The First Novels: Pay Off, the Fireman (6 page)

       
‘Damn you, when are you coming back to work?’

       
I rested my hand on her knee but she jerked it away angrily. ‘Soon,’ I said. ‘I only need a few more weeks, maybe a month.’

       
‘It’s been almost three months and that’s time enough for grieving. Getting back into harness would be the best thing for you.’

       
‘Yes, doctor.’

       
‘I mean it.’

       
‘I know you do. I’ll be back soon, I promise. How’s David?’

       
‘Missing you. Wants to know when he can live with you again. He keeps asking if you’re dead, too. Don’t leave him there too long – he panics. So do I.’ Then she smiled to herself and pressed the accelerator hard to the floor. Little girl lost, indeed.

       
‘They’re looking after him all right?’

       
‘Of course they are,’ she replied with a toss of her pony tail. ‘They’re professionals, and the sort of money you’re paying reflects that. The food’s better than I’m getting. I’m thinking of taking a few of our clients there instead of to the North British. The service is probably better, too.’

       
She spent the rest of the drive filling me in on business, whether or not I wanted to hear. I had other things on my mind but I listened with half an ear, nodded when she asked if I agreed with the way she was handling things and offered her a few words of advice. She was doing fine.

       
We pulled into the gravelled drive which curved in front of the grey stone building that was Shankland Hall only two hours after I’d landed at Edinburgh. Originally built as the private residence of a wealthy tobacco baron who decided to devote his retirement to the pursuit of country pastimes, it had been sold to pay off death duties just after the Second World War and was now one of the best, and most expensive, private nursing homes north of the border. Tucked away in a sheltered valley to the east of Pitlochry it’s a case of out of sight, out of mind for many of the residents, dumped there by uncaring relatives with money to spare. In David’s case, though, it was a temporary home, he wouldn’t be there long. I hoped.

       
He was waiting at the top of the stone steps leading to the large oak double doors, holding the arm of a nurse in a dazzlingly white starched uniform. He was jumping up and down with excitement and waving with his free hand. My daft brother.

       
As I got out of the car he left the nurse and ran down the steps to grab me around the neck, and he squeezed me so tight that I couldn’t breathe. ‘Missed you, missed you, missed you, missed you,’ he whispered into my ear. ‘Don’t go, don’t go, don’t go.’

       
‘It’s all right,’ I gasped, and reached behind my neck to unclasp his hands. I held them in front of me and looked into his brown eyes which were starting to fill with tears. ‘It’s all right, I’m here.’

       
A tear rolled down his plump cheek, dripped off his round chin and onto his blue linen trousers. David’s my younger brother, my only brother, and he’s nineteen years old. The only difference between David and you, me and the Duke of Edinburgh is that David was born with one extra chromosome in each of his cells, a tiny amount of genetic material that’s enough to throw his whole body out of kilter and produce a baby that will never, ever, grow up to be ‘normal’.

       
It happens in something like one out of every 660 births and they used to call them Mongols and now they call it Down’s Syndrome but David is David and that’s all there is to it. The doctors keep measuring his IQ and coming up with numbers between sixty and seventy which is bright for a Down’s Syndrome adult but so low as to deny him a life on his own, not that he’d want one.

       
He is happy, most of the time, and fun and affectionate and occasionally flashes of intuition would come shining through like a lighthouse beam slicing through fog.

       
Then he’d spoil it by trying to eat his soup with a fork and laugh because he knew full well what he was doing – teasing me. He’d hug me and ask me to promise never to leave him and I’d say I wouldn’t ever leave him for good and that he was safe with me. My daft brother.

       
‘Go and say hello to Shona,’ I said and pushed him away.

       
He rushed over to Shona and grabbed her from behind as she locked up the Rover, picked her off the ground and gave her a bear hug that made her gasp.

       
‘Put me down, David,’ she laughed. ‘You’re hurting.’ But he wasn’t, he knew his own strength and he knew by the way Shona was laughing that she was enjoying it. He giggled and put her down, seized her hand and then pulled her over to me and caught mine, linking the three of us together.

       
‘All for one,’ he shouted.

       
‘And one for all,’ we chorused. It was his favourite joke, but it was more than that, it bound us together and he knew that he could depend on us both.

       
Now he was laughing and giggling and squeezing my hand tight, swinging it back and forth. He’d been at Shankland Hall for about three months now, since the day after the funeral, and it wasn’t doing him any good, I could see that.

       
His eyes flicked nervously from face to face, eager to please and anxious not to offend. Even Shona’s visits weren’t enough and she was getting to see him every couple of days, but he wouldn’t be right until he was back in a house with me, knowing that I’d be home every night and there to read to him before he fell asleep.

       
‘Come on, David,’ I said. ‘Let’s go for a walk. Shona has to see the sister.’

       
‘Man talk,’ he giggled and released Shona’s hand. As we walked down the drive and over the close-cropped lawn he kept turning back to look at her like a spaniel being taken away from his owner, but the tight grip on my hand showed that he was glad to be with me.

       
The lawns sloped down to a string of trees, an oak, a sprinkling of silver birch and a line of conifers marking the path of a stream that meandered across the estate.

       
David sat with his back against the oak, scratching like a cat while I lay on the ground beside him, picking tufts of grass and shredding them, staining my fingers bright green. It was a fresh, clean day, the sort of day for a picnic, a day for playing football or for just lying by a stream tickling trout. ‘Shoes off,’ I yelled and helped him pull off his big black boots and roll up his trouser legs. I followed suit and we were soon up to our knees in the cold, sparkling water.

       
David stomped and splashed and got us both so wet we were in line for a row from the sister when we got back. He soon tired me out and I dragged him over to a large, dry rock in the middle of the stream and we sat there with our feet dangling in the water.

       
He draped his arm across my shoulders and rested the top of his head against my neck, breathing deeply as if he were fast asleep. His legs were swinging gently, making slow whirlpools in the stream and he was humming quietly to himself, a tuneless tune with no structure, no pattern. I began talking, he loved to be talked to, following the rhythm of speech even when he couldn’t always grasp the meaning. Empathy rather than understanding.

       
‘I’ve run into a problem, David,’ I said. ‘I found Get-Up McKinley easily enough – I told you I would. It took me a couple of weeks to track him down and make friends with him but now he’s on the payroll part-time. Sometimes he drives me about and sometimes I use him as a minder. It’s his first steady job in a long time. Oh, and I found out why he’s called Get-Up.’

       
I told him the story of how the unfortunate McKinley got lumbered with his nickname and he giggled, kicking water over me.

       
‘I’ve found a good man with a gun, too. His name’s Iwanek and he’s one of the paratroopers who fought in the Falklands but now he’s out of the army and he’s been working as a bodyguard. I’m going to have to be very careful with him, he’s very clever and very fit, if he decides to turn against me or to go it alone then I really will have problems.’

       
David looked worried and his grip tightened so I added quickly, ‘Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing, you know how carefully I’ve planned all this. Nothing can or will go wrong.’ He relaxed again. ‘Iwanek is providing his own gun and I’m going to give him a call when everything’s set up.

       
‘The car thief was easy, too. His name’s Dinah, that’s short for Dyna-Mo, and he’s the strangest looking young man you could imagine. Remember those punks we saw when we went shopping in Princess Street before Christmas?’ He nodded excitedly. ‘Well, he wears clothes like them, a black leather jacket with shiny chains and scruffy jeans with holes and tears. And his hair is purple and spikey and he’s got three gold earrings in one ear, like a pirate. But he’s bright and there’s nothing he doesn’t know about cars and let’s face it, who’d believe that a purple-haired punk was a top car thief?’

       
‘Not me,’ he laughed. ‘He sounds fun.’

       
‘Funny he is, but I’m not so sure about him being fun. He takes his work seriously and he’s made a lot of money without ever getting caught. He’s the least of our worries because we only have to use him twice and he has no way of knowing what he’s getting involved in. And I know enough about him to make sure that he won’t talk to anyone else about the deal.

       
‘So I’m three-quarters of the way there, David, but I’m having trouble getting hold of a suitable girl.’

       
‘Like Shona,’ he said, suddenly serious and frowning slightly, forehead furrowed as he looked into my eyes, almost nose to nose, his hot breath on my lips. ‘She’s nice.’

       
‘Shona’s too nice, you daft brush. We want a woman of easy virtue, a high class lady of the night who’ll charm her way into Ronnie Laing’s pants and lead him astray. She’s got to be pretty, witty and fun but hard enough to cope with a villain like Laing. And we’ve got to be able to trust her completely. She’s a vital part of the plan, David, but I can’t find her. The sort of girl we’re after doesn’t walk the streets and she doesn’t have to advertise. What am I going to do?’

       
The question was rhetorical but David took it seriously, he shrugged and tilted his head from side to side like a budgie gazing at its reflection in a mirror. He was biting his lower lip with his uneven teeth, his face pained with concentration as he tried to help, feet now unmoving in the rushing water.

       
‘Don’t look so serious,’ I chided, and ruffled his hair. ‘I’ll think of something. It’s going to be all right. Trust me.’

       
Eventually he spoke, slowly and with a great deal of concentration. ‘Tony like girls, you told me,’ he said, eyes wide open, head tilted back, proud because maybe he’d found the solution.

       
Tony had come to stay with us three months ago, before I’d gone down south, and he’d delighted David with his stories of life in London and his visits to the Middle East and suddenly I realized what he was getting at. ‘Sometimes you amaze me!’ I yelled and dragged him to his feet and hugged him hard.

       
‘Come on, back to the house, last one there’s a cissy – and whatever you do don’t blame me for your wet clothes.’

       
I scooped up our shoes and socks as he rushed off and I held back to let him win. We were both out of breath and panting when we reached Shona who was leaning against the Rover, smiling and waving. ‘Having fun?’ she shouted.

       
‘Yes, yes, yes, yes,’ chanted David. She helped him on with his shoes and socks and we went in for tea. Afterwards, as Shona and I drove away from Shankland Hall, I watched him waving goodbye from the top of the steps, still holding hands with the nurse, and even from the end of the drive I could see he was saying ‘Don’t go’ over and over again.

       
‘Sometimes he amazes me,’ I said to no one in particular.

       
‘Who?’ she asked.

       
‘David,’ I said. ‘My daft brother.’

       
She drove in silence, handling the car expertly in and out of the twisting bends back towards Edinburgh.

       
‘I have to go back to London. Tonight,’ I said and winced inwardly as her face fell.

       
‘No, you don’t,’ she answered and flicked her pony tail in annoyance. ‘I meant what I said about the cracks starting to show. I’ve got a couple of big headaches and I need your help.’

       
‘Tell me,’ I said, prepared to be convinced.

       
‘The main one concerns Crest Electronics. I’m having trouble convincing them that they should go ahead with their employee share ownership scheme. They know they can afford it, they know the benefits it’ll bring, and I’ve trotted out all the old arguments until I’m blue in the face. They’ve got one foot poised over the edge, they just have to be persuaded to take the plunge. I think you’d swing the balance. Will you stay?’

       
I couldn’t help but smile. ‘Yes, I’ll stay. You knew I would.’

       
‘I hoped.’

       
‘One day,’ I said. ‘One day is all I can spare. Then I have to get back to London.’ Tony could wait twenty-four hours.

       
‘Agreed,’ she said, and drove me to her Edinburgh flat where we spent the night, together but apart.

       
Shona and I had made the unspoken decision years ago not to get involved. Friends yes, lovers no. People who knew us as a pair found it hard to believe that it was possible for us to work so closely together and to perform as well as we did as a team without going to bed.