Goodmans of Glassford Street (17 page)

This was a truly terrible state to get into. She’d talk to him tomorrow, first thing. Even if she couldn’t catch him on his own, she would ask to speak to him alone in his office. She would say it was urgent and would not take any excuses from him that he was too busy.

Not one more day would pass without her saving him from himself.

‘For goodness’ sake,’ Abi burst out irritably, ‘a restaurant? What next?’

‘Why not?’ Douglas Benson asked. ‘Every other store has one. Even comparatively small bookshops. I was up in what was Ottakar’s bookshop the other day …’

‘What on earth were you doing there? We have a perfectly good and well-stocked book department here.’

‘I was there for research purposes. Waterstone’s have bought Ottakar’s and it was obviously a very successful takeover. The place was extremely busy.’

‘So is our book department.’

‘But they have a café with three very attractive girls serving behind the counter, and seats and tables and comfortable armchairs and sofas where people can relax with a cup of coffee and browse through the books. It gives a perfect atmosphere and the girls are very attractive. They offer to carry your tray over to the table and ask you if you’ve enjoyed the coffee or tea or whatever snack you’ve had to eat.’

He was really getting carried away with enthusiasm.

‘The bigger Waterstone’s in Sauchiehall Street has a café as well. So does Borders – all very successful businesses.’

Abi sighed. ‘In the first place, we are not a bookshop. In the second place, Goodmans is already a very successful business.’

‘Yes, but we could be so much more successful. We are so behind the times. It is crazy not to want to expand and modernise and grow …’

Abi stopped listening to him. She had heard it all before. But a restaurant of all things! Where on earth would they put it, in the first place? By cutting every other department? She dreaded the thought of what Douglas Benson would do to Goodmans if he had the chance. If only John would take it over. She had made a will leaving everything to him, of course. Perhaps he would employ a suitable managing director or someone who would run the place and keep the old traditions going. Thinking of John made her worries increase. Apparently, the police weren’t all that impressed with what John had told them about Julie’s ex. Why hadn’t he told them before?, they’d asked. She understood why he hadn’t, even if the police didn’t. John was a very busy man. He had much on his mind. He was recklessly controversial and as a result made a lot of enemies. In other words, he had more to think about than his secretary’s ex-boyfriend. She wished with all her heart that John would get out of politics and just come to support her in the store. She could retire then if she knew it was in safe hands. She had been getting so stressed recently, and that was unusual for her. She had been taking more time off than usual too, what with the trip to South Castle-on-Sea and her days in Edinburgh and the times she was persuaded to leave the store during the day before closing time to be with the children. Douglas Benson must be in his element, thinking that he was well on his way to taking over completely.

Remembering South Castle-on-Sea relit the fire of her anger against Mr Webster. To think how lucky he was, with a loving wife and family, and yet he was cheating on them. She had an urge to sack Miss Webster, his daughter, just to spite him, but struggled against the urge. It wasn’t his daughter’s fault. She was a good worker and had done nothing wrong. It was Mr Webster who deserved to be sacked. She wished she could sack him but knew he was far too valuable an employee. Anyway, sacking from Goodmans wouldn’t bother him. He would immediately be snapped up by another firm.

She wondered if she should go to see John again, even just for a chat and to have a bite of lunch. He was always pleased to see her and eager to have a talk with her. He was obviously upset and worried at the moment about the murder. It must be very difficult and stressful for him having to cope with that on top of all his parliamentary work.

‘Well,’ she suddenly heard Douglas Benson say, ‘if that’s all at the moment, we’ll leave it that I’ll enquire further into the possibilities and financial implications for the inclusion of a restaurant or café and report back in due course. Meeting closed.’

Bloody cheek of him! But she couldn’t be bothered dragging the meeting out any further. She had too many other things on her mind. As soon as the room cleared, she picked up the phone and dialled John’s number. There was no answer. Even if he was in the chamber or elsewhere at a committee meeting or some other engagement, his secretary usually answered and told her where he was. Of course, poor Julie was no longer able to do that. But had he not yet found a replacement?

Surely nothing else had happened? He couldn’t be at the police station, could he? Whether or not she could contact him and tell him she was coming didn’t matter now. She was so worried, she had to leave for Edinburgh right away.

There was a small space for a taxi rank outside Goodmans – just enough for two taxis. Fortunately there was one taxi waiting there and she climbed in and asked the driver to take her to Queen Street Station. The driver didn’t look too pleased but said nothing. She realised Queen Street wasn’t much of a job for him and normally she would have walked there. Today, however, she felt so acutely worried and impatient, she didn’t feel like struggling through the crowded streets and packed George Square.

The huge Christmas tree and all the lights reminded her of the Christmas family gatherings there used to be in the villa in Huntershill. How wonderful it had been when Tom was alive! The house was a riot of coloured decorations that Tom had spent hours getting ready for the family celebrations. She had always helped him decorate the Christmas tree and they both took great pleasure in wrapping the Christmas gifts.

Now, she just took the family out to a restaurant for lunch. It wasn’t the same. In the evening, John usually returned to Edinburgh to have a party in his flat or attend a party in the house of one of the other MSPs. The Bensons usually entertained friends in the evening. They always invited her and, to prevent John worrying, she pretended to go there. But she knew Douglas Benson didn’t really want her and she always made some last-minute excuse.

On Christmas Eve, though, she always had some fun when she visited the children. But no matter what she did or didn’t do, Christmas was no longer a happy family time for her. New Year was even worse. She told John and the Bensons that she would be going away for a few days. Sometimes she did go away to some hotel or other. A lot of people spent Hogmanay (New Year’s Eve) and New Year’s Day and the day after in a hotel. It didn’t matter what she did, however. It was still a painful and unhappy time. And there was always the silent, empty house to come back to.

She did not have to wait for a train and boarded one just minutes before it moved off.

Most evenings, whether it was during the year or at holiday time, she just watched television. If there was no programme that she liked, she would put on one of her
CSI: Miami
DVDs and take some pleasure and comfort from Horatio, the way he bent forward, head leaning to one side as he listened with concentration, sympathy and understanding to whoever was in need of sympathy and understanding. Often he would say to a helpless child or a woman who had been hurt or frightened, ‘No one is going to hurt you ever again. Trust me.’

Usually the train seemed to fly towards Edinburgh, but today it felt as if it would never get there. She bought a cup of tea from the trolley and a packet of biscuits. She hadn’t bothered to make any breakfast before leaving for the store in the morning. She tried John’s number on her mobile. Still no reply.

She decided to call at his flat first just in case he was there. There was no answer to her insistent ringing of his doorbell. She walked from there down the Royal Mile to the Parliament. At the counter where visitors booked tours or made enquiries, she asked the girl to contact John’s office and tell him that his mother was here.

‘I’m sorry,’ the girl said eventually, ‘he appears to be visiting his constituency today. Would you like to leave a message? He’ll probably be speaking at meetings there and when he’s doing that, he turns off his mobile.’

‘No, I’ll phone him tomorrow, or later this evening.’

She turned away, almost in tears with disappointment but hardening it away with annoyance. What a waste of time – coming all this distance for nothing. She might as well make a few purchases on her way back to the station.

She had a walk around the Grassmarket and looked at the boutiques. She stopped also to look at the railed enclosure that marked the site of the gallows. Captain Porteous was hanged there and over a hundred Covenanters were martyred. Not far away was the house where Burke and Hare, the bodysnatchers and murderers, operated.

Edinburgh had a fascinating history and a bloody one, of course. It had been a legal and middle- and upper-class city, whereas Glasgow had been basically industrial and working-class with its shipbuilding and locomotive works and other industries. The patron saint of Glasgow was Saint Kentigern – or Mungo as Glaswegians preferred to call him. Mungo meant ‘dear one’. The city had its very beginnings rooted in religion.

By the end of the fifteenth century, Glasgow was a powerful academic and ecclesiastical centre. Then by 1770, trade with America was fully established. Glasgow’s tobacco lords had cornered the market.

Abi admired the hard-working, inventive and friendly people of Glasgow. She admired the city of Edinburgh in many ways, and enjoyed a day’s visit to the capital, but she would never want to live there. To her, it would feel like living among strangers in a foreign country.

As soon as people who lived in the Royal Mile became successful, they moved away to the New Town. It was very elegant and designed by Robert Adam. Abi still preferred Glasgow’s Victorian architecture, though. John always laughed at her for the way she kept sticking up for Glasgow and everything about it, no matter what.

‘Well,’ she said, ‘I’m Glasgow born and bred, and proud of it.’

John had been born and bred in Glasgow too, of course, but he preferred living in Edinburgh and had been perfectly happy in the capital – until now. She wished she’d seen him today and found out how he was and if there had been any further developments in the murder enquiries. She had lunch in Jenners in Princes Street and then caught a train back to Glasgow. Once in Queen Street Station, she hesitated about going straight home or returning to the store, but it would soon be closing time. It was hardly worth it. She made her way down to George Square, not sure what she was going to do, but reluctant to return to Huntershill.

The Square was teeming with people as usual at this time of year and was all raucous noise and sparkle. She stood for a time watching the skaters, then decided that now that she was so near, she might as well pay a visit to the penthouse and say hello to the children.

It was Douglas who answered the door and to her surprise, he was quite chatty and welcoming to her. He even called her ‘Mother’. But of course, when she came to think about it, he was happy because he thought he was winning. He believed he was on the verge of taking over completely. She had been so lax recently. She must try and pull herself together and get back to her old routine. She must get back her concentration on the store and everyone in it. She hadn’t even seen Mr McKay for days, weeks maybe. She couldn’t remember. That was the worrying thing. She probably had seen him, spoken to him too, but her mind was just not on the job.

She would try to get a decent sleep tonight and go into the store tomorrow with a fresh mind and a renewal of her steely determination to run the store her way, Tom’s way, the way it had always been run.

‘I’m telling you, Moira,’ Sam Webster said, ‘she’s stalking me. She came to the shop and I told her to fuck off. But she hung on and so I took her to the station. I meant to wait and put her on a train to South Castle-on-Sea but there wasn’t a train due for hours and so I left her there to catch the train herself. I didn’t want to sit there with her for all that time. Or any time. I just wanted rid of the bloody awful woman.’

‘Well, you haven’t got rid of her.’

It was then that they heard a crash and ran through to the kitchen. A brick had been hurled through the window. Glass lay scattered over the units and the floor.

Sam Webster tore open the back door and rushed outside but there was no one to be seen. He returned, cursing under his breath.

‘Don’t tell me that was her back,’ Moira said.

‘Who else?’

‘If this goes on, we’ll have to phone for the police. There was one of the garden ornaments broken yesterday. That was probably her as well.’

‘I’ll threaten her with the police if I see her tomorrow. But I don’t want the police involved if I can help it. Apart from anything else, there’s my job to consider.’

‘You should have thought about that before you became involved with her.’

‘I wish I’d never set eyes on the woman. The only thing I can think of is to let her know that if I see her in the shop again, I’m going back down to South Castle-on-Sea. Then I could perhaps involve the police down there, or threaten to involve the police and the local paper. That would risk her B. & B. going down the drain. She wouldn’t want that.’

Moira shrugged. ‘I suppose you’ll be going anyway.’

‘Well, I need to be there on business, but don’t worry, last time I was in a hotel at the other end of South Castle-on-Sea from her B. & B. and will be every time from now on.’

The more he thought about it, the more he was sure that this was the best idea. The Floral was Viv’s livelihood and she was proud of the place. She would definitely not want it involved in any scandal. Families with young children were among her best customers because of The Floral’s closeness to the beach and the pier, with all its entertainments. If Viv was proved to be a bad and dangerous character, no family would want to go near her.

Next day, like the last few days, Viv was loitering near the entrance of the shop. He went straight over to her and said, ‘Look, you may as well give up hanging around here. I’m off to South Castle-on-Sea to see my wholesalers later today. So I won’t be here for you to pester.’