The Back of Beyond (41 page)

Roddy Liddell didn't relish what he had to do. Lexie was distressed enough already, but it was better that she knew. ‘I'm sorry,' he said softly, when she let him in, ‘it's more bad news, I'm afraid.'

She motioned him to a chair. ‘You'd better tell me.'

The resigned acceptance on her face made him revise what he had said. ‘It's not all bad, a sort of mixed bag, actually. The good news is that we managed to trace Doctor Birnie for the second time, purely by accident. One of his patients happened to be in another part of Glasgow yesterday, at the opposite side of the city, when she recognized him going into a small villa. Word having got round her own area that he was wanted by the police, she gave the address to her nearest police station. The Investigating Officer presumed that he'd been visiting another patient, but it turned out that Birnie hadn't had time to find another practice.'

‘So that's it?' Lexie, breathed. ‘You've got him?'

Roddy shook his head angrily. ‘No, he's too clever by far, and here's the bad news. He professed deep sorrow on hearing that his first wife's body had been found in Forvit, but swore that he knew nothing about her death.'

‘He would say that, wouldn't he?' Lexie muttered.

The detective nodded. ‘It would be only natural, whether or not it was true. On the following day, however, he contacted the DI and told them that, after much deliberation, he had concluded that …' He stopped. ‘Oh, Lexie, I don't think I should go on.'

Steeling herself, she whispered, ‘Whatever it is, you'd better tell me. You can't leave it at that.'

Standing up, the detective moved swiftly to sit beside her on the sofa. ‘Yes, you're right. It would be insensitive of me not to tell you now. Birnie said that he had been thinking, and it had occurred to him that Alec Fraser, the man he thought Margaret had run away with, must have killed her, possibly she'd been pregnant and he hadn't wanted anyone to find out. Birnie also said he had probably buried her there to cause most heartache to him, her husband.'

‘Oh, Roddy!' Lexie burst out. ‘That couldn't be true … could it?'

Taking her hand, he clasped it reassuringly. ‘I doubt it. It sounds to me more like the invention of a desperate man … a guilty man. Please, Lexie, don't distress yourself.'

‘I'm all right,' she whispered, but she obviously wasn't. ‘Did he say anything else?'

‘When he was told there had been no evidence of pregnancy, he shrugged it off and said they must have quarrelled. He made a point of saying that his wife was an even-tempered woman, but hinted that your father could be “quite volatile if he was angered.”‘

This was too much for Lexie. ‘Nancy said he was a liar,' she sobbed. ‘You don't believe him, surely?'

‘Absolutely not!' Wishing that there was more he could do to put her mind at ease, Roddy added, ‘If Birnie thinks he's got away with it, he has a nasty shock coming to him. The case is not closed, not by any means.'

‘They didn't let him go?'

‘With no proof of his guilt, we have to presume him innocent, but he's obviously on the run, and we
will
get him!'

When Lexie recovered her composure, Roddy said he had to report at HQ that night, and although he did feel guilty at leaving her, she vowed that she was perfectly all right.

*    *    *

It was almost nine the following night when Alistair rang Dougal's doorbell. At one time, he would just have walked in, but their last parting had not been on the best of terms and he was feeling uneasy about this meeting. Peggy let him in, and he was relieved that she, at least, had no reservations with him, giving him a kiss and a warm hug before he went into the living room.

Dougal, his eyes puffy and red-rimmed and surrounded by dark circles, jumped to his feet and came towards him as though they hadn't seen each other for years. ‘Oh, Ally, I'm right glad you're here.'

Alistair could tell that every word was heartfelt, and his own emotion was such that he could hardly speak for a second or two, then he flung his arms round his old pal and held him, their cheeks running with tears, and Peggy, her own eyes streaming, withdrew to the scullery.

Scarcely noticing when their sister-in-law excused herself and went home to bed, the two men sat for hours, reminiscing about the early, happy, days of their marriages, of the hotel in Guilford Street, of Tiny and Rosie, even of Manny Isaacson, who had also been a big part of their lives at that time. They avoided talk of the war and the years following, afraid to come anywhere near to the ‘trouble' and having to skirt around it, which would draw more attention to it.

It had to come, of course, and with one careless slip, Dougal uncovered it. ‘Marge and Peg were both worried about Gwen …' Too late, his hand flew to his mouth. ‘I'm sorry,' he mumbled, ‘I forgot … you haven't asked about her, so I thought …'

‘I didn't know what to say,' Alistair interrupted. ‘I don't want to see her, but I didn't realize there was a problem.'

Dougal filled him in about his wife's disappearance then said, ‘I think they were fussing about nothing. She said she wanted peace to think, and I can understand that.'

Surprised at the alarm that came to him, Alistair muttered, ‘So you think she's OK?'

‘I can't be sure, of course, and it's nearly two weeks since she …'

‘Two weeks?' A light cramping had started round his heart … as it would do for anyone he knew who had just walked away from her home and sisters. ‘She couldn't have been here long when she …'

‘Not more than a couple of days, and the thing is,' Dougal explained, ‘we don't know where she is. We can't think of anybody she'd have gone to now she doesn't have Ivy.'

Alistair extracted the last cigarette from his packet, snapped his lighter and leaned back to think. No Manny, no Ivy, the two people Gwen had been closest to at one time. She'd never been as friendly with anybody else, not that he knew of. Then the answer hit him square on, making an iciness shoot through him and settle in his very bones. ‘Ken Partridge!' he said, harshly. ‘I bet that's where she'll be. He's the only one she
could
go to. Did Marge ever mention where he came from?'

‘Not that I can remember. Don't you know?'

‘No, and I don't want to.' Alistair's lips pressed together, and no more was said on the subject.

‘What's on your mind, Tilly?' Gwen asked suddenly. ‘Something's been on the tip of your tongue for ten minutes at least, so you'd better come out with it, whatever it is.'

The woman heaved a sigh. ‘Don't get me wrong, Gwen, love, I don't want rid of you, and I know you've had a bad time, but … you should be with your husband and children.'

‘But Alistair doesn't want me. He wanted me to leave.'

‘It was what he'd wanted at that specific moment, any man would after what you'd just told him, but he's had time to think. He's had two whole weeks of coming home to an empty house, having to cook his own meals and do his own laundry …'

Gwen felt her hackles rising at the criticism. ‘He'll have Leila doing everything for him, or …' She gave voice to a thought that had been niggling at her ever since she left Forvit. ‘… or he'll get Lexie Fraser to do it. She was his girlfriend before he ever came to London, and I think he still loves her.'

Tilly shook her head. ‘I doubt that very much. I don't know him, but from what you've said about him, I wouldn't think he was the kind of man to …'

‘You'd have said I wasn't the kind of woman to be unfaithful, either, but I was, though I'll regret it to my dying day. If only I'd stood up to Marge and told her to mind her own business, I wouldn't be in this mess now.'

‘You did what you did, love, and you can't change things by wishing, but it's time you did something to sort out your life. For a start, why don't you write to one of your sisters to let them know where you are, they must be worrying, then I think you should write to Alistair. Don't ask him to take you back, just ask how he is and how Leila and David are. Leave it up to him to tell you how he feels, don't force him.'

Pulling a face, Gwen said, ‘It's too soon. Is it all right if I wait till I've been away for … say two months?'

‘You're welcome if that's what you want. Maybe you're right about it being too soon. Another six weeks might be best.'

The funeral had been an ordeal for the three chief mourners. Both Dougal and Peggy had been inconsolable, and Alistair had been hard pressed to stop his emotions from getting the better of him. He had been truly thankful that he hadn't had to see much of young Nicky. Mrs Deans, Dougal's next-door neighbour, had kept him until they came home from the service, and he'd gone to bed about eight, asking for his Mummy, which had upset them all over again.

Back at his own fireside again, Alistair wondered what was going to happen about the boy since Dougal wasn't his real father, he hadn't liked to ask his old friend about it, but Peggy seemed to think he would keep him, which was a blessing.
He
certainly didn't want him, reminding him of his wife's faithlessness. His mind refused to veer from the subject of his wife now, and he wondered where she was. He had asked David and Leila if they knew where ‘Uncle Ken' lived, but neither of them could tell him, and anyway, what did it matter? If that's where she was, he didn't want her back.

Chapter 32

Lexie felt she had no one to confide in now. She could talk quite easily to Roddy Liddell these days – they were quite close now – but how could she tell him that she didn't believe her father was a murderer, just an incestuous rapist. Just? she thought, grimly. Incestuous rape was every bit as bad as murder … worse, for the person at the receiving end, at any rate.

She was almost certain that this was the reason for her father's disappearance. Whatever had made him do it, the shame and guilt had been too much for him to bear, for he was a decent man at heart, everybody had said so. One thing she was absolutely sure of was that he hadn't been having an affair with the doctor's wife, no matter what Tom Birnie had told the police. And there had been no evidence of pregnancy when they did an autopsy on the body, so that was another of his lies exposed.

Constantly wondering if she would ever learn the truth, Lexie was quite glad when Nancy Lawrie phoned her one evening to ask if there had been any further developments. ‘Not a thing,' she told her, morosely, ‘and the waiting's getting me down.'

‘Well, I've been thinking.' Nancy's voice held a hint of excitement. ‘Do you know if the police ever asked Margaret Birnie's mother if she'd heard from her at all since she left Forvit? Mrs McLeish, wasn't it? She must be in her eighties, I'd think, and if they didn't ask her, she likely wouldn't have thought it was important.'

Lexie had to be perfectly honest. ‘But we know where Mrs Birnie is … was.'

‘That's where she ended up, but maybe she'd come back to see
him
before he got everything sold up and he killed her in a temper. Now d'you see?'

‘I can't think properly, Nancy.'

‘Sorry. What I'm getting at … maybe the old lady can tell us where your father is … or was at some time. If we got his first address, we could maybe trace him from there.'

Lexie's spirits lifted for the first time in weeks. ‘I suppose … it's possible. At least we know Mrs McLeish is still alive. Will I tell Roddy … the Detective Inspector …?'

‘Ah-ha! So it's Roddy now, is it? But no, I don't think we should involve the police just yet. Leave it to me. Greig's taking me to Stirling on Sunday to see her.'

‘I wish I could do something. I'd love to go with you, but I'm not free on Sundays till dinnertime – I've to open for the papers, you see – and that wouldn't give me time.'

‘No, I'm afraid not, but don't worry. I won't upset the old lady, and she'll maybe be glad to speak to someone about her daughter … and her son-in-law. You never know, I might learn a few interesting things about him. Any family scandals would have been swept under the carpet at the time, but she mightn't be so discreet now.'

‘Let me know what happens as soon as you can. I'll be all on edge.'

‘It could turn out to be a waste of time, Lexie, but it's worth a try, isn't it?'

‘Oh, yes, and thanks, Nancy. At least you're doing something. I feel so useless.'

She had only just hung up when Roddy Liddell appeared. ‘Nothing new to report,' he began, looking slightly embarrassed, ‘but I thought I'd come to see how you were.'

‘Not too bad.' She found it hard to disguise the hope that Nancy had raised in her.

‘I should have come before. Did you think we'd stopped bothering?'

‘I knew you'd tell me if you'd found out anything.'

‘Police all over Scotland are trying to trace your father, and nothing's turned up.' He eyed her uncertainly. ‘I'm trying to persuade the powers-that-be to give the builders the go-ahead to excavate the whole of the site.'

The hope disintegrated. ‘You think
his
body's there as well?'

‘It's a possibility, Lexie.'

‘Oh, but …' This was a new idea to her, loathsome, alarming, and despite wanting to appear composed in front of this man, she couldn't stop the tears from edging out.

He handed her his handkerchief. ‘Don't you think it would be best for you to know, one way or the other?' he said gently, his eyes holding deep compassion. ‘The answer is either that he's been murdered, or that
he
was the murderer. I realize it's not much of an option, but there doesn't seem to be anything in between.'

‘I suppose not.' Her knees were shaking as she contemplated telling him the option Nancy had put forward, but she thought better of it. He might be glad of the suggestion, might even have it followed up, but speaking about it might bring bad luck, and she didn't need any more of that. She needed to believe she was on the verge of finding her father and learning the truth of what had happened all those years ago.

‘D'you want some brandy?' He was even more solicitous now.

‘No, I'm OK … Oh, I'm sorry, Roddy, I should have offered you something …?'

‘No, I'm OK.'

Wondering why the corners of his mouth had twitched, it dawned on her that he had repeated her own words. Poor soul, he was doing his best to cheer her, and she was making his job harder by persisting in feeling sorry for herself. She attempted to make amends. ‘It's good of you to call to tell me yourself, Roddy. You don't have to, you know.'

‘I know I don't, I just want to. You don't mind, do you?'

His appealing eyes – as if he were afraid of being rejected – and his attractive boyish grin were enough to tell her he meant it. ‘No, you can come as often as you like, you know that. I'm always pleased to see you.'

‘Are you? Are you really, Lexie? I sometimes get the feeling you'd rather I didn't …'

‘No, it's not you,' she interrupted. ‘It's worrying about what you might have come to tell me.'

He grinned again. ‘Will I arrange a signal? I could give three taps on the window and say, “Me … friend … open sesame.” How would that do?'

She had to laugh. ‘Oh, Roddy, you're so good for me.'

‘I aim to please.' The teasing light left his eyes. ‘I'd like to be … your friend.'

‘You
are
my friend, a very good friend.'

‘Good. I mean … to tell the truth, Lexie, I'd …' His face colouring, he stopped short and stood up. ‘Now, remember, I'll never let this investigation drop. I'm as anxious as you to get to the bottom of it, so you'll tell me if you think of anything that might help us, won't you? Promise?'

Crossing her fingers, she muttered, ‘Yes, of course.' She couldn't look him in the eye and make a solemn promise, not when she knew she would break her word if Nancy's visit to Mrs McLeish paid off. They didn't want the bobbies jumping in with their size thirteen boots and spoiling everything. In an attempt to pacify her protesting conscience, she jumped to her feet. ‘Thank you for what you're doing, Roddy, you really are a true friend.' She pulled her hand out of his clasp, and added, breathily because her heart was racing. ‘And you'll let me know the minute
you
hear anything?'

‘Definitely, and that's a promise, too!'

Mrs Deans had offered to look after young Nicky during the days in order to let Dougal go back to work, and Peggy came in every evening to give him his bath and see that he got to bed at a decent time, because his father seemed to have lost interest in everything, including the clock. The passing weeks, however, had made the boy more and more fractious, demanding to see his mother although all three of the adults attending him had tried to break it to him in their own different ways that he would never see her again – not in those basic words, of course.

It came as no surprise to the other two, then, when Mrs Deans said she was leaving to stay with her son in Southampton. ‘I'm sorry, Dougal,' she went on, ‘but I'm wearing on for seventy and I can't manage him when he goes into one of his tantrums, and Gordon's been telling me for years I should sell my house and go and live with them. I feel I'm leaving you in the lurch, but, honestly …'

‘Don't feel like that,' Dougal assured her, his stomach slowly returning to its normal position. ‘You've your own life to lead and I'll easily find somebody else.'

When she left, he grimaced to Peggy. ‘I knew that would come, but I didn't expect it just yet, and who on earth's going to look after an uncontrollable five-year-old?'

His sister-in-law, however, having also known that it would come some day, had a solution ready for him. ‘What would you say to a thirty-five-year-old widow who knows him and loves him in spite of all his going-on?' Seeing the perplexity on Dougal's face reddening to comprehension, she gave a little chuckle. ‘It makes sense, doesn't it?'

He shook his head. ‘It might make sense, but it's not practical. You can't give up your job to look after my child.'

It crossed neither of their minds that Nicky wasn't Dougal's biological child, nor even his late wife's, and Peggy said, very firmly, ‘I don't have to work, you know. I could live quite comfortably on what Alf left me.'

‘No, Peg, I can't expect you to … you've a life of your own to live, as well.'

‘… to do with as I choose,' she grinned, ‘and if I choose to look after a little boy who only behaves badly because his heart is aching for his Mummy, that's my own business.'

Burying his head in his hands, Dougal groaned, ‘Oh, Peg, I can't let you …'

‘And there's another thing,' she stated. ‘This little boy has a Scottish father who's as stubborn as a mule, and he needs looking after, too.'

Dougal's head jerked up. ‘Oh now, wait a minute! I'm maybe no great shakes at seeing to Nicky, but I can look after myself.'

‘Can you cook? I haven't seen any evidence of it.'

‘I never get the chance. You've made all our meals since …' He swallowed before going on, ‘… since Marge died, and Mrs Deans baked cakes and biscuits for Nicky, but I'm sure I could manage.'

Peggy shook her head. ‘I despair of you. Why can't you just be grateful and accept my offer? You can pay me what you paid Mrs Deans, if that would make you feel any better, but it's just as easy to cook for three as for one, easier in fact.'

Taking one of her hands, he pressed it hard to show his gratitude, then swung away from her to hide his tears, and knowing how mortified he was at crying, she just said, ‘I'll start the day Mrs Deans leaves. See you in the morning.'

As she strode past what was now Gwen's house, still empty, Peggy wondered when all the worry and upsets would end. She had definitely lost one sister, and it looked as though the other one was lost to her, as well, whether by choice or by some accident. If only she knew what had happened.

Tilly made up her mind to give it one last try. The longer Gwen stopped on there, the harder it would be for her to go back. No matter if what happened had been her fault or her sister's, her Alistair should have done the proper thing and forgiven her. Of course, she still loved him, that was quite obvious. She was always making excuses for him, that he was a changed man when he came home from the prison camp and had never got back to his old self again, but, surely he still had some of the milk of human kindness in him?

Gwen's woebegone face when she came down to breakfast almost made Tilly change her mind, but she drew in a deep breath to give her strength and said, ‘Now, I hope you won't be offended, love, but I do think it's time you went home … for your own sake.'

‘Home?' Gwen's voice was listless. ‘I don't have any home … except here.'

‘This is not your home, Gwen, and if you feel you can't go back to Forvit, you should go back to London. Your sisters must be out of their minds worrying about you.'

‘I left a note telling them I needed peace to think …'

‘That was nearly four months ago. Write to them to let them know you're all right.'

Gwen gave a resigned sigh. ‘I suppose I should write, but I can't go back … not yet.'

‘Don't fret, then, lovie. If that's how you feel, I won't throw you out. You can stay here for as long as you need me. Fred won't mind.'

Listening to Gwen trailing upstairs to tidy her room, Tilly banished all thoughts of lazy evenings by the fire with her husband – Fred hardly spent any time at home these days – or an early night when they felt like it, even a late morning if
she
took it into her head. It looked as if they had a lodger for life.

Giving herself a mental shake, she went to the kitchen for her carpet sweeper. What was she going on about? Gwen helped with the housework. She was good company … most of the time. It wasn't so bad. It was just that Fred … well, he was just being Fred and hinting that he could do with a bit of peace and quiet in his own home.