Private Sorrow, A (20 page)

Vera’s eyes looked dazed, as if tiredness was her only hope of salvation after the trauma of the day. ‘Etta’s post office book?’ She made it sound like this was the first she had heard of it.

‘Yes, did you ever find out if any of the money was taken out in some other post office? Maybe it would show where she went to.’

Vera lay back in the chair and closed her eyes. When she spoke, her words sounded dreamy. ‘The police investigated it. Apparently Etta had been withdrawing money for a few weeks before she left and there was hardly any money left in the account. I think it was five shillings but she never withdrew that. The police said it looked like she had been planning to go away all along.’

Molly was slightly put out that Vera hadn’t given her this information earlier but it did confirm what she had been thinking – it looked like it was a determined getaway. ‘Do you still see your sister Robina?’

Vera sprang up, the tiredness was gone and her body stiff with indignation. ‘Robina? Who told you about her?’

Molly wasn’t going to divulge Anita’s name. ‘It came up in my investigation.’

Vera now looked even more frightened than before. ‘It wasn’t Robina who pushed me.’

Molly was surprised. She hadn’t considered this but why was Vera so sure? ‘Do you think she’s capable of doing this to her sister?’

Vera sat down again, all the fight slowly leaving her rigid body. ‘Robina and I haven’t seen each other since before Dave died. She was a strange child and she grew up with a strong religious sense of right and wrong. Dave and I weren’t married when I was expecting Etta but we were by the time she was born. Robina started ranting to my mother and father about sin and hell, and the damnation of the soul. One day, she attacked me with an old cricket bat and my parents banned her from the house. She was away at training college at the time and she never came back home. Not until one morning, when she came to see us. I was mortified to see how much Etta resembled her and then she started ranting on and on about her religious beliefs and how we should go to confession for our sins. Etta was quite taken with her aunt but Dave put her out of the house and we never saw her again. Sadly, Etta became fixated on this idea of punishing those she thought were sinful and I could have killed Robina for coming that day.’

‘Do you know where she is now, or have you heard from her over the years, maybe by letter?’

‘No, I’ve no idea where she is and to tell the truth, I don’t want to know. I had an ideal childhood spoiled by her. The time she hit me, when she was banned from the house, wasn’t the only time she had done something like that. I suffered years of abuse from her. She would smack me hard if I didn’t say my prayers right or kneel properly in church. I never told my parents but I was glad when she never came home again. I told her that on the day she came to see us but I wish I hadn’t – she gave me a look of pure hatred and I know her … she thrives on revenge.’

‘But you don’t think it was her who pushed you?’

Vera looked puzzled. ‘I would have recognised her, wouldn’t I?’

Molly wasn’t so sure. ‘Do you think it’s possible that Etta went to stay with her when she went missing?’

Vera was positive. ‘No. Robina was living in a training hostel, so it wouldn’t have been possible for Etta to go there.

‘What was she training to be?’

Vera said she was unsure. ‘Something to do with the church, I think. Probably to be a nun but she didn’t say.’

Molly had to go but she was worried about Vera. ‘Is there anyone who can come and stay with you? Or maybe you can go for a few days to Mrs Jankowski’s house?’

Vera said no, she would be fine. She would lock the door after Molly left and go straight to bed. She certainly looked exhausted.

Molly drove away in the car, her head spinning with the day’s events. This sister seemed to be the ideal candidate for the accident today but did she own a car? Vera was sure she had heard a vehicle on the night of the first accident.

If Vera wasn’t going to go to the police then Molly made up her mind she would think about consulting them. This case was getting more dangerous by the minute. Molly had obviously opened old festering memories with her questions, but who was the culprit?

The woman was feeling pleased with herself. So pleased, in fact, that she could barely contain it. She wanted to jump out and shout, ‘Look at me!’ She had watched the devastation she had caused but cursed the bus driver. What a pity it was a fit young man and not some old guy with slow reflexes. Still, there was always another day.

She had also seen Molly go for the car and had watched with satisfaction as she had paid what looked like a large bill. Maybe this was the road to go down with nosey parker McQueen: keep damaging the car and make her pay dearly for all her questioning about something that had nothing to do with her. Yes, that’s what she would do. Make her pay through the nose for her part in this. She had gained a lot of knowledge from the stolen notebooks, but she would deal with that later.

Molly parked the car in the dark street after she had taken Vera home. She felt uneasy walking away from it. The street lamp was still broken and there were deep shadows where anyone could lurk without being seen. She glanced up and down but the street wasn’t a busy thoroughfare, merely a quick way to reach Meadowside. It was used quite a lot during the day but by nightfall it was deserted.

She decided to go for a fish supper at the nearby fish and chip shop, and carried the hot meal up to the flat. She felt exhausted and puzzled by the day’s events and, to make matters worse, she had a terrible headache. This case was proving to be far more complicated than she thought, and she was now wishing she had been more firm in turning it down. Who could have sent that letter to Vera? It must have been someone who wanted to harm her, but why? Why was keeping the truth hidden about Etta’s disappearance worth killing for? There was also the worrying thought that someone must be watching Vera, and that maybe the anonymous someone was also watching her. She had to be on her guard and if she saw one of the people she had talked to, then she had better take care.

Another thought slipped into her mind. It might not be someone from her interrogations. Suppose they had talked about the case and a neighbour or even a member of their families had overheard them. It could be anyone, but why was this person taking the case so seriously? It had been twenty-four years ago and the chance of finding her was very slim indeed.

The car was still on her mind. She put the light out and opened the bedroom curtain. The rain had come on and there was a strong wind. It looked like it would be a stormy night. She knew she couldn’t stand all night at the window, much as she would have liked to. It would give her great pleasure to discover the culprit who had damaged her father’s car. After an hour gazing out at the darkness, she got ready for bed, but she still kept the light out.

She awoke suddenly from a restless sleep. The alarm clock said 2:20 a.m. Was it a noise she’d heard through her subconscious that had wakened her? She peered down but everything seemed peaceful. A cat wailed in the distance but there didn’t seem to be anything human lurking around. However, she decided to go down and look.

Making sure there were no bottles or other obstacles in her way, she made her way out into the cold wind – thankfully the rain had stopped. She had brought a small torch with her and she circled the car. It was just as she had left it.

Back in bed, she made her plan. By seven o’clock she was up, dressed and in the car, on her way to the first sailing of the Fifie. She reckoned if someone was watching her, then maybe they started later in the day.

Marigold was surprised when the car drew up at the door. She was still in her dressing gown when Molly knocked at the door. ‘What’s happened?’ Marigold sounded worried.

Molly explained about her suspicions that someone was watching her. ‘I want to leave dad’s car here because I think whoever broke the lock and stole my notebooks will do something more serious to it next time.’

Marigold was shocked. ‘You have to go to the police, Molly. There’s someone very dangerous out there and I don’t want you getting into trouble like last year.’

‘I’m hoping to be back at the agency before my stalker gets wind of this.’

Marigold began to prepare breakfast but Molly just wanted tea and toast. ‘I’ve got to catch the next sailing back to Dundee, and don’t worry, Marigold, I’m going to see that policeman from last year, DS Johns. I thought he was very kind and helpful.’

Within an hour, Molly was back on the ferry and when it docked at Craig Pier, she made a detour so as not to take the usual route of the Fifie passengers. If someone was watching, then they wouldn’t know where she had gone.

By 10:30 a.m. she was back in the office, looking as if she had just arrived for work. She had warned Vera to stay indoors and not be fooled by another letter. This was a precaution until she contacted the police.

Peter Walsh hated the dark mornings, especially when the clocks changed to wintertime. To make things worse, the weather was awful with wind and heavy rain. He got his bike out of the shed in the backgreen and went back upstairs to get his piece bag and flask. He wished he had the use of the van to go to work but Jimmy Flynn was the driver. Life would be easier when they got the key to a new house in Kirkton. Then he would get a lift to work with Jimmy. Donna was getting depressed living in this house and he didn’t blame her. Still, the girls were growing up and would soon be moving on. Andrea was working as a junior assistant in D.M. Brown’s department store, while Janey was almost done with school.

Milton’s joinery business was named after the street where it was situated. Milton Street was a small narrow street that branched off from Byron Street and although it wasn’t that far from his house, it still meant he had to make the steep incline of the Hilltown. He hoped he wasn’t going to be late but he was wary of pedalling too fast because the road was slippery with the overnight rain. There were a few people about the Hilltown and Strathmartine Road but, when he turned into Harcourt Street, the houses all looked dark and quiet. He passed the playground of St Peter and Paul’s red-bricked primary school but it was too early for any children to be out and about.

He saw the car without really noticing it but when it pulled out in front of him he tried to brake. To his intense surprise, the brakes didn’t work. The last thing he remembered was hitting the pavement and the surge of pain that shot through him before he lapsed into unconsciousness.

Jimmy Flynn was also rushing to work but he had the comfort of the work’s van. He was feeling cheerful, owing mainly to his impending date with the lovely Gemma who worked in the joinery office. After trying to wangle a date with her for ages, she had finally succumbed to his charms and he was taking her to the pictures tonight. Hopefully it would lead to more times together. He had been infatuated with her for months. She was in her twenties, just a couple of years younger than him. Small and slim, with jet-black hair and large brown eyes, she was a magnet for all the other joiners at the work but she had consented to go out with him. He couldn’t believe his luck.

He was whistling when he turned the van onto Harcourt Street and saw Peter lying on the road with the twisted bike beside him. His good mood vanished as he rammed on the brakes and ran out. ‘Peter, what happened?’

Peter let out a yelp of pain. ‘A car … My brakes didn’t work.’ He then lapsed back into silence.

Jimmy rushed into the joinery yard and thankfully the office light was on. Gemma, who lived in Strathmore Avenue, must have come into work from the other end of the street and hadn’t seen Peter. Michael was out of breath when he pushed the door open. ‘Gemma, phone for an ambulance and a doctor. Peter’s had an accident.’

Gemma quickly dialled 999. By now, Jack Cooke, the boss, had arrived and the two men went back to the scene where Peter still lay unconscious. Jimmy went to lift him but Jack Cooke said, ‘Leave him where he is. Let the ambulance men deal with him because he might have internal injuries that could be fatal if he’s moved.’

The two men knelt down and Jack put his overcoat over the inert body. Jimmy could hardly speak for shock. ‘He said it was a car and that his brakes didn’t work.’

Jack gave him a queer look. ‘He spoke to you?’

Jimmy nodded. ‘Just for a minute, then he became quiet again.’

By then, the rest of the workforce had arrived and pedestrians were also out on the street. They stood in a silent bunch until the siren from the ambulance was heard. A doctor had also arrived in his car and he knelt down on the wet road and quickly examined the patient. He then spoke to the ambulance men and Peter was gently lifted onto a stretcher and whisked away.

Jack Cooke took charge of the situation. ‘Right then, Peter is in the best of care at the infirmary, so we’ll all get back to work. I’ll keep you informed of his progress when I get it.’

Jimmy went to go into the factory but Jack said. ‘I think you should go and see Peter’s wife and family, then go with them to the infirmary. Keep me in the picture.’ He picked up Peter’s bike and carried it back to the yard.

Jimmy was just getting into the van when he heard Jack call out. ‘Jimmy, come and see this!’

Jimmy went towards him and they both looked at the mangled bike, which had had its brakes neatly cut. Jack looked wordlessly at this for a moment, then said, ‘I think I’ll call the police. This looks like someone wanted Peter to have this accident.’

Jimmy nodded. He couldn’t get his head around this deliberate sabotage. Everyone liked Peter. He had his problems like everyone else, but this was something serious and not some practical prank.

‘And Jimmy,’ warned Jack, ‘I don’t think Peter is going to make it but don’t tell his wife that.’

As he drove towards Alexander Street, Jimmy was crying, but he had to put on a face for poor Donna and the girls.

Janey answered the door. ‘Dad’s away to work, Jimmy, and Mum’s getting ready to go to her work at the baker’s shop.’ But something in his face gave him away and she backed into the flat, her face white with fright. ‘Muuuuum, Muuuum,’ she wailed and Donna and Andrea rushed to the door, fearful that she had maybe fallen down the stairs.