A Deadly Deception Read online

  ‘Hopefully Rita will eventually be able to start a new life for herself.’

  ‘Wee Mary said Rita has counselling sessions with you. Does she open up to you all right? Do you know what happened to her?’

  ‘What goes on and what’s talked about between all of you in the safe houses is up to you and the others, Sandra, but what you or any of the others say to me at counselling sessions is strictly confidential.’

  Sandra flushed. ‘Oh, I forgot. I’m so stupid.’

  ‘No, you are not stupid. You’re a very intelligent, sensitive, caring young woman. You keep telling yourself that because it’s the truth.’

  ‘Do you think I’ll ever get back to normal? Ever be able to go out and about again? Ever be able to get back to work?’

  ‘Of course. You just need time. I’ve seen it happen so often. Once a woman is completely free of her abuser, it’s just a question of time. Usually, with a bit of help, encouragement and support. But there’s nothing wrong with that.’

  ‘I used to get on all right at my work. But he kept ridiculing my job and me. I was a nursery school teacher and he used to say things like I was more like one of the kids than one of the teachers. I used to laugh at first. But it got worse until he was really undermining my self-confidence. Then he’d accuse me of things like being unfaithful with one of the male teachers. The violence came with the drugs. Even the drugs seemed all right at first. Just a social thing, he said. But I think what happened was he progressed from the soft social kind of drugs to the hard addictive ones. Then he’d go mad if he couldn’t get a fix. I feel it’s so sad because I think we could have worked things out in our marriage if it hadn’t been for his drug addiction.’

  Betty shrugged.

  ‘Most of the women I’ve known in this and other refuges have had abusers that didn’t use drugs but the abuse started with much the same pattern you’ve spoken of. They play mind games. They ridicule your job or your beliefs. They humiliate you. They isolate you from workmates, friends and family. They accuse you of all sorts of things, including infidelity. Then there’s the physical abuse. Nothing to do with drugs. It’s a deliberate choice men make to exercise power and control over their wives or partners.’

  ‘You don’t think he turned to drugs because of something inadequate in me?’ Sandra ventured timidly. ‘Maybe if I had …’

  ‘No, I don’t. Watch my lips, Sandra. It was not your fault! Now I’d better go across and get on with tidying up the office. We’re up to our eyeballs in paperwork at the moment.’

  Just then Mary appeared in the living room doorway.

  ‘Betty, I saw Rita and the weans going across to the office as I was coming out the lift. But Dorothy’s out, isn’t she?’

  Betty bounced up. ‘Never mind, I’m just going across.’

  Rita and her little boy and girl were waiting in front of the office door.

  ‘Hello, Rita,’ Betty greeted her cheerily as she proceeded to unlock the door. ‘Hello, Bobby, hello, Susie. Come on in.’

  They were hardly over the threshold when a tragic-eyed Rita announced, ‘They’ve got nits!’

  ‘Och well, that’s no big deal. Kids get them all the time.’

  ‘They’ve never had them before.’

  ‘Never mind. Dorothy’s got a fine-tooth comb in the first aid cabinet. We’ll soon get rid of the wee blighters.’ Betty laughed. ‘The nits I mean. Not our wee Bobby and Susie.’ She patted their heads. ‘I’ve got a tin of sweeties in my cabinet. Come on, they’re your favourites.’

  *****

  Ingram took the car. Normally he didn’t use the car on the few occasions he went into town because of the parking problems. However, he drove up the Balgray Hill and, without any difficulty, found a parking place with a good view of the tower blocks. He sat in the car, shoulders hunched and head pushed forward, long fingers wrapped around the steering wheel. He felt taut with excitement. He saw exactly which high-rise building it must be. There were the bus stops. There was the building facing the park but with the view partially blocked by another tower building. His eyes stayed glued to it. It was called The Heights. She was in there. He knew it. His emotions rocketed about. One moment he was feeling joy at the prospect of seeing her. The next moment fury engulfed him at the thought of her appearing with another man. One moment he was thinking how wonderful it would be if he was able to free her from this ‘complication’ and have her to himself. The next moment he was hating her for having deceived him for so long.

  He had brought a flask of coffee and a box of sandwiches and, after a time, he poured himself a cup of coffee and sipped at the hot liquid without taking his eyes off the building. There was a group of shabby-looking youths standing near the entrance. They looked as if they were on drugs. A couple of young children came skipping along followed by a woman carrying a shopping bag. They disappeared inside.

  Old newspapers and other rubbish flapped and flew about in the wind. Rain began pelting down, making fast-flowing rivers in the gutters. A man in a green uniform appeared at the entrance, peered suspiciously around for a minute or two, then retreated back inside. A bus splashed up the hill and stopped, blocking his view. He stiffened with apprehension until it moved on again. Yet what a depressing view it was, especially through the grey mist of rain. How horrible to have to live in that towering monstrosity, that bleak, soulless giant. He could give Angela such a better place to live. Bearsden was the best area. His flat was in the middle of the village, handy for good-quality shops and restaurants. She could have everything she needed there. The best of everything.

  Surely she could not have lied to him about loving him and wanting him. She had sounded so desperately sincere. It must be that she was unhappily married and longing to be free so that they could be together. It must be.

  He seesawed between this certainty and the hopelessness of being able to find her or the husband. Even if he saw her, she might not be with the man.

  He clung to the steering wheel, perilously near to tears of frustration and misery. He waited and waited until the early hours when the skyscraper blocks took on a ghostly hue and the park filled with mysterious, rustling shadows.

  *****

  They started looking at flats together. Just as good mates. That was the idea at first. But to Cheryl’s secret delight, they were becoming really close. He had even taken her home to meet his family. His father used to be employed in the Hyde Park Locomotive Works. They built steam engines there, Mr McKechnie boasted, ‘exported to more than sixty countries all over the world’.

  He liked to reminisce about how everyone used to line the streets to admire the big engines being taken to the Broomielaw and put on to ships for delivery to far-off places like India.

  ‘There’s steam locomotives that we built in Springburn still being used abroad. They’ll last forever. Marvellous machines.’

  There had originally been four great locomotive works in Springburn – Cowlairs, St Rollox, Hyde Park and Atlas, Mr McKechnie said. And at their peak around 1900, they had employed nine thousand men.

  ‘Engines, carriages and wagons were built and repaired for the great British railway companies, especially North British and the Caledonian.’

  ‘For pity’s sake, Dad,’ Tommy said, ‘Cheryl’s not interested in all that.’

  ‘Yes, I am,’ Cheryl protested. ‘Honestly, I think it’s fascinating, Mr McKechnie.’

  She was a great hit with Mr McKechnie. She wasn’t so sure about Mrs McKechnie. But then probably mammies would never believe any girl was good enough for their precious sons. At least Mrs McKechnie was polite enough and treated Cheryl to a nice tea. It was Mrs McKechnie who took an active interest in the flat-hunting.

  ‘I’ll keep a look out for anything that’s going in Springburn,’ she told them. ‘A bigger place would be best. That way you could get someone else – maybe another girl – to share and she could help with the rent.’

  And stay close to Mammy in Springburn. And maybe prevent me from gettin
g too close to Tommy, Cheryl thought. Maybe Tommy’s mum can fool him but she can’t fool me. If I can get a place at the opposite end of Glasgow from Springburn, I’ll take it.

  Tommy was on late shift on the buses and so she went around looking at a few places straight after she finished work in the shopping mall. It wasn’t so much fun going on her own. The weather turned rotten as well. Freezing cold and bucketing rain every night, as if winter had come early. She had to wear her beanie hat pulled down over her ears and her jacket hood up for protection. It was just as well Tommy wasn’t with her. She felt a right sight and even though she ran as fast as she could, straight from the bus into the shelter of the entrance, she still got soaked. She dripped water on to the brown linoleum tiles and had to give herself a good shake in the lift before emerging out on to the thirtieth floor and going into the house.

  ‘Is that you, hen?’ her mother called. ‘I’ve had your tea ready for ages but I’ve kept it warm in the oven.’

  Then when Cheryl entered the living room, ‘You’ll be getting your death traipsing about in this weather. Where’s Tommy?’

  ‘He’s on late shift. I told you, Mammy.’

  ‘I don’t remember you telling me any such thing. Anyway, fancy him letting you trail about on your own all over the place at night.’

  ‘I was just viewing a few flats. A couple in Pollokshaws and Shawlands and …’

  ‘Away over there?’ her mother cried out in distress. ‘Och Cheryl, I’m sure something nice in Springburn or Balornock would be better. So much handier for your work.’

  Cheryl sighed. ‘Not you as well.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Oh, never mind.’

  ‘You’re tired, dear, and no wonder. Sit down here by the fire and I’ll bring you a nice bit of fish and a baked potato on a tray.’

  ‘Thanks, Mammy.’

  ‘Did you find any place, by the way?’

  ‘No, not yet.’

  Her mother looked relieved. ‘Och well, never mind, pet. You’ve a good home here so there’s no hurry.’

  ‘Where’s Daddy?’ As if she didn’t know.

  ‘He’s fine. But one of his mates had a wee accident on the line and he’s gone to see how he is.’

  Cheryl shook her head. Her mother would believe anything. Any time now her father would stagger in acting like a stupid fool, with his singing, his efforts to do some dance steps, his maudlin talk, his slobbering all over both her and her mother.

  Cheryl clung to thoughts of being far away with Tommy in a place of their own. She longed for the basic decency, sincerity and comfort of him.

  13

  ‘What on earth is she playing at?’ Patricia Gordon asked her husband. ‘What do you make of this?’

  Hamish Gordon accepted the small, gold-edged notelet and stared at it.

  ‘Balgray Hill? That’s near Springburn, I think.’

  ‘She has a lovely place in the West End. What on earth is she doing in a slummy place like that?’

  ‘You don’t know if it’s a slum. It might be all right. I remember reading about all the rebuilding that’s going on in that area.’

  ‘But she has such a lovely place in the West End and Eddie works in Byres Road.’

  ‘Why don’t you phone her?’

  ‘She doesn’t give any phone number. She just says to come and see her at that address on Sunday.’

  ‘And she’ll explain, she says, so just try and be patient.’

  ‘Her job was in the West End. Such a nice private nursery school. Surely she can’t have left that good nursery school?’

  ‘Just try and be patient for another day,’ Hamish repeated. ‘I’ll drive you through to Glasgow on Sunday.’

  ‘Maybe I should phone Eddie.’

  ‘No, I don’t think so, Pat.’

  ‘Why not? I’m terribly worried.’

  ‘It may be a bit of trouble between them and she wouldn’t want you to interfere.’

  ‘What trouble? They were perfectly happy together the last I heard. And it’s not so long ago we visited them, remember? They were perfectly happy then. She can’t have just up and left him.’ Patricia shook her head. ‘Anyway, it’s not like Sandra. She wouldn’t have the nerve.’

  ‘We’ll find out exactly what’s happened on Sunday.’

  ‘I just hope she’s done nothing silly that she’ll live to regret. She’s always been a bit naive and easily influenced. I hope to goodness there isn’t some awful man who has …’

  ‘Patricia!’ Hamish groaned. ‘You’re letting that over-active imagination of yours run away with you. I thought you said you had some shopping to do.’

  ‘Oh, all right.’

  She went for her tweed jacket, then collected her leather purse and her green shopping bag with the thistle decoration. After popping an umbrella into the bag ‘just in case’, she kissed the top of her husband’s head.

  ‘I won’t be long, dear.’

  He had already picked up and opened his Scotsman newspaper.

  ‘Fine.’

  She left the downstairs flat and made her way along the High Street. It was a cosy little flat with an ever-changing view, especially in the tourist season. That was all very well but she and Hamish had been looking for a bigger place in the New Town. Admittedly, she enjoyed sitting at her window or strolling along the street watching all the foreigners with their expensive cameras taking pictures of places like John Knox’s house with its top-storey wooden gallery and the City Chambers and Brodie’s Court. Brodie’s Court was the home of Edinburgh’s most colourful citizen, Deacon Brodie, a respectable cabinetmaker and town councillor by day and a burglar by night. He had been hanged eventually on a gallows of his own design. He had bribed the hangman to allow him to wear a steel collar so that he could survive the rope but his gallows proved too efficient.

  The old town had a fascinating history and was endlessly interesting but the New Town was elegant and beautiful and Patricia had always wanted to live there.

  Sandra used to have that ambition too. But of course she’d fallen in love with Eddie and he was a Glasgow man. According to Sandra, it was a fairytale romance and, almost straight from college, she’d married Eddie, got a job in Glasgow and, as far as Sandra had led her to believe, lived happily ever after.

  What on earth had gone wrong? Patricia had to post some airmail letters in the post office and while she was there, the temptation to phone Eddie overcame her.

  She went into one of the booths and dialled the number.

  ‘Hello?’

  His voice sounded strange, different.

  Oh dear, she thought. He’s upset and unhappy.

  ‘It’s me, Eddie. Patricia. I was wondering what has happened. I got a letter from Sandra this morning – just a few lines really, telling me to visit her on the Balgray Hill on Sunday – a place called The Heights. What on earth is she doing there?’

  There was a long silence.

  ‘Eddie? Are you still there? Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes, I’m all right.’

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘Sandra walked out on me.’

  ‘Oh dear. I am sorry to hear that. I thought you were so happy together.’

  ‘I thought so too.’

  ‘Is there anything I can do? Do you want me to try and speak to her or what?’

  ‘No but thanks all the same. I’ll have to go now, Patricia. Thanks for phoning.’

  The line went dead.

  *****

  It was their Friday get-together and Alice, Rita, Sandra, wee Mary and Janet and two past residents had gathered with Betty and Dorothy in the meeting room. The two past residents had been getting on great in their new homes.

  ‘I’ve never been so happy,’ one of them called Eve said and her friend, Flora, agreed.

  ‘It’s been a completely new start, a whole new life.’

  ‘Any new men?’ Betty asked.

  ‘No way!’ Eve’s voice loudened, her eyes bulged. ‘I’l
l never trust another man – never again!’

  ‘Bastards,’ Betty agreed, with a toss of her hair. Then a hint of laughter glimmered in her eyes. ‘Sometimes I still lust after them, though.’

  Dorothy came through with the trolley and began passing the teacups round. The children, who had been playing in the opposite corner, skipped across the room to make sure of a share of the iced sponge cake.

  ‘I know how Eve feels.’ Dorothy cut the cake and handed a plate to each of the women and to the two children. Her hair had been dyed blonde but her roots were needing done. ‘It took me ages to get over my marriage and I still don’t feel able to tackle another man.’

  ‘Tackle?’ Betty laughed. ‘Sounds like a rugby match.’

  Dorothy flashed a dimpled grin. ‘You know what I mean.’

  Flora enjoyed a mouthful of cake. ‘I wouldn’t mind. They can’t all be the same. There’s bound to be some nice men around.’ She giggled. ‘There’s a tall, dark and handsome guy started work in my office. I really fancy him. Do none of you miss sex? I mean apart from Betty.’

  ‘I never get the time these days.’ Dorothy helped herself to a piece of cake.

  ‘Me neither,’ Betty said. ‘I feel really deprived. I’m thinking of buying one of those sex toys, or whatever you call them.’

  They all laughed then.

  ‘At least it’ll no’ batter you, hen,’ wee Mary said. ‘Let us know if it works and we’ll all put an order in.’

  The children had wandered over to the window while still enjoying their cake. Suddenly Bobby cried out, ‘Mummy, I think there’s a man with a gun down there!’

  ‘What?’

  They all nearly knocked the tea trolley over in their rush. There, far below, like a mechanical toy, was the figure of a man waving his hand about. It did indeed look as if he was clutching a gun.

  ‘Oh my God, oh my God!’ Sandra began shaking so much she could no longer stand up. Betty had to catch her and hold her. ‘Oh my God, it’s Eddie.’

  Just then, the office phone rang. Dorothy ran to answer it. In a couple of minutes, she had returned.