Bob Skiinner 21 Grievous Angel (39 page)

‘What do they think of me,’ Alison countered, ‘that’s the question.’

‘Don’t let that worry you for one second. You and Jean seemed to get on fine and that’s all that matters.’

‘She seemed all right. Was Myra like her?’

‘Not much. Jean’s much more reserved than she was. She’s coming out of it now, though, having rectified her mistake.’

‘What mistake?’

‘Her first husband. Prick.’ She laughed. ‘Don’t,’ I said. ‘That description was generous. But you’re right about Jean and me, we’ve always got on.’ I didn’t see any need to tell her how well we’d got on at one time. ‘The great-aunts, though, they’ve never been close to us. They didn’t approve of Myra. They thought she was “flighty”, a fine old Lanarkshire word for a girl with a bit of personality. She was that all right. As for old Moffat, he may be doolally now, but even when he had his wits about him he was an old cunt, pardon my French.’ I glanced in the mirror, but Alex was isolated by her headphones and couldn’t have overheard. ‘You can tell at funerals, those who’ve come along out of respect and those who’re there with an eye on the will. Those who were can forget it. Thornton changed his will after Myra died; he discussed it with me because he felt I should know. Before then everything was to be split equally between his two daughters; afterwards, Alex replaced her mother as a fifty per cent beneficiary. It’ll be a tidy amount too; she and I will need to discuss how it should be invested. If the aunts had known that they wouldn’t have looked in her direction.’

‘You can choose your friends,’ Alison began to quote, ‘but . . .’

‘. . . not your family,’ I concluded. ‘Thornie didn’t believe that, though,’ I told her. ‘He always said that the best of friends were those who chose you, and as you saw by the turnout today, a lot of people chose him, and very wisely too. The old aunts,’ I continued, ‘they didn’t approve of me either so we never saw any of her family when Myra was alive, apart from the odd cousin who fancied a day at the seaside.’

‘What did they have against you, for God’s sake?’ she laughed.

‘My mother was an alcoholic. When Myra and I got engaged, there was a family party and my mum got pished at it. The aunts, as you’ve seen, are real prissy old tight-arses, so we were off their Christmas card list before we were even on it. They’d have been afraid of my father anyway; they regarded lawyers as a class apart. Not Thornie, though; he and my old man were always perfectly civil to each other and they even played a bit of golf together, a big deal, although my father was far too aloof for them ever to become close.’

‘You’re bitter about your family, Bob,’ she ventured.

‘No, I’m not. I’m sad about them. Mostly I’m sad for Alex, because I think it’s a shame that she can’t sit at a big table every Christmas with a dozen so people that are her own kith and kin.’

She reached out and stroked my forearm. ‘You may find that Jean and Sergeant Payne start filling that table quite soon. He seems . . . smitten; an old-fashioned word but it works, and she seems suited.’

‘Yeah, he’s a good guy. I like him. I hope they do settle down. They make a nice couple and Jean’ll be a good mother.’ I winked at her. ‘You do realise they’re probably saying much the same about us right now,’ I added.

‘As long as they don’t build their hopes up. They want family, we want careers, and I’m about as broody as a stone.’

‘But are you happy?’ I asked.

‘With my life? Yes, I told you so. It’s exactly as I’d like it. Two weeks ago I thought you’d lost interest in me, and I wasn’t too chuffed about that. You’ve shown me I was wrong, and I’m happy about that. I’m looking forward to spending time with you and Alex, but I want to keep her at a certain distance so she doesn’t ever start to think of me as a mother figure.’

‘And me? What do you want from me?’

She frowned. ‘Of you I ask one thing alone. When you are lonely in the dark of night, and when I stop being the one you call first, don’t call me at all. Give that promise to me, and I will give the same to you.’

I reached across, took her hand, and squeezed it. ‘You’ve got it.’

Eden Higgins and his son Rory were on board and waiting for us when we arrived at Inverkip Marina. The boat was impressive. It was called
Palacio de Ginebra
, a name that amused me, looked to be about forty feet long and had a couple of masts, with booms and other stuff, like lots of rope that was going to need pulling, and sails rolled up and ready for unfurling, or whatever it was you did with them.

The furniture tycoon looked as if he spent more time at sea than he did in his showrooms. He was lean and weather-beaten and the muscle on his arms was well defined. His hair was frizzy, dark streaked with grey. He wore faded jeans and a T-shirt that proclaimed his love of New York.

‘Good to meet you, Bob, and you, Alex.’ His greeting was relaxed, and it spoke volumes. I wasn’t the first male crew member that his sister had brought along for the voyage, although probably the first one with a teenage daughter in tow.

There was a table on what Alison told me was the afterdeck, with a jug of Sangria, a large bottle of Coca-Cola and four glasses. ‘The Coke was intended for the kids,’ he said as he started to pour, ‘but looking at Alex, she might prefer the other.’

‘That would depend on what’s in it, Eden.’ Sangria comes in many forms, some of them highly alcoholic, and we were on a boat called the
Gin Palace
.

‘It’s safe, I promise,’ he replied. ‘Red wine only and that’s pretty diluted.’

‘In that case, it’ll be Alex’s choice. But can we change first?’

‘Of course. Alison will show you where you’re bunked.’

I’d been expecting something akin to a railway sleeping compartment, but I had underestimated Eden’s taste and his wealth. The vessel was beautifully fitted out below decks, with a dayroom, a galley, and three cabins. The largest of those was ours and I didn’t need to be told that, normally, it was the captain’s.

We went casual, and rejoined our host. Alex opted for Sangria. It didn’t surprise me since I’d been allowing her that occasional taste since the previous summer. I let her get on with it, even though the base was red, since it was well watered. Rory was a nice kid, he looked a little bit like his aunt, but with some features that owed nothing to the Higgins side of the family. It was evident from the start that he was in awe of my daughter.

When the jug was empty, Alison announced that she was going below to cook, and told the cabin boy that he would be helping. Alex would have stayed with us, but I tipped her a very discreet wink; she read the message and followed.

The evening was calm and warm. I’d checked the weekend weather forecast and, to my relief, it had promised fair. Once we were alone, Eden pulled a couple of beers from a small built-in fridge, popped the tops and handed one to me. Suddenly I realised how Lowell Payne must have felt at the funeral.

‘Cut to the chase, Eden,’ I said.

His dark eyebrows rose and he smiled. ‘Whatever do you mean, sir?’

‘You know well enough. Let’s skip the opening pleasantries and get straight to what you’re bound to ask me sooner or later.’

He had a booming laugh. ‘You didn’t major in subtlety at Glasgow, did you, Bob?’

‘I can do it when I have to, but I prefer the cards dealt face up. It makes the game a whole lot easier.’

‘True. I wish there were people like you in business. That’s my environment, you see, you keep your hand well hidden. Okay, to it; can I expect to be calling you brother one day?’

‘No,’ I replied, looking him in the eye. ‘Now that we’ve sized each other up for a while, Alison and I are in the early stages of what’s looking like being a very comfortable relationship, one that suits us both. We have a shared outlook on life, we have shared ambitions, and we are very fond of each other. But you should know your sister well enough to realise that if she’s offered a choice between marriage and a chief constable’s silver braid, then you may phone the tailor and commission the uniform. I’m the same.’

‘You’re a man, though,’ he countered, ‘in a masculine world. You don’t have to make that choice. I’ll bet there isn’t one chief in Scotland who’s a single man.’

‘You’d lose. Two of them are divorced, due largely to the pressures that the job placed on their marriages while they were on the way up, as I am now, as Alison is now. There would be twice the stress if we were man and wife, or even a full-time couple. There is a level of commitment between us, my daughter is happy with the way things are, and that’s enough for all of us.’ I looked away for a second, then caught his gaze again. ‘And there’s this. I’ve lowered one wife into her grave already, I relive it every day, and I have a great resistance to ever repeating the experience for real.’

‘Of course.’

‘Have you had this conversation with Alison?’ I asked.

‘Are you kidding?’ he replied. ‘Am I carrying my balls in a brown paper bag? But you understand, don’t you, why I feel that I have to clear the air with you?’

‘Sure, and I don’t have a problem with it. She’s your sister, for a start, and you care about her. On top of that you’re a very wealthy man, and you need to be sure that she’s not attracting pot-hunters. For the record, I’m nowhere near your level, but I’m not poor.’ I paused. ‘But what the hell am I talking about?’ I laughed. ‘You know all that, for you’ve had me checked out. I knew that as soon as you told me what university I went to, for I don’t believe I’ve ever mentioned it to Alison, only that I’m a graduate. You probably know how much I inherited from my father, and where it’s invested. You probably know the value of various insurance policies and death-in-employment benefits that were paid out when Myra was killed. You might even know how much I have in my bank accounts. Am I right?’

He flinched, and I saw him flush beneath the tan.

‘Eden,’ I told him, ‘it’s all right. I don’t mind. I’ve just done much the same thing with my sister-in-law’s new boyfriend, and I have access to resources that you don’t. But . . . I need to know this . . . did your people find out anything else about me, and my family background?’

He nodded. ‘Yes,’ he admitted. ‘They discovered that you have a brother named Michael, who lives in a charitable institution not that far from here, supported by a small trust fund administered on his behalf by a firm of solicitors in Glasgow.’

‘Then your investigators have been too good for their own good. Alison knows nothing of Michael’s existence. Even my daughter isn’t aware that she has an uncle. We might have been born to the same parents, but that man has been dead to me for the last twenty years, as he was to them. Until right now, I had no clear idea of where he was, and I still don’t want you to tell me his exact location. I hate him, more than it’s safe for me to hate another human being.’

‘Christ, Bob,’ he muttered, ‘I had no idea.’

‘Why should you? But now that you do, I need you to promise me two things, that you’ll shred every copy of the report your people gave you, and that you’ll make sure they do the same. While you’re at it, tell them from me that they should forget they ever heard of Michael, for if anyone else ever mentions him to me in the future, my first thought is going to be that it came from them. It’ll take me about two minutes to find out who they are, and not much longer for me to put them out of business.’

‘Consider all that done,’ Eden promised. ‘By the way, the report was for my eyes only; it’s in my private safe in my office.’ He glanced at me, with a tiny smile. ‘Bob, if that’s what you’d do to people who annoyed you by accident, how would you deal with someone who went out of his way to piss you off?’

I laughed. ‘That hasn’t happened for a long time.’

He finished his beer and fetched two more. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to marry my sister?’ he murmured, just as Rory appeared to tell us that the food was ready. ‘I’d love to have you in our gang.’

Eden and I got on like a house on fire after that. We ate below decks, then took a late evening walk around the marina before we turned in. There were some very impressive boats there, but nothing beat the
Palacio de Ginebra
for sheer class. ‘Where are we going tomorrow?’ I asked, before we turned in.

‘Nowhere too ambitious,’ Eden replied. ‘Alison and I reckon that since it’s your first trip, we might just sail down to Campbeltown, moor there for the night and come back up on Sunday.’

‘Great. Like Ali says, I’m only the deckhand.’

I hadn’t been sure about sleeping on something that was moving about all night, even if gently. I was still wondering whether I’d manage when I woke next morning, aware of the light that had found its way into the cabin in spite of the heavy curtain over the porthole. Alison was smiling at me, her eyes still fuzzy. ‘We’re turning into a couple,’ she murmured. ‘You fell asleep on me.’

‘Well, baby,’ I whispered, ‘I’m awake now.’

Even at that we were still up and ready to go by seven fifteen, although we were the last into the dayroom. I was excited. I couldn’t remember how long it was since I’d done something absolutely new, that wasn’t related to work. I couldn’t remember how long it was since I’d been as separated from the job, mentally as well as physically.

Sailing turned out to be far easier than I’d expected, or feared. Life jackets were mandatory equipment on board, so falling over the side wasn’t a big deal, and all I had to do was . . . whatever I was told. Once the sails were set they had to be adjusted every now and then, but mostly the real work was left to whoever was keeping us on course. As Rory proved, that was child’s play . . . provided, as his aunt pointed out when I remarked upon it, that the child knew what he was doing.

Eden set a course out of Inverkip that took us west of the Isles of Cumbrae, Great and Little, views I’d never seen before, since my few trips there had been from Largs, on the east, and then out into the open Firth of Clyde. I’m not a hugely travelled man, but I’m a patriotic Scot and every so often I’m struck with a burst of pride in my country’s beauty. Too many of us, me included, spend too little time in its contemplation.

The wind wasn’t strong but we still made decent time, until Eden decided that we’d moor off Lamlash for lunch. Once we’d eaten, he took Alex, Rory and me across to the Holy Island in the motorised inflatable that the
Gin Palace
towed behind it, leaving Alison on wash-up duty. We walked around the lovely wee island for an hour; my daughter and I each shot a full roll of film. The place is a centre for world peace these days, and I can understand why, although I wonder how its students feel when they see a missile-carrying nuclear submarine go by, out of the base at Faslane.