right to know such things. How had we grown so far apart?
‘You heard?’ The words seemed feeble, pathetic even.
She nodded. ‘Catherine bumped into her in the Co-op.’
It was a small city. I tended to forget that.
‘Well, yes… it’s over. Has been some time now.’
She rubbed harder at my arm. ‘Maybe you’ll get back together… again.’
I sensed the hope in her voice. She had every right to expect we’d patch things up – we had done it so many times in the past; but never again. I shook my head. ‘No, not this time, Mam… not this time.’
She stood up. ‘Well, they say time’s a great healer… Give it time, son.’ She walked towards the kitchen. ‘Will I make us some coffee? I know you don’t like tea.’
I nodded, and watched her turn away from me. She walked stiffly, uncomfortable with the rheumatism in her hips.
Alone in the room I couldn’t bear to have my father’s eyes upon me, I rose and turned over his picture. As I touched it I saw that my hand had started to tremble again. I reached into the pocket of my tweed jacket and removed a can of Guinness, took a quick belt. I chased it with a lengthier blast as my mother walked in carrying a tray with cups. I spluttered and removed the can from my mouth.
‘Sorry, I’m virtually off it.’ It was a lie and she knew it. She’d given up trying to stop me drinking; hadn’t everyone. I put the can away and she went back through to the kitchen to wait for the kettle to boil.
My mind was racing. Whenever I came back to this place I felt a flood of memories assail me. The time I remembered most prominently now was the day my father died. He’d been up in his bed, confined indoors with a weak heart, but it hadn’t stopped him roaring and shouting at my mother with every ounce of breath in him. She had taken it all too; had trotted up those stairs like the doting wife of old. Why? I wanted to know why she never left him. Surely we would have all been better without him.
She came through with the pot of coffee, placed it on the tray. I thought about pouring the cups out, but in my current condition, knew I’d spill the lot. I waited until she offered me a cup, my hand remained thankfully steady as I took it.
‘So, you look well,’ I said.
She smiled, knew she wanted to say,
I wondered if that was a dig at me being absent for so long. Thought better of it – knew my mam didn’t have it in her for digs. She was as close to the perfect human being as you could get; perhaps that’s why her suffering hurt me so much.
‘Mam, I’ve been thinking a lot…’ I stalled, looked out the window. Could I really do this? My mind wandered off track, a long silence stretched out between us.
‘Yes, son?’
I turned back, refocused. Her face looked open and approachable. ‘Mam, I’ve had some time to think… a lot of time, actually, since the split from Debs.’
Mam sipped her coffee. ‘Is that so wise?’
‘What? I mean, I know… thinking’s never a good idea, is it?’
She seemed to agree but gave nothing away. Did she sense what I was here to ask her? The thought slayed me. I knew my mother had been through enough grief in her life – now she was old, she had earned her peace. Who was I to come here and disrupt that? And for what? To satisfy my ego, to let me sleep better at night? Christ on a bike, if any one of us deserved to sleep soundly it was her. I couldn’t bring up the past in this house again. She deserved better.
She put down her coffee, clasped her fingers together, spoke: ‘These walls have seen a lot over the years, have they not?’ It was as if she knew what I was thinking, what it was I needed to know. ‘At times these walls felt like a prison to me, Angus…’
‘They did?’
‘Oh, I think they felt like that for us all.’
I knew what she meant, but we had never spoken about him like this. It felt strange to be treading towards this territory. ‘Mam, why?’
‘Why what? Why did I stay with him? Why didn’t I take you all away to safety… somewhere else?’
The words faltered on my lips. ‘I-I guess so…’
My mother looked at me, but at the same time seemed to be staring straight through me. ‘Where to, Angus? I had nowhere to go… Back to my family? Oh, I tried. They sent me back to him… It wasn’t the done thing, then. You didn’t leave a marriage, not when you had children. I had no choice.’ Suddenly her eyes flickered. It was as if she sensed I wanted more. ‘Angus… it would have made no difference, he would have found us. He would have found us wherever we went.’
She made him sound like a monster; my own mother conceded that my father’s actions had harmed us all. She knew all we had suffered at his hand, she knew Catherine and I were still damaged and confused children at heart and she knew it was all because of him.
‘Mam, do you remember the night I had to call the ambulance?’ There had been many nights I’d had to call the ambulance, but only one like this. ‘For you.’
Her face changed shape; she seemed to straighten her back. She spoke through pinched lips: ‘I remember it, yes.’ It was hard for her to find any words. I didn’t want to make her speak. I didn’t want to force her to tell me the answer to the question I had carried around with me for decades.
I stood up. ‘I should go, Mam.’
She watched me rise. ‘Your father had something inside him, Angus… a dark place that he couldn’t escape. No matter what good he had in his life, the darkness was always there.’
I knew what she was trying to say.
‘Mam, I have to go… I’m sorry to-’
She placed a hand on my face. It felt soft and cold. ‘I know you have the same dark place inside of you, son… but you have a better heart than him. Please, son… try and listen to that heart of yours, and not the other place.’
Chapter 28
I MADE MY WAY TO the Regent, ordered in a pint of Guinness. Got some looks from a fruity boy at the bar in a boy band get-up, all low-cut T-shirt, tight waistcoat and skinny jeans. I gave him a smile, a good wide view of my gaping mouth. He turned tail. Couldn’t say I was taken with the place, but at least it looked like a drinker and not a gay bar. Don’t know what I expected – men with handlebar moustaches dancing to ‘YMCA’ maybe? – but this place seemed down to earth. I made a note to stop flying to all kinds of conclusions about people based on their personal make-up. I knew that now, more than ever, I needed to put the brakes on my assumptions. Ben Laird’s murderer – and likely Calder’s – was still out there. If I was to get to the root of these killings, I’d have to sweep aside every silver-spooned animus I harboured.
Took a seat at the front window and kept an eye out for Fitz. My mind was working overtime; surprisingly, since my visit to my mam, I felt rejuvenated. Was in a ‘glass is half full’ as opposed to ‘half empty’ mood. But I knew it wouldn’t last long. I had stopped worrying about whether the man I called father had actually fathered me; but the realisation that I
I knew exactly what my mother had meant about the dark place. It was the Black Dog. It had leapt from him onto me and I had never been able to shake the bastard. Debs knew it was there, and that’s why she had left. I knew I had no chance of a reconciliation with her, like my mother had hinted at; I knew I didn’t even want that now. More and more my mind was turning to Amy. I had been worried about her at first, but now she was becoming a full-time concern. Hoped I wasn’t substituting her for Debs – that would lead to no good, guaranteed.
I changed tack, kept my mind focused on the job at hand. Tried to weigh up the news Rasher had delivered. A
