by V Clifford
She was able to piece a story together of what had happened between the two agents. Their break-up did coincide with Sal’s arrival but there were signs of it going off the rails in the months before. Both had been doing more and more socialising on their own. There were no photographs of the family gatherings, which there had been before. So something had been amiss, then Sal appeared. By the time Sal had given the agent her personal email address it was obvious that they’d already been having a conversation elsewhere that Viv needed to find. Would they have risked communication about social stuff on their official military account? Sal surely wasn’t that naive? She knew that everything was under surveillance.
The more she read the more she chewed her lip. Sal seemed to have fallen hook, line and sinker for this woman. Could it have been an act? If it was an act, a way of being accepted, of gaining trust and access to information, it was totally convincing. She couldn’t work out what she felt. She swung between resentment and hurt and back again. Maybe Mac was right. Maybe she should just accept that it was a domestic and the FBI had got it right. She couldn’t. She had to know if the relationship was real. The more she dug the more she believed it was. When she discovered a conversation that indicated, not explicitly, that they’d slept together she knew that it was real. Sal was no Mata Hari.
Chapter Seven
Viv woke up and for an instant was alarmed by the stillness. However many nights she’d spend in the country she would never get used to the absence of traffic. She tried to move her legs and couldn’t. For a minute she thought she could be paralysed then remembered that Mollie was sound asleep over her lower legs. Brian had arrived at an ungodly hour to drop the dog off. She and Mollie had gone straight upstairs, with no objections from the dog, who leapt onto the bed before she could pull the duvet back.
She rolled onto her side, disturbing the dog who stirred, but showed no sign of getting off the bed. Viv reached down and stroked her ear. Mollie pushed her way up the bed and nuzzled into Viv’s hand, demanding more attention.
‘Good girl.’ She welled up. The dog missed Sal just as much as Viv, maybe more. They were in Sal’s spare room. It hadn’t felt right sleeping in the bed that she and Sal had used. She stared at the ceiling. It had taken a while for the USA to release Sal’s body and transport her home but today was the day of her memorial service. It was all about survival. Mollie was an essential part of that. She clicked her fingers and Mollie jumped off the bed. They both padded to the bathroom where Mollie remained as close as Velcro, even lay on Viv’s feet while she sat on the loo. Viv was in no mood to ask the dog to do otherwise. It was reassuring to have her warmth and affection. Mutual exploitation. Once she’d brushed her teeth she slung on a dressing gown and took Mollie down the drive. A dry crisp morning with only the noise of geese flying overhead, and no one was about to see her in her jammies. They returned to the cottage and she put the kettle on the Aga and leaned her bottom against it while waiting for it to boil. Mollie pawed Viv’s shin, reminding her it was feeding time. She went in search of food and poured it into Mollie’s bowl. No change in the dog’s appetite.
Viv had promised to make sure Mrs Chapman, Sal’s mum, was picked up from her care home. From what Viv understood, Sal’s mum might not remember who Sal was, but it was deemed the right thing to do to bring her to the service. Right for whom? Viv had no idea. She thought it cruel to put someone through an emotional day when they couldn’t remember why they were there.
With an industrial strength coffee cupped between her hands she wandered through to the conservatory and stared out over the River park. She just had to get through today. No one would expect anything more from her. The doorbell rang and Mollie began to bark. A friendly bark as if she already knew who was on the other side. Viv swung the door back and Mac stood on the porch.
‘You okay?’
‘Do I look okay?’
‘If I answer truthfully will it help?’
She tossed him a facetious grin. ‘You’re a wise man. Coffee?’
‘Sure. I thought there’d be some on the go. Listen I know this is probably not the time.’
She interrupted him, ‘And yet, I hear a “but” hovering on your lips.’
‘It’s just that I might have some work for you.’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or not. You obviously know me well enough to think that if you offer me investigative work it will make me feel better, or is it that it will keep me from obsessing the American’s case?’
‘The first. I was approached by my neighbour.’
She stared at him. His eyes, dark rings round them, told their own story. He didn’t really have neighbours up the hill. She was already intrigued. ‘Up here or down in Edinburgh?’
‘Here. I was out running on the braes and bumped into the landowner. He was also out running. He usually just nods and keeps going but he flagged me down and said he’d heard I had something to do with security. I said that was right and he asked if I knew of anyone who might be able to help him.’
‘He was hoping for your help though, not mine. What is he needing help with?’
‘Missing person. Right up your street. I said I’d let him know asap.’
She scratched her chin. Mollie brushed up against her leg then plonked herself on Viv’s feet. ‘I think Moll likes my company. Maybe staying up here for a bit wouldn’t be the worst idea. Let me think about it.’
‘I could take Mollie out while you get dressed.’
‘Subtle you are not. Besides she’s had her first outing. Why don’t you just take a seat and enjoy the coffee and the view then we can both take her. It’ll take me five minutes to get sorted.’
‘Okay, deal.’
Chapter Eight
As they walked over the River park Mac broached the subject of Sal’s memorial service, and whether Viv was really up to looking after Sal’s mum.
‘I have a feeling that she won’t come. I don’t know why but I think when I try to get her into the car it will be too frightening for her. She doesn’t know me and even if her carer comes with her she hasn’t been out of the home for . . . oh God knows how long. But the consensus seems to be that she should at least get the chance to refuse.’
‘Fair enough. Want me to come with you?’
‘What, you think that would scare her less?’
‘It might. She has met me.’
‘She’s met me too but she won’t remember either of us. I mean she didn’t even remember Sal the last few times she visited.’ She swallowed hard but her eyes filled. She swiped them before they had a chance to misbehave.
They walked as far as the cedar tree on the hill and stared north over an impressive vista that took in a number of the southern Munros and Ben Ledi. ‘Makes me feel insignificant when I look at this.’ She gestured with her arm.
Mac said, ‘We’re all significant to someone or something. Everything is relative. I know our world is poorer without Sal, but we still have each other.’
She glanced at him but he continued to stare at the view. They were both too upset to talk properly about Sal but she knew what he meant about them still having each other. He knew that her response to Sal’s death was complicated by them falling out in the week before it happened. Viv had thought that they needed cooling off time but in reality it was more than that. Things were just not working but neither of them knew how to end it. Viv swallowed again, unable to believe that she’d never see her now. Never was incomprehensible. As a way of changing the subject she said, ‘So, what’s this landowner like? And does he have a name?’
‘He seems okay. I don’t hear bad things about him. He’s quite a gentle soul. More into conservation than killing. No shooting on the estate. Protects the raptors. Can’t be all bad if he does that. He doesn’t strike me as particularly hardy. His name is Sholto Percy. Well that’s how I know him. He’s Lord Auchenban or something like that, but local people call him Sholto. He went to the village school.’
/> ‘What? Right through primary and secondary with a name like Sholto?’ She snorted in disbelief. ‘Wow, that takes guts.’
He laughed, ‘No. Only primary. He went to the usual finishing school for toffs. Eton no less.’
‘Why would you think I’d want to work for him?’
‘Because you’re a justice warrior.’
She gently shoved him. ‘And you’re a bullshit primo.’
They walked back to the cottage in familiar silence, her shoulders hunched and her jacket pulled up tightly round her neck against an enemy that wasn’t present.
When Viv arrived at the care home the manager said, ‘Mrs Chapman’s having a bad day. She had an unsettled night and should probably be kept in bed.’
Viv’s relief must have been visible.
The manager said, ‘Sometimes the less they know the better.’
She’d taken the Rav back to the cottage and gone on to the church on foot knowing that escape would be easier. Mac was at the door to greet her.
A very kind and decent humanist took the service and people shared their memories of love and laughter. Viv learned a lot about Sal that she’d never have guessed but now that she knew it helped fill in some gaps. A good few grand accolades, and earnest tears made the service complete. After all if a person isn’t at their best when they’ve died when would they be? Viv kept it together until they retreated to the village hotel for tea and sandwiches when she was able to flee to the loo where she locked herself in a toilet cubicle to weep.
Sal would have hated all the reminiscence. She wasn’t one for bigging up her life. It was what it was, and yet, she was organised. Even had had a letter of wishes in the event that something happened to her, which stated: a small service in the village church and tea and sandwiches in the hotel opposite. Viv pushed her hair off her face. Sal was more contrary than she’d given her credit for. She came out of the cubicle to a woman standing by the basin rinsing her hands. She nodded at Viv who nodded in return then splashed water on her face.
The woman hovered. ‘I am Mollie’s vet. You must be Viv Fraser.’
Viv grabbed a paper towel and caught the drips on her chin with it. How did she know who Viv was and how come Mollie had her own vet? Surely when Viv had taken her she’d just been seen by whoever was on duty? The woman didn’t seem in any rush, so Viv stuck out her hand and said, ‘Yes. I’m Viv. How did you know?’
‘Oh, Sal talked about you.’
Viv couldn’t imagine a scenario where that might happen. Chatting to the vet about a lover? Sal just wouldn’t do that unless she had good reason to. Had Sal and the vet had a thing? ‘How long did you know Sal?’
‘It’s a small village. Also, I knew her at university. Human psychology had some classes which overlapped with animal psychology.’
She’d beautifully avoided the question. Viv had read Jeffrey Masson’s work on dog behaviour, a disenchanted psychoanalyst who’d found refuge in dogs when Freud had become a disappointment. So she knew there were overlaps but Edinburgh was a traditionalist rats-and-stats psychology department and she’d be hugely surprised if they’d embraced too many overlaps between animals and humans. Masson definitely wasn’t a traditionalist.
Viv stepped towards the door. ‘Sorry to meet you in these circumstances. Oh I didn’t get your name.’
‘Mhairi Lyell. She, Sal, was a good woman . . . How is Moll?’
‘I think she’s confused. But she seems consoled by being allowed to sleep on my bed with me.’
The woman smiled a smile that completely transformed her face. Unsure that there was anything more to say, Viv opened the door and went back through the hotel to find Mac.
She tapped his arm as he chatted to a man whose beer belly indicated that he was comforted by the pint he was gripping.
She whispered, ‘It’s time for me to leave. Moll will be champing to get out.’
Mac said cheerio to the man and turned to Viv, ‘Already using the dog as a cover for your social inadequacies.’
Viv considered this. ‘Bit of both probably. I’ve had enough of banalities and I think Moll would be grateful to have company.’
‘Are you keeping her?’
Viv hadn’t got that far in her plans for what to do next. ‘I don’t know. The city isn’t as much fun for her as it is here. She’s used to big skies and big spaces right on her doorstep. The West Bow is too far from a green space for emergencies.’
‘You talking yourself out of it? I’m sure Brian would take her in a heartbeat. She won’t be short of suitors. I’d have her. She’s a fabulous dog.’
Viv welled up. ‘Whatever happens it has to be what’s best for Moll. So, right now I’m off.’
‘Want company?’
She shook her head, ‘I’ve got Moll.’ She made for the door.
He called after her. ‘I’ll ring you later.’
***
Rain lashed and the wind whipped and whistled down the main street. Viv was becoming familiar with the traders, and one, sheltering in his doorway said, ‘Hellish day.’
She nodded her agreement. It couldn’t be more ‘hellish’. She continued towards the end of the road before turning into the lane where the wind was wilder and she tucked her head and shoulders down and marched on. Mollie bounded round her legs when she opened the front door. It had been a while since anyone had greeted Viv with such enthusiasm and it struck her that that would only change if she did. She dropped to her knees and played with the dog’s gloriously soft ears. Relieved to have affection without feeling she’d demanded it, she wandered into the kitchen with the dog trotting behind her and took out a dog chew. Mollie immediately sat upright with her nose reaching skyward and waited until Viv handed it to her before bolting through to the conservatory to lie on the rug and devour it. How easy it was to please a dog. Viv warmed to the idea of having this kind of greeting and company on a regular basis. What would it mean for her life in real terms if she had a dog? How had Sal worked it out? Sal had Brian. Could she find a Brian who would look after Mollie at the drop of a hat? Her hair clients would love it. Loads of them had dogs of their own. But what about her other work? Ruddy already had a couple of things lined up for her. If they were surveillance jobs it wouldn’t be fair to Mollie.
The landline rang. She let it go to answering machine assuming it could only be for Sal until a voice said her name. She picked up, ‘Hello . . . Yes this is Dr Viv Fraser . . . not today. Tomorrow is possible but what’s so important that it needs attention now? I mean we’ve only just had her memorial service.’ She heaved a sigh. ‘Okay. Here at the cottage. 10am.’ She replaced the receiver and went into the conservatory to join Mollie. Rain continued to lash against the windows but the wood-burner still had some life in it from earlier in the day. She threw a few more logs on and switched the air vent to fully open. It soon caught and began to roar. It wasn’t that cold but she needed warmth and Mollie was still too busy with her chew.
She mulled over the events of the service, relieved that Sal’s mum hadn’t come after all. Many people had turned up that Viv didn’t know, and who was that woman in the loo? Were she and Sal more than friends? It didn’t matter now but it was intriguing. What would she have done these last few weeks without Mac? He must feel Sal’s loss as much as her. Why did Sal’s solicitor want to see her right now? Sal was an organised person but it was too soon for officious stuff.
Viv reached for the TV remote and flicked it on. She surfed until she found a cookery programme. Not usually her kind of thing but just the mindless creativity that she could cope with. She settled on the couch and within seconds Mollie had joined her, curling up and nudging her back against Viv’s thigh.
Her mobile vibrated, she checked the screen, a text from her sister Amanda. ‘Hope U R Ok.’ She replied with a sad emoji.
True to his word Mac also rang. ‘I’m just heading up the hill; do you need anything? I could drop it off on my way home.’
With the phone in her hand she wandered over to
the fridge. It wasn’t bare. ‘I’m fine actually. There’s food here that needs eating up.’ Into the silence that followed she said, ‘I’ll keep Moll. She could do with some consistent TLC and I’m just the person to do that at the moment.’
‘Key phrase in that is, “at the moment”. A dog isn’t just . . .’
‘For Christmas, I know but I’ll find a way to work round it.’ As if the dog knew that she was the subject of their conversation she trotted over to Viv and plonked herself on her feet. Viv closed the fridge door and crouched down to pet the dog. ‘It’s a good decision. I need her as much as she needs me.’
‘Ah, now that’s a grown-up statement. How about I join you for breakfast?’
‘Sure but you’ll have to be away by 10am. Sal’s solicitor is coming here to go over things.’
‘Wow! Isn’t it a bit soon?’
‘My thoughts entirely but he was insistent. Come at half eight and I’ll make us something . . .’
Mac said, ‘Just leave the cooking until I get there.’
‘Oh you. I can do a fry-up without any problem.’
He laughed. ‘You think? Try and get some sleep. See you in the morning.’
‘Okay. And by the way, thanks for looking after . . .’
‘You don’t have to thank me. She was my friend and so are you.’
‘I know and that’s why it must be just as hard for you.’
‘Okay. Thank you for saying so. See you in the morning.’
It was as difficult for Mac to receive praise and thanks as it was for her. It had to be a working-class thing. She returned to the couch with Mollie and didn’t move again until she woke up with the dog snoring peacefully on her arm, which had lost all feeling. The cookery programme had long since finished. She turned off the TV and began to switch off lights before remembering that Mollie would have to go out before they headed for bed. Viv sighed. ‘Come on, then,’ she said to the dog.
