Red Alert (13 page)

She tried to concentrate on her work and to look forward to the preparations for the eventual Degree Show. It would be wonderful if she got her degree. Then she could take a teaching course, and would be qualified to teach art herself. She could start a career as a teacher in one of Glasgow’s schools. Or even in a school further afield. She would be paid a wage and would be independent. That thought certainly made her feel happy.

Of course, her mother still had to be reckoned with. Every time Betty visited the hospital, there was her mother propped up in bed, hair straggling down each side of her face, eyes burning with hatred, sunk deep into the dark cavities of her face. She had not yet recovered her power of speech, perhaps never would. Now that would be a blessing, Betty thought. She could just imagine the tirade of vicious abuse that she would be subjected to, if her mother’s voice did return.

‘You wicked, wicked girl. God will punish you. You will burn forever in hell. You are a wicked, wicked liar, a disgusting, revolting …’ And so it would go on, and on. And on.

If her mother did recover her voice, Betty would have to find a way of shutting her up again. They were beginning to say in hospital that her mother might get on better and be happier and more content if she was at home. When had her mother ever been happy or content? Well, maybe she was happy in some twisted way, gossiping with one of the neighbours who was as malicious and narrow-minded as herself. They talked about all the ‘wicked young people’ that they viewed from their windows or read about in the papers. Her mother was content with the repetitive structure of her life.

‘But I’m not,’ Betty thought. Of that she was very certain. No way was she going back to any of her mother’s excruciatingly boring routines.

Then the last time she visited the hospital, her mother was up and dressed and sitting on a chair beside the bed. The nurse said, ‘Isn’t she doing well? You must be pleased. She’s eating well and that’s building up her strength. She hasn’t recovered her voice but, given time, that could happen too. Let’s hope so anyway.’

Betty didn’t hope anything of the kind. It was depressing enough to see her mother looking more or less back to normal. Even her hair had been neatly pinned back into its customary bun at the nape of her neck.

‘She’ll be able to go home any time now.’

‘Oh God!’ Betty thought.

She wondered what her mother’s reaction would be to the changes in the house. Her beloved cake stand had gone. And her precious china tea set. The silver teapot had been donated to Oxfam, along with the embroidered tea cloths and linen napkins.

Mugs decorated with funny words or pictures had replaced the floral tea set. Paper serviettes were handier than the linen ones. They didn’t need washed and ironed. Nor did the plastic cover for the table.

Her mother would not be happy either when she discovered that Betty had used up so much of the money her mother kept around the house – in the biscuit barrel, in the kitchen-table drawer, in the velvet-lined box on her bedside table. It was one of her mother’s eccentricities. There was even money in a suitcase under the bed. Her mother didn’t trust banks or building societies.

‘Please God, don’t let her get her voice back,’ Betty kept thinking. Her looks of fury and hatred would be bad enough.

Meantime, Betty made the most of her freedom inside the house and outside of it. She went to a club with the other students. She went to a pub and stood at the bar and ordered a round of drinks for her friends. What a lovely thought that was. She had friends. She included a large bottle of cider for herself and enjoyed drinking it down. It made her feel good, increased her sense of freedom.

Let her mother do her worst. She didn’t care any more.

Kirsty staggered back until she crashed violently against the kitchen table, making her cry out in pain. Dazed, she grabbed at the table to steady herself.

‘Kirsty, it’s me, it’s me.’ The wind snatched the voice and squeezed it into a whisper before the silhouetted figure in the doorway darted into the house.

Eyes strained with horrified disbelief, Kirsty watched white fingers lock the kitchen door and bolt it.

She shrank back, screwing her eyes tightly shut. Surely she was having a nightmare. Hadn’t she been very overwrought? The shock of Johnny’s death, the strain of his funeral and worry about her mother had played havoc with her nerves. Was it any wonder she had nightmares? But everything was quiet again. If she opened her eyes now, she would gaze through soft shadows at the familiar surroundings of her bedroom. There was nothing to be afraid of.

Cautiously she relaxed the tense muscles of her eyes, but through a shimmery veil of lashes, she still saw the same grey face.

‘Kirsty, it’s me. Johnny.’

‘But you’re … You’re …’ Kirsty’s tongue refused to form the word.

‘Dead?’ He said it for her. ‘No, I’m very much alive and just as scared as you are.’

His delicate skin gleamed grey-white, his eyes stretched huge and he was trembling. Immediately all the pity and protective love she’d always felt for her brother came rushing back.

‘Johnny!’ Her arms had barely stretched out for him when he stumbled weeping against her.

‘I’m sorry.’ His young voice broke and his tears mingled with her own. ‘Please forgive me. I had to come.’

‘But Johnny, I don’t understand.’ She pushed him back so that she could have another look at him. ‘If you’re not dead, who was the dead man found in your car?’

‘I can explain.’ His hands fumbled for a handkerchief and his eyes sought to avoid hers.

‘Sit down, Johnny. Over there by the fire. I’ll make you a hot cup of tea while you tell me. But we’ll have to be very quiet. If Mum heard you or saw you, she’d die of shock. I feel pretty shocked myself but I’m thankful you’re alive and well.’

Johnny flashed her a tragic look. ‘I wouldn’t be too sure.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Maybe it would have been better if I had died.’

‘Johnny, what nonsense …’

‘Anyway, I will if you don’t help me.’

‘Will what?’

‘Die.’ His ashen face tipped pathetically towards her. ‘I’ll die in prison, Kirsty.’

‘Johnny, why are you talking like this?’ She went over to make the tea, all the time fighting back tears of distress.

‘I don’t understand. What’s happened?’

‘Well, it was Paul’s idea to begin with …’

‘I might have known.’ She groaned. ‘Johnny, why do you allow yourself to be so easily influenced by people, especially people like Paul and Renee?’

‘Paul’s OK,’ Johnny assured her hastily. ‘It wasn’t his fault that everything went wrong. No, Kirsty, you’re making a mistake about him. He’s doing his darnedest to help me. He got me here today, for instance. He hid me in the boot of his car and drove down here on the pretext of coming to the funeral.’

‘But he left hours ago with Renee. Where have you been since then?’

‘Hiding in the tool shed waiting for your firefighter man to leave. I knew I daren’t move a muscle while he was around.’

Suddenly Kirsty felt icy cold.

‘What was Paul’s idea to begin with?’

‘You know how he’s a croupier in a gambling club?’ A flush crept up from Johnny’s neck. ‘And … and you see … they draw in a lot of money there. Real big money – thousands and thousands of pounds. The manager always goes to the bank with it on the same day every week. Regular as clockwork, Paul said. So … you see … that meant that the night before, the safe in the manager’s office is always crammed full. Just asking to be lifted, Paul said.’

Kirsty slumped down on one of the chairs. ‘Johnny, how could you …’

‘Well, Paul said it wasn’t as if it was the manager’s money, you see. The club belongs to a big company. They own a string of places all over Britain. And Paul said they wouldn’t miss it because they are so well insured.’

‘Paul said … Paul said …’ Kirsty repeated brokenly. ‘Must you always do everything Paul says? Don’t you know right from wrong? Haven’t you a mind of your own at all, Johnny?’

‘Yes, but I couldn’t help thinking of what I could do with all that money, Kirsty. Paul said it would be easy, you see. He’d even managed to get a copy of the safe key and we were to go fifty-fifty with everything in it. I was just to step into the manager’s office by the lane window that Paul had left unlocked. The manager eats supper at the club dining room at the same time every night. He takes a book and reads it while he’s eating. Paul and Renee both said they’d keep an eye on the dining-room door from their roulette tables. Not that Paul expected the manager to return to his office in much less than an hour. Why should he?’ Johnny’s mouth twisted. ‘He’s never done it before. But of course, as Paul said, this time, of all times, the man had to leave his spectacles on the office desk and he came straight back for them. I was bending down in front of the safe. I’d just stuffed the money into a bag …’ His voice cracked and he suddenly buried his face in his hands. ‘Kirsty, it was awful. I’ll never forget it as long as I live. Never.

‘I tried to run away, Kirsty. I was so frightened. But he wouldn’t let me go. He grabbed me. I struggled to push him away but he was stronger than me. Then I remembered … I remembered …’ He stopped, his eyes anguished.

‘What?’

‘The gun. Oh, I’d no intention of using it. Such a terrible thought never entered my head. Paul didn’t want me to use it. “It’ll just help give you enough courage,” he said. “Make you feel ten feet tall.” He knew I was scared, you see.’

‘Johnny …’ Helpless with despair, Kirsty shook her head.

‘I didn’t want to use it, but when the manager tried to stop me getting away, I pulled it out on the spur of the moment, just to frighten him into leaving me alone.’ Tears glistened over his eyes. ‘I couldn’t allow him to phone the police. I suddenly thought of Mum and what all this would do to her. I told him to get back. I pushed him back. All I wanted was to get away. But he lunged at me again. Then before I knew what had happened, he was on the ground at my feet, blood oozing from his head.’

‘Johnny, no …’

‘I didn’t mean to kill him, Kirsty.’ Johnny began to shiver as if he’d caught a violent chill. He clutched at himself, hugging his shoulders, shaking and rocking himself to and fro. ‘I didn’t mean to kill him. But there he was … lying there … so still. I nearly went out of my mind. I just stood there until Renee came in to see what had happened because they’d seen the manager go back into the office. But she said it would be all right. They would arrange everything.’

‘What do you mean, arrange everything?’ Kirsty cried out distractedly.

‘The car accident. Paul rigged it. He said it was a foolproof method of getting away with both the robbery and the murder. He said the police would find an empty safe and no manager and come to the obvious conclusion that he’d hopped it with the cash. Then later, the local police would find an accident involving a local boy who’d been warned more than once about driving too fast and under the influence. Nothing to make them suspicious there.’

‘You mean the charred body in your car …’

‘Yes.’ Johnny’s childish blue eyes clung desperately to hers. ‘It was the manager’s body.’

‘Oh, Johnny.’ She stared back at him with a desperation matching his.

‘Hide me just now, Kirsty,’ he pleaded. ‘Oh please.’

‘But Johnny, how can I?’

‘Kirsty, please.’ Hysteria leapt suddenly into his voice. ‘You’ve got to, just until Paul arranges to get me safely out of the country. We’re all going abroad. Paul and Renee and me. Paul’s arranging it.’

‘Johnny, if it hadn’t been for that man, you wouldn’t be in all this terrible trouble. He wasn’t to be trusted at the beginning and he’s not to be trusted now.’

‘He’ll arrange everything all right, Kirsty. I’ve made sure he will. I’ve still got the money and the gun, you see.’

He jerked open his loose-fitting coat to reveal a big canvas bag strapped around his waist.

‘This was made specially for the job. Renee took a lot of trouble with it. If I’d been seen by a policeman walking from that lane at the club carrying a case or a bag, he might have been suspicious and asked me to open it. They can do that, you know. But if I just strolled out from the lane with my hands in my pockets, the chances are nothing would have been said. Of course, nobody saw me. It had been arranged that I’d get back out through the window and I still had to do that, as quick as I could. Paul and Renee had to hurry back to their tables so that they wouldn’t be suspected. Paul said I had to take the money away. The money was too hot for him to touch. He’s safer without it just now. I know he’s right but I’m so terribly afraid, I just can’t bear to take any chances. See …’ He plunged his hand into the inside pocket of his coat. ‘I’ve got the gun here too.’

‘Put it away. I don’t want to see it,’ Kirsty cried. ‘And I don’t want anything to do with that money either.’

‘But Kirsty, there’s thousands and thousands of pounds here. After I’m safely abroad and all the fuss has blown over, I’ll send you some, enough for you and Mum to come and join me.’

‘Will you never learn? How can you expect to get any happiness with that money? Look what it’s done to you already.’

‘I’ve no choice but to keep it and use it now.’

‘Yes, you have. You can give it to the police and tell them what you’ve just told me. Surely it would go in your favour …’

‘They’d take me away and put me in prison for life. You know they would. Oh, Kirsty, you can’t let them do that, not you.’ Tears brimmed over and trickled helplessly down his face. ‘Kirsty, I’m frightened.’

Impulsively, she took him in her arms to comfort and reassure him. So often in the past, when he was a child, she’d done this, and he was a child again now.

‘Please help me.’ He clung to her, weeping.

‘It’s all right. Don’t worry. I won’t allow anyone to hurt you. Calm down now and drink your tea. I’ll think of something.’

Her heart told her she’d no choice but to help protect her young brother. After all, he hadn’t meant to kill anyone. It was all a ghastly mistake, a tragic accident.

At the same time, she’d no idea how she could possibly hide Johnny in the house without her mother seeing or hearing him.