Goodmans of Glassford Street (18 page)

Then he went into the store and upstairs to report to Mrs Goodman. Or Benson if Mrs Goodman wasn’t around. He didn’t know what was up with her recently. You could never depend on where she was or what she was doing. It wasn’t like her. Maybe she was getting too old for the job. She must be close to sixty by now.

After making some phone calls and collecting some papers and his order book, he returned outside and picked up his car from the multi-storey car park. There was no sign of Viv. No doubt she would be away to the station to find out about the quickest train to South Castle-on-Sea.

It was too bad that it hadn’t been the summer season. She would have been tied to The Floral and not able to travel around pestering him. It was just his bad luck it had all blown up during the winter when she’d nothing better to do.

He tried to put her out of his mind as he drove down south. He concentrated on his driving. Or at least he tried to. But every now and again, she would intrude into his thoughts again. Even when he thought about plans for Christmas. He simply must get the problem of Viv solved once and for all during this visit to South Castle-on-Sea. She must not be allowed to control and spoil his and his family’s Christmas. They always had such a happy time. The girls were at home and the house was always beautifully decorated. The Christmas tree in the corner of the sitting room sparkled with light and there were presents piled at the foot of it. They had Christmas lunch as a family, but in the evening friends arrived for a Christmas party with everyone raising their champagne glasses and wishing each other a merry Christmas. Then there would be the other happy celebrations at New Year when they visited friends.

No way was he going to allow Viv to spoil all that. What on earth did she think she would get out of it? Did she actually believe that she would get him to go back and sleep with her at her B. & B.?

No, it was surely just badness and malice and a determination for revenge. Why hadn’t he seen she was a woman like that right from the start? He cursed himself for being such a gullible idiot.

Once in South Castle-on-Sea, he went straight to The Floral and banged on the door. There was no reply and the front windows were in darkness. He went round the back. Darkness again. Nevertheless, he thumped his fist against the back door. No reply. If she had been in, she would have opened the door. She would not have missed a chance of speaking to him and probably trying to entice him in. The only thing he could think of was that she had missed the train and hadn’t yet arrived in South Castle-on-Sea.

He decided to attend to business and then come back to The Floral later.

He saw his inventor first and then one of the wholesalers. After that, he went back to The Floral and tried the doors again. Still nothing. He had got back into his car and was sitting wondering whether to wait there or go for something to eat, when his mobile rang. It was Moira, in obvious distress.

‘Darling, what’s wrong?’

She started to sob so much, she couldn’t speak for what seemed an eternity.

‘Moira, for God’s sake, what’s happened?’

‘The house is on fire. The fire brigade are trying to put the fire out but it’s too late. Everything’s up in flames. Everything’s gone.’

‘Are you and the girls all right?’ he shouted back in panic.

‘Yes, thank God, we were along the road visiting the Davidsons. We saw the flames from there and phoned the fire brigade and the police. I’ve told the police about her. It could only be your madwoman who’s done this. I’ve told the police everything. You obviously hadn’t the guts to do it.’

‘Moira!’ He was heartbroken. ‘You did the right thing, darling. I’m on my way. I’ll be with you as soon as I can.’

He tossed the phone aside, put his foot down and the car shot forward into the darkness. He could have wept. His whole life was shattered. He would have told the Glasgow police himself, only he had believed that the threat of reporting her behaviour to the police in South Castle-on-Sea and the local paper there would have been enough to stop Viv. She would have known that such publicity would have ruined her business. She would have given up as a result and left him and his family in peace. They would still have had their home. He would still have had his job. Now, if there was publicity in Glasgow about what had happened, he was sure of nothing. Except that he had been the root cause of everything. If he hadn’t met Viv, if he hadn’t slept with her, nothing else would have happened. God knows what she would say now. Probably she would claim that he had seduced her, forced her against her will, raped her, and ruined her reputation. He shuddered to think what lies her twisted mind would think up. There was no telling what she’d do or say, what she’d be capable of. The woman was mad.

There would have been no use waiting to speak to her, even if she’d escaped the police in Glasgow and was on her way to South Castle-on-Sea. Speaking to her, he realised now, would just have made matters worse. The tears were escaping now. He blinked them away so that he could see to drive home. Only this time he had no home to return to.

As soon as he got back to Glasgow, and then to Bearsden, the first thing he saw was the police standing outside the burnt-out shell of the house, and a tape stretched across the garden with the words ‘Crime Scene’. He drove further along to the Davidsons’ house and although it was the very early hours of the morning, he jumped out of his car and knocked loudly on the door. It was opened by Mrs Davidson wearing a white dressing gown. She stood aside to let him enter, saying, ‘The girls are in bed in the spare room but Moira wouldn’t go to bed. Hardly worthwhile, right enough. We’ve all been up half the night. She’s lying down on the settee in the sitting room.’

He strode across the hall and into the sitting room. A tearstained Moira rose up from the settee and he rushed over to gather her into his arms.

‘Oh, Moira.’

He held her close and she sobbed out the words, ‘She tossed aside the petrol can she used and the police got fingerprints. I saw her hanging about earlier and gave them her description. They picked her up at the railway station, in the waiting room.’

‘Well, thank God for that. At least she won’t be tormenting us any more.’

‘What are we going to do?’

‘I’ll book us into a hotel in town until we can organise something more permanent. Has everything in the house gone?’

She shook her head. ‘Probably. I don’t know. I can’t bear to look.’

‘I’ll see to that. Don’t worry. We’ll get over this.’

Mrs Davidson came into the room then, carrying a tray on which was a pot of tea and a plate of warm croissants. She set it down on a coffee table and poured a cup of tea for each of them. She said, ‘The fire brigade are not long gone. Everything’s safe now apparently. The fire is completely out, thank goodness. At one point, I was afraid it was going to spread.’

Moira drank her tea and dried her eyes.

‘She’s mad. Just as you said. Completely mad.’

‘Try not to think about it, darling. After I drink this tea, I’ll go along and have a look and see if I can salvage anything. That’s if the police will allow me at this stage. But if necessary, I’ll hire a van or whatever. I’ll also book us into a hotel.’

‘You’re welcome to stay here,’ Mrs Davidson said. ‘I can always make up a bed for the pair of you in here.’

‘No, no,’ Sam said. ‘You’ve been kind enough as it is and we’re more than grateful. If you could just look after my wife and daughters until I come back from town and have everything organised, that would be a help.’

‘Of course. Take as much time as you need.’

He gave Moira another hug and said, ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’ Then he hurried away. He spoke to one of the policemen still on guard in front of the house, before looking around. He could see that there were some things he could salvage, but that job would have to wait till the police were finished with their investigations. He drove from Bearsden into town and parked his car near the store. After checking with a few hotels, he managed to get a booking in the Millennium Hotel in George Square. There had been a last-minute cancellation and he was lucky he had arrived just at the right time. Lucky indeed, because it was a good hotel right next to the train station and not far from the store. Fronting the Square, the hotel had a large glass conservatory area where customers and residents could sit and watch everything that was going on in the square while drinking tea or coffee, or something stronger. And there was certainly plenty going on in the Square at the moment. He prayed it would help even in a small way to distract his family’s attentions from their troubles.

He hurried across the Square, skirting the ice rink and the Christmas tree, and then crossed the road towards Glassford Street. The store was not yet open and so he went and sat in his car until Mr McKay arrived and unlocked the front doors.

He was taken aback by Mr McKay’s appearance. He looked a different man. However, he was too taken up with his own problems to think about any Mr McKay might have. He had to go up to his office and get a few things sorted out, while waiting for Mrs Goodman to arrive. Then he would have to confess everything to her. Tell her the exact truth. The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. He’d apologise and say he’d have to take at least a couple of days off to settle his family in the hotel and to see if and when he could salvage anything from the wreck that had once been his home. He would also have to bring his family over to Goodmans to purchase clothes and whatever they needed while they were living in the hotel.

He had no idea what Mrs Goodman’s reaction would be but it was better if everything came from him, rather than have her read about it in the newspapers.

Whatever her reaction would be, he had to face it.

He braced himself.

By the time Miss Eden got upstairs, she had missed Mr McKay. No doubt he was already doing his usual round of the departments. She went into his office and immediately saw a sleeping bag lying on the floor. He must have taken it from the bedding department and slept in his office overnight. She groaned to herself. This obviously could not go on.

He had only reached the furniture department on the third floor when she found him. ‘Mr McKay, I need to have a private word right away. Can we go back upstairs to your office? Now,’ she added firmly.

He looked confused and she cupped his elbow in one hand and steered him towards the stairs.

‘This is not a good time, Miss Eden,’ he managed. ‘I’m very busy.’

She did not loosen her grip and they continued up the stairs and along the corridor to his office.

‘Really, Miss Eden,’ he protested, and tried to stop in his tracks outside the office door.

She opened it and forced him inside. She shut the door and faced him. ‘You cannot go on like this, Mr McKay. You’re liable to get the sack any day now. It’s a miracle you haven’t already been dismissed.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Yes, you do. I’m not a detective for nothing. I know all about you changing into shabby clothes and drinking with tramps. Drinking yourself silly. You’re well on the way to becoming an alcoholic and ruining your whole life. It must stop before anyone else finds out.’

To her acute embarrassment, he suddenly began to shake violently and sob.

‘Now, now.’ She tried to sound comforting. She patted his back. ‘I’ll help you. You’re going to be all right.’

‘How can I be? I can’t bear to go home. I can’t face life … I haven’t got any life without Jenny. I need a drink.’

‘No, you don’t.’ She hesitated, and then said, ‘You’ll come home with me until we get you properly over this. I’ve got a spare room. You’ll be safe and comfortable and you won’t be alone in the house. You’ll stay in my house until you get off drinking and are back to your old self again. I’ll help you. I’m going to make sure that you get over this and are strong and in charge of yourself again.’

He mopped his face with a handkerchief. ‘It’s no use, Miss Eden. It’s kind of you but you don’t understand …’

‘Mr McKay, give me your house keys. I’ll go over to your place right now and collect all you need. Your clothes and toilet gear and so on. Come on now. You’re going to get over this. It’ll just take a little time. Give me your keys.’

He groped in his pocket and came out with a keyring.

‘Thank you. Now, instead of going around the departments, stay here and catch up on some phone calls and paperwork. I’ll go and fill a suitcase with your things and take it to my flat. Then I’ll come back on duty. After you lock up, I’ll take you home with me to Springburn.’

He stared at her helplessly.

‘Come on.’ She steered him over to his desk. ‘Concentrate on some paperwork. Everything’s going to be all right. Believe me, it’ll just take a little time.’

She hoped she was right. He looked as if he needed a doctor or a psychiatrist. Or both. However, she couldn’t just let the man ruin his life as he was doing. Fancy Mr McKay – Mr McKay of all people – drinking himself unconscious with a crowd of tramps. Unable to do his job properly. Actually dossing down overnight in the store. Mr McKay had always been so conscientious and correct. An excellent and well-respected manager.

It just couldn’t be allowed to go on. Her solution seemed the only way. It certainly was the only way she could think of. It was with some frustration and impatience, however, that she made her way to Bishopbriggs. She could have done without a lodger, especially at this time of year. It was such an intrusion on her freedom and her comfortable routine. Tonight, for instance, was one of her karate nights. It was something she always enjoyed. It was important too that she kept fit and strong and efficient. That meant plenty of practice at karate. But of course, she daren’t leave Mr McKay alone in the house. Especially not on his first night. She got off the train at Bishopbriggs Station, and found she had quite a long walk through the main shopping area and beyond to reach Mr McKay’s villa. Inside, she was shocked at what she found. The place was littered with papers, clothes, empty wine bottles, dirty dishes and stale food.