Dead Won't Sleep (30 page)

All the way upstairs, other reporters and staff greeted her with handshakes, congratulating her on the exposé. She was too tired, and too keen to get on, to enjoy the moment. But she thanked each of them for their support, and made a few jokes on the way to the editor’s office. She noticed that Reynolds sat smouldering at his desk and had picked up the phone as soon as she came onto the editorial floor.

McGuire’s office door was open and his secretary nodded her in. As Rosie walked into the office, she met the newspaper’s managing director, Gordon Thomson, on his way out. His face was grave but he brightened when he saw Rosie. They had always got on well, and she knew Thomson had respect for her, despite his reputation of being a smiling assassin. He was top of the heap in management, but he had come from a working class background and applauded achievement against the odds. During a boozy lunch one time, when he was congratulating Rosie on a press award, he had told her he liked the way she stood her ground in the testosterone-fuelled editorial floor of a daily newspaper. And one time, when her life was being threatened, he told McGuire to spare no expense in sending her out of the country to a secret location for two weeks.

‘Rosie,’ Thomson said. ‘Are you all right? We were all
worried sick when we heard about what happened. Don’t worry. You’ll be protected from now on. Oh, well done, by the way. Fantastic stuff today. Award winning. Don’t worry about the lawsuits.’ He laughed and shook her hand.

‘I never do,’ Rosie said, as he breezed past her. But she was suspicious that he was in McGuire’s office at all. She looked at the editor sitting behind his desk, his expression serious. Hanlon was on the sofa, along with Martin Brady, the boss of the legal firm. This was not good. Brady was only pulled in when there was a big problem. She knew how much credence had been given to her information about the mobile phone from Bob Fletcher. She prayed that nothing had happened to rubbish that. She knew the lengths the police were capable of going to cover up something that would bring this amount of shit on top of them.

‘Hi,’ she said. ‘Howsit going? Why is everyone looking so glum? It was me they tried to shoot.’

Nobody reacted.

‘Sit down, Rosie,’ McGuire said.

She sat down, and glanced at Hanlon who gave her a sympathetic look.

McGuire took a deep breath. ‘Rosie. Firstly, are you okay? I know it’s been a long night for you. But straight off, you’re going for a long holiday at the paper’s expense. Promise.’

Rosie nodded. ‘I’m fine.’ She looked around. ‘Well . . . I was fine until I came in here.’

‘Look, Rosie . . . About the paedo story . . .’

She shifted in her seat. She could hear the sound of bottle crashing. She opened her mouth to speak.

McGuire put his hand up to stop her. ‘Now just listen and hear me out.’ The last twenty-four hours, well, a couple of days more, actually, I’ve been in constant talks with Gordon and the lawyers over this.’ He took a deep breath. ‘And the Lord President has been on the phone. There’s also been discussion with the Lord Advocate.

‘Why?’ she asked, but she knew why. Someone had got to them. ‘Why is management being brought in, Mick? I haven’t even put the allegations to the judge yet. Or to the home. What’s going on?’

‘Listen, Rosie,’ McGuire said. ‘Obviously I had to inform the managing director that we were about to bring down one of the most powerful figures in the legal establishment. They had to know.’

‘And?’

‘Well,’ McGuire said, ‘on the advice of our lawyers, it was decided to approach the Lord President and tell him what we had. Obviously, he would have to talk to Lord Dawson himself and find out just what’s going on.’

‘What?’ Rosie said, standing up. ‘Why? In the name of Christ, why, Mick? Why would we tell Lord Dawson what we’ve got? Was he going to congratulate us? Jesus!’ She shook her head. ‘It was to give him an out. Give him the chance to resign on health grounds or something.
Wasn’t it? Christ, Mick! You’re about to tell me he’s going to stand down on health grounds, aren’t you?’

McGuire looked at Hanlon who looked at his boss. Brady spoke.

‘Now just calm down, Rosie. These things are a means to an end. Lord Dawson will be removed from his post, albeit officially at his own request. The entire paedophile ring will be tracked down and action taken. And the kids will be moved to a new home. There’ll be a complete investigation. The most important thing is that the kids will be protected now and in the future.’

‘So it’s all done and dusted?’ Rosie said, sitting back down. ‘I can’t believe this. No, I can, in fact. I don’t know where I got the idea that I would actually get a story in the paper that would really shake the establishment.’

‘But it will,’ McGuire said. ‘It already has, Rosie. Lord Dawson will be announcing his resignation tomorrow. He’s finished.’

‘But not prosecuted,’ Rosie said. ‘Not like the others who might face jail over this. Like the boss of the home or the janitor. Lord Dawson gets off scot-free, with his fat pension and his reputation intact.’

‘Not quite,’ Brady said. ‘He might slip away quietly, but people will know. He’s finished.’

‘He should go to jail,’ she protested. ‘The bastard should go to jail. I can’t believe we’re part of this cover-up. Is that it?’

‘It’s not a cover-up, Rosie,’ McGuire said. ‘The job is done.’

‘Our job is to tell the fucking story. To expose people like Lord Dawson.’

‘But look what we’ve done today.’ McGuire was on his feet. ‘Look what you’ve done with Gavin Fox and the police force. That’s a massive exposé.’

‘That’s not the point, Mick, and you know it. I take it that’s why the MD was in here just now, making sure his knighthood was safe?’ She was raging against Thomson now. They were cut from the same cloth, and she felt betrayed.

When nobody answered, Rosie stood up. ‘Right. I understand. I see it all quite clearly now.’ She turned to McGuire. ‘Christ. Why did it take me so long?’ She felt tears come to her eyes and bit her lip. The last thing she wanted to do was blub at a time like this.

‘Rosie.’ McGuire took a step towards her. ‘You’re shattered. You need a bit of a rest. Hanlon’ll take you for lunch and you just relax for a while. Come on, you need a break. Try to understand that sometimes it happens like this. Sometimes we have to bend just a bit. But remember, the damage is done and it’s all down to you. Dawson is finished. You did that, Rosie. Foxy is finished and so are a few others. You did all that. Enjoy the moment.’

Rosie stood for a moment and looked at each of them.

She tried to sound calm. ‘Sorry. I understand. If you’ve
got the shitty end of the stick in life, there is nothing to protect you, and you get away with nothing. But if you’re from the top drawer, nothing can touch you. No matter what you do.’

Hanlon couldn’t look her in the eye.

‘I won’t go for lunch if you don’t mind. I’m tired, and I have to go and visit my friend who nearly got killed for me last night. You’ve made your decisions, so let’s just leave it at that before I say any more.’ As she turned to walk away, she looked at McGuire.

‘I’ll take the rest of the day off, if that’s all right.’

‘Sure, Rosie. I’ll call you later. We’ll go for a drink.’

Rosie was back in the cafe in the East End where she first met Mags Gillick. She didn’t know why she drove there when she left the office. She just found herself going in that direction.

Everything had changed on that rainy morning when Mags walked into her life. As Rosie sat at the window, the girl she remembered serving them the last time came towards her. Rosie ordered a coffee and looked out of the window. So much had happened over these past few weeks. So much had changed. In places like this everything stayed the same, no matter how many lives unravelled at its greasy tables.

She was trying hard to be objective about the Lord Dawson debacle. McGuire was right. The Gavin Fox story was crucial and would go down in history. So what if the next big story didn’t make it? That was life. She remembered an old reporter telling her never to take it too seriously. That’s just how it was, it would all be chip-shop
paper tomorrow, he used to say. Or lining the budgie’s cage. So why sit here, making so much of something over which she had no control? As long as she worked for a newspaper, she could never actually control anything. The only thing she was able to control was herself. By working flat out and making her job the centre of her life, she needed nothing else. But now it was different. She wanted TJ – she just didn’t know how she was going to do it. The thought of upping sticks and moving out was just something she didn’t do. Perhaps now that he’d been injured he would take some time out to think about things himself.

Rosie decided to phone Quigley and let him know it was time to get out. She didn’t give a damn about what McGuire or anyone else thought. Why should Lord Dawson and the others get off the hook while Quigley would be thrown to the wolves? She dialled his number.

‘Paddy? It’s Rosie.’

‘Hallo.’ Paddy’s voice was shaking. ‘I’m at work. Something’s happening. Davidson got summoned to headquarters and there’s social workers all over here. What’s going on?’

‘Get yourself out of there, Paddy.’ She didn’t want to engage in any conversation with him. ‘That’s all I’m saying. Get yourself away. Now.’ She hung up.

Her next call was to Alison Prentice.

‘How are you, Alison? Are you bearing up?’

‘I’m all right,’ Alison said. ‘It was a shock seeing it
all in the paper, even though I knew it was coming, but my best friend is with me, and I will get through this.’

‘You did the right thing,’ Rosie said. ‘But it’s a lot for you to deal with.’

Silence. Then Alison spoke. ‘Rosie? Could we meet some time for a coffee or something, once this is all over?’

‘Of course we can.’ Rosie was relieved that Alison wasn’t full of regret. ‘Give yourself a couple of weeks, and come to Glasgow. Call me and we’ll meet.’

‘I’d like that.’ The line went dead.

Rosie drank her coffee and left the cafe. A biting wind had sprung up. She felt weak and angry and tired all at the same time. She wished she could lie down somewhere and wake up and everything would be clear cut. She got into her car and drove to TJ’s.

‘Up you come.’ His voice on the intercom sounded a little distracted.

The hall door was open when she got to his flat, and she walked towards the living-room. A Chet Baker CD was playing, and Rosie remembered TJ telling her it was that music which had made him take up the sax when he was a teenager. He said it was the background music to his life. The bedroom door was open and TJ called her to come through. An open suitcase lay on the bed with folded clothes piled around. TJ turned from the bed and hobbled across to her.

‘You’re packing?’ Rosie said.

‘Well spotted. They don’t call you intrepid for nothing.’ He smiled. Then his face was serious. ‘I told you, Rosie, I’m leaving. I’ve been sitting here all day thinking and I just made my mind up. It’s now or never, Rosie.’

She was stunned. ‘But where are you going? I mean your leg and stuff. I thought you would be waiting for a little while.’

He moved closer to her and took both her hands.

‘No. I don’t want to wait, Rosie. I just want to get out of here.’ He looked into her eyes. ‘I want you to come.’

Rosie sighed and looked away. She wasn’t ready for this.

‘But TJ . . . Jesus!’ She rubbed her face with her hands. ‘Listen. I’ve just come from McGuire’s office. They’re not publishing the paedophile story. My head’s all over the place. I can’t make a decision right now.’

‘Why not, Rosie?’ He shrugged. ‘If ever there was a better time to realise that you’ve had enough, then it’s right now. The fact that they’re not publishing the story speaks volumes. Is that what you want? To be a part of that? Do you want that for the rest of your life? Look at the state of you. You’re wrecked.’

Rosie burst into tears. He took her in his arms and held her.

‘I’m sorry, TJ.’ She tried to smile. ‘This is getting to be a habit, crying like an eejit.’ She sniffed and composed herself. ‘I’m just so tired and frustrated. I can’t believe they won’t use the story. It’s criminal.’

‘It’s crap, Rosie.’ TJ wiped her tears away with his hand. ‘It’s just a game to these people. You don’t belong there any more. I don’t even know if you ever did.’

‘I don’t know where I belong. I don’t know anything any more.’

He let her go and went back to a rucksack on the bed. He pulled out an envelope with two airline tickets. ‘I was going to show you these last night.’ He handed one to Rosie and she opened it.

‘New York?’ She almost laughed. ‘I’ve never been to New York.’

‘So now’s your chance.’ His arms went around her and he kissed her on the lips. ‘Come with me, Rosie. Just leave it all behind. Who knows what will happen. Take a chance.’

She stood still, gazing at the ticket. ‘It’s tomorrow morning,’ she said, surprised. ‘It’s too quick, TJ. Come on . . . Tomorrow morning?’

He turned away and continued putting clothes into the case.

‘That’s how it’s done, Rosie. Just cut loose.’

‘I don’t know, TJ.’ Rosie sighed. ‘Christ. I don’t know.’

‘Neither do I.’ He turned to her. ‘That’s the whole point. We don’t know, but maybe it’s worth finding out. I’ll be on that plane tomorrow anyway. Seven-thirty. You don’t want to come, it’s up to you, but you’ve got your ticket.’ He shrugged. ‘Come on. Turn off the control switch. See what happens.’

Rosie watched him packing. How could she do that? Just get up and leave it all behind?

‘TJ,’ she said, ‘I’m going home to sleep for a couple of hours. I’ll call you later. I just don’t know . . . Please understand.’

He kissed her again and hugged her close.

‘I do understand, Rosie. Whatever you decide, I’ll understand.’ He went on speaking into her hair. ‘But I do love you, Rosie, no matter what. It’s up to you.’ He eased himself away from her and looked into her eyes. ‘Listen. I won’t be calling you. If you decide to come, phone me, and I’ll pick you up. Or just be at the airport. If not, don’t phone to say goodbye. I hate goodbyes.’ He smiled wistfully. ‘I’ll send you a postcard.’