by Pat Young
He jumped to his feet. ‘Watch what you’re doing, you stupid old,’
‘Tommy,’ said Ruby. ‘Manners!’
‘Manners? Have you any idea what this coat cost?’
‘Och, we don’t give a hoot about your coat. Stick it in the cleaners. What about poor Violet?’
While Smeaton dab-dabbed with a hankie and continued to rant about his coat being ruined, Violet put down her cup and spluttered and choked her way to the front door where she waited for a carer to let her out.
*
Arrol Gardens looked quite different at night. Both sides of the street were packed with cars, parked nose to tail.
Marty hadn’t seen Joe for more than a week. He had been ‘away’ and although she had asked, he hadn’t been forthcoming about his destination.
As she pressed the button beside Joe’s name, Sheila came bounding up the street towards her, calling, ‘Wait for me.’
They climbed the staircase together. ‘I’m surprised to see a For Sale sign. Didn’t know Joe was moving.’
As Joe ushered them into the hall, Marty joked, ‘We’ve come to view the flat that’s for sale.’
‘Sorry, you’re too late. I verbally accepted an offer half an hour ago.’
‘That’s great news.’
‘Yeah, I guess it is. I feel a bit stunned.’
Marty touched his arm. ‘Joe, I wouldn’t like to think Smeaton is robbing you of your home as well as your job.’
‘No. This place is a bit big now. Too many memories. It’s time I was on the move.’ He led them into the lounge, a huge high-ceilinged room with a vast window.
‘I hope you charged extra if you’re planning to leave those beautiful curtains,’ said Marty. ‘They must have cost a small fortune.’
‘Sally never confessed how much they cost, so I suspect you’re right.’
Sheila asked, ‘Where are you thinking of going?’ but Joe gave a shrug instead of an answer.
When they had sat down Marty said, ‘Trip go well, Joe?’
‘Yeah, not bad. Got some things seen to, some business attended to.’
‘Not much of a suntan,’ she joked, hoping it might get him to spill the beans, but he reached for his glass of water, took a drink and said nothing.
Marty asked for updates. Joe reported that he’d been given a date for the closure of the bothy. It was to be de-commissioned no later than the end of February, cleared and cleaned by the end of March and all keys returned to HQ. ‘Don’t worry’ said Joe. ‘I’ve already had a set copied.’
Marty made some notes then turned to Sheila who looked excited. It was clear she was bursting to tell them something.
‘I got caught by Smeaton when I was visiting his mother.’
Marty gasped, ‘You what?’
Joe said, ‘Did he see you?’
‘I got lucky. Her friend announced that Ruby’s son was arriving, so I was forewarned.’
‘Shit,’ said Marty. ‘What did you do? I’d have sprinted to the Ladies and then sneaked out the door.’
‘Thought about it, but he was too quick for me.’
‘So?’
‘So I spat coffee all over his fancy cashmere coat.’
‘Aye, sure,’ said Joe.
‘Oh, it’s true. I did. And know what? I enjoyed every minute.’
‘What if he recognized you?’
‘He didn’t. I was disguised as Violet and anyway, he was more interested in his precious coat. That’s what I was counting on. Still …’ She drew the back of her hand across her brow.
‘Yeah, close shave,’ said Marty. ‘Well done. Fast thinking but a high risk strategy.’
‘It was worth it. Now I’m more confident the Violet character will work plus I’m glad I didn’t run away. I learned a lot. Sounds like he’s always had a cruel streak, even as a child.’
‘Why are we not surprised to hear that?’ said Joe. ‘You can imagine him pulling wings off butterflies, can’t you?’
Sheila filled them in on a bit more of Ruby’s story and added, ‘I am sure she’s the key to getting Smeaton.’
‘Are you also sure she doesn’t have any kind of dementia?’
‘Let’s say she has selective dementia.’
Joe looked puzzled until Sheila described how Ruby chose to play ‘gaga’ when it suited her but was otherwise sharp as a tack and twice as spiky. ‘What’s more interesting is this, she has no time for Tommy.’
‘Tommy? Hard to imagine him as a Tommy, isn’t it?’
‘Not hard to imagine him biting and kicking a smaller brother, though, is it?’
‘No, he’s a horrible specimen of humanity,’ said Marty, ‘but surely his own mother loves him? I would love our Mark no matter what he did, without a doubt.’
‘That’s the sad bit. His own mother, that is, his real mother, handed him over as a new-born and hasn’t acknowledged him since.’
‘Obviously an excellent judge of character,’ said Joe.
‘Did she put him up for adoption?’
‘No, she let her parents pass him over to her married sister, Ruby, and got on with her life. She’s now living it large in Arizona.’
‘Aw,’ said Marty, feeling for any unwanted, rejected child. ‘Maybe that explains a lot about his behaviour. I almost feel sorry for him.’
When Sheila went on to tell them about wee Archie dying of scarlet fever, Marty felt as if she might cry.
‘Poor Ruby,’ she said, ‘losing her husband and her little son.’
‘And being left with Smeaton as a consolation prize?’ said Joe. ‘You’re right, Marty. Poor Ruby.’
‘How does this help us, Sheila?’
Sheila leaned forward in a conspiratorial pose, ‘We know the man has no social life, never goes anywhere unless it’s work-related. The only thing he does with anything resembling regularity, apart from church, is visit his mother. I think we have to intercept him on his way to Briargrove.’
Marty and Joe nodded. ‘That could work.’
‘One other thing,’ said Sheila. She bit her bottom lip.
‘What?’
‘I think we should enlist Ruby.’
***
CHAPTER 37
Marty had only just finished stacking the dishwasher when her phone rang.
‘Sheila, what’s up? I only saw you two hours ago. You missing Liz to chat to?’
‘I’m not calling for a chat, Marty. I don’t think I can go through with this.’
‘But you were so enthusiastic earlier. Is it because of Joe?’
‘No, it’s because of the drug.’
'The drug will be fine.'
'How can terrible stuff like that ever be “fine”, Marty?’
'We’re using it safely.'
'Ok for you to say. I’m the one that’s drugging him.'
Marty poured two cups of decaf tea and took one to David.
‘Who was on the phone? Oh look, you should sit down and watch this, Darling. It’s got baby Polar bears in it.’
‘Actually, do you mind if I take my cup through to the study, David? I need to make another phone call.’
‘Oh no, you don’t.’
‘Sorry?’ Could he have overheard her conversation with Sheila?
David repeated, this time in a big panto voice, ‘Oh no, you don’t.’
The penny dropped. ‘Ah, very good, David. You got me. Ha ha.’
‘What was all that blabbing about anyway? Has Sheila lost the back end of the pantomime horse?’
‘Something like that.’ Marty smiled, pointing to the TV as she left the room. ‘Enjoy.’
Joe took ages to answer. ‘What’s up?’
‘I’ve just had a call from Sheila. I think she might be pulling out.’
‘Why? Wait, is this my fault? She was all fired up earlier. Is she pulling out because I was a bit negative about Ruby?’
‘No, it’s nothing to do with you. It’s the Rohypnol. She’s worried about using it. And given that she’ll the one to administer
it, I can understand that.’
‘Did you tell her about all the research I’ve done? Both the scientific stuff and what the boys have told me?’
‘Yes, I tried to reassure her that it will do him no long-term harm.’
‘Are you still okay with us using it, Marty?’
‘Yeah, but you know how I feel. I’d happily give him strychnine if I thought I’d get away with it.’
Joe laughed. ‘Ach, I don’t think you should worry too much about Sheila. She’s sound. Probably just losing her nerve.’
‘Do you think so?’
‘I’m sure of it. I mean, she’s got as much reason to hate Smeaton as the rest of us.’
‘You’re right. Maybe she’s just got too much on her mind, what with the panto and everything. I haven’t forgotten how stressful it can be, running a school. Especially in the run-up to Christmas. And she’s still grieving for Liz.’
‘Also, I think I might have been a bit dismissive of her suggestion that we involve old Mrs Smeaton.’
‘Dismissive? You think?’
‘Okay,’ said Joe. ‘Sorry. I’ve been thinking it’s maybe not such a mad idea after all.’
‘I think it’s a great idea.’
‘Do you trust Sheila’s judgement?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘That’s good enough for me. What about you, Marty? Are you okay?’
‘Yeah, I’m okay.’
‘Still up for it?’
‘Hell, yeah.’
‘Good. Because I’ve just been online to order the Rohypnol.’
‘Oh God. It’s starting to get real now, isn’t it?’
‘Yip. Hang in there, kid. Even if it’s just the two of us, you and I are going to see this through. One way or another, believe me, Smeaton’s going to get what’s coming to him.’
Marty felt a shiver run all the way up her back and into her hairline.
***
CHAPTER 38
The curtain closed for the final time.
‘Sheila! Sheila! Sheila!’
Marty joined in the chant while she waited for a chance to congratulate her friend. The problem was, everyone wanted to thank Sheila but Jason wouldn’t put her down. He had hugged her and lifted her off her feet so many times, poor Sheila must be getting vertigo.
With a melodramatic, ‘I promise I’ll never ever forget you, Sheila, even when I’m famous,’ Jason swept off the stage and went to meet his adoring public.
Sheila and Marty looked at one another and giggled. ‘He was brilliant. You have to hand it to the boy.’
‘He is talented. I hope he makes it in London and I’ll be praying he stays safe down there.’
‘I wouldn’t worry too much. He’s got his head screwed on, that one.’ Marty grabbed Sheila in a tight embrace. ‘That was an outstanding show, each night better than the one before.’
‘Three full houses. Who would have believed it? All that publicity for the sit-in did us a good turn, didn’t it?’
‘Yeah, pity about the councillors taking the best seats in the house on opening night, without paying a penny.’
‘Did you see Smeaton and the Troll? Oops, that sounds like the title for next year’s pantomime.’
‘How could I miss them, sitting there like smug philanthropists, milking the publicity.’ Sheila mimed spitting out something nasty.
‘Never mind them. Did any of your pupils come to see the show?’
‘Quite a few, surprisingly. The ones whose parents weren’t scared to venture into Bankside at night. Some of them treat it like the Gaza Strip.’
‘I must admit, I’d have been wary myself a few months ago, but the folk here are great. Real salt of the earth.’
‘Are yous ladies talking about me?’
‘Yes, Margrit, we are indeed. Come on, give us a hug and thanks a million. I’m going to miss that home-baking of yours.’
‘It wis nothin, hen. No compared to the work you’ve put in. Everybody’s sayin Itchybella wis better than the panto at the King’s Theatre. You should be proud of yersel.’
‘I’m proud of Bankside and special folk like you.’
Margrit blushed. ‘Away,’ she said as bustled off. ‘Cheerio now. There’s a big Bacardi and Coke wi’ my name on it.’
‘I think we’ve earned a drink too, Marty. Come on, let’s go to the pub.’
‘Boy, am I ready for this,’ said Sheila, raising her pint of shandy.
‘It’s Champagne you deserve. Wish you’d let me buy a bottle, at least some Prosecco. That was an absolute triumph, Sheila.’
‘Yeah, it turned out alright in the end, I suppose.’
‘Alright?’ said Marty. ‘It was spectacular. I had a ball. In fact, I’m sorry it’s over.’
‘Well, I’m not. I’m shattered.’
‘You must be. Never mind, all your hard work paid off. People will talk about this for years.’
‘And yet it’s not enough to make Smeaton appreciate the sterling work that goes on in these communities. I went to see him today.’
‘Did he heap praises on your head for turning Bankside into the West End?’
‘Did he hell! Would you believe he didn’t mention the pantomime? Didn’t even say thanks for the free tickets.’
‘He should have presented you with a magnum of Moet for the good publicity you brought the council. His ugly mug and his sidekick’s were all over the local paper.’
‘Did you hear they’re sticking to their plan to kill off the kids’ orchestra?’
Marty leaned on the table, her head in her hands. ‘Oh, that’s outrageous.’ She looked up, as if she’d had an idea. ‘Why don’t you mobilise the residents to protest again? It worked for the panto.’
‘Yes, but the panto only cost the use of the hall. The orchestra needs major funding. Big Sean’s so gutted, he’s giving up, retiring at the summer. He says he hasn’t the energy to fight them anymore. There was an appeal, but it was a total farce, as usual. Carole showed me the minutes of their discussion.’
‘Carole’s been great, hasn’t she?’
‘She’s been invaluable. Filling us in on Smeaton’s habits, keeping us up to date on his commitments. I don’t know how we’d have managed without her. And that idea she had about telling everyone, when the time comes, that he’s gone to a conference? That was inspired.’
‘Yes, everything is starting to fall into place.’
‘Marty, I’m sorry I threw a bit of a wobbly after the last meeting. I just had too much on my mind.’
‘We thought that. Are you okay now?’
Sheila nodded. ‘Yes, I think I am. Sorry, but I had a bit of a panic about using Rohypnol on someone, even Smeaton. It’s such a disgusting drug and used for such vile purposes. And what if he dies?’
***
CHAPTER 39
January 2018
When they reached the canal side Marty let Chance off the lead and watched as he raced away, a grey streak.
‘Any luck with the house-hunting, Joe?’ she said. ‘I don’t mind going with you to have a look.’
‘Thanks, Marty, but I’m thinking of building.’
Marty said, ‘I’m envious. That’s always been my dream. Find the perfect spot and build the perfect house.’
‘Why don’t you?’
‘David says we already have a perfect house in the perfect spot, within walking distance of the golf course.’
‘What would be perfect for you, Marty?’
‘Somewhere with less rain, for a start,’ she said, pulling up the hood on her waterproof.
‘Would you ever move abroad?’
‘I don’t know that I could leave my son. Or this idiot.’ She pointed at the dog who had reappeared at her side and was now nosing her pocket for a reward. ‘Could you live abroad?’
No mention of her husband. ‘Oh yes,’ said Joe. ‘I certainly could.’
They walked in silence for a bit. Traffic sounds filtered through, diluted by distance.
Suddenly Marty s
aid, ‘Isn’t it great news that Sheila’s committed again?’
‘Yeah, she’ll be solid now. And she’s come up with an inspired idea for disguising the bothy. Remember those thick black drapes from the panto?’
‘The ones you used to create the dragon’s lair?’
‘Yip.’
‘Will it work, do you think?’
‘Hope so. Sheila and I took some up to the bothy last night. It looked good.’
‘Won’t it arouse suspicion if you’re seen going back and forward?’
‘Nah. Folk will expect to see me up there now word’s got out that it’s closing.’
‘Why does Smeaton have to shut a place like that? We used to send Moorcroft pupils up there all the time. Remember Matt Harvey? I trusted him implicitly. He had kids camping out in the wild, canoeing, abseiling. He even got me to try it one day. Abseiling. Can you believe that?’
‘I’d believe anything of you, Marty. The shy wee sister that used to blush when I spoke to her seems like a different person.’
‘Oh, she is, Joe. You’d better believe it.’
‘What happened to her?’
‘Life happened to her. Toughened her up.’
‘Yes,’ said Joe, thinking of Sally, ‘life does that to people, doesn’t it?’
***
CHAPTER 40
Straight after work, Sheila went to Briargrove. She peeped into the lounge and found Ruby sitting by herself in the bay window. The Christmas tree had been taken down, the decorations had gone and the room looked even more depressing than usual.
‘Happy New Year, Ruby.’ Sheila stooped to give the old lady a peck on the cheek. ‘Cheer up,’ she said, in her best Violet voice. ‘You’ve a face like a horse in the huff.’
There was no response, which made Sheila wonder if this was going to be one of Ruby’s ‘demented’ afternoons. She looked around for the carer that Ruby disliked so much then pulled up a chair and took Ruby’s liver-spotted hand in hers. It felt frail, the slender fingers knotted with arthritis. In her other hand Ruby clutched a sodden bundle of tissue.
