A Deadly Deception Read online

  She gazed adoringly up at his freckled face and thick mop of red hair. ‘Are you happy about it as well, Tommy? I mean, about us moving in together?’

  He answered her with a gentle kiss and a murmur of, ‘I can’t wait.’

  She could see the love in his eyes and she clung to him in gratitude.

  Never, in any of her romantic, escapist dreams and imaginings, had she ever felt like this – totally happy and safe. It was at that moment she felt Tommy stiffen. He turned away from her and called out angrily to someone nearby, ‘What the hell do you think you’re staring at?’

  Cheryl followed his stare. A man was standing nearby. He had obviously been spying on them. She didn’t like the look of him. He was exceptionally tall, with hunched shoulders and bulging eyes and Adam’s apple. Some sort of weirdo or pervert, he looked. As if reading her thoughts, Tommy called out, ‘Some sort of pervert, are you?’

  The man had a hand in one of his pockets and as he moved towards them, a frightening thought suddenly occurred to Cheryl. Maybe this was another mad gunman. Jut then the quiet darkness of the park was shattered by a crowd of young men guffawing and girls screeching with laughter. They looked drunk, staggering and pushing each other about.

  ‘Let’s get out of here,’ Cheryl pleaded. ‘We’re not going to get any peace.’

  The man disappeared. At least, she was thankful for that.

  ‘We could walk further along among the trees,’ Tommy said.

  ‘No, if you don’t mind, Tommy, I’m still a bit unnerved with that gun carry-on. I haven’t managed to get completely over it yet. I thought I had but I haven’t. None of us has. It was such an awful frightening thing to happen.’

  ‘Aye, OK,’ Tommy said. ‘I’ll meet you tomorrow at your work. I’ve to catch the neighbour before he goes out so I’ll call for the key first.’

  ‘I’m sorry to be acting so daft.’

  ‘You’re not acting daft at all. It’s perfectly understandable. It’ll take a while for everybody in The Heights to get over what happened. But don’t worry. We’ll have plenty of time to be alone together after tomorrow. I know these flats and I’m sure it’ll suit us fine. It’s only a one room and kitchen, though. It’s OK for me but will a wee place like that be OK for you?’

  ‘Great, great.’ Cheryl hugged his arm in reassurance. ‘Oh, Tommy, we’re going to be so happy.’

  Her voice was like a hallelujah.

  19

  Rita Jamieson tried not to look worried or nervous as she waved goodbye to the children. Dorothy was taking them and some children from a couple of other refuges to the seaside for the day. Bobby and Susie had become fond of Dorothy and Rita trusted her. Both Betty and Dorothy were their guardian angels. Every day she thanked God for them and for the refuge. But her secret terror remained. It might not have been so bad if her husband had lived and worked in one town – any town. Then she would know where he was and perhaps that would have helped. The fact that he was a commercial traveller and she never knew where he might be increased her fear a thousandfold.

  He might be at Largs today and see the children. If he did, he would snatch them up and, with the best will in the world, Dorothy wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. He was a big, powerful man and he was the children’s father.

  And, as one of her neighbours had once laughingly remarked, ‘Your husband could charm the birds off the trees. No wonder he’s so successful at his job.’

  Not that his charm would fool Dorothy. But if necessary, he could and would take them from her by force.

  Dorothy had said, however, that it wasn’t fair to the children to keep them tied to their mother’s apron strings all the time. They needed to live as normal a life as possible and a day at the seaside would do them so much good. They would have great fun, especially with a crowd of other children to play with.

  And so, as cheerfully as possible, she’d waved goodbye to the children. She stood in front of the building for a few more minutes watching Dorothy’s people carrier disappear into the distance. Then fear, like a fountain of water, iced up her spine. It was as if her husband was creeping up behind her. She hurried through the entrance and into the lift, not even acknowledging the concierge’s greeting. Monty was always ready and willing to have a chat but she couldn’t get back quickly enough to the safety of the refuge.

  For a short time, she’d thought she was beginning to conquer her fear. She’d even taken the children over to the park a few times. Then there had been the dreadful gun incident and photographs of The Heights, with everyone standing outside on the Balgray Hill, were splashed over the front pages of all the newspapers. She had seen a couple of the papers. Betty had got them and showed them to her.

  ‘See, there’s no need to worry,’ Betty assured her. ‘I’ve checked. Look for yourself – neither you nor the children can be seen in the crowd.’

  She couldn’t share Betty’s confidence. There were other papers in other towns. What if they could be seen in one of them? What if her husband had seen them?

  Not long after she got safely into the flat, the doorbell startled her.

  ‘It’s only me,’ Betty called through the letterbox. Betty never used her master key to enter either of the flats without warning unless there was an emergency and it was necessary for her to rush in.

  Rita looked worriedly at the woman who entered the sitting room with Betty.

  ‘This is Kate, Rita. Kate Smythe-Bellingham.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you,’ Rita said.

  Kate Smythe-Bellingham’s appearance did not reflect her important-sounding, double-barrelled name. She was a small, white-haired woman, who kept avoiding eye contact.

  ‘There’s a new lady sharing with Janet and Sandra and Mary as well,’ Betty said. ‘Chrissie, her name is. Chrissie Cumberland. You’ll meet her at the get-together tomorrow. Now, you’re sharing the double bedroom with the children, Rita, so we’ll put Kate in the smaller room. Where’s Alice?’

  ‘She went next door to see how wee Mary is.’

  ‘Oh well, she’ll have met Chrissie Cumberland. Chrissie arrived earlier this morning.’ She turned to a helpless, confused-looking Kate. ‘I’ll take your case through to the bedroom, Kate. Then maybe Rita will make a cup of tea while I go and fetch Alice. Sit down and try to relax.’

  Rita could have wept with the acuteness of her sympathy for the woman. She knew exactly how she was feeling.

  ‘You’ll be all right here. You’ll be all right,’ she repeated, not knowing what else to say. ‘I’ll go and put the kettle on.’

  She was back in a couple of minutes carrying a tray with mugs, milk jug, sugar bowl and a plate of tea biscuits.

  ‘Come on and I’ll show you around first. It won’t take a minute.’

  Kate dutifully rose and followed Rita through the lobby, into the kitchen, bathroom and then the bedroom.

  ‘We’re lucky having a couple of single beds in each room and there’s the bunk beds for my two. It’s a bit of a squash but nothing like it used to be. Betty said in her first place, there was hardly any furniture and no beds. It was just wall-to-wall mattresses on the floor.’

  Kate still hadn’t said a word.

  ‘I know how you feel, Kate. I felt the same when I first arrived. But you’ll not regret it. You’ll have done the right thing in leaving your man. I could bet my last dollar on that and I don’t know who your man is.’

  ‘Nobody will believe it.’ Kate’s voice was so quiet Rita barely caught the words.

  ‘That’s what we all think,’ Rita said. ‘My husband was always a right charmer outside the house. Inside …’ she shook her head. ‘I still can’t talk about it.’

  ‘My husband is a judge.’

  Rita shrugged.

  ‘So what? There’s been a policeman’s wife in here. And the wife of a minister of religion. You’ll be meeting Janet from next door. Her husband is a company director.’

  ‘It’s so hard to believe. Sometimes I even think it must be me. I
’m imagining things or it’s somehow my fault.’

  ‘Kate, Betty will tell you. She does counselling. There’s a pattern to what abusers do. And that’s one of the things they make you feel. That it’s your fault. It takes a while to get over it, to find yourself again and to get over the fear. I’m not over it yet. Not by a long chalk. Sometimes I think I never will be. But at least I know now it wasn’t my fault. There’s no excuse for an abuser’s behaviour. All abusers are two-faced, manipulating, power-crazy bastards. And you can’t change them, no matter what you say or don’t say, or do or don’t do.’

  There was a shout in the lobby. ‘It’s only me.’

  ‘Oh, there’s Betty at the door.’ Rita began pouring the tea. ‘Alice must have forgotten her key.’

  ‘I was just telling Kate,’ Rita added, after the necessary introductions were made, ‘that all abusers are manipulating, power-mad bastards and nothing was our fault but knowing that doesn’t cure our fear. I’m still terrified of the bastard I lived with.’

  Betty smiled at Kate.

  ‘Have a biscuit. Tomorrow we’re having a get-together of women, some from a couple of other refuges. There’s also going to be some women there who’ve gone through all the trauma and fear that Rita’s been talking about and they’ve been able eventually to move on to a house of their own and a new and happy life. Meeting them and talking to them will be like seeing a light at the end of a tunnel. You won’t believe just now that you’ll ever be like them. It takes time, sometimes quite a long time, but just meeting women who’ve succeeded in overcoming their problems, just seeing that light, knowing it’s possible to move a bit nearer to it, step by step as they have, will help you. Rest assured you’re going to be all right.’

  ‘That’s what I told her,’ Rita said.

  ‘I can vouch for that as well,’ Alice nodded eagerly, making her curls bob about. ‘As long as you’re inside the refuge, you’re safe.’

  ‘But he’s a judge. He’s got the law on his side.’

  ‘No, he hasn’t,’ Betty said. ‘And it doesn’t matter a damn what his job is. If anything, it makes you safer here if your abuser has a respectable or important job or reputation. That type doesn’t want anyone to know that they’re an abuser. So they keep very quiet. Even if they found out where the wife was – which they wouldn’t – they certainly would never go to any refuge to make a fuss or any kind of scene. We never have any trouble with so-called respectable professional men. So just try to relax.’

  ‘Help yourself to milk and sugar,’ Rita said. ‘Have you any family?’

  ‘A son. He’s an officer in the army. I didn’t want him to join the army. Before that I didn’t want him to go to boarding school. But my husband insisted. Sometimes I feel I hardly know David. He went to boarding school when he was only eight. Just a little boy. Previous to that he was in a nursery.’

  ‘Bastard!’ Rita said. ‘Thank God I got away before my man could separate me from my children or do them any harm.’

  ‘I don’t think my husband meant any harm to David. He’s very proud of him.’

  Just then Betty’s mobile phone rang.

  ‘Oops.’ Betty stood up still holding the phone to her ear. ‘A wee emergency, folks. No, nothing to do with you,’ she added. ‘We’re always getting cries for help from some poor soul. See you tomorrow at the get-together, all right?’ she added before striding away.

  ‘Yes, OK, Betty,’ Rita called after her. ‘We’ll look after Kate, don’t worry.’

  ‘We all look after each other here,’ Alice told Kate. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without Rita. And I love wee Bobby and Susie.’

  Kate’s eyes flicked tentatively in Rita’s direction.

  ‘Where are the children just now?’

  ‘Dorothy – that’s the children’s worker – has taken them and some kids from other refuges to Largs for the day.’ Rita lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. ‘They’ll be having a great time. Dorothy’s very good with them. Always fooling about and making them laugh. Gives them a break from me. I’m always so bloody serious.’

  ‘Och, they adore you,’ Alice said. ‘You’re a great mum, Rita.’

  ‘One day I’ll have a house of my own somewhere.’ Rita was intent on watching the smoke rise from her cigarette. ‘And we’ll start a new life and we’ll be free of that bastard – we’ll never even give him a thought.’

  ‘I’m looking forward to the “do” tomorrow, aren’t you?’ Alice chewed at a biscuit. ‘Especially when it means we don’t have to go out.’

  ‘What’s the other new woman like?’ Rita asked Alice.

  ‘Chrissie, her name is. She’s awful overweight. Huge, in fact, and she’s got a whopper of a black eye. Even so, she seems much calmer and more confident than any of us. Not a bit upset. She’s quite taken with wee Mary, fussing over her something awful. You know Mary,’ Alice laughed. ‘She’s not taking kindly to that. She’s been giving Chrissie up a lot of cheek. I think Chrissie must have the skin of a rhinoceros. So far, she hasn’t taken a bit of offence.’

  ‘I hope she’s not the bossy type. We’ve all had enough of being bossed around.’

  ‘No, not bossy but …’ Alice hesitated. ‘There’s something about her. I don’t quite know what it is.’ Alice appeared to give herself a mental shake. ‘We’ll probably get on fine once we get to know her.’

  20

  There was a limit to the time John Ingram could stay away from his shop. He’d met a customer in Auld’s Bakery and Coffee Shop, a couple of doors down from his shop – and the customer had complained about the time everybody had to wait for their cut nowadays.

  ‘You’re not the only place in Bearsden, you know,’ the customer reminded him. ‘You’re losing customers by not being there. And it would pay you to keep an eye on things, as well as doing your share.’

  So he’d tried to concentrate more on working in the shop for a time but he could not get Angela and her boyfriend out of his mind. He had decided that the red-haired man must be a boyfriend and not a husband. He’d seen him bid Angela goodnight and leave her at The Heights. If he could just find out where he lived. He’d given up the idea of getting him at the bus station. Apart from the difficulty of tracking down when he’d be there – the bastard worked shifts – the bus station was busy, day and night. Even the streets outside were always crowded. He cursed the mobs of people going into or coming out of pubs and clubs. There seemed to be no end to the amount of clubs and discos in Glasgow. Even at three o’clock in the morning, noisy crowds seethed about. How did they all manage to hold down a job? It wasn’t just at weekends the clubs were packed. He couldn’t understand it. He hated the revellers for the extra complication they caused him in finding, and then getting rid of, the red-haired man.

  At last, and unexpectedly, his luck changed. He’d been on his way to start a new vigil at The Heights. He’d come straight from the shop, not wanting to waste another minute. He’d been working all day for several days and after spending so much time on his feet, he was glad to go upstairs every evening for a meal and a rest. This day, however, he determined he’d go straight out. He knew that if he went upstairs, once he’d had a meal, he’d just flop back in his chair and become hypnotised by television.

  So he went straight from work round to the car park, got into his car and set off. Once he neared Springburn, however, he realised that he had to stop and get something to drink and a packet or two of sandwiches to keep him going for the long hours ahead of waiting and watching. It was then his luck changed. He saw the red-haired man crossing the street. John got out of his car and followed him. He was going towards the big library and sports centre building. Then suddenly he turned into a close in Kay Street. Ingram nearly went in after him but stopped himself in time.

  As usual there were people about. People who could see him. People who would remember him. He wasn’t some small, insignificant bloke who would easily disappear unnoticed. Despite his stoop he still looked well over six feet tall, wi
th a body like a skeleton and a long pinched nose. He stole a quick glance in the close as he passed and saw the man veer towards the bottom flat on the right. Ingram felt like dancing back along the street to his car. He was mentally rubbing his hands in glee.

  Once in the car, he tried to calm down and think how best he could get rid of the man without being seen or caught with him. Eventually he thought of a plan. It would be nothing quick and silent after all. Oh no, the red-haired bastard was going to get what he deserved. He was literally going to burn in hell.

  He drove to a garage. He filled a small can with petrol. Then he drove back to Kay Street. He hid the petrol can in his large zipped holdall.

  He sat for a time debating with himself whether he should wait until the place was comparatively quiet before slipping into the close. Or sneak in behind a crowd of people intent on making for the sports centre. He decided on the latter. Once in the close, he was hidden from view at the shadowy inset door of the flat. As quickly and quietly as he could, he unzipped the holdall, retrieved the petrol can, then poured the petrol through the letter box. Hands trembling with excitement, he set the petrol alight.

  He controlled the impulse to run. He returned outside as quietly and surreptitiously as he had entered. Calmly, at least to all appearances, he got into his car and drove off. His luck was definitely in. The crowd had disappeared into the sports centre and, for a few vital seconds, there had been no one around to see him. His euphoria lasted all the way back to Bearsden. It wasn’t until he collapsed back in his chair in the flat that he felt exhausted, then suddenly depressed.

  What a fool he’d been to think that he’d succeed. OK, he wouldn’t be caught. He felt secure in that knowledge. But the bastard might have escaped. It was a bottom flat. Immediately he saw the flames, the chances were he would have leapt out of the nearest window. Ingram felt sick with hatred and frustration.

  It was only after lighting a cigarette and downing a stiff whisky that he began to feel better. He poured another drink. A quiver of glee returned. It might not have been possible to escape. He still might have burned in hell. Yes, he assured himself, everything was going to go his way from now on. He felt it in his bones.