Beyond All Evil

by June Thomson

  June: I thought he’d be different. But Rab couldn’t change.

  ‘Are you happy now?’ Rab hissed.

  I had just walked through the door at Muiredge with Ryan, Michelle, Abbi and Beth.

  ‘What?’ I said sharply, feeling my confidence draining.

  His face was inches from mine.

  ‘With all this,’ he spat, waving his arms to encompass the untidy room. ‘This divorce shite. You know you’re going to come crawling back anyway.’

  ‘Not this time,’ I said quietly.

  Rab looked at me. For the first time, I could see uncertainty in his eyes.

  ‘You’re going to end up a sad, lonely old cow, just like your fucking mother!’ he growled. But it was all just bravado.

  I was so weary of this. If anything reinforced my resolve to stay away, this was it. He must have known it was over. I hadn’t seen him for days. The divorce papers had been lodged. The line had been drawn in the sand. What would it take to convince this man? But then, why should I have been surprised? Leopards don’t change their spots.

  ‘You’ve made your point,’ he went on. ‘It’s costing a fortune on all these fucking lawyers over this shite.’

  I waited for a fist to smash into my face as it had done so often in the past, but the blow never arrived. He had at last learned one lesson, it seemed. He seethed with anger, but he stepped back and looked at me from head to toe.

  ‘And what the fuck d’ye think you’re playing at, comin’ out dressed like that?’ he said.

  I knew it. I remained silent. I had long since learned that nothing I could say or do – or wear – would deflect Rab when he was ranting. This time, however, it did not matter what he thought or said.

  Beth cowered close to me, and Ryan and Abbi ran to my son’s old bedroom, where all his toys were, and they began playing with his collection of trucks. Rab sat down heavily on a kitchen chair, filling the room with an air of malevolence. I looked around. There were unwashed dishes everywhere. I wasn’t here any more to be his skivvy.

  ‘Do you have any sweets for the kids? Crisps? Juice?’ I asked.

  ‘Crisps!’ said Abbi. ‘Want crisps.’

  Rab shrugged and I turned, heading for the door.

  ‘I’ll be back in a couple of minutes,’ I said.

  On the journey to the shop I counted my blessings again. I had at last somewhere else to go now, a sanctuary, where I would not have to endure Rab’s barracking. I returned within 20 minutes, laden with crisps, sweets and treats for the kids.

  ‘Right, you lot,’ I said. ‘I’ve loads to do. Auntie Linda will be here soon.’

  Rab drew me daggers. The very mention of Linda’s name made him angry. She had always seen through the façade of our marriage. It had been my intention to take Beth with me, leaving Ryan, Michelle and Abbi behind.

  As I turned to the door, Abbi grabbed my jeans and said, ‘I’m coming with you, Auntie June.’

  ‘Thought you were staying to play with Ryan?’ I said.

  ‘You better take her,’ Rab said. ‘I don’t want her moaning once you’re out that door.’

  I wasn’t in the mood to argue. I shrugged and said, ‘C’mon, darling.’ To my children I shouted, ‘Michelle! Ryan! See you soon. I’ll be back after teatime.’

  Their disembodied voices replied ‘Okay’ in unison.

  As I was ushering my nieces outside and into the car, I was stilled by Rab’s voice.

  ‘What are you going to do when you’re left on your own, June? With nobody to love? What the fuck are you going to do then?’

  I chose not to rise to the bait.

  As I drove off, Michelle and Ryan were at the living-room window. Michelle was waving frantically with both hands and Ryan was holding up his favourite truck. I looked at my watch.

  It was 1 p.m.

  Giselle: I knew something was wrong the second I heard his voice.

  I was in the supermarket, reaching up for cereal when my mobile rang. I rummaged in my bag, retrieved the phone and caught the call. Ash’s number was on the screen.

  It was 1 p.m.

  ‘Hello,’ I said.

  Silence.

  ‘Hello,’ I repeated.

  I could hear wind and outdoor noises in the background. Ash began mumbling incoherently.

  ‘Ash? What’s wrong?’

  They had been gone for just under an hour and a half.

  ‘Do the babies want to come home?’ I asked.

  Silence … the sound of the wind.

  I was gripped by a sudden panic.

  ‘Are the babies all right?’

  Mumbling.

  ‘Ash!’ I demanded.

  ‘Your babies are fine, your babies are fine,’ he said in a monotone.

  The voice of a stranger. I couldn’t hear my sons. That was unusual. Something was wrong.

  ‘Ash!’ I begged.

  ‘You will regret what you did to me in this life,’ the voice said.

  And then the phone went dead.

  ‘Ash!’ I screamed.

  I dropped my bag, bolted for the door of the store, drawing strange looks from the other shoppers. Katie ran behind me, unaware of what I had heard, but knowing instinctively that something was terribly wrong.

  ‘What is it? What is it?’ she said, breathless.

  I didn’t reply. I was too busy trying to call Ash’s number. It was dead. I tried again and again and again. Not even voicemail.

  ‘Please God!’ I said.

  ‘What?’ Katie demanded. ‘Tell me! Tell me!’

  ‘Need to go home, need to go home, Katie.’

  ‘It’s that idiot, isn’t it?’ she said.

  I have no memory of the journey back, no memory of what we spoke about, no recollection of dropping Katie at her gate. I just had to get home. I needed to find out if Ash had left a message on the answering machine. I barged through the entrance door and into an open lift. I stamped my feet with impatience on the excruciatingly slow ascent to my floor. I shook like a leaf, willing the lift to get there.

  Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity, the doors opened. I raced to the flat, rammed the key in the lock and fell into the hall as the door flew open. Answering machine. No blinking light, no messages. I felt suddenly as if I were going to vomit. I rushed to the kitchen sink and gagged. I turned on the tap, then splashed my face with cold water.

  My mobile rang.

  ‘Ash,’ I shouted. ‘Thank God!’

  It was Katie.

  ‘I’m coming,’ she said.

  The phone died.

  I paced the floor, dialling, dialling, dialling Ash’s number. I must have pressed those buttons a hundred times. I heard Katie letting herself into the flat. Her face was white with worry.

  ‘It’s Ash,’ I told her. ‘I couldn’t hear the babies. Something’s wrong. I know it.’

  ‘What did he say?’ Katie demanded to know.

  I broke down. ‘He said I’d regret what I’d done.’

  ‘Done what?’ asked Katie.

  ‘I don’t know, I don’t know. Something’s wrong or he’s done something. I can tell by his voice. It didn’t even sound like him.’

  ‘C’mon, we’ll go and look for them. There aren’t many places to play football around here,’ Katie said.

  It was almost 2 p.m.

  June: I passed the house twice. How could I not know something was wrong?

  I pulled at the bottom of the living-room curtains, making the folds uniform and even. I stepped back. Perfect, I thought. I shifted the step-ladder away from the window and turned my attention to the boxes in the middle of the room. The bedrooms had been knocked into shape. Only the living room and the kitchen needed finishing touches.

  Most of the furniture that would go into the rooms was still in the back of Linda’s van. She’d be here soon.

  I had left my old life behind with little more than our clothes, a few duvet covers and some odds and ends. Rab wouldn’t allow me to take much from Muiredge, not that I re
ally wanted to. I needed a clean break in every sense. When our new home was complete, there would be few reminders of my past life. I had just torn the top off one of the boxes when my mobile rang. Linda.

  ‘It’s me,’ she said. ‘We got lost, but we’re back on track and we’ll be there by 5.’

  ‘Great,’ I said.

  ‘Jackie wants a pie,’ she told me.

  ‘What?’ I said, mystified.

  ‘All the way up the road I’ve been telling her about Scotch pies. She won’t go home without trying one.’

  I laughed. ‘Okay, I’ll get her a pie.’

  ‘And snowballs!’ said Linda. ‘She wants a snowball as well.’

  Pies and snowballs, I thought. You travel all the way from England and what do you want when you get to Scotland? Whisky? Smoked salmon? Venison? No! Mutton pies and a coconut-covered sponge cake that puts two inches on your waistline just by looking at it.

  ‘Pies and snowballs coming up,’ I said and hung up.

  I looked at my watch. It was just after 2 p.m. I still had a few hours before they arrived, time to unpack a few more boxes and make the trip to the local baker’s shop. Time passed in a blur as I shifted books, toys and clothes into cupboards and drawers. I moved operations from the living room to the kitchen and was just drawing a wet mop over the floor when I looked up at the wall clock. Nearly 4 p.m. Pies and snowballs, I thought. Better get a move on. I gathered up Abbi and Beth and headed for the car. A few minutes later we were standing in the local baker’s shop.

  ‘No pies left, missus … or snowballs,’ the baker told me.

  Typical. I’d have to drive to Buckhaven, which meant, ironically, that I would retrace my journey earlier in the day and go past Muiredge. Sod’s law, I thought, as I jumped back into the car and settled the children in their seats.

  The warmth of the afternoon was gone but as I approached Muiredge it was still a blessed day. The cottage sat on a corner, surrounded by trees and green fields. I would not regret leaving Rab but I would miss the idyllic setting of the house, with its large garden. As the house came into view I felt a sudden twinge of guilt that I had taken them away from a place where we had spent so many happy hours – when Rab was at work.

  I was comforted by the thought that there would be no more dark times, no more of Rab’s black moods to pollute our lives. I drew level with Muiredge. Rab’s car was in the drive but there was no sign of life. The curtains were drawn at the front of the house. I thought it odd, but perhaps the kids were sleeping. Michelle often needed to take a nap in the afternoon and maybe Ryan had tired himself out. As I passed the house, I glanced in the rearview mirror. I noticed the curtains were also drawn at the back of the house. They must be sleeping, I reasoned.

  I kept going, reached Buckhaven, and was relieved by the sight of pies and snowballs in the window of the baker’s shop on the high street. Clutching my spoils in a clutter of white paper bags, we headed back to Methil.

  On the return journey I noticed the curtains were still drawn at Muiredge.

  Giselle: Why didn’t they help me? Why couldn’t they see?

  ‘Please help me!’ I begged the woman behind the counter.

  ‘Anything could be happening to the boys,’ Katie told her.

  We were in the foyer of the police station in Stewart Street, on the fringe of Glasgow city centre.

  ‘24 hours,’ said the woman, a civilian worker.

  She had told me seconds earlier that a missing person’s report could not be filed until 24 hours had passed.

  ‘But these are two little boys, my babies,’ I told her. ‘Why can’t you look for them? Can’t you put Ash’s registration number out there? There must be something you can do. He has my boys and something’s wrong. I know it. I couldn’t hear them when he phoned me.’

  The woman told me to wait.

  ‘I’ll speak to the duty officer,’ she said.

  She disappeared, and Katie and I turned away from the counter.

  ‘Where are they?’ I asked her.

  Katie had no answer for me.

  The woman returned with a sheaf of papers in her hand. ‘We’ll fill out a report,’ she said.

  ‘Thank you,’ I replied.

  She shuffled papers, asking me questions I had already answered. I was terrified, unable to think straight.

  I explained again and again that Ash and I didn’t live together, and, no, we hadn’t fallen out, and, yes, he had access to the boys whenever he wanted. It was evident that this woman had never filled out such a report before.

  She was hesitant and unsure. I grew increasingly frustrated.

  A uniformed officer arrived at the counter and looked over his colleague’s shoulder. She kept asking him how to complete certain parts of the form. Precious minutes ticked by.

  ‘He said I would regret what I did,’ I told them. ‘Does that not tell you that something is wrong?’

  I was becoming hysterical, but all they were interested in was filling out this stupid form.

  ‘Are there any court orders?’ the male officer asked.

  ‘No!’ I said. ‘No court orders. He sees the kids whenever he wants.’

  ‘Have you any fears that he has taken them out of the country?’ the officer went on in a tired voice.

  ‘No!’ I said. ‘He only lives around the corner from here. Can’t you go and look for his car?’

  The woman was still fussing over the report forms.

  I turned away in frustration towards a window looking out onto the street. An elderly woman was walking along the road. At first I didn’t recognise her.

  ‘God Almighty!’ I said.

  It was Ash’s mother.

  ‘Wait!’ I shouted, and then bolted out of the police station.

  ‘Maya! Maya!’ I shouted.

  Ash’s mother turned in the direction of my voice.

  ‘Giselle!’ she said.

  I was the last person she expected to see, running like a madwoman from a police station.

  ‘Where are the boys?’ I asked her.

  She began speaking in Punjabi.

  ‘Where’s Ash?’ I demanded.

  She was visibly upset.

  ‘In here!’ I told her, guiding her into a newsagent’s that I knew was run by an Asian family.

  A man behind the counter looked up as we entered.

  ‘Please help me,’ I begged him.

  ‘Sure, darlin’,’ he said in a broad Glaswegian accent.

  ‘Tell Maya I’m looking for the babies. They’re with Ash. Has she heard from him?’

  The man began speaking in Punjabi and Maya replied.

  ‘She doesn’t know,’ he translated.

  ‘Has he taken them somewhere?’ I asked. ‘Does she know where he is? When was the last time she saw him?’

  The man turned and spoke to Maya, who replied through her tears.

  ‘He’s supposed to be at work,’ said the shopkeeper.

  There was no point to this. It was wasting time. Maya had no answers for me. I rushed out of the shop without another word and hurried back to the police station. The officer and the civilian worker were still behind the counter.

  ‘That was Ash’s mother,’ I explained. ‘She doesn’t know where he is.’

  ‘Is this out of character for your husband? Are the children likely to come to harm?’ the woman said, her pen poised over her forms.

  It was as if she were reading from a script.

  June: I still couldn’t see. All I was thinking was that we would all be safe now.

  ‘Linda,’ I shouted.

  I had emerged from the front door in time to see her jump down from the van.

  ‘White-van woman!’ I teased.

  ‘Did you get those pies? We’re starving.’

  ‘In the oven,’ I said.

  I hugged my sister as Linda’s friend Jackie came round from the driver’s side. She, too, was embraced.

  ‘Muuu-mmmy!’ shouted Beth and Abbi in unison, grabbing their mother around th
e legs.

  For the next hour we trekked back and forth, carting furniture from the van.

  ‘Empty, at last,’ said Jackie, as Linda and I lifted the last of the boxes from the back of the van.

  ‘Time for those pies,’ Linda said.

  The kitchen was a warm sanctuary, filled with the comforting smell of baking. The legendary snowballs sat on a plate in the middle of the table.

  ‘They look fantastic,’ Jackie said.

  ‘They’re for afters,’ I chided.

  It would be a makeshift banquet. Our lives were contained in boxes all around us but we sat down at the table, happy and content. A Scotch pie had never tasted so good. We polished them off and were eyeing the snowballs when I looked at my watch and realised it was just after 6 p.m.

  It would soon be time to go for the kids.

  Giselle: It was so bad, they couldn’t bear to tell me.

  It was 6 p.m. when my mobile rang.

  A voice said, ‘Can you come into the station?’

  It was the duty sergeant at Stewart Street. Katie and I were already outside the station, sitting in the car. We had arrived minutes before after yet another tour of the area in a fruitless search for Ash and the boys.

  ‘They must know something,’ I told Katie. ‘Something must have happened. They know something. What are they not telling us?’

  ‘Let’s go and ask,’ said Katie. ‘We’ll be able to tell by their faces.’

  We pushed through the doors of the police station.

  The woman civilian worker and the officer had been joined at the counter by another policeman.

  ‘What’s happened? Tell me what’s happened,’ I demanded.

  Their faces said nothing. One of them – I can’t remember which one – said, ‘Someone will come and speak to you.’

  I was ushered towards a waiting room. Katie made to follow me but she was asked to stay in the reception area.

  ‘I want my sister,’ I told the officer.

  ‘Better she wait here,’ he said.

  ‘What’s happened?’ I asked for the hundredth time.

  My heart was pounding. I thought it would burst through my chest. The policeman said nothing. He guided me to the waiting room. It had a glass front and I could still see Katie. We exchanged puzzled looks.

  ‘Why you no’ speakin’ tae me, darlin’?’ a voice said.

  I hadn’t noticed there was anyone else in the room.