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Authors: Meg Henderson

BOOK: Chasing Angels
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‘Noo Aggie, he couldnae have been that perfect, he got another lassie pregnant after all,’ Kathy replied pleasantly.

‘Well mibbe if you’d been a bit merr understandin’ o’ his needs he wouldnae have hadtae go lookin’ elsewhere!’

‘Christ, Aggie, ye’re that pleased wi’ yersel’ ye could die happy right this minute, couldn’t ye? It’s the only reason Ah come tae see ye, ye know. Wanna
these days ye’ll be so drooned in yer ain malice an’ spite that ye’ll drap deid right here at ma feet. If it wasnae for that thought Ah’d have abandoned ye years ago,
miserable auld sod that ye are!’

‘Ah wouldnae gie ye the pleasure!’ Aggie spat at her. ‘Ah’d haud ma dyin’ breath tae Ah heard the door slammin’ behind ye!’

Kathy smiled. ‘Oh, ye’ve got class, Ah’ll say that for ye, Aggie! But ye see, an’ Ah know this isnae somethin’ the females in this family are known for, so it might
be askin’ a bit mucha ye tae understand, but there’s really nothin’ wrang wi’ keepin’ yer legs thegither when a man passes within a hundred yards. Some o’ us
like tae keep a bit in reserve, no gie it away or sell it.’ She paused for the slightest moment. ‘An’ by the way, how’s your Jessie daein’ these days?’ she asked
sweetly.

‘Don’t you think Ah don’t know whit ye mean by that, lady!’ Aggie screeched, rising from her chair, her hands preparing for the obligatory sign of the cross.

‘Oh, Ah’m sure ye dae,’ Kathy continued. ‘Ah’m bloody sure ye dae, that’s ma point!’

‘Wait you a minute—’

‘Y’see, it seems tae me that the men aboot here get married tae the first wumman they get pregnant, nae doubt that brings back a few memories tae yersel’, Aggie, though Ah
havtae confess that it’s hard to understand you ever bein’ anybody’s object o’ desire, an’ Ah decided it might be interestin’ tae find oot if there was another
way. No’ Jessie’s way, of course, but Ah just wondered if there was somethin’ different frae giein’ it away or sellin’ it, and if mibbe Ah should be the first wanna
this family tae find oot.’

‘Ya evil-minded bitch!’ Aggie yelled, as Kathy slowly walked towards the door. ‘That somebody should say such things aboot their ain family, showin’ nae respect wi’
their filthy tongue—’

‘Aw for God’s sake cross yersel’ an’ have done wi’ it, Aggie!’ Kathy cut in. ‘The only reason ye’re rantin’ an’ spittin’
a’ ower the place is because ye know it’s true. There’s no’ wanna ye that isnae a slag, an’ Ah’d lay odds it a’ started wi’ you. Sit doon and shut
up, ya stupid auld bugger, Ah’m off.’

It was a fine display of bravado, of course, but that’s all it was, because Kathy already knew that she had a lot in common with those other women in her family, the slags. That nice
Crawford laddie was about to become a father not once, but twice over. She was sure that if she told him the glad tidings he would in turn dump Angela, which was another reason why he would never
know. This problem was hers alone, caused by using sex to appease Jamie rather than tell him the truth, so this one of his bastard weans he would never know about. And neither would Aggie, Con, or
anyone else in the East End, Kathy would see to that.

Sitting on the floor of Con’s house all these years later, looking at the snaps of herself with Jamie all through their childhoods, she was aware of her mind playing a kind of conjuring
trick. Somehow he looked dead in the photos; it was like looking at someone who was no longer in existence, when she knew he was very much alive. She couldn’t quite figure out how long he had
seemed like that to her, though she suspected his demise dated from that night in Dino’s, when the Jamie she knew had indeed died before her very eyes.

5

The plan formed so slowly in her mind that it couldn’t really be called a plan. She knew her current predicament dictated that she couldn’t stay in Moncur Street,
which in turn meant that she would have to go elsewhere, but beyond that was a blur. Then circumstances took a hand. She had turned up for her shift in Wilson’s to find both Mr Liddell and Mr
Dewar in the pharmacy. For a brief, happy moment she hoped this meant that Mr Dewar, with whom she was due to share the shift, had been called away and Mr Liddell was taking over. Nigel Dewar broke
off from whatever he was saying to Mr Liddell as soon as she appeared and quickly busied himself about the pharmacy. Mr Liddell asked her to step into his tiny cupboard of an office off the
pharmacy. There was, he said, something he had to discuss with her. It soon became clear that, in her absence, a casual conversation between the women had escalated into a major conflict, and poor
Mr Liddell had been charged with facing her about it. She could hardly remember what it had all been about. Down in the basement there was a room the women used at lunchtime, and a week or so
before there had been the usual conversation about what had been on TV the previous night. It had been a documentary about religion, made and intended for the south of England, as everything seemed
to be, with no inkling whatever of how it might be viewed in other areas. The role of the churches in modern-day life had been questioned, and the women, all of them at least middle-aged and of
different religious persuasions, were united in condemning it. Kathy had been asked for her opinion and had replied, ‘Didnae see it, Ah was oan the back shift an’ it was eleven when Ah
got hame. No that it matters,’ she had added, ‘as far as Ah’m concerned Ah wouldnae shed a tear if every church in the world was boarded up.’ There had been a hush, then
someone had asked, ‘Dae you no’ believe in God, well?’ Kathy hadn’t looked up from the magazine she was reading. ‘Naw,’ she had said; that was all. Not that the
conversation had stuck in her mind, in fact she’d had to fight hard to dredge it up from her memory when Mr Liddèll broached the subject.

‘The thing about working with people,’ he said gently, coughing a little with obvious embarrassment before going on, ‘is that you have to be careful of their
feelings.’

Kathy looked at him blankly.

‘Religion is a sensitive issue,’ he continued, looking deeply pained, ‘and you have to be careful what you say, especially in Glasgow, as I’m sure you know,
Kathleen.’

‘Mr Liddell,’ she said in calm, perfect English, ‘I have no idea what this is about. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to spell it out.’

Mr Liddell looked even more pained. He took a deep breath. ‘It seems there was an occasion recently when you strongly volunteered the view that there is no God.’

It took Kathy several minutes of silence to locate anything approximating what he had described. ‘Oh, wait a minute now!’ she said, suddenly remembering the discussion in the
basement lunch room. It couldn’t possibly be that – could it? ‘I was asked a question and I replied, that was what happened, I did not volunteer a strong opinion. As I remember it
I was actually reading a magazine at the time and had taken no part in the discussion.’

‘Well, I’m sorry, Kathleen, but I was asked to have a few words with you, to remind you that other people’s feelings can be offended.’

‘And mine can’t? And just out of interest, Mr Liddell, who asked you “to have a few words”?’

Mr Liddell looked flustered. ‘It was only because I am the senior man,’ he said, trying to make light of it. ‘I think it’s one of the penalties of age, Kathleen, but
ticking off employees is not something I enjoy, especially when I have no means of judging what actually took place.’

‘So it was that wee skunk Dewar then.’

Mr Liddell looked away, trying, Kathy sensed, not to laugh. ‘I don’t think he’d welcome that description, you know,’ he said.

‘And if it was that wee skunk Dewar,’ Kathy continued, ‘Ida Stewart must’ve clyped to him.’ She went into the pharmacy, where Nigel Dewar was dancing about in his
desperately bright and efficient manner, and briefly sensed in passing that he was more than usually pleased with himself. She looked through the tiny hatchway into the shop, but Ida was nowhere to
be seen, so turning on her heel she made her way downstairs and found her in the lunch room. ‘Just the auld bitch Ah was lookin’ for!’ she said, standing against the door to block
any escape Ida might try to make. ‘Listen, you,’ she said menacingly, ‘Ah hear you’ve been whisperin’ in Lover Boy’s lugs aboot me.’

Ida looked up and then away again. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ she replied, in the kind of false modulated tone that set Kathy’s teeth on edge.

‘An’ ye can drap the Kelvinside accent,’ Kathy told her. ‘Everybody here knows ye’re a common auld cow frae Govan.’

The other women in the room smiled, trying to pretend they were doing other things and taking no interest while every ear was cocked, and Kathy knew this scene would be repeated to those who
hadn’t witnessed it. She could almost hear them saying to each other, ‘Oh, aye, Kathy gave
her
her character!’

‘Ye told yer wee pal that Ah’d been moothing aff about religion when, as Ah recall, you were the wan askin’ the questions.’

Ida shuffled in her seat and tried to look unconcerned. ‘As you ask,’ she said, smiling primly and trying to include the others with a glance around the room, ‘I did mention to
Mr Dewar that you had offended some people here by questioning the existence of God, and he thought that it might be in your own interests to learn not to upset folk.’

‘Anybody here offended because Ah’m a pagan?’ Kathy asked. There was silence. ‘Anybody here remember me askin’ them tae join me in Devil worship?’

The other women laughed quietly. ‘We’d be hard pushed in here tae find a virgin tae sacrifice, Kathy!’ one remarked. ‘Don’t take it so seriously, hen.’

‘But Ah dae!’ Kathy replied, ‘because thanks tae Ida pal here, Ah’ve just been reprimanded upstairs by Mr Liddell.’

‘Ach, Ida!’ another woman said. ‘There was nae cause for that!’

Ida, suddenly beleaguered, rose to her feet, and as she did so she appeared to lose her Kelvinside accent. ‘Listen you tae me, Kathy Kelly,’ she spat furiously. ‘You’re
the kinda Fenian shite that thinks ye’re better than anybody else! Ye just walk in here an’ next thing we know ye’re made trainee dispenser, while the resta us are still stuck
behind the counter sellin’ shampoo! Ye’re fulla yersel’, ye act as though ye’re due it, an’ ye say things because ye like tae cause a fuss. A’ Ah did was shut ye
up an’ get ye reminded o’ yer place.’

‘Well, no’ that Ah know much aboot the theology, Ida, no’ bein’ a Fenian masel’ despite the name, but Ah don’t think ye’ll find many o’ them that
don’t believe in God, Ah think it’s kinda mandatory. An’ it seems tae me that you’re the wan that caused the fuss, a’ Ah did was tae answer a question. But it’s
no’ aboot that, is it?’ Kathy laughed. ‘It’s because you’re tossin’ an’ turnin’ in yer bed a’ night, thinkin’ me an’ Lover Boy are
at it like rabbits in the pharmacy when ye’re no’ there tae stoap us, isn’t it?’

A chuckle ran round the room.

‘Christ, Ida, ye must see that he’s a wee nyaff! You’re the only wan would gie him the time o’ day, the resta us wouldnae spit oan him if he was oan fire!’

‘An’ Ah’ll be reportin’ that tae!’ Ida shouted furiously.

‘Away tae hell, Ida,’ Kathy laughed. ‘Ah’ll tell him masel’.’

With that she raced back upstairs, Ida puffing hard behind her, her stilettoes clicking furiously on the steps as she tried to get in front to present a united front, her and Lover Boy against
Kathy Kelly, and all the ‘Fenian shite’ in the universe, or in Govan at least.

‘I’d like a word with you, Mr Dewar,’ Kathy said, and looking round at Ida behind her, her face flushed and the pile of hair on her head falling over to one side with exertion,
she said, ‘In private, please, not in front of the floor staff.’ Then she waved a hand in Ida’s direction. ‘Ida,’ she said kindly, ‘you’d better away and
do something about your hair. When it collapses like that your roots show something awful.’ Then she led the way into Mr Liddell’s office, with Nigel Dewar so taken unawares that he
followed behind.

‘I suppose,’ she said, looking round the tiny space, ‘that this wee kingdom will be yours when Mr Liddell finally goes?’

‘Yes, I suppose it will,’ he replied.

‘Not much of an achievement, is it?’ she asked. ‘A cupboard pretending it’s an office. No wonder you’re a bitter, twisted wee get!’ He opened his mouth to
speak but she silenced him with a raised hand. ‘Shut it!’ she said quietly. ‘You’ve never liked me, I know that, and I’ve never liked you. The difference is that
I’ve done my job here, never once tried to undermine your position, such as it is, while you’ve done everything you could to make me uncomfortable, haven’t you?’

Nigel Dewar didn’t know how to reply, he was the kind of man who did his dirty work through other people and rarely took the blame for anything. ‘I think you’re unsuited for
this job, Miss Kelly,’ he replied, choosing his words with care, ‘and it was always going to be difficult to assimilate a Catholic into this business. Not that I’m biased, you
understand, but as I said to Mr Liddell at the time, there’s never been a Catholic employed here before and some people could make it unworkable. Not that I approve, of course, but
that’s the reality.’

‘I hate to rob you of one of your perfectly reasonable objections, Mr Dewar, but I’m not a Catholic.’

He quickly turned his attention to his other objections. ‘And you have a kind of inappropriate over-confidence.’

‘You mean I don’t bow and scrape to you? I say what I think instead of trying to work out what you think and say? I’m not like daft old Ida there, I don’t wait for you to
drip-feed me your golden thoughts?’

‘You see, that’s what I mean,’ he said, smiling tightly. He tried to ease past her to sit on Mr Liddell’s chair to give him some authority, but Kathy didn’t move
and he was forced to say ‘Excuse me.’ She took a step back and sat on the chair herself, leaving him no option but to sit on the other, less well-upholstered chair meant for whoever Mr
Liddell was talking to.

‘Again,’ he said, ‘you demonstrate the problem. You have absolutely no respect.’

‘Respect isn’t the same as fawning,’ she said, returning his smile. ‘And considering that I think you’re an arse, I think I do pretty well covering up and treating
you civilly.’ He opened his mouth to speak again and Kathy raised her hand once more. ‘The difference is, Mr Dewar, that I’m saying this to your face, I haven’t sneaked
around and put Mr Liddell in the embarrassing position of saying it for me. But that’s part of the plan, isn’t it? He’s only got a short time to go before he retires from here,
and as for your good friend Ida – does your wife know you’re having an affair with someone from work, by the way?’ His eyebrows shot up and his mouth fell open. ‘Obviously
not,’ Kathy said. ‘Maybe somebody should tell her, poor woman. Does she know you’re, if you’ll pardon the expression, into older women? No doubt she’s sitting at home
raising your weans while you’re knocking off old Ida in the basement at every opportunity. I’d be prepared to swear on a pile of Bibles that it’s common knowledge, by the way. As
I was saying, this little empire will be all yours when Mr Liddell goes, won’t it? How wonderful if he should just go now and leave you to it, instead of hanging around, eh? But I’ll
tell you something, he’s more of a man, more of a gentleman than you’ll ever be. You might sit in his seat one day, but I’ll tell you this, you’ll never fill his
shoes.’

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