leave now; he had time to call into the office and catch up with things before he finally went back to his house.
Jenni accompanied him out into the hallway where they embraced. He held her tightly and kissed her lightly on her lips, relishing their softness. ‘How are you going to manage to be here every weekend?’ she asked him.
‘I will make arrangements; I did promise you that I was going to spend more time with you. I meant it. I will be back with you on Friday afternoon. If you need me before then call the office and Joan will get in touch with me. In fact, I might even call in tomorrow and see how you are.’ With those final words and another light kiss, he left, leaving Jenni not only surprised, but gratified that he meant that he would be with her more often.
I still don’t know whether it is day or night, the house never lets in any light. My room is dark, although I am allowed to have the small bedside lamp on. He shuts me in and I hear the door close and the key turn. I know he has locked me in. I got up and tried the door and it was locked. I am allowed to read some books and do some colouring; they help me to pass the time. I am getting used to him now. Every day he takes me through to the big room and there is food.
He hasn’t hurt me; he is actually quite kind to me. He likes me to sit on his knee everyday while he brushes my hair. He spends ages brushing my hair. It feels okay, not uncomfortable, but sort of odd. I must have the most brushed hair in the world. When he does this, I sing the ”You are my sunshine” song, in my head. It makes the time go quickly until he has finished and I go back to my room. I am always quiet, and even if I wasn’t I would doubt that anyone would hear me, as I have come to realise why the door to my room is so small: my room is a secret room hidden behind the tall bookcase. I haven’t yet worked out why I need to stay in a secret room.
