When Sorry Is Not Enough (12 page)

BOOK: When Sorry Is Not Enough
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Accepting that he had now become a detective, he knew there would be no rest for him tonight if he did not confront Josie again.

The lights in Alfredo’s restaurant were lit, and it was evident from the condensation on the windows that the restaurant was busy and this might not be the best time to confront Josie. Nonetheless, Luke, who was used to having the right to barge in anywhere, decided to enter quietly.

Glancing around the salon Luke could only see three male waiters. The older man that he assumed was Victor the owner, the man Josie had told him she was about to marry, and two young student types who were possibly working to finance themselves through university.

After handing one of the young lads an order chitty to take to the kitchen, the older man turned his attention to Luke. ‘Table for one, sir?’ he asked with a half bow. Luke nodded. The waiter sniffed and looked about the room. ‘As you see, we are very busy so there is just that little table in the corner. Bit of a squeeze but I will shift you if a better table becomes available.’

Luke nodded his acceptance. ‘Yes, you are busy tonight. Just you and the boys on duty?’

Victor nodded. ‘Yes, the women do lunches.’ He sniggered, ‘Well they usually do but Anna has taken herself over to Italy so I’ve had to get in a temp.’

‘A temp?’ Luke queried.

‘Aye, an older woman,’ Victor replied, his pencil poised to take Luke’s order. ‘Bit past it the old dear is but … she was needing a job …’ Victor gestured towards the tables that were all occupied, ‘and the lunchtime trade is a quick turn about … business lunches so nobody is expecting any refinement.’ He sniffed before adding, ‘Just as well ’cause they sure wouldn’t be getting any.’

An hour had gone by before Luke left the restaurant. He was even more confused than ever about Josie. Hailing a passing taxi he asked the driver to take him to Josie’s house at Ryehill.

The evening trade in the Royal Stuart had been brisk at the start of the evening but as the night wore on it got slower and slower. The result was that when ten o’clock came, Nancy had most of the tidying up done.

She had just safely installed the day’s takings into her handbag and was donning her coat when a timid knock sounded on the front door.

Lifting her faithful rammy deterrent, an old hockey stick, she went over and cautiously opened the door and her spirits rose when she was confronted with Benny.

‘Oh,’ she sighed, ‘I’m pleased to see you. Come away in. But what’s bringing you here at this time of night?’

Benny removed his flat tweed cap from his head and began twisting it in his hand before stuttering, ‘Cannae bear the waiting. Sure by now you must,’ he stopped briefly before adding tersely, ‘well you must know whether or not … that is … or at least considered if you want to … marry me.’

Nancy thought back to what Sally’s advice had been. Indicating to Benny to take a seat she then sat down opposite him. He was a simple man, not in intelligence, just in his outlook in life. She knew he just wanted to have a home with a wife in it and for the two of them just to be content and happy. She admitted that she too longed for someone to care for her. For someone to want to share his life with her and she could think of no one better than Benny. Drumming her fingers on the table she felt like screaming,
Benny, Benny why could you not have come into my life when I was a teenager?
From posing that question, albeit to herself, she went on to imagine what life could have been like for her. Pictures of Benny and herself getting married, having a nice wee house and a couple of children shouting, ‘Mammy, mammy, daddy, daddy look at me.’ Imagining the children brought a lump to her throat, causing her to swallow hard. In her past she had always vowed children were not for her. After the childhood she had had she would never bring children into this world. Sniffing, she tried to compose herself but memories of children she could have had but had decided to … was it because of what she had done to those unborn children that she had been plagued with bad luck? Hunching her shoulders she then had to admit that this was probably not the case because how then would Sally have come into her life? Sally had been the catalyst in her life. Nancy happily conceded that from the day they met life had just got better and better for herself.

All the foregoing was true but what was she going to do about Benny? Sally’s advice, when she had followed it to the letter, had always proved to be sound. So should she try sticking her courage to the sticking place and tell Benny the truth about herself? She wanted to. She needed to but she was afraid that he would, in disgust and loathing, run out of her life.

Benny took her hand in his and brought an end to her speculations. ‘Nancy,’ he wheedled, ‘how about we go up to Michael’s Fish Shop and I’ll treat us to a fish supper, just the one between the two of us. And we could then go on to your house and have a midnight feast?’

Nancy felt warm tears spring to her eyes. This was what she meant when she said he saw life as being just so simple. To him a fish supper being shared between the two of them was his idea of heaven. Okay, they would have the fish and chips and after they’d washed them down with his must-have beverage at room temperature, some Vimto, she would tell him the truth.

The cab driver who dropped Luke off at Josie’s door had enquired if he should wait but Luke had waved him away. He was convinced that his meeting with Josie would last a while and he could always phone for a taxi when they were finished.

Pulling the bell, he stood further back in the driveway so that she could see through her security peephole that it was him. Seeing the light in the hall go on brought a smile to his face. The door was then opened up not by Josie but by a scantily clad young lassie, a teenager Luke guessed, who was asking what he wanted.

‘I’m Josie’s brother,’ he managed to stammer. ‘Is she at home?’

The lassie shook her head. ‘I’m just her lodger … well me and Susie are.’

‘What?’ exclaimed Luke.

The young lassie looked perplexed and quickly added, ‘All I know is she works up the town in a restaurant and she doesn’t get in until … I don’t know … wait ’til I ask Susie. Here Susie,’ the young woman hollered back into the house, ‘what time does Josie usually get in?’

‘After midnight,’ was the disgruntled retort.

This information completely confused Luke. He had to accept Josie wasn’t at home. She’d taken in two lodgers. He remembered vividly when she had bought the house her saying how pleased she was that she wouldn’t need to share with anyone as she could more than meet the mortgage. Running his fingers through his hair he accepted that he knew for sure she was not on duty at Alfredo’s where she was supposed to be working. What was even more alarming was he had known she was working at lunchtime in the restaurant because he had met her there dressed in a red checked apron! So where was she? What was going on?

By the time he had pondered all the probabilities and possibilities the young woman had closed the door on him. He was tempted to knock on the door again and ask the young lassie to telephone for a taxi for him but he decided the long walk home to Sally’s would give him time to think.

Waverley station is always busy, very busy, in the early morning – people commuting all over the country and beyond to England and Wales are dashing about buying tickets and boarding trains.

Lois would normally have driven herself to Inverness but she was suffering from severe morning sickness that was exacerbated by car travel. Bobby had dropped her off on the Waverley Bridge and she was rushing down the brae when she noticed that quite far in front of her was the familiar figure of her mother-in-law, Sally. ‘Blast,’ she hissed inwardly. ‘Bet she’s going to Smithton. The old dears must have told her I was coming today but I really need to be talking to them without anyone else being present. Especially Sally who I just know from past experience will comment on everything I have to say to them.’ Lois stopped to consider if it would not be better to go back home and reschedule her visit to Culloden but then she thought,
What good would that do?
Flora obviously would not take any advice from herself that had not been approved by Sally. So the best she could do today was to make sure she did not travel north in the same carriage as Sally. This meant she required to purchase a first-class ticket. With her mind now made up Lois lurked behind a kiosk until Sally had purchased her ticket and had begun to make her way across the concourse towards the waiting trains before she approached the booking clerk.

By the time Lois was about to get on the train the guard had his whistle in his mouth so she had no other alternative but to jump aboard the first carriage. Realising that she was standing in a third-class carriage had her screw up her eyes and inhale deeply. Opening her eyes she was delighted to note that Sally was not in the carriage.
Good
, she thought,
and as soon as this train stops at Haymarket to allow other travellers to board I’ll get myself into a first-class carriage where I will be able to work in peace and quiet
.

On reaching Inverness Lois decided, because she knew there would be no way she could escape meeting up with Sally now, that she would go to her firm’s offices in town. This would mean she could honestly say to Sally that she should travel on to Smithton and she would meet up with her there.

Allowing her eyes to scan the platform, she was perplexed. There was no sign of Sally. But she had seen her in Waverley station. She saw her buy a ticket. So where was she?

Emerging from the station she was dismayed to find that the rain was relentlessly falling down. Immediately, she summoned a taxi from the outside rank. However, when the driver asked her where her destination was she scanned the horizon before emphasising with a sigh of relief, ‘Smithton village.’

The taxi drew to a halt at the bottom of the brae. ‘Sorry, miss,’ the driver said, turning to address Lois, ‘but see they farm roads – dirt tracks really – don’t do your motor any good. Could you manage on your own from here?’

‘Well,’ exclaimed Lois, who had just taken a pound note from her purse to pay the man and was now opening the door so she could alight. ‘I suppose I must.’ Handing over the pound note to the driver through his open window she forcefully stated, ‘Take your fare and just your fare. I only tip for good service and that is what you haven’t afforded me.’

She didn’t care that the driver, who had immediately turned the cab around and was now racing back to town, was disgruntled. She wasn’t too happy herself about
his
behaviour.

Her demeanour took a further downward spiral when she looked at the rock strewn and sodden track she was required to navigate in her high-heeled shoes in order to get herself up to Flora and Shonag’s homes.

A disembodied voice was saying, ‘I just said to Shonag that you wouldn’t know to be wearing suitable footwear. So aren’t you lucky that I’ve come down with a pair of my old Wellingtons that I think will fit you.’

Common sense was something that Lois had plenty of, so without a word of protest she leant against Flora to exchange her Saxone shoes for a pair of over-sized, rather grubby and distinctively smelly boots. Then arm in arm, Flora and Lois started to climb the brae.

Even though it was summer there was a chill in the air and when they arrived in the house, Lois was pleased to see that a cheery fire was crackling in the hearth and that the table was set for lunch.

Lunch had just been cleared away and the three women, Flora, Shonag and Lois, were again sitting around the table. The two older women were very apprehensive. Lois on the other hand was very relaxed, especially as her stocking clad toes were facing the fire.

‘Now ladies, I have already done quite a bit of work on your case. Our office up here has done a wonderful job in getting me all the information I require.’

‘So there could, or might, be something you can do for us?’ Flora babbled before taking Shonag’s hand into hers.

‘Yes. But there’s a lot of preliminary work to be done. Firstly, I will employ a land surveyor to isolate the houses on the land deeds. Draw up new boundaries and …’

‘What does that mean exactly?’ Shonag blustered as her eyes began to pop.

‘Nothing for you to worry about,’ Lois reassured. ‘All that is going to happen, if you and Flora are in agreement of course, is that your homes will always be yours. You will both have a small garden and room for a couple of outhouses which will leave you free to sell off the rest, the majority of the land, which will in turn raise the capital you require.’

Shonag, who was thinking deeply but was unable to grasp all of the implications, could only respond, ‘Mmmm.’

Whereas Flora who was as usual on the ball asked, ‘Are you saying, Lois, that we can stay here and have a wee bit of land to grow some vegetables for our own use and perhaps enough for a few hens to scratch about?’

Lois nodded. Flora nodded sniffed and sucked in her cheeks.

‘But,’ Shonag twittered, ‘we can’t agree to that just now. Surely Flora you’re not forgetting that our four ladies are in a delicate condition.’ She leaned over and patted Lois’ hand before adding, ‘Just like yourself my dear and we must see them through before we agree to anything.’

Lois quickly withdrew her hand from Shonag’s grasp and leaned back. She was confused. She reasoned the expectant girls could not be their daughters. Both ladies were in their eighties. Surely, she went on to think, these two old dears weren’t running a maternity clinic for unmarried mothers. Finally she mumbled, ‘But surely these ladies have families who should be taking care of them?’

Shonag huffed. ‘But we are their family. We have had them since they were calves. Bought them at the Perth sales, so we did.’

Flora nodded. ‘And Lois we just have to be on hand for Nellie.’ She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘You see as soon as she gives birth she tries to murder the calf.’ She discreetly looked about the room before adding, ‘We just have to get it away from her. Infanticide … well it’s just despicable.’

‘Aye,’ butted in Shonag, ‘but be fair to her, after she’s got over the trauma of giving birth she changes and becomes a doting mother.’

BOOK: When Sorry Is Not Enough
11.31Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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