Behind Bars:
Part Two
by Kevin Crowe
Genre: Drama
Swearwords: Lots of strong ones.
Description: A disgraced priest. A straight copper. A pair of determined parents. Can their combined efforts succeed in banishing the bêtes noire in the lives of Brendan, Kathleen and Catriona?
Swearwords: Lots of strong ones.
Description: A disgraced priest. A straight copper. A pair of determined parents. Can their combined efforts succeed in banishing the bêtes noire in the lives of Brendan, Kathleen and Catriona?
Chapter Thirty-One: Brendan
1
I was unemployed. The owners of the hotel were sympathetic and told me they were sorry to lose me, saying I was one of the best workers they'd employed, but I knew takings had fallen after some locals stopped using the bar. On top of that, a couple of people had threatened me, telling me they'd be waiting for me outside if I didn't pack in my job. When I gave notice I emphasised how much I enjoyed working for them, how it was the best job I'd ever had, but that it was probably in everyone's best interests for me to leave. They seemed relieved, which was hardly surprising: I think I would have felt the same if roles were reversed. And I gave them credit for not sacking me, for not even suggesting I might consider my situation, when all the shit hit the fan. They also told me that when things calmed down there would be a job for me.
When I tried to claim unemployment benefit I was told I wouldn't get anything for six weeks because I'd left my job voluntarily. Kathleen called me an idiot and said she was sure James and Fiona would have been happy to confirm I'd been made redundant, but as I'd already handed in the paperwork it was too late. I felt like I was living off Kathleen and Catriona. So when Malcolm offered me a job on their farm, I accepted. I knew how hard the work would be, after all I had worked during the tattie holidays, but that was okay by me.
Boredom was setting in and, if truth be told, we were getting on each other's nerves. Thanks to all the bad publicity Kathleen and Catriona were offered few gigs, and most of those they turned down, saying they had no intention of playing at strip clubs. Catriona also lost her supply teaching contract. Kathleen continued to practice on her guitar, learning new songs and composing music, but without her previous intensity and sometimes she seemed to be just going through the motions. As time passed Catriona joined her less and less, and when she did it was without the spark that had previously lit their creative fire. They used to argue constantly when learning new material, arguments that fuelled their creativity. That had been replaced with a simmering discontent that manifested itself in sarcastic comments followed by sullen silence.
I was worried they were moving apart. Kathleen was becoming ever more apathetic and much of the time even playing Frankie failed to rouse her. She didn't seem to notice that at times Catriona was acting furtively, as if she had secrets. When I challenged her, Catriona denied anything was wrong.
“Oh come on, Catriona, pull the other one. Something's up, I know it. You aren't, well...” my voice tailed off.
“What are you suggesting?” she demanded. “What does that 'you aren't, well' mean? I hope you aren't suggesting I'm cheating on her, because if you are you are so wrong.” She was silent for a moment before adding: “Chance would be a fine thing.”
“So you have thought of it, then.”
She shook her head vigorously. “No, no. Of course I haven't. And how dare you suggest it, how dare you.”
I apologised, but I still insisted there was something on her mind. She sighed and admitted there was.
“Well, two minds are better than one.” I said.
“Maybe.” But she didn't sound too sure. She wandered towards the kitchen and I followed her, asking her what she meant by maybe. “Nothing,” she replied.
“It must mean something.” I demanded.
She sighed. “Have you spoken to Graham recently?” she asked.
“Of course, you know I have. We speak every day.”
“I mean, really spoken, not just casual conversation.”
“Of course we have. He's assured me that as soon as things are sorted, we'll be together.” I paused. “Or are you saying that's not the case? Do you know something?”
She shook her head. “No. Nothing like that. I know he loves you. Please don't worry about that. I shouldn't have said anything.”
“Well, it's too late now. So you'd better explain.”
“Okay. I suppose I should. But I really don't want to go through it all more than once. So perhaps we'd better all sit down when you're both here.”
“What the fuck!”
She placed a hand on my arm. “Please, Brendan. Let's wait until Kathleen's back.”
I shook her hand away and stormed off to my bedroom, ignoring her cries of “Please, Brendan.” She had the good sense to leave me alone. I was trying to make sense of what Catriona had said. Why was Catriona keeping things from Kathleen? And why was Graham saying things to Catriona he wasn't sharing with me? My brain felt like a record with the needle stuck in the groove, the same thought repeating itself over and over.
I heard the phone ring. Before I could decide whether to answer it or not, it stopped. I opened my bedroom door and could hear Catriona talking but not what she was saying. Every so often she would listen then begin speaking again. I made my way downstairs and heard her say: “He's here now.” She turned to me, a grin on her face, and handing me the phone said Graham wanted to speak to me.
Before he had a chance to say anything I asked: “What the fuck's been going on?”
“Calm down,” he told me, probably the worst thing he could have said.
“Don't tell me to calm down. I know you and Catriona have been keeping things from me and Kathleen. So I repeat: what the fuck's been going on?”
I heard him sigh, followed by: “Okay, you are owed an explanation. I gather Catriona will be talking to the two of you shortly, and in my view she should have done so a while ago, but that's bye the bye, and I won't go into that. I just thought you all ought to know that Norman has been arrested and is in custody, and is unlikely to be given bail.”
I didn't respond, I couldn't. I was opening and closing my mouth like a goldfish. When I didn't answer him, Graham asked: “Hello. Are you still there.”
I nodded, then remembered he couldn't see me. “Yes,” I said, “yes, I'm still here. Was that what you and Catriona have been keeping secret.”
“No, but I think I'll leave it to Catriona to tell you what she's been doing. But, Brendan, it's not anything underhand or anything like that. Believe me.”
Norman arrested! I needed to sit down. Fortunately there was a chair by the phone. I asked Graham what he'd been arrested for.
“Oh, assault, extortion, rape, probably a few other things.”
“How?” I asked.
“It's a long story.”
“That's okay. I'm not going anywhere. And it's your phone bill.”
He laughed. “The church's actually.” He was silent for a moment. “Look, there's things I can't tell you because they were told to me in confidence.”
“You mean in the confessional?” I asked.
“No. But I promised.” He was silent for a moment, then continued: “All I can tell you is that the daughter of a parishioner of mine was having problems with Norman. As I've said, I can't go into details because I was told in confidence. But there's another parishioner who's a police officer. Now, I know you've had bad experiences with the police, and I know Kathleen has, but this officer is one of the good ones. At first he didn't think he could do anything unless someone was prepared to give a statement, someone like you or my other parishioner.”
“You didn't tell him about what had happened to me, what he did to me, did you?”
“No, of course not. Though I was going to ask you if I could, but Catriona told me not to, that it would only upset you.”
“Fucking right she was! Sorry, shouldn't swear like that. If you'd asked me, I would have said no.”
“I realise that. But Charlie, the police officer, said he'd see what he could find out. He didn't believe any of his colleagues were on the take from Norman and his mates, but...”
I interrupted him. “I can believe it.”
“Yes, I'm sure you could. But when he looked into it, he found a whole can of worms. There were complaints on file that no-one had done anything about, that weren't even recorded properly. All sorts of things: people who had complained about someone matching his description beating them up, some Asians who'd had property destroyed or damaged, women who claimed to have been assaulted, people complaining about all sorts of things. And no action had been taken. Nothing. Except that on some of them, someone had noted the complainants as being 'time wasters', and on one someone had written 'if she complains again threaten to charge her with wasting police time'.”
“So there were some corrupt coppers then.”
“It seems there was at least one. Charlie told me he really didn't know what to do but knew he had to do something. After a lot of soul searching and after speaking to his wife, he went to his superior and laid it all out for him.”
I attempted a whistle. “That was brave of him.”
“Yes it was. His boss was horrified. The upshot was that an investigation was launched and Norman and some of his cronies have been arrested. Apparently a detective has been suspended pending other enquiries. But I do feel a bit guilty.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Word got out that Charlie was the one who had raised it. He's told me he's getting some stick for being a snitch. But he said once he knew what was going on he had no choice.”
“I don't particularly like coppers, but I hope he's going to be okay.”
“Oh, I think so. I hope so. Last time I spoke to him he seemed quite relaxed about the hassle he's been getting. He said it was only from a few and that some others had told him he'd done the right thing.”
I asked him when he'd be coming back. Soon, he told me: “I've still got one or two things to sort out here, but soon. I've got lots of stuff, but the only things I'm really bothered about are my books and a few things of sentimental value. As soon as I've sorted everything, I'll be leaving. I've got to be out of here shortly anyway.”
“Don't leave it too long. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
After I put the phone down I apologised to Catriona. “That's okay,” she said. She looked at her watch. “I don't know where Kathleen's got to. She's been out ages. She said she was going to see Rob, but that was ages ago.”
“Ring him and see if she's still there.”
“Good idea.” After making the call she came back into the lounge looking very worried. “She's not been there. They haven't seen her.”
“Would she have gone to see your parents.”
Catriona said she didn't think so, but it was worth checking. They too said they hadn't seen her.
“She can't have gone far,” I said, pointing to her guitar. “Not without Frankie.”
Catriona nodded. “You're right. Look, I'd better tell you what's been on my mind, what I've shared with Graham. I'll tell Kathleen later. I think I know who told the police about you and Graham. It was Andrew: it could only have been him. He must have worked out that you and Graham were lovers and, being the nasty bastard he is, used his influence on John, our local bobby. Oh, and the photos must have come from Norman.”
“How do you know all that?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I worked it out and after speaking to Graham, it all fitted into place. There's no other explanation.”
“The bastard!”
“Yes indeed.” She looked at her watch again. “Where the hell has she got to?” She picked up Frankie and only then did we notice an envelope cellotaped to the back of the guitar. As Catriona's hands were shaking so much I removed the envelope and opened it. Inside was a short note:
Sorry. This is all my fault. Make sure Frankie has a good home. Love you. Goodbye. xxx
When Catriona read it, she screamed: an ear-piercing deathly sound the like of which I had never heard before.
2
Catriona ran to the door, yelling: “I must find her! I must find her!”
I pulled her back, telling her we needed to try to think where she could have gone. But she wasn't having any of that, saying: “We're wasting time talking. We've got to find her.” When I wouldn't let go of her arm, she turned to me, her face red, her eyes bloated and said: “Don't you care about finding her?”
“Of course I do.” I shouted at her. “Of course I do.” Letting go of her arm, I said: “But we won't find her rushing about everywhere.”
She sighed. “You're right. Sorry for losing it.” She opened the front door, looked out and said: “Our car's gone. Wherever she is, she's taken the car.” She was shaking as I gently led her to the sofa. No sooner had she sat down than she rose to her feet again, saying: “We'd better ring the police. And my parents.”
I told her I'd make both those calls. Within a few minutes, Morag and Malcolm had come round and attempted to calm us down, though they too were worried. The police were less than helpful. I was told that John MacAlister was off duty, and that anyway the police wouldn't get involved in a missing person case until they'd been missing for more than 24 hours.
“But she might be dead by then,” I said.
“Sorry, sir,” the voice at the other end said, clearly not sorry at all, “but we simply don't have the manpower to investigate everyone who disappears for a few hours.” They did agree to tell John when he came on duty.
By the time I'd finished talking to the police, Rob had also arrived. If anything, he was in a worse state than Catriona, and I wasn't much better. We were unable to focus on anything, each of us probably thinking the worst, I know I was. Yet none of us were able to articulate that, as if as long as we didn't mention the words suicide or death they weren't real. Catriona's father was walking up and down the cottage, filling the space with his bulk, muttering to himself. Catriona was sobbing loudly and uncontrollably, while Rob was making incoherent noises. I kept repeating we had to do something, but I didn't know what.
The only one of us who seemed able to think rationally was Morag, and she took control. “Okay,” she said, “none of this is helping Kathleen.”
We all stared at her. I said: “But what can we do? We don't know where's she gone. She could be miles away by now. The police don't seem interested and it's all their fault anyway.”
“For God's sake, get a grip. Did you rely on the police when you were beaten up in Birmingham? No! We can worry about who to blame later, for now we have to decide what to do.”
“But ma, there's nothing we can do,” Catriona said, tears still streaming down her face.
“Rubbish!” Realising she sounded harsh, she softened her voice, took her daughter's hand and said: “Caty, we will do our best to find her, that I can promise you.” Then she instructed us all to sit down. “And I want you all to think of places she may have gone to, places she liked.”
“She loved the walk along the river,” Rob said. “That was where I first met her. She was sat on the bench playing her guitar.” Then, realising she hadn't taken Frankie with her, he started sobbing.
Morag smiled at Rob. “Thanks, that's a start. It's worth checking out, but she would probably have walked if that's where she was going. Anyone else got any thoughts?”
I said: “There's quite a few places she used to walk to, but she wouldn't be able to drive there, because there's no roads to them.”
We were all silent for a few moments, then Catriona said: “I wonder...”
“Wonder what, darling?” her mother asked.
“Well, you know that beach you used to take us to when I was a bairn?” Morag nodded, and Catriona continued: “Not so long ago when we were all feeling miserable I took Kathleen and Brendan there.”
“That's right!” I exclaimed, nodding vigorously. “I remember what a wonderful day it was. And Kathleen loved it. Perhaps, just perhaps...”
Catriona jumped up. “Of course, she could have gone there. You're right, she did love it.”
Morag smiled. “Yes, we had some magical days there. In English it's called the Fairy Beach, because according to legend its white sand, dunes and rocks were swept there by the Fin Folk, the Sea Gardeners, who had no use for them. It's said that on clear moonlit nights if you're very quiet you can hear the Sea Gardeners sweeping more sand and rock onto the shore. You think she might have gone there?”
Both Catriona and I said yes at the same time.
Morag stood up. “Right. It's worth a try.” She looked outside. “It's getting dark, so better take some torches with us. Also, we'd better take some blankets and a flask of hot tea: if she's there she'll need warming up. Caty, you make some tea. Brendan, get some blankets, warm clothes and torches together.” Turning to her husband, she said: “You and Rob had better stop here just in case that useless lump John MacAlister does ring back. You can tell him what the note said and where we've gone. Oh, and on the way to Fairy Beach we'll check the car park next to the river just in case she took the car there. And we'll take our Range Rover. It'll hold us all and we'll be able to get nearer to the beach.”
We got on with our allotted tasks, relieved to be doing something.
She drove like Stirling Moss, taking no account of the dark or the risk of a collision with deer, hardly slowing down at bends and junctions. I'd never been driven so fast before and I hoped I never would again. Catriona asked her mother several times to slow down, but she ignored her. Even when we reached the narrow track with grass growing down the middle she kept her speed up. She came to halt in front of the dilapidated gate.
“There!” Catriona screamed. “Look, there's our car. She must be here.” She hugged her mother and kissed her, before jumping out and opening the gate. She got back into the vehicle and Morag continued to drive, though much more slowly. She stopped as close to the sand dunes as was safe and we got out, switched on our torches and made our way down to the beach as quickly as we could. I carried the rucksack containing blankets, flask of hot tea, bottle of water and some sandwiches and chocolate.
It was a rare clear night with a crescent moon and a multitude of stars visible in the sky and giving an unearthly glow to the white sand. No wonder there were myths about fairies, I thought. It would be all too easy to imagine all sorts of creatures and spirits burrowing in the dunes or slithering on the sand. An involuntary shiver ran through me. Get a grip, I told myself, but I stuck close to Catriona and Morag.
We stopped at the base of the dunes, unsure what direction to take and painfully aware we could easily miss her. Again, Morag took charge. “When you came here with her, was there a particular spot she seemed to like?”
“All of it,” Catriona replied.
“That's not very helpful,” Morag said.
Catriona's voice was breaking as she said: “Ma, I'm doing my best.”
Morag had the grace to apologise and she put an arm round her daughter. “I'm sorry,” she said. Looking around her, she added: “I've never been here at night. It really does look very different.”
“I've got a whistle,” I said, reaching into my pocket. “There's not much wind tonight, and I've heard that sound travels further in the dark. Perhaps we should walk from one end of the beach to the other blowing the whistle and calling her name.”
“Providing she can hear us,” Catriona mumbled.
“Let's not think the worst just yet,” Morag told her. Turning to me, she said: “Okay, let's try it. But let's keep well away from the water. I don't know what the tide times are at the moment.”
We walked along the beach, following the line of the dunes, waving our torches from side to side, shouting her name and blowing the whistle until we reached the cliffs to the north. With shouts of “do be careful” following me, I scrambled up some of the lower rocks, waving my torch and looking for any signs of life. Nothing. I scrambled back down and, still shouting her name, waving our torches and blowing the whistle, we retraced our steps and then continued to the cliffs at the southern boundary of the beach.
We stopped when we heard noises behind us. Turning round, we saw lights moving towards us. As they got nearer I recognised Malcolm, Rob and the local bobby John. Malcolm explained that John had rung as soon as he'd arrived for his shift and, when the situation was explained to him, he'd come round immediately.
“I've got an ambulance on standby, just in case.” John said.
“Least you could do,” Catriona yelled at him, thumping him in the chest. “This is all your fault. I just hope we're not too late.”
Morag pulled her daughter off John and, holding her close, said: “I hope you're proud of yourself, John.” She paused, then continued: “We've seen no sign of her yet, but we've still got a lot of the beach to search.”
Catriona shushed us, saying she thought she'd heard something. We listened in silence, and I heard groans coming from the dunes. “Over there,” I yelled, pointing to where the sound had come from.
We found Kathleen half buried in the dunes, her face covered in sand, retching. On seeing her, Kathleen fell to the ground and hugged her, saying over and over “Thank God, oh, thank God.” We were about to move her to a more comfortable position when John shouted at us to leave her where she was.
“We don't know what damage, if any, she's sustained, and it might be dangerous to move her. Just clear her mouth and nose of any sand, cover her with a blanket and stay with her while I get the ambulance staff here.”
I asked if it was okay to give her some hot tea or cold water. “Yes, but make sure she doesn't drink too much. If she refuses it, don't force her.” He retraced his steps back to the path through the dunes. Morag poured some tea from the flask into a cup, adding some cold water so it wasn't too hot, before holding it up to Kathleen's mouth. She took a small sip and thanked her.
Catriona knelt by Kathleen, holding her hand and telling her how much she loved her. “When I saw your note, I was more frightened than I've ever been in my whole life,” she said. “I thought I'd lost you. I thought, oh God, I thought you'd – you'd...” Unable to finish the sentence, she gently kissed her.
After taking another small sip of tea, Kathleen whispered: “I'm sorry for all the fuss I've caused. I can't seem to do any fucking thing right.” Still holding Catriona's hand, she closed her eyes.
Panicking, Catriona wanted to wake Kathleen, but Morag told her to let her sleep. “We'll keep an eye on her, make sure she's okay.” We heard people and looking round saw John approaching us with two ambulance staff carrying a stretcher. Catriona insisted in travelling in the ambulance with Kathleen, the rest of us, apart from John, following in Morag's Range Rover. When John said he would need to take a statement at some stage, Catriona looked daggers at him. He turned away, mumbling something about only doing his job, then sloped off to his police car.
Initially, the hospital staff were reluctant to tell us anything because none of us were relatives, and they refused to recognise her relationship with Catriona. It was only when Kathleen herself demanded that Catriona be allowed to be with her they relented. They told us Kathleen had some bruising and was suffering from mild hypothermia. She was kept in overnight for observation and discharged the following morning. She was still groggy and, despite the discomfort of six of us crowded into the Range Rover, slept for much of the journey. After we arrived home, Rob said he'd better check on his mother and Morag and Malcolm told us they would collect the car Kathleen had driven to the beach.
Catriona hugged her parents, thanking them. “No problem,” Morag said. “We've got to check on the farm and make sure everything's okay. Then we'll come back. And don't take any crap from John.”
Malcolm looked thoughtful and said to his daughter: “You know, he's probably the laziest bobby in the whole of Scotland, so what I don't understand is why he went to all the trouble of arresting two people for something that shouldn't be anyone else's business.”
“I do,” Catriona said. “One word: Andrew.” Her parents looked puzzled. “I'll explain everything later, but I know it was him who was responsible.” She paused. “Okay, briefly. Brendan had a bit of a fling with him. Then when he realised how unpleasant Andrew could be, he finished with him. Andrew was just proving how nasty he is.”
Morag's stared at her daughter, open mouthed. “You mean he's gay! After everything he's said, he's gay himself.” She burst out laughing. “Sorry, Caty, but... Wait till that gets out.” She was still giggling as they left.
I wasn't sure how happy I was at everyone knowing about me and Andrew, but when I said this to Catriona she just shrugged her shoulders and told me she had every intention of making sure everyone in Strathdubh knew just how evil Andrew was. “He's not going to get away with this.” There was a steel in her voice, a determination she had probably inherited from her mother.
Kathleen, who had been dozing in her favourite armchair, opened her eyes and asked what we'd been talking about. “Nothing much,” Catriona said. “We were all just worried about you.”
“Fuck that. Don't lie to me.”
I looked at Catriona and said: “We'll get no peace until we tell her.”
So Catriona briefly told her about Andrew. “The statement we make to John is going to be very interesting.”
For the first time in what seemed weeks, Kathleen grinned. Then the smile faded from her face. “I'm sorry for what I put you through, I don't know what came over me.”
Catriona sat on the arm of the chair and put her arm around Kathleen. “Don't worry. You're back now. Do you feel like telling us what happened?”
“I don't remember much about it. I remember getting in the car and I remember getting out near the beach, but most of it's a blank. I do recall standing at the top of one of the dunes, and I remember lying on the beach with you holding my hand, but not much in between. I don't fucking know whether I fell or jumped. I'm really sorry about all I put you through.”
“Do you remember writing a note and attaching it to Frankie?” Catriona showed it to her.
She shook her head. “Fuck, no I don't. Shit, that looks like a suicide note.” She looked bewildered and, pulling Catriona to her, said: “God, what a bitch I am. How could I fucking put you through all that? It's unforgivable.”
Catriona gave her a peck on the cheek, saying: “Nothing's ever unforgivable. Anyway there's nothing to forgive.” We were aware Kathleen was having problems keeping her eyes open. “Come on, girl, we'd better get you to bed.” Catriona helped her to her feet and together we helped her up the stairs.
3
By the time John came to take a statement, Morag and Malcolm had returned, and Malcolm had made a couple of calls. Once he'd been installed in an armchair with a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits before him and after a bit of small talk, he produced his pad. “I'll need to speak to Kathleen, of course. But I can do that a bit later if she's resting. But for now perhaps I can get a statement from each of you.”
Morag smiled at him, her sweetest, most saccharine false smile. “I'm sure there'll be no need for all that, John. I'm sure we can come to an understanding.”
John shook his head. “I've got a job to do, you know.”
“Yeah, just like you had a job to do when you arrested Brendan and Graham.” The sneering sarcasm in Catriona's comment dripped from her lips like poison.
“That's right. I'm sure you wouldn't let any of the kids you teach misbehave, now would you? I have to uphold the law.”
“Fat chance of me ever teaching again, thanks to you.”
John puffed himself up like a peacock does his feathers when looking for a mate. “Well, you should have thought about that before. Teachers are supposed to set an example.”
“As are police officers,” added Morag, the saccharine smile still on her face.
“What do you mean?”
Morag nodded to Malcolm, who said: “Come on, John, let's cut out all the shit. I've just been speaking to David Fritton. You know, our solicitor. He reckons you should never have arrested Brendan and Graham.”
“But they were in bed together when we arrested them. That's still against the law in Scotland. You know that.”
Malcolm was shaking his head. “There's no law that says two men can't sleep together.”
“But I caught them at it!”
“At what, exactly?”
“Well, you know, buggery.”
“How do you know that?”
“I saw them! Look, I'm not here to answer questions, but to ask them.”
“Suit yourself, John,” Malcolm said, “but if I were you I would think very carefully. You don't want to be tarred with the same brush as Andrew, now do you?”
“What's Andrew got to do with this?” He looked around the room at each of us, concern verging on panic on his face. “Look, I told you, I saw them.”
Malcolm shrugged his shoulders. “Did you actually see them having sex? Did you take the sheets away to check for stains? No, I thought not. So you don't actually have any evidence, and David tells me that under Scots law you require corroboration.”
“But neither of them have denied what took place.” He turned to me and said: “Perjury's a crime you know. If when it comes to court you lie, you'll really be in trouble. So why don't you just tell me what happened.”
I stared at him. “No comment,” was all I said.
Malcolm took a bite of a biscuit, wiped some crumbs from his shirt and said: “I don't think it'll come to court, John. You really wouldn't want the world to know that Andrew persuaded you to arrest these two innocent men, particularly as Andrew himself is a homosexual.”
“What! What!” John forced a laugh. “Andrew queer? I don't believe it.”
Malcolm looked at me. I nodded. “What would you say if I told you Andrew made a pass at me?”
“I wouldn't believe you.”
I turned to Malcolm. “What did the editor of the local paper say was the deadline for news items?”
Malcolm looked at his watch. “Only half an hour away.” He stood up and went to the phone. “I'd better ring him before it's too late. I'm sure he'll be interested in a story about the local bobby colluding with a closet homosexual to charge two innocent men. He'll probably want to know how Andrew persuaded him to do it.” He paused for a moment, then turned to John. “How did he persuade you? After all, you're not normally so keen on doing your job. So tell us.”
John stood up, knocking over the tray of biscuits. “Please don't make that call. Please.” He sat back down, his face white and his body shaking.
Malcolm replaced the handset on its cradle. He sat down opposite John and, saying nothing, just looked at him. Eventually, John broke the silence. “Look, it's not up to me. I don't have the authority to drop the charges. That's up to the procurator fiscal.”
“But there's been no charges yet, as I understand it. At least, that's what David told me. And he should know.”
Defeated, John slumped in the chair in silence. After a while he looked up and asked: “What's going to happen to me?”
Morag rose, stepped towards him and looking down sneered: “If I had my way you'd be out on your ear, with no job and virtually unemployable.” She looked like she was about to spit in his face, but changed her mind.
Malcolm laughed. “You're lucky it's not up to Morag. What happens to you is now up to you. No doubt the press will want to know why they aren't being charged. You could just tell them your informant was wrong, but that's entirely in your hands. And don't forget who got you into this mess: Andrew.”
“But I've got no comeback against Andrew. I can't arrest him just because of what Brendan said.”
“Didn't stop you arresting me and Graham, did it?” I told him. I continued in a quieter, more placatory voice: “Still, much as I despise what he's done, I wouldn't want anyone arrested for being gay.”
Malcolm grinned. “But we do have plans for him. By the time we've finished his reputation will be in shreds.”
After John left, I poured each of us a dram and Catriona went upstairs to tell Kathleen the good news. A few minutes later, the two of them reappeared. Although still tired, Kathleen was grinning from ear to ear. She looked at the glasses we were holding and said: “Where's my fucking drink?” then burst out laughing.
I phoned Graham to tell him we were in the clear. “I'm sorry it all led to you being forced to give up your vocation, though.”
“Oh, don't worry about that. It would have happened sooner or later, because I love you too much to give you up. And I couldn't live with you and be a priest.” While we were talking he said he worried about us living in Strathdubh. “We could still end up being arrested”.
I agreed with him, adding: “And there are plenty of people up here who've made it clear they've got no time for us.” I paused before continuing. “I suppose they could get used to us in time, but until then they could make life very difficult for us.”
“That's what I was thinking,” he said, “and I also got the impression that some people took a dislike to me because of my colour.”
I agreed, saying: “I can't understand why people can't just let others get on with their lives without interfering. But what about Kathleen and Catriona? Given how much Catriona's parents have done for us, we can't just walk away. Besides I'd miss them.”
“So would I,” he said. “But wherever we go, whatever we do, they could come with us if they wanted. They can play their music anywhere, and once the publicity has died down Catriona may be able to rebuild her teaching career.”
“Sounds good to me. I'll see what they think.”
I did discuss it with them, and they agreed it would be for the best if we moved away, even if it was only for a time. We talked about how we could manage it and Catriona came up with an idea, one that would need the help of her parents. I rang Graham who also thought it was great providing we could make it happen.
Chapter Thirty-Two: Morag
1
I can't pretend to understand how a woman can fall in love with another woman; I can't understand how it works physically or emotionally. But I do know what it feels like to have my parents reject the person I fell in love with, to threaten me and, when that didn't work, to disown me. It wasn't the sex of the love of my life that my parents objected to, it was his class. After all these years it still hurts.
When Caty was born I told myself I would never do to her what my parents did to me. I would love her and accept whoever she loved, no matter what. I never thought in my wildest dreams that she would fall in love with a woman, and not just any woman but one who had been a prostitute. When she told me, and I know how much it must have cost her to do that, I was shocked. My initial emotion was one of anger, that she must be deranged and she was throwing away her future.
Then a voice inside me told me not to behave like my parents, so I ended up hugging her, crying with her and telling her we would love and support her, no matter what.
No-one was going to hurt Caty like I'd been hurt. I made that vow the day she was born when I held this life, this new miracle, to me. Anyone who attempted to hurt her would have me to deal with.
As Andrew was about to find out.
We couldn't prove Andrew was responsible for what happened to Caty and her friends, at least not without implicating John. Our local bobby may have been thick and lazy, but he was never malicious and in a way he may also have been a victim of Andrew. But a few words in the right places and we could destroy Andrew.
The leader of the council, Brian, was a golfing friend of Malcolm's. I'd always thought golf to be one of the silliest games: wasting half a day trying to hit a tiny ball into a tiny hole using a narrow stick. Brian's wife, Helen, felt the same, so while the two fully grown boys chased balls around the course, Helen and I would meet up for long chats accompanied with either tea and cakes or, if neither of us were driving, gin and tonics. They were also farmers, but much bigger ones than we were. They employed enough workers to enable him to concentrate on his council work and her to spend much of her time as a volunteer for the Samaritans.
When we told Brian what we knew about Andrew, he was quiet for a few moments. Then he said: “I've never particularly liked him, but in politics we don't get to choose who we work with.” He played with his beard, a sure sign he was deep in thought, before saying: “There's lots of people who are scared of him, he's probably aware of skeletons in their cupboards and using that to get his way. Also, I suspect he's been using contacts he's made in the planning department to get work for his firm.” He smiled. “Leave it to me. And I guarantee not to involve Catriona and her friends. I'm just sorry I can't do anything about getting her supply teaching contract back.”
We thanked him. I also said I hoped he didn't think we were abusing our friendship. He roared with laughter. “Not at all,” he said. “I've wanted an excuse to be rid of the bastard.” He lowered his voice. “In any case this is personal now. I hope I can trust you not to reveal what I'm about to tell you.” We reassured him he could trust us. “I thought so, and sorry for having to ask. You know my eldest son, the one who's now living in Manchester? You know he's never married, never even had a girlfriend.”
Helen looked uncomfortable. “Are you sure we should be telling them this, darling?”
“If we can't trust Malcolm and Morag, then who can we trust? Last time he came home, he told us why he's never had a girlfriend, why he's not interested in them. He told us he had found someone, but she wasn't a woman.” He paused for a few moments. “I'm ashamed of how I reacted. Thoroughly ashamed of myself. I lost my temper, said lots of things I shouldn't have said. Things that can't be unsaid.”
Helen linked her arm in his, saying: “But it was such a shock, darling. A shock to both of us.”
“Yes, dear, it was. But that's no excuse for the things I said. You didn't react like that, dear.” He returned his gaze to us. “Oh, we've made it up since, but I still feel ashamed of myself. I despise everything Andrew stands for, and I despise the way he's behaved towards your Catriona and her friends, but I won't be using his homosexuality as a stick to beat him with: that would make me almost as much of a hypocrite as he is. Besides, there'll be no need.”
Brian was true to his word. Without giving a reason, Andrew stood down from his council seat. There were rumours he'd been forced to do so because of planning office irregularities, rumours that appeared to be substantiated when his business stopped getting council contracts and he had to lay staff off. He struggled on for eighteen months, but was finally forced into bankruptcy after tax inspectors discovered he'd been fiddling his books and cheating the Inland Revenue. A group of his former employees got together, bought the company's assets and soon earned the trust of people. The new company employed Rob to run the office. Thanks to Kathleen, as well as giving up the booze, he'd also gone to college where he not only improved his literacy, but showed an aptitude for maths. He'd also tidied himself up and got some dentures. Many people were surprised at his transformation. Kathleen might swear a lot and be grumpy much of the time, but Strathdubh and Rob have a lot to thank her for.
2
A few days after we found Kathleen on Fairy Beach, Catriona invited me and Malcolm round for dinner. Kathleen was much quieter than normal and still looked pale, but otherwise seemed to be on the road back to her usual self. Both of us were concerned that, in view of what had happened, life in Strathdubh could be difficult for them, and we agreed it might be for the best if they moved away, even if only temporarily. We knew they had a fair amount saved up, but we also knew that wouldn't last long, so we had discussed ways of helping them. Relaxing over dinner and a few drinks could provide the ideal opportunity to talk to them about their futures.
Little did we know they too had been thinking along similar lines. After we'd finished the main course I noticed Brendan and Kathleen looking over at Caty, who gave them a little nod of the head. She looked at Malcolm and said: “Da, much as it's wonderful living so close to you and ma, after everything that's happened, we don't think we can stay in Strathdubh. We love it here, but we can't live here, at least not until things have quietened down a bit.” She paused to take a sip of wine.
“We've been thinking the same thing,” I said to her.
“Great minds,” she said, grinning. “We've got a favour to ask you. We thought – and that includes Graham – we thought it would be nice to get away for a while, do a bit of travelling round the country, live like gypsies for a while. And while we're doing that, we can think about what we're going to do in the future. So we were wondering if we could borrow your campervan. I know you don't use it very often. We were just wandering.” Her voice tailed off.
“I can't see any reason why not,” Malcolm said. “After all, as you say, we don't use it very often and it just takes up space. These days when we get away we prefer the comfort of a nice hotel. You'd be doing us a favour, really.”
With the biggest grin I'd seen on her face for a long time, Caty jumped up and hugged Malcolm. “Thanks, da,” she said. “And while we're away, you could rent out our cottage as a holiday let and keep the rent as payment for the use of the campervan.”
I was having none of that. “No way,” I said. The look Caty gave me told me she hadn't understood me, that I hadn't expressed myself clearly enough. “I mean, no way are we going to take any money for the use of the campervan. You're all welcome to use it for as long as you want, and any rent we get from the cottage we'll pass on to you.” It was my turn to get a hug from Caty.
Graham had told Brendan he would be arriving back in Strathdubh within a week. He said he had found homes for most of his belongings, but he just didn't feel he could part with his books. Brendan said: “He told me his books were to him what music was to Kathleen. He was hoping there would be somewhere in Strathdubh he could store most of them, just taking a few of them with us.”
Caty turned to us and asked: “He can store them in my old room at the farmhouse, can't he? Please.”
I smiled at her and said: “Of course he can, Caty.”
“I do wish you wouldn't call me that. It's so childish,” she pouted.
I grinned. “Listen, young lady. It's one of the privileges of being a mother that we are allowed to embarrass our children even when they're adults. So you'll always be Caty to me.”
Kathleen burst out laughing, followed by the others and eventually Caty had no choice but to join in. “Oh, dear,” Kathleen said between guffaws, “I think I'll call you Caty from now on.”
Caty thumped her arm playfully. “Just you dare.” This led to more hilarity.
3
The day arrived when they left. We had the campervan serviced and filled it with fuel, and they had cleaned and refitted it. When I asked where they were going first, they just shrugged and said wherever the fancy took them.
“Until I came to Strathdubh, all I'd ever seen of the world was Birmingham,” Kathleen said, “and even there it was mainly the less pleasant parts of the city. There's so many places I want to see in this country.”
“Same here,” said Brendan.
“And Kathleen and I can always earn money busking or passing the hat round in folk clubs.” Caty said, adding: “Our post office account is healthy, anyway.”
Brendan said: “If we stop in one place long enough, I can always take a bar job for a while.”
Graham looked downcast, so I asked him what was up. “Oh, nothing,” he replied, forcing a smile. Later, when I got him on his own, he admitted that he felt like a bit of a freeloader. “The others all have skills that can earn us money, but I don't. Who's going to want an ex-priest who's never done anything else?”
I told him not to be silly, that he'd already contributed a lot and I was sure he would continue to do so. “There's more ways of being useful than just earning money.”
He thanked me, but added: “It's not just that. I'm so much older than the rest, over ten years older.”
“I wouldn't worry about that. It's not age that's important, but how two people feel about each other. Do you realise how happy you make Brendan?”
I think we all shed a tear when they left. I continued waving long after the van was no longer visible. “I hope they'll be okay,” I said to Malcolm.
He put his arm around me. “They're all adults. They have to find their own way in the world. And our daughter is strong, just like you. They'll face problems, of course they will. But just like us, they'll find ways of overcoming them.” He kissed me.
A couple of months after they'd left, a letter from the diocesan office in Birmingham arrived for Graham. Caty had agreed to ring me every Friday just so I knew they were okay, and the next time she rang I told her about the letter. She put Graham on. “I don't know what's in it,” I said. “Do you want me to forward it anywhere?”
“No, that's okay. Can you open it and read it to me? It's probably nothing important.”
Inside the large A4 envelope was a compliment slip and an envelope with Graham's name and instructions to forward it on. I told him it was from someone called Theresa and then read it to him over the phone:
Dear Father,
I know you're no longer a priest, but with your permission I will still call you Father. I just wanted you to know how grateful both me and Karen are for your help. It was wonderful to find out that crook Norman was in prison. I don't know how you managed to get him arrested without revealing our secret, but thank you. Also, I thought you might like to know that after our conversation, I spoke to Karen again, and she has decided to have the baby. That baby will be spoilt rotten, I can tell you, and will be loved by both mum and grandparents.
Thank you for everything. You are a good man.
God be with you wherever you go,
Theresa.
1
I was unemployed. The owners of the hotel were sympathetic and told me they were sorry to lose me, saying I was one of the best workers they'd employed, but I knew takings had fallen after some locals stopped using the bar. On top of that, a couple of people had threatened me, telling me they'd be waiting for me outside if I didn't pack in my job. When I gave notice I emphasised how much I enjoyed working for them, how it was the best job I'd ever had, but that it was probably in everyone's best interests for me to leave. They seemed relieved, which was hardly surprising: I think I would have felt the same if roles were reversed. And I gave them credit for not sacking me, for not even suggesting I might consider my situation, when all the shit hit the fan. They also told me that when things calmed down there would be a job for me.
When I tried to claim unemployment benefit I was told I wouldn't get anything for six weeks because I'd left my job voluntarily. Kathleen called me an idiot and said she was sure James and Fiona would have been happy to confirm I'd been made redundant, but as I'd already handed in the paperwork it was too late. I felt like I was living off Kathleen and Catriona. So when Malcolm offered me a job on their farm, I accepted. I knew how hard the work would be, after all I had worked during the tattie holidays, but that was okay by me.
Boredom was setting in and, if truth be told, we were getting on each other's nerves. Thanks to all the bad publicity Kathleen and Catriona were offered few gigs, and most of those they turned down, saying they had no intention of playing at strip clubs. Catriona also lost her supply teaching contract. Kathleen continued to practice on her guitar, learning new songs and composing music, but without her previous intensity and sometimes she seemed to be just going through the motions. As time passed Catriona joined her less and less, and when she did it was without the spark that had previously lit their creative fire. They used to argue constantly when learning new material, arguments that fuelled their creativity. That had been replaced with a simmering discontent that manifested itself in sarcastic comments followed by sullen silence.
I was worried they were moving apart. Kathleen was becoming ever more apathetic and much of the time even playing Frankie failed to rouse her. She didn't seem to notice that at times Catriona was acting furtively, as if she had secrets. When I challenged her, Catriona denied anything was wrong.
“Oh come on, Catriona, pull the other one. Something's up, I know it. You aren't, well...” my voice tailed off.
“What are you suggesting?” she demanded. “What does that 'you aren't, well' mean? I hope you aren't suggesting I'm cheating on her, because if you are you are so wrong.” She was silent for a moment before adding: “Chance would be a fine thing.”
“So you have thought of it, then.”
She shook her head vigorously. “No, no. Of course I haven't. And how dare you suggest it, how dare you.”
I apologised, but I still insisted there was something on her mind. She sighed and admitted there was.
“Well, two minds are better than one.” I said.
“Maybe.” But she didn't sound too sure. She wandered towards the kitchen and I followed her, asking her what she meant by maybe. “Nothing,” she replied.
“It must mean something.” I demanded.
She sighed. “Have you spoken to Graham recently?” she asked.
“Of course, you know I have. We speak every day.”
“I mean, really spoken, not just casual conversation.”
“Of course we have. He's assured me that as soon as things are sorted, we'll be together.” I paused. “Or are you saying that's not the case? Do you know something?”
She shook her head. “No. Nothing like that. I know he loves you. Please don't worry about that. I shouldn't have said anything.”
“Well, it's too late now. So you'd better explain.”
“Okay. I suppose I should. But I really don't want to go through it all more than once. So perhaps we'd better all sit down when you're both here.”
“What the fuck!”
She placed a hand on my arm. “Please, Brendan. Let's wait until Kathleen's back.”
I shook her hand away and stormed off to my bedroom, ignoring her cries of “Please, Brendan.” She had the good sense to leave me alone. I was trying to make sense of what Catriona had said. Why was Catriona keeping things from Kathleen? And why was Graham saying things to Catriona he wasn't sharing with me? My brain felt like a record with the needle stuck in the groove, the same thought repeating itself over and over.
I heard the phone ring. Before I could decide whether to answer it or not, it stopped. I opened my bedroom door and could hear Catriona talking but not what she was saying. Every so often she would listen then begin speaking again. I made my way downstairs and heard her say: “He's here now.” She turned to me, a grin on her face, and handing me the phone said Graham wanted to speak to me.
Before he had a chance to say anything I asked: “What the fuck's been going on?”
“Calm down,” he told me, probably the worst thing he could have said.
“Don't tell me to calm down. I know you and Catriona have been keeping things from me and Kathleen. So I repeat: what the fuck's been going on?”
I heard him sigh, followed by: “Okay, you are owed an explanation. I gather Catriona will be talking to the two of you shortly, and in my view she should have done so a while ago, but that's bye the bye, and I won't go into that. I just thought you all ought to know that Norman has been arrested and is in custody, and is unlikely to be given bail.”
I didn't respond, I couldn't. I was opening and closing my mouth like a goldfish. When I didn't answer him, Graham asked: “Hello. Are you still there.”
I nodded, then remembered he couldn't see me. “Yes,” I said, “yes, I'm still here. Was that what you and Catriona have been keeping secret.”
“No, but I think I'll leave it to Catriona to tell you what she's been doing. But, Brendan, it's not anything underhand or anything like that. Believe me.”
Norman arrested! I needed to sit down. Fortunately there was a chair by the phone. I asked Graham what he'd been arrested for.
“Oh, assault, extortion, rape, probably a few other things.”
“How?” I asked.
“It's a long story.”
“That's okay. I'm not going anywhere. And it's your phone bill.”
He laughed. “The church's actually.” He was silent for a moment. “Look, there's things I can't tell you because they were told to me in confidence.”
“You mean in the confessional?” I asked.
“No. But I promised.” He was silent for a moment, then continued: “All I can tell you is that the daughter of a parishioner of mine was having problems with Norman. As I've said, I can't go into details because I was told in confidence. But there's another parishioner who's a police officer. Now, I know you've had bad experiences with the police, and I know Kathleen has, but this officer is one of the good ones. At first he didn't think he could do anything unless someone was prepared to give a statement, someone like you or my other parishioner.”
“You didn't tell him about what had happened to me, what he did to me, did you?”
“No, of course not. Though I was going to ask you if I could, but Catriona told me not to, that it would only upset you.”
“Fucking right she was! Sorry, shouldn't swear like that. If you'd asked me, I would have said no.”
“I realise that. But Charlie, the police officer, said he'd see what he could find out. He didn't believe any of his colleagues were on the take from Norman and his mates, but...”
I interrupted him. “I can believe it.”
“Yes, I'm sure you could. But when he looked into it, he found a whole can of worms. There were complaints on file that no-one had done anything about, that weren't even recorded properly. All sorts of things: people who had complained about someone matching his description beating them up, some Asians who'd had property destroyed or damaged, women who claimed to have been assaulted, people complaining about all sorts of things. And no action had been taken. Nothing. Except that on some of them, someone had noted the complainants as being 'time wasters', and on one someone had written 'if she complains again threaten to charge her with wasting police time'.”
“So there were some corrupt coppers then.”
“It seems there was at least one. Charlie told me he really didn't know what to do but knew he had to do something. After a lot of soul searching and after speaking to his wife, he went to his superior and laid it all out for him.”
I attempted a whistle. “That was brave of him.”
“Yes it was. His boss was horrified. The upshot was that an investigation was launched and Norman and some of his cronies have been arrested. Apparently a detective has been suspended pending other enquiries. But I do feel a bit guilty.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Word got out that Charlie was the one who had raised it. He's told me he's getting some stick for being a snitch. But he said once he knew what was going on he had no choice.”
“I don't particularly like coppers, but I hope he's going to be okay.”
“Oh, I think so. I hope so. Last time I spoke to him he seemed quite relaxed about the hassle he's been getting. He said it was only from a few and that some others had told him he'd done the right thing.”
I asked him when he'd be coming back. Soon, he told me: “I've still got one or two things to sort out here, but soon. I've got lots of stuff, but the only things I'm really bothered about are my books and a few things of sentimental value. As soon as I've sorted everything, I'll be leaving. I've got to be out of here shortly anyway.”
“Don't leave it too long. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
After I put the phone down I apologised to Catriona. “That's okay,” she said. She looked at her watch. “I don't know where Kathleen's got to. She's been out ages. She said she was going to see Rob, but that was ages ago.”
“Ring him and see if she's still there.”
“Good idea.” After making the call she came back into the lounge looking very worried. “She's not been there. They haven't seen her.”
“Would she have gone to see your parents.”
Catriona said she didn't think so, but it was worth checking. They too said they hadn't seen her.
“She can't have gone far,” I said, pointing to her guitar. “Not without Frankie.”
Catriona nodded. “You're right. Look, I'd better tell you what's been on my mind, what I've shared with Graham. I'll tell Kathleen later. I think I know who told the police about you and Graham. It was Andrew: it could only have been him. He must have worked out that you and Graham were lovers and, being the nasty bastard he is, used his influence on John, our local bobby. Oh, and the photos must have come from Norman.”
“How do you know all that?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I worked it out and after speaking to Graham, it all fitted into place. There's no other explanation.”
“The bastard!”
“Yes indeed.” She looked at her watch again. “Where the hell has she got to?” She picked up Frankie and only then did we notice an envelope cellotaped to the back of the guitar. As Catriona's hands were shaking so much I removed the envelope and opened it. Inside was a short note:
Sorry. This is all my fault. Make sure Frankie has a good home. Love you. Goodbye. xxx
When Catriona read it, she screamed: an ear-piercing deathly sound the like of which I had never heard before.
2
Catriona ran to the door, yelling: “I must find her! I must find her!”
I pulled her back, telling her we needed to try to think where she could have gone. But she wasn't having any of that, saying: “We're wasting time talking. We've got to find her.” When I wouldn't let go of her arm, she turned to me, her face red, her eyes bloated and said: “Don't you care about finding her?”
“Of course I do.” I shouted at her. “Of course I do.” Letting go of her arm, I said: “But we won't find her rushing about everywhere.”
She sighed. “You're right. Sorry for losing it.” She opened the front door, looked out and said: “Our car's gone. Wherever she is, she's taken the car.” She was shaking as I gently led her to the sofa. No sooner had she sat down than she rose to her feet again, saying: “We'd better ring the police. And my parents.”
I told her I'd make both those calls. Within a few minutes, Morag and Malcolm had come round and attempted to calm us down, though they too were worried. The police were less than helpful. I was told that John MacAlister was off duty, and that anyway the police wouldn't get involved in a missing person case until they'd been missing for more than 24 hours.
“But she might be dead by then,” I said.
“Sorry, sir,” the voice at the other end said, clearly not sorry at all, “but we simply don't have the manpower to investigate everyone who disappears for a few hours.” They did agree to tell John when he came on duty.
By the time I'd finished talking to the police, Rob had also arrived. If anything, he was in a worse state than Catriona, and I wasn't much better. We were unable to focus on anything, each of us probably thinking the worst, I know I was. Yet none of us were able to articulate that, as if as long as we didn't mention the words suicide or death they weren't real. Catriona's father was walking up and down the cottage, filling the space with his bulk, muttering to himself. Catriona was sobbing loudly and uncontrollably, while Rob was making incoherent noises. I kept repeating we had to do something, but I didn't know what.
The only one of us who seemed able to think rationally was Morag, and she took control. “Okay,” she said, “none of this is helping Kathleen.”
We all stared at her. I said: “But what can we do? We don't know where's she gone. She could be miles away by now. The police don't seem interested and it's all their fault anyway.”
“For God's sake, get a grip. Did you rely on the police when you were beaten up in Birmingham? No! We can worry about who to blame later, for now we have to decide what to do.”
“But ma, there's nothing we can do,” Catriona said, tears still streaming down her face.
“Rubbish!” Realising she sounded harsh, she softened her voice, took her daughter's hand and said: “Caty, we will do our best to find her, that I can promise you.” Then she instructed us all to sit down. “And I want you all to think of places she may have gone to, places she liked.”
“She loved the walk along the river,” Rob said. “That was where I first met her. She was sat on the bench playing her guitar.” Then, realising she hadn't taken Frankie with her, he started sobbing.
Morag smiled at Rob. “Thanks, that's a start. It's worth checking out, but she would probably have walked if that's where she was going. Anyone else got any thoughts?”
I said: “There's quite a few places she used to walk to, but she wouldn't be able to drive there, because there's no roads to them.”
We were all silent for a few moments, then Catriona said: “I wonder...”
“Wonder what, darling?” her mother asked.
“Well, you know that beach you used to take us to when I was a bairn?” Morag nodded, and Catriona continued: “Not so long ago when we were all feeling miserable I took Kathleen and Brendan there.”
“That's right!” I exclaimed, nodding vigorously. “I remember what a wonderful day it was. And Kathleen loved it. Perhaps, just perhaps...”
Catriona jumped up. “Of course, she could have gone there. You're right, she did love it.”
Morag smiled. “Yes, we had some magical days there. In English it's called the Fairy Beach, because according to legend its white sand, dunes and rocks were swept there by the Fin Folk, the Sea Gardeners, who had no use for them. It's said that on clear moonlit nights if you're very quiet you can hear the Sea Gardeners sweeping more sand and rock onto the shore. You think she might have gone there?”
Both Catriona and I said yes at the same time.
Morag stood up. “Right. It's worth a try.” She looked outside. “It's getting dark, so better take some torches with us. Also, we'd better take some blankets and a flask of hot tea: if she's there she'll need warming up. Caty, you make some tea. Brendan, get some blankets, warm clothes and torches together.” Turning to her husband, she said: “You and Rob had better stop here just in case that useless lump John MacAlister does ring back. You can tell him what the note said and where we've gone. Oh, and on the way to Fairy Beach we'll check the car park next to the river just in case she took the car there. And we'll take our Range Rover. It'll hold us all and we'll be able to get nearer to the beach.”
We got on with our allotted tasks, relieved to be doing something.
She drove like Stirling Moss, taking no account of the dark or the risk of a collision with deer, hardly slowing down at bends and junctions. I'd never been driven so fast before and I hoped I never would again. Catriona asked her mother several times to slow down, but she ignored her. Even when we reached the narrow track with grass growing down the middle she kept her speed up. She came to halt in front of the dilapidated gate.
“There!” Catriona screamed. “Look, there's our car. She must be here.” She hugged her mother and kissed her, before jumping out and opening the gate. She got back into the vehicle and Morag continued to drive, though much more slowly. She stopped as close to the sand dunes as was safe and we got out, switched on our torches and made our way down to the beach as quickly as we could. I carried the rucksack containing blankets, flask of hot tea, bottle of water and some sandwiches and chocolate.
It was a rare clear night with a crescent moon and a multitude of stars visible in the sky and giving an unearthly glow to the white sand. No wonder there were myths about fairies, I thought. It would be all too easy to imagine all sorts of creatures and spirits burrowing in the dunes or slithering on the sand. An involuntary shiver ran through me. Get a grip, I told myself, but I stuck close to Catriona and Morag.
We stopped at the base of the dunes, unsure what direction to take and painfully aware we could easily miss her. Again, Morag took charge. “When you came here with her, was there a particular spot she seemed to like?”
“All of it,” Catriona replied.
“That's not very helpful,” Morag said.
Catriona's voice was breaking as she said: “Ma, I'm doing my best.”
Morag had the grace to apologise and she put an arm round her daughter. “I'm sorry,” she said. Looking around her, she added: “I've never been here at night. It really does look very different.”
“I've got a whistle,” I said, reaching into my pocket. “There's not much wind tonight, and I've heard that sound travels further in the dark. Perhaps we should walk from one end of the beach to the other blowing the whistle and calling her name.”
“Providing she can hear us,” Catriona mumbled.
“Let's not think the worst just yet,” Morag told her. Turning to me, she said: “Okay, let's try it. But let's keep well away from the water. I don't know what the tide times are at the moment.”
We walked along the beach, following the line of the dunes, waving our torches from side to side, shouting her name and blowing the whistle until we reached the cliffs to the north. With shouts of “do be careful” following me, I scrambled up some of the lower rocks, waving my torch and looking for any signs of life. Nothing. I scrambled back down and, still shouting her name, waving our torches and blowing the whistle, we retraced our steps and then continued to the cliffs at the southern boundary of the beach.
We stopped when we heard noises behind us. Turning round, we saw lights moving towards us. As they got nearer I recognised Malcolm, Rob and the local bobby John. Malcolm explained that John had rung as soon as he'd arrived for his shift and, when the situation was explained to him, he'd come round immediately.
“I've got an ambulance on standby, just in case.” John said.
“Least you could do,” Catriona yelled at him, thumping him in the chest. “This is all your fault. I just hope we're not too late.”
Morag pulled her daughter off John and, holding her close, said: “I hope you're proud of yourself, John.” She paused, then continued: “We've seen no sign of her yet, but we've still got a lot of the beach to search.”
Catriona shushed us, saying she thought she'd heard something. We listened in silence, and I heard groans coming from the dunes. “Over there,” I yelled, pointing to where the sound had come from.
We found Kathleen half buried in the dunes, her face covered in sand, retching. On seeing her, Kathleen fell to the ground and hugged her, saying over and over “Thank God, oh, thank God.” We were about to move her to a more comfortable position when John shouted at us to leave her where she was.
“We don't know what damage, if any, she's sustained, and it might be dangerous to move her. Just clear her mouth and nose of any sand, cover her with a blanket and stay with her while I get the ambulance staff here.”
I asked if it was okay to give her some hot tea or cold water. “Yes, but make sure she doesn't drink too much. If she refuses it, don't force her.” He retraced his steps back to the path through the dunes. Morag poured some tea from the flask into a cup, adding some cold water so it wasn't too hot, before holding it up to Kathleen's mouth. She took a small sip and thanked her.
Catriona knelt by Kathleen, holding her hand and telling her how much she loved her. “When I saw your note, I was more frightened than I've ever been in my whole life,” she said. “I thought I'd lost you. I thought, oh God, I thought you'd – you'd...” Unable to finish the sentence, she gently kissed her.
After taking another small sip of tea, Kathleen whispered: “I'm sorry for all the fuss I've caused. I can't seem to do any fucking thing right.” Still holding Catriona's hand, she closed her eyes.
Panicking, Catriona wanted to wake Kathleen, but Morag told her to let her sleep. “We'll keep an eye on her, make sure she's okay.” We heard people and looking round saw John approaching us with two ambulance staff carrying a stretcher. Catriona insisted in travelling in the ambulance with Kathleen, the rest of us, apart from John, following in Morag's Range Rover. When John said he would need to take a statement at some stage, Catriona looked daggers at him. He turned away, mumbling something about only doing his job, then sloped off to his police car.
Initially, the hospital staff were reluctant to tell us anything because none of us were relatives, and they refused to recognise her relationship with Catriona. It was only when Kathleen herself demanded that Catriona be allowed to be with her they relented. They told us Kathleen had some bruising and was suffering from mild hypothermia. She was kept in overnight for observation and discharged the following morning. She was still groggy and, despite the discomfort of six of us crowded into the Range Rover, slept for much of the journey. After we arrived home, Rob said he'd better check on his mother and Morag and Malcolm told us they would collect the car Kathleen had driven to the beach.
Catriona hugged her parents, thanking them. “No problem,” Morag said. “We've got to check on the farm and make sure everything's okay. Then we'll come back. And don't take any crap from John.”
Malcolm looked thoughtful and said to his daughter: “You know, he's probably the laziest bobby in the whole of Scotland, so what I don't understand is why he went to all the trouble of arresting two people for something that shouldn't be anyone else's business.”
“I do,” Catriona said. “One word: Andrew.” Her parents looked puzzled. “I'll explain everything later, but I know it was him who was responsible.” She paused. “Okay, briefly. Brendan had a bit of a fling with him. Then when he realised how unpleasant Andrew could be, he finished with him. Andrew was just proving how nasty he is.”
Morag's stared at her daughter, open mouthed. “You mean he's gay! After everything he's said, he's gay himself.” She burst out laughing. “Sorry, Caty, but... Wait till that gets out.” She was still giggling as they left.
I wasn't sure how happy I was at everyone knowing about me and Andrew, but when I said this to Catriona she just shrugged her shoulders and told me she had every intention of making sure everyone in Strathdubh knew just how evil Andrew was. “He's not going to get away with this.” There was a steel in her voice, a determination she had probably inherited from her mother.
Kathleen, who had been dozing in her favourite armchair, opened her eyes and asked what we'd been talking about. “Nothing much,” Catriona said. “We were all just worried about you.”
“Fuck that. Don't lie to me.”
I looked at Catriona and said: “We'll get no peace until we tell her.”
So Catriona briefly told her about Andrew. “The statement we make to John is going to be very interesting.”
For the first time in what seemed weeks, Kathleen grinned. Then the smile faded from her face. “I'm sorry for what I put you through, I don't know what came over me.”
Catriona sat on the arm of the chair and put her arm around Kathleen. “Don't worry. You're back now. Do you feel like telling us what happened?”
“I don't remember much about it. I remember getting in the car and I remember getting out near the beach, but most of it's a blank. I do recall standing at the top of one of the dunes, and I remember lying on the beach with you holding my hand, but not much in between. I don't fucking know whether I fell or jumped. I'm really sorry about all I put you through.”
“Do you remember writing a note and attaching it to Frankie?” Catriona showed it to her.
She shook her head. “Fuck, no I don't. Shit, that looks like a suicide note.” She looked bewildered and, pulling Catriona to her, said: “God, what a bitch I am. How could I fucking put you through all that? It's unforgivable.”
Catriona gave her a peck on the cheek, saying: “Nothing's ever unforgivable. Anyway there's nothing to forgive.” We were aware Kathleen was having problems keeping her eyes open. “Come on, girl, we'd better get you to bed.” Catriona helped her to her feet and together we helped her up the stairs.
3
By the time John came to take a statement, Morag and Malcolm had returned, and Malcolm had made a couple of calls. Once he'd been installed in an armchair with a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits before him and after a bit of small talk, he produced his pad. “I'll need to speak to Kathleen, of course. But I can do that a bit later if she's resting. But for now perhaps I can get a statement from each of you.”
Morag smiled at him, her sweetest, most saccharine false smile. “I'm sure there'll be no need for all that, John. I'm sure we can come to an understanding.”
John shook his head. “I've got a job to do, you know.”
“Yeah, just like you had a job to do when you arrested Brendan and Graham.” The sneering sarcasm in Catriona's comment dripped from her lips like poison.
“That's right. I'm sure you wouldn't let any of the kids you teach misbehave, now would you? I have to uphold the law.”
“Fat chance of me ever teaching again, thanks to you.”
John puffed himself up like a peacock does his feathers when looking for a mate. “Well, you should have thought about that before. Teachers are supposed to set an example.”
“As are police officers,” added Morag, the saccharine smile still on her face.
“What do you mean?”
Morag nodded to Malcolm, who said: “Come on, John, let's cut out all the shit. I've just been speaking to David Fritton. You know, our solicitor. He reckons you should never have arrested Brendan and Graham.”
“But they were in bed together when we arrested them. That's still against the law in Scotland. You know that.”
Malcolm was shaking his head. “There's no law that says two men can't sleep together.”
“But I caught them at it!”
“At what, exactly?”
“Well, you know, buggery.”
“How do you know that?”
“I saw them! Look, I'm not here to answer questions, but to ask them.”
“Suit yourself, John,” Malcolm said, “but if I were you I would think very carefully. You don't want to be tarred with the same brush as Andrew, now do you?”
“What's Andrew got to do with this?” He looked around the room at each of us, concern verging on panic on his face. “Look, I told you, I saw them.”
Malcolm shrugged his shoulders. “Did you actually see them having sex? Did you take the sheets away to check for stains? No, I thought not. So you don't actually have any evidence, and David tells me that under Scots law you require corroboration.”
“But neither of them have denied what took place.” He turned to me and said: “Perjury's a crime you know. If when it comes to court you lie, you'll really be in trouble. So why don't you just tell me what happened.”
I stared at him. “No comment,” was all I said.
Malcolm took a bite of a biscuit, wiped some crumbs from his shirt and said: “I don't think it'll come to court, John. You really wouldn't want the world to know that Andrew persuaded you to arrest these two innocent men, particularly as Andrew himself is a homosexual.”
“What! What!” John forced a laugh. “Andrew queer? I don't believe it.”
Malcolm looked at me. I nodded. “What would you say if I told you Andrew made a pass at me?”
“I wouldn't believe you.”
I turned to Malcolm. “What did the editor of the local paper say was the deadline for news items?”
Malcolm looked at his watch. “Only half an hour away.” He stood up and went to the phone. “I'd better ring him before it's too late. I'm sure he'll be interested in a story about the local bobby colluding with a closet homosexual to charge two innocent men. He'll probably want to know how Andrew persuaded him to do it.” He paused for a moment, then turned to John. “How did he persuade you? After all, you're not normally so keen on doing your job. So tell us.”
John stood up, knocking over the tray of biscuits. “Please don't make that call. Please.” He sat back down, his face white and his body shaking.
Malcolm replaced the handset on its cradle. He sat down opposite John and, saying nothing, just looked at him. Eventually, John broke the silence. “Look, it's not up to me. I don't have the authority to drop the charges. That's up to the procurator fiscal.”
“But there's been no charges yet, as I understand it. At least, that's what David told me. And he should know.”
Defeated, John slumped in the chair in silence. After a while he looked up and asked: “What's going to happen to me?”
Morag rose, stepped towards him and looking down sneered: “If I had my way you'd be out on your ear, with no job and virtually unemployable.” She looked like she was about to spit in his face, but changed her mind.
Malcolm laughed. “You're lucky it's not up to Morag. What happens to you is now up to you. No doubt the press will want to know why they aren't being charged. You could just tell them your informant was wrong, but that's entirely in your hands. And don't forget who got you into this mess: Andrew.”
“But I've got no comeback against Andrew. I can't arrest him just because of what Brendan said.”
“Didn't stop you arresting me and Graham, did it?” I told him. I continued in a quieter, more placatory voice: “Still, much as I despise what he's done, I wouldn't want anyone arrested for being gay.”
Malcolm grinned. “But we do have plans for him. By the time we've finished his reputation will be in shreds.”
After John left, I poured each of us a dram and Catriona went upstairs to tell Kathleen the good news. A few minutes later, the two of them reappeared. Although still tired, Kathleen was grinning from ear to ear. She looked at the glasses we were holding and said: “Where's my fucking drink?” then burst out laughing.
I phoned Graham to tell him we were in the clear. “I'm sorry it all led to you being forced to give up your vocation, though.”
“Oh, don't worry about that. It would have happened sooner or later, because I love you too much to give you up. And I couldn't live with you and be a priest.” While we were talking he said he worried about us living in Strathdubh. “We could still end up being arrested”.
I agreed with him, adding: “And there are plenty of people up here who've made it clear they've got no time for us.” I paused before continuing. “I suppose they could get used to us in time, but until then they could make life very difficult for us.”
“That's what I was thinking,” he said, “and I also got the impression that some people took a dislike to me because of my colour.”
I agreed, saying: “I can't understand why people can't just let others get on with their lives without interfering. But what about Kathleen and Catriona? Given how much Catriona's parents have done for us, we can't just walk away. Besides I'd miss them.”
“So would I,” he said. “But wherever we go, whatever we do, they could come with us if they wanted. They can play their music anywhere, and once the publicity has died down Catriona may be able to rebuild her teaching career.”
“Sounds good to me. I'll see what they think.”
I did discuss it with them, and they agreed it would be for the best if we moved away, even if it was only for a time. We talked about how we could manage it and Catriona came up with an idea, one that would need the help of her parents. I rang Graham who also thought it was great providing we could make it happen.
Chapter Thirty-Two: Morag
1
I can't pretend to understand how a woman can fall in love with another woman; I can't understand how it works physically or emotionally. But I do know what it feels like to have my parents reject the person I fell in love with, to threaten me and, when that didn't work, to disown me. It wasn't the sex of the love of my life that my parents objected to, it was his class. After all these years it still hurts.
When Caty was born I told myself I would never do to her what my parents did to me. I would love her and accept whoever she loved, no matter what. I never thought in my wildest dreams that she would fall in love with a woman, and not just any woman but one who had been a prostitute. When she told me, and I know how much it must have cost her to do that, I was shocked. My initial emotion was one of anger, that she must be deranged and she was throwing away her future.
Then a voice inside me told me not to behave like my parents, so I ended up hugging her, crying with her and telling her we would love and support her, no matter what.
No-one was going to hurt Caty like I'd been hurt. I made that vow the day she was born when I held this life, this new miracle, to me. Anyone who attempted to hurt her would have me to deal with.
As Andrew was about to find out.
We couldn't prove Andrew was responsible for what happened to Caty and her friends, at least not without implicating John. Our local bobby may have been thick and lazy, but he was never malicious and in a way he may also have been a victim of Andrew. But a few words in the right places and we could destroy Andrew.
The leader of the council, Brian, was a golfing friend of Malcolm's. I'd always thought golf to be one of the silliest games: wasting half a day trying to hit a tiny ball into a tiny hole using a narrow stick. Brian's wife, Helen, felt the same, so while the two fully grown boys chased balls around the course, Helen and I would meet up for long chats accompanied with either tea and cakes or, if neither of us were driving, gin and tonics. They were also farmers, but much bigger ones than we were. They employed enough workers to enable him to concentrate on his council work and her to spend much of her time as a volunteer for the Samaritans.
When we told Brian what we knew about Andrew, he was quiet for a few moments. Then he said: “I've never particularly liked him, but in politics we don't get to choose who we work with.” He played with his beard, a sure sign he was deep in thought, before saying: “There's lots of people who are scared of him, he's probably aware of skeletons in their cupboards and using that to get his way. Also, I suspect he's been using contacts he's made in the planning department to get work for his firm.” He smiled. “Leave it to me. And I guarantee not to involve Catriona and her friends. I'm just sorry I can't do anything about getting her supply teaching contract back.”
We thanked him. I also said I hoped he didn't think we were abusing our friendship. He roared with laughter. “Not at all,” he said. “I've wanted an excuse to be rid of the bastard.” He lowered his voice. “In any case this is personal now. I hope I can trust you not to reveal what I'm about to tell you.” We reassured him he could trust us. “I thought so, and sorry for having to ask. You know my eldest son, the one who's now living in Manchester? You know he's never married, never even had a girlfriend.”
Helen looked uncomfortable. “Are you sure we should be telling them this, darling?”
“If we can't trust Malcolm and Morag, then who can we trust? Last time he came home, he told us why he's never had a girlfriend, why he's not interested in them. He told us he had found someone, but she wasn't a woman.” He paused for a few moments. “I'm ashamed of how I reacted. Thoroughly ashamed of myself. I lost my temper, said lots of things I shouldn't have said. Things that can't be unsaid.”
Helen linked her arm in his, saying: “But it was such a shock, darling. A shock to both of us.”
“Yes, dear, it was. But that's no excuse for the things I said. You didn't react like that, dear.” He returned his gaze to us. “Oh, we've made it up since, but I still feel ashamed of myself. I despise everything Andrew stands for, and I despise the way he's behaved towards your Catriona and her friends, but I won't be using his homosexuality as a stick to beat him with: that would make me almost as much of a hypocrite as he is. Besides, there'll be no need.”
Brian was true to his word. Without giving a reason, Andrew stood down from his council seat. There were rumours he'd been forced to do so because of planning office irregularities, rumours that appeared to be substantiated when his business stopped getting council contracts and he had to lay staff off. He struggled on for eighteen months, but was finally forced into bankruptcy after tax inspectors discovered he'd been fiddling his books and cheating the Inland Revenue. A group of his former employees got together, bought the company's assets and soon earned the trust of people. The new company employed Rob to run the office. Thanks to Kathleen, as well as giving up the booze, he'd also gone to college where he not only improved his literacy, but showed an aptitude for maths. He'd also tidied himself up and got some dentures. Many people were surprised at his transformation. Kathleen might swear a lot and be grumpy much of the time, but Strathdubh and Rob have a lot to thank her for.
2
A few days after we found Kathleen on Fairy Beach, Catriona invited me and Malcolm round for dinner. Kathleen was much quieter than normal and still looked pale, but otherwise seemed to be on the road back to her usual self. Both of us were concerned that, in view of what had happened, life in Strathdubh could be difficult for them, and we agreed it might be for the best if they moved away, even if only temporarily. We knew they had a fair amount saved up, but we also knew that wouldn't last long, so we had discussed ways of helping them. Relaxing over dinner and a few drinks could provide the ideal opportunity to talk to them about their futures.
Little did we know they too had been thinking along similar lines. After we'd finished the main course I noticed Brendan and Kathleen looking over at Caty, who gave them a little nod of the head. She looked at Malcolm and said: “Da, much as it's wonderful living so close to you and ma, after everything that's happened, we don't think we can stay in Strathdubh. We love it here, but we can't live here, at least not until things have quietened down a bit.” She paused to take a sip of wine.
“We've been thinking the same thing,” I said to her.
“Great minds,” she said, grinning. “We've got a favour to ask you. We thought – and that includes Graham – we thought it would be nice to get away for a while, do a bit of travelling round the country, live like gypsies for a while. And while we're doing that, we can think about what we're going to do in the future. So we were wondering if we could borrow your campervan. I know you don't use it very often. We were just wandering.” Her voice tailed off.
“I can't see any reason why not,” Malcolm said. “After all, as you say, we don't use it very often and it just takes up space. These days when we get away we prefer the comfort of a nice hotel. You'd be doing us a favour, really.”
With the biggest grin I'd seen on her face for a long time, Caty jumped up and hugged Malcolm. “Thanks, da,” she said. “And while we're away, you could rent out our cottage as a holiday let and keep the rent as payment for the use of the campervan.”
I was having none of that. “No way,” I said. The look Caty gave me told me she hadn't understood me, that I hadn't expressed myself clearly enough. “I mean, no way are we going to take any money for the use of the campervan. You're all welcome to use it for as long as you want, and any rent we get from the cottage we'll pass on to you.” It was my turn to get a hug from Caty.
Graham had told Brendan he would be arriving back in Strathdubh within a week. He said he had found homes for most of his belongings, but he just didn't feel he could part with his books. Brendan said: “He told me his books were to him what music was to Kathleen. He was hoping there would be somewhere in Strathdubh he could store most of them, just taking a few of them with us.”
Caty turned to us and asked: “He can store them in my old room at the farmhouse, can't he? Please.”
I smiled at her and said: “Of course he can, Caty.”
“I do wish you wouldn't call me that. It's so childish,” she pouted.
I grinned. “Listen, young lady. It's one of the privileges of being a mother that we are allowed to embarrass our children even when they're adults. So you'll always be Caty to me.”
Kathleen burst out laughing, followed by the others and eventually Caty had no choice but to join in. “Oh, dear,” Kathleen said between guffaws, “I think I'll call you Caty from now on.”
Caty thumped her arm playfully. “Just you dare.” This led to more hilarity.
3
The day arrived when they left. We had the campervan serviced and filled it with fuel, and they had cleaned and refitted it. When I asked where they were going first, they just shrugged and said wherever the fancy took them.
“Until I came to Strathdubh, all I'd ever seen of the world was Birmingham,” Kathleen said, “and even there it was mainly the less pleasant parts of the city. There's so many places I want to see in this country.”
“Same here,” said Brendan.
“And Kathleen and I can always earn money busking or passing the hat round in folk clubs.” Caty said, adding: “Our post office account is healthy, anyway.”
Brendan said: “If we stop in one place long enough, I can always take a bar job for a while.”
Graham looked downcast, so I asked him what was up. “Oh, nothing,” he replied, forcing a smile. Later, when I got him on his own, he admitted that he felt like a bit of a freeloader. “The others all have skills that can earn us money, but I don't. Who's going to want an ex-priest who's never done anything else?”
I told him not to be silly, that he'd already contributed a lot and I was sure he would continue to do so. “There's more ways of being useful than just earning money.”
He thanked me, but added: “It's not just that. I'm so much older than the rest, over ten years older.”
“I wouldn't worry about that. It's not age that's important, but how two people feel about each other. Do you realise how happy you make Brendan?”
I think we all shed a tear when they left. I continued waving long after the van was no longer visible. “I hope they'll be okay,” I said to Malcolm.
He put his arm around me. “They're all adults. They have to find their own way in the world. And our daughter is strong, just like you. They'll face problems, of course they will. But just like us, they'll find ways of overcoming them.” He kissed me.
A couple of months after they'd left, a letter from the diocesan office in Birmingham arrived for Graham. Caty had agreed to ring me every Friday just so I knew they were okay, and the next time she rang I told her about the letter. She put Graham on. “I don't know what's in it,” I said. “Do you want me to forward it anywhere?”
“No, that's okay. Can you open it and read it to me? It's probably nothing important.”
Inside the large A4 envelope was a compliment slip and an envelope with Graham's name and instructions to forward it on. I told him it was from someone called Theresa and then read it to him over the phone:
Dear Father,
I know you're no longer a priest, but with your permission I will still call you Father. I just wanted you to know how grateful both me and Karen are for your help. It was wonderful to find out that crook Norman was in prison. I don't know how you managed to get him arrested without revealing our secret, but thank you. Also, I thought you might like to know that after our conversation, I spoke to Karen again, and she has decided to have the baby. That baby will be spoilt rotten, I can tell you, and will be loved by both mum and grandparents.
Thank you for everything. You are a good man.
God be with you wherever you go,
Theresa.
About the Author
Born in Manchester in 1951, Kevin Crowe has lived in the Highlands since 1999. A writer of fiction, poetry and non-fiction, he has had his work published in various magazines, journals and websites. He also writes regularly for the Highland monthly community magazine Am Bratach and for the Highland LGBT magazine UnDividing Lines.