The Tangling of the Web (24 page)

Ignoring Sally’s lack of audible reply, Maggie continued, ‘You see, I wonder if there was … by any chance … you could help me to find work. Lost my job in the store, and now I’ve been in the Royal Edinburgh everybody thinks I’m some sort of nutcase, so no one will employ me.’

This statement caught Sally off guard. She had not expected Maggie to ask her to give her employment. And what if she did offer her a job? What work could she do? She was only trained to slice bacon, pat butter and sell cornflakes: none of these skills were useful in a bar. Besides, the people she did employ, Josie, Rita and Nancy, wouldn’t make Maggie’s life easy and that would mean Sally’s happy ships might run aground.

They had now reached the Royal Stuart, and as they alighted from the taxi Sally called back, ‘Tom, I’ll only be here for an hour, so can you pick me up then and take me down to the Four Marys?

‘Nae bother,’ he responded and drove off like a bat out of hell.

Forgetting that she was going to shield Maggie from the spite Sally knew would be forthcoming from Nancy, she flounced into the bar with Maggie taking up the rear.

You couldn’t say Nancy was surprised when she saw Maggie, but you couldn’t mistake the hostility that emanated from her.

‘Heard you got a bump on the head last night, but they never said it had rendered you senseless.’

‘I’m not.’

‘In that case, can you tell me why you have brought that into my bar?’ Nancy spat as she eyed Maggie up. ‘Now, Sally, you and me have a good relationship, but don’t play on it.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘It’s all round Easter Road that she’s been looking for a job, but no one wants her. So if you think you can palm her off on me you’ve got another think coming.’

Nancy’s attitude put Sally’s back up. Nancy and she had always worked in harmony, and any suggestions Sally made Nancy was always pleased to comply with. But today she was taking her on, and why?

‘Are you sure that nobody will have Maggie?’

‘Aye,’ was Nancy’s quick reply, ‘She even offered to scrub the floors in the undertakers, but he didn’t want to take the chance of her running off with someone’s dead husband.’

‘Nancy,’ Sally began in a warning tone, but she stopped as she saw Maggie was retreating towards the door. ‘Maggie, hold on. You knew I couldn’t employ you in any of my bars. The women who run them are loyal to me – they are true friends. But tell you what, come and see me in about six weeks. I may have a wee cleaning job for you.’

Maggie, tears brimming over, nodded. ‘I knew you would help me if you could. I’ve been such a fool.’

‘Join the club,’ Nancy and Sally replied in unison.

Tom had just dropped Sally off at the Four Marys when she became aware of an uneasy atmosphere that seemed to be shrouding the Shore.

She acknowledged it wasn’t just the forlorn mist that was swathing the streets and lamplights. It was something else. Something was missing. No singing, no laughter, no high spirits – just hushed whisperings and the mournful warnings of the foghorns.

On entering the public house, she became aware that Josie was behind the bar and Angela was out on the floor collecting glasses. The bar was as busy as it always was when it was nearing closing time. Then people would order up two and three rounds to keep their high spirits well oiled. But not tonight – they all appeared to be nursing one solitary drink.

‘Been a death or something?’ Sally whispered to Josie.

‘Aye. Marie. Irish’s wife.’

‘Oh no,’ exclaimed Sally. ‘See, the trade these lassies follow is just so full of danger and pitfalls. Cannae be anything else when they’re prepared to go and accommodate the highest bidder – and most of them are weirdoes, Josie.’

‘That’s no the worst of it,’ said Josie.

‘No.’

‘Our Luke persuaded Irish to go to the station and give a statement. Right mistake that was, because as usual the CID were thinking it was a right waste of their expertise to fully investigate the death of a prostitute, so they charged Irish.’

‘But surely, Josie, Luke explained …’

‘He tried to. But the CID treat uniform just like the pros.’

‘He must be devastated.’

‘He is. He’s even threatening to leave Leith and transfer to Hong Kong.’

‘Hong Kong – that’s a bit too far away. Talking of far away, did you not say you wanted to speak to me about a faraway holiday home? Though what’s wrong with a chalet in Kinghorn I’ll never know.’

Josie blushed. ‘Now,’ she began as she wiped over the bar, ‘it is the chance of a lifetime. Oh Sally, just wait until you’ve seen Santo Tomas. Honestly, you’ll be congratulating me on getting such a bargain. Imagine it: our own wee flat in paradise.’

‘Paradise? And how much is paradise costing these days?’ came Sally’s caustic response.

Josie clucked and shrugged before spluttering, ‘A mere … five thousand!’

‘Five blinking thousand?’ Sally shouted so loudly that she disturbed the mournful clients. ‘You talk about money as if it was peanuts. Are you mad or something?’

Josie shook her head and started to back towards the far wall of the bar.

‘Here was me thinking that if I put Gladstone Place up for sale …’

‘You wouldn’t need to put your house up for sale to buy the flat in Menorca. The bank will lend you the money. You’re in good standing with them.’

‘I wasn’t going to sell my house to accommodate your flight from blooming reality; I was going to sell it so I could buy a large house in Joppa.’

‘But why? Gladstone Place is bigger than your needs,’ stated Josie, looking about for someone to agree with her. ‘We all work hard, and I think it’s only right we have a wee bolt-hole to run to when we need to refresh ourselves.’

‘That right? Well, let me tell you, I think all the bolts and screws in your head have come undone and it’s high time you got them screwed back into place.’

‘Auntie Sally, you are upsetting yourself, so why don’t you sit down and I’ll fix you a nice cup of tea,’ Angela suggested.

‘Tea! A flight to Menorca to sort out this mess is what I need, and first thing tomorrow morning you’ll find me at the airport.’

* * *

After being charged at Leith Police Station, Irish had been taken to the cells at the High Street in Edinburgh. He was to remain there overnight until his preliminary appearance at the High Court the following morning. After that appearance, he would be remanded in Saughton Prison.

Luke was desperate to speak to Irish. He needed to hear from Irish himself what had led to him being charged. He had been apprised of the situation by Holmes and Watson, as the two detectives were known, but somehow he felt it was all too rushed and didn’t ring quite true.

Against his better judgement, Luke decided to visit Irish in the cells at the High Street. He knew the officer who was on turnkey duties, whereas if he waited until Irish was taken to Saughton he would not be able to persuade anyone there to allow him access to a prisoner on remand.

Dougal the duty turnkey, huffed and puffed when Luke suggested that he give him just five minutes with Irish. Dougal and Luke had been friends for a few years, so Dougal was easily persuaded by Luke to bend the rules. And, of course, the promise of a bottle of twelve-year-old double malt that had got lost in the docks and was seeking a new home sealed the deal.

When Luke was admitted to Irish’s cell, he was appalled at the sight of his friend. He was dirty, unshaven and looked as if he had somehow been in a sparring match where he had come off second best.

‘Fine mess you got me into, Luke,’ was Irish’s opening remark.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know they were already looking for you and that they had corroborating evidence.’

‘What corroborating evidence?’

Luke shrugged.

‘What they have,’ Irish continued, ‘is a sworn statement from Jessie Scott, corroborated by wee Jenny Geddes, who’s shit scared of her and Stan Roper. Threatening her, they are, and really putting the frighteners on her.’

‘Did you remember to tell them about Marie throwing in her lot with Stan?’

‘’Course I did. But they weren’t interested. They were only keen in fitting me up and thanks to you they did. Now get out of here. I never want to see your stupid bloody face again.’

‘Maybe you don’t. But I’ll be leaving soon, or I hope I will, but I promise you I won’t be on any aeroplane until I have got you out of here.’

‘Then you’ll no be going anywhere.’

Why Sally had come on this trip on her own she didn’t know. No one had told her about the turbulence the plane might meet. Never before had she experienced her stomach floating in her mouth and then wishing to empty itself at will. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the nun sitting next to her had taken out her rosary beads and begun praying.

Half an hour later when the craft touched down on the runway, the blood-curdling screeching of the brakes sent waves of sheer terror through her. ‘Blast Josie,’ she shouted out aloud as her nails dug into the armrests.

All she was here for was to get hold of the lassie who had sold Josie the flat and get her to tear the agreement up. She readily accepted that a fine would be imposed for the breaking of the contract. She could live with the loss of a hundred pounds; what she couldn’t live with was tying a five-thousand-pound mortgage around her neck, especially when she had other plans.

Hailing taxis she was good at, and within half an hour she was at the resort of Santo Tomas and was being dropped off at the estate agents’ office. ‘Where are all the staff? It’s just gone two o’clock,’ she observed to the driver.

The driver, who didn’t have much English, had managed to work out that Sally wished to see the estate agent. Hunching his shoulders, he went on to say, ‘Siesta time, lady. They be back six o’clock.’ He then saluted and drove off.

Sally exhaled by puffing out her lips. What was she going to do for four hours? Nothing but finding the hotel, and having a long, cooling drink and a paddle in the sea.

The Fanta orange drink was so refreshing she had two. Sitting on the hotel balcony, she could see the deep blue sparkling sea and it seemed to beckon to her.

On leaving the bar, she sauntered down to the beach, where she removed her shoes, and as she strolled she allowed the warm sand to massage her feet. Before she knew it she had begun to paddle through the warm, inviting water. Slowly but surely the island was hypnotising her. Never had she felt so completely relaxed and refreshed.

Because of the mysticism of the place, the four hours just flew by. And when she arrived at the estate agents’, the assistant seemed to know why she had come. With no preliminaries she immediately stated, ‘Once an agreement is signed there is no going back. Sorry, but the flat is yours.’

However, Sally raised her hand before saying, ‘I don’t think you understand, but I …’

The lady smiled before interrupting with, ‘But I do understand; it is you who does not.’

‘No. Listen to me. I wish you to take the one-bedroom flat back.’ The agent was about to emphasise that she would not when Sally quickly added, ‘And exchange it for a two bed-roomed flat, which will suit the needs of my family better.’ She squirmed when she thought of how difficult the meeting was going to be with the Bank of Scotland manager in Leith Walk. He was a man you could do business with. But, as he once pointed out to Josie, when she had twice overdrawn her account, he liked to help people provided they stuck to the one mandatory rule, which was that customers must bank their money with the bank and not the other way about!

The family, especially Sally, Luke and Josie, felt that they’d had so much to get their heads around in the last few weeks that the last thing they wanted was for them all to meet up on Luke’s weekend off. However, they’d promised John Thomson that they would congregate at the Four Marys at three o’clock on the Saturday so they could hear his father Jock’s tales about Peggy Mack, their mother and grandmother.

A bonus in this gathering was they would all assemble to say a fond farewell to Angela, who was going back to America.

In the few short weeks she had been in Scotland, she had wormed her way into everybody’s heart. Once the initial reason she’d come to visit had been dealt with she had been accepted as family and everybody rallied around her.

She, on the other hand, had more than returned the friendship and loyalty she received, and she especially attached herself to Sally. There was no use in pretending that there were no problems. Of course there were – especially trying to establish a reasonable relationship between Josie and Angela. No matter how hard Sally tried, there was always an undercurrent of reticence and suspicion when she got them together. Sally readily accepted it would take great effort on Angela’s part to forgive Josie. After all, had Sally ever understood or condoned her own mother’s behaviour? No.
Because,
she thought,
there are some things that are beyond the comprehension of a child.

On the appointed Saturday afternoon on the stroke of three o’clock, the customers were politely ushered out of the Four Marys lounge. Rita then began to bring in the platters of food for the private party.

John Thomson and his father, Jock, had arrived about two o’clock, and it was obvious that the old man had gone to great lengths to appear respectable for the occasion by donning a dress shirt and his best suit.

Since everyone had assembled for Jock’s storytelling session, Sally placed him at the centre of the middle table. She had just got him seated when it became evident that he was over-anxious and to relieve the pressure he was continually drumming his fingers on the wooden table. He was so clearly uptight that Sally wondered,
Why?

Sally had to put her concern about Jock aside and get things underway, because at four o’clock sharp a taxi would be calling to take Angela to Waverley Station for the start of her journey home. This being the case, Sally decided she should spend some time with her before she got caught up in her hostess duties.

Taking Angela aside, Sally whispered confidentially, ‘Do you have enough money? It would be no problem for me to give you a little something as a sinking fund.’