Sewing the Shadows Together (25 page)

Tom sat on the bus from Edinburgh Airport feeling the excitement rising. All through the long night flight from Johannesburg and on the short shuttle from Heathrow, he’d been imagining the moment he saw Sarah again. He’d gone through his fantasy scenario time and time again, the embrace at the doorway, the kiss, making love and telling her about his inheritance. His heart felt full and pulsing in his chest, he couldn’t wait to see her and tell her of his plans for the future.

First, he would buy a little flat in Portobello and go to Art College. That was what he’d always wanted to do and now he had the money to be able to do it. He knew it was not a fortune, but enough to keep him going if he was careful. He and Sarah would be able to spend time together, catching up on all the years they’d lost. He was amazed how romantic he felt,
him
, the old cynic.

When he got off the bus at Waverley Station, the skyline in front of him took his breath away, the silhouette of the castle and churches with the sky cloudy and brooding behind it. He was home.

He crossed Princess Street, pulling his suitcase behind him, and hurried down Frederick Street. As he crossed George Street he glimpsed the sea, and the smoky outline of Fife merging into the mistiness of the horizon. He and Sarah would walk along the shore, hand-in-hand, he would support her and she would be his muse. After a decent time they’d move in together, perhaps even marry. As he turned the corner into Great King Street his whole body was tingling with anticipation. He ran up the steps and rang the bell, almost unable to contain his excitement.

There was no answer. It had never occurred to him that she might be out. He rang again, willing her to answer. He wanted to hear her voice through the entryphone system, he wanted to run up the steps two by two and hold her in his arms.

After ringing for a third time he realised she wasn’t going to answer and he wondered what to do next. He hadn’t got a Plan B. He shivered; there was a light drizzle in the air and he was still wearing the light denim jacket he’d worn out of South Africa, quite unsuitable for November in Edinburgh.

He remembered a café in a converted bank on the road towards Stockbridge; he’d go and have a cup of coffee and try again later. He yawned. He’d hardly slept on the plane with his long legs cramped in front of him and he’d been in the same clothes for twenty-four hours. In his disappointment, he began to feel the weariness.

He was walking down Circus Place when he saw Sarah’s car coming in the opposite direction. He waved, but Sarah’s eyes were fixed straight ahead. His stomach lurched as he saw her profile, serious but even more beautiful than he remembered. He turned and hurried back up the road, his suitcase bouncing on the uneven pavement.

As he turned into Great King Street he saw she’d parked the car and was concentrating on putting her key into the lock of her front door. He hurried up the steps. She didn’t notice him until he was directly behind her, but then she half-turned and her face lit up. She reached out and buried her head in his shoulder, her whole body shaking with sobs. The welcome was not the one Tom had anticipated. He stroked her hair. ‘Shhh…’ he whispered. ‘It’s all right.’

He took the key from her hand and opened the main door, before leading her gently upstairs. They reached the door of the flat and Sarah held him tight. ‘I’ve had such an awful time. It’s been a nightmare. I’ve missed you so much.’

‘I’m here now.’ He held her close and led her to the drawing room. ‘Tell me what’s happened.’

Between sobs, Sarah told him about Nick being attacked, the DNA and the suspicions about Rory.

Tom sat bolt upright. ‘There must be some mistake. Rory couldn’t, wouldn’t…’ He thought back to those days after Shona’s body was found, when everyone was considered a suspect. Never, ever had it crossed his mind that it could possibly be Rory.

Then from deep in his memory he heard Rory’s voice. ‘
Wait until your little sister is a couple of years older. She’ll be a real goer
.’ He’d been furious at the time, filled with rage that Rory could talk about his sister in that way. Had something happened between them?

‘And I’ve just been at my mother’s. That was a disaster too.’ Sarah described what had happened, and the escalating hostility in the car on the way home. ‘Lottie’s so bitter. I’d never realised. This should be a wonderful time, with the baby coming, but she said our family is a sham and she doesn’t want to be part of the big pretence any more. And she called me a doormat.’

Tom suppressed a laugh; Sarah looked shocked. ‘It’s not funny.’

Tom raised his eyebrows. ‘I’m sorry to laugh, and I wouldn’t exactly call you a doormat, but you do tend to put everyone else’s feelings and needs before your own.’ Sarah pouted and gave him a playful thump on the chest.

‘It’s one of the many things I love about you: your kindness, understanding and empathy for other people, but,’ he raised his hands in mock defence, ‘you have to learn to be a bit more selfish, sometimes.’ He leant over and kissed her. ‘And you need someone to care for you and spoil you a bit. You’ve looked after other people all your life and now it’s your turn for a bit of TLC – and I’m your man. I’ll always be here for you; I’m never going away again.’ And as he said it Tom knew it was true.

‘Thank you,’ Sarah leant over and kissed him on the lips; then she straightened and shook herself. ‘Oh, I’ve just been talking about myself all the time. How are you? The last thing I heard from you was that your aunt died. I’m so sorry.’

‘Aunty Betty was over ninety and happy to go and join my Uncle Gus. And,’ his face broke into a wide smile, ‘I’m not a beach-bum any more. She left me something in her will and now I’m half a millionaire.’

*

The low morning sun was shining into the drawing room as Sarah was hoovering. She caught herself humming; she felt so happy, was sleeping well, and wasn’t haunted by those dreams and memories. Since Tom had come back, she felt reborn, blossoming like a dried-up flower, nurtured back to life.

They’d fallen into a comfortable daily routine: Tom got up and went for a run while she did a bit about the house and when he came back they had breakfast together. Then the rest of the day they just pottered around, finding out more about each other and enjoying doing nothing. Sarah had never felt so happy.

Tom would be back in a minute. She put the hoover away and was laying the kitchen table when the doorbell rang. That would be Tom with the rolls. She pushed the buzzer and left the flat door open as she started the coffee.

‘Hello, Mum.’

She looked round. It was Lottie carrying a bag of croissants.

‘Lottie, how lovely to see you.’

Lottie rushed towards her mother and hugged her. ‘I’m just on my way to the Health Centre, but I had to come in and speak to you.’ She stood back and looked her mother in the eyes. ‘Mum, I’m sorry I was such a bitch the other day. I don’t know what came over me, saying such awful things. Blame it on the hormones! I’ve even been crabby with Liam – and he’s the best-natured person in the world. In fact, it was him who said I should come and see you and apologise, because I was fretting over it so much.’ She kissed her mother. ‘You know how much I love you – and I know you’re going to be a wonderful grandmother.’

Sarah pulled Lottie tight. ‘You know I’ve always loved you, since the day you were born – and I can’t wait to be able to meet your little one, and have as much fun with her, or him, as I did with you and Nick. And you know if there’s ever anything you need, any help, I’m here.’

Lottie kissed her again. ‘I know, Mum, and perhaps that’s one reason I took you for granted. Because I always knew you’d be there. But when I think of everything that’s happened I just realise how lucky I am. Mum, you’re the best.’

The doorbell rang again. This time it would be Tom. She wondered how she would explain him to Lottie, but realised she didn’t care.

The door opened and Tom came in, panting in his running gear, clutching a paper bag of rolls. Lottie looked at him and smiled. ‘Hi, Tom. I’m just going – have an appointment at the doc’s. Hope you’re hungry because there’s loads to eat – I brought croissants too.’ She turned to her mum and gave her a smile. ‘Have a great day, you two and see you soon.’ And with a smile and a wave to both of them she disappeared through the door.

Tom smiled at Sarah and raised his eyebrows. ‘Well, it seems as if that’s one of your worries crossed off the list. I knew the kids would be all right – they just want you to be happy.’

Nick and Olly came round that evening with a bottle of wine. Sarah didn’t know if they’d been primed by Lottie, but they made no comment about Tom being there and acted as if his presence was totally natural. They had a lovely evening, with lots of laughs and several bottles of wine. When they left Sarah fell into bed with Tom, feeling thirty years younger and happier than she could ever remember.

*

The next morning the phone rang early. Sarah saw it was her mother. They hadn’t spoken since that dreadful visit with Lottie so Sarah was pleased her mother had taken the initiative.

‘Are you in this morning, Sarah? I’ve got something very important I want to show you.’

Sarah agreed to see her mother at ten and told Tom to go for a longer run today. She’d decided that she was going to face up to her mother and tell her the truth, but still didn’t feel comfortable with Tom being there. She’d spent her whole life keeping things secret from her mother and it was going to be hard to be honest with her for once.

When the doorbell rang she pressed the buzzer without checking, expecting to hear her mother coming up the stairs. She was surprised to hear two sets of footsteps and see DI Chisholm and a female officer coming round the corner of the stair. Chisholm shook her hand, introduced his colleague and strode into the flat.

Sarah hardly dared think what was coming next. ‘Have you checked the DNA?’

‘We have. Your husband’s DNA was not a match for the sample found on the victim’s cardigan.’

Sarah gasped; she felt a huge weight had literally been lifted from her. ‘Thank God. I knew it couldn’t have been him.’ Sarah’s mind leapt to the next possibility. ‘So was it HJ Kidd?’

DI Chisholm exchanged a weary look with his colleague. ‘Mr Kidd’s DNA has also been tested and as a result he has been definitely excluded from the enquiry. Incidentally, we’ve been able to process the film that was in the camera at the time of your husband’s accident and the evidence thereon is entirely consistent with the version of events given by Mr Kidd.’

‘But who then?’ Sarah held her breath.

DI Chisholm cleared his throat. ‘Although your husband has been eliminated from the enquiry, the fact still remains that your son’s DNA is a familial match to the murderer. Therefore, we have to investigate other members of the family.’

‘But Rory was an only child and his father was an invalid at that time.’

‘We also have to look to your side of the family. Do you have any brothers, Mrs Dunbar?’

Sarah gasped. Someone from
her
family? Her legs felt weak. There was nobody, except… No, it was unthinkable. She sat down on the sofa, feeling the eyes of the two police officers on her. Her mind was racing. In
her
family. There could only be one person…

Tom ran along the seafront at Portobello. He’d had to go out. It was strange – Sarah didn’t care who knew he was there, but when her mother said she was coming over she reverted to being a secretive teenager. The thought of Sarah made him smile. She was such a mass of contradictions, on the surface so composed, yet underneath so insecure.

He ran along the sand and looked up at the red tenement where he’d lived as a child and thought of Shona again. Could it have been Rory? Could he have arranged to meet his little sister? Maybe, it wasn’t impossible – he knew what Rory was like – but it must have been an accident. He’d never have done anything to harm Shona on purpose.

Shona. Somehow being a murder victim had sucked her of all personality, she had become an innocent angel in everyone’s minds, the smiling face on the posters. Talking to Sarah had made her a real person again. She’d told him some tales he hadn’t heard before, like the afternoon Shona had persuaded Sarah to skip off school with her. There was no getting away from the fact that Shona was naughty, but she was so sweet she could always get away with everything. Tom smiled at the memory.

Looking up he saw a FOR SALE sign on one of the tenements further along the prom. That would be a possiblility; he’d love to live here, completing the circle. At the end of the month he had to move into the Canongate Centre. He wasn’t at all keen on the idea now, but he felt a commitment to Kidd, who’d offered him the job when he was virtually penniless. The thought of the spartan accommodation filled him with gloom, but he’d go and work out his notice and hope he’d find someone to take over the job.

Because he was rich. He could still hardly believe it. After years of always being short of money, he now had more money than he’d ever dreamed of. It was difficult to get used to the idea, but Peter Roberts, the lawyer from Plett, had contacted him to say that that although Carl had challenged the will, it had been officially ratified and the money would be released by the end of the year.

Running further along the beach towards Abercorn Park and HJ Kidd’s house, he saw the old teacher and Hannah stepping out of their front gate, carrying shopping bags. Tom stared straight ahead and kept on running. He hadn’t contacted HJ yet to tell him that he was leaving the job as soon as possible. He’d been putting it off.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw them walking slowly along the prom. HJ Kidd was stooped, far more than he remembered, and Hannah almost seemed to be supporting him as they walked arm in arm. Although he didn’t want to, Tom decided he must go and speak to him. He didn’t want to risk them seeing him and think he was ignoring them.

He ran over the beach, up the steps and stopped in front of the Kidds. HJ raised his head. Tom was shocked; the old teacher’s face was grey and lined and his eyes looked dull. He seemed to have aged ten years. Even his voice seemed to have lost its power.

‘Oh, Tom, you’re back.’ The teacher hesitated, ‘There’s something I have to tell you. Bad news, I’m afraid. There will be no job at the Canongate Centre. They’re going to close the Arts Centre down.’ His voice cracked in disappointment.

Relief flooded through Tom’s body, although he tried to hide it because HJ was so obviously upset. He muttered a few sympathetic remarks.

‘The building’s being taken over by the Grassmarket Community Project. They’ve decided our concept is out of date.’ Hannah smiled gently in encouragement and HJ went on expressionlessly, as if reading from a policy document. ‘The Grassmarket Community Project offers a mixture of social integration activities, like cookery, woodwork, art and music, giving opportunities for people who have been marginalised by society to volunteer and work there.’

Tom sensed a huge ‘but’ coming. ‘It sounds great; would you be able to continue with the poetry group there?’

HJs face seemed to crumple even further.

Hannah took over, firmly. ‘Unfortunately poetry does not fit in with the concept of the project.’

Tom looked at HJ’s face and saw the pain in his eyes. ‘But you could continue the group somewhere else?’ He caught the look in Hannah’s eyes and realised he’d said the wrong thing.

Hannah glanced protectively at her husband. ‘HJ is going to concentrate on his own work from now on, and enjoy his retirement.’

HJ looked up at Tom hopefully. ‘Have you heard anything about the investigation? I was interviewed but I haven’t heard anything more. I had hoped that my DNA sample would exclude me and that there would be an end to this most distressing matter.’

Tom wondered whether he should say anything about Rory but decided against it, despite seeing the pain in the older man’s face. If the police hadn’t said anything, it wasn’t his place to give out information. He shook his head.

HJ reached out his hand. ‘I just hope for your sake that we’ll be able to find closure. I’m sorry I was unable to help you financially, as I’d hoped.’

Tom smiled. Of course, HJ Kidd didn’t know. He shook the older man’s hand warmly. ‘Thank you for all your help, but actually I’m OK for the moment. I’ve come into a bit of an inheritance.’

*

Sarah’s legs gave way and she sat on the Chesterfield, still trying to come to terms with what DI Chisholm had said.

The doorbell rang. That would be her mother. She mustn’t come in. Sarah couldn’t let her be confronted with the monstrous suspicion that was crossing her mind. The two police officers nodded to her and she went to the entryphone.

‘Mum, I’m sorry, it really isn’t convenient at the moment. Can you go for a cup of coffee and come back in an hour?’ Although her heart was pounding with panic, she was surprised that her voice came out normally.

‘Let me in, Sarah. I
have
to speak to you.’

‘Mum, it isn’t possible. The police are here.’

‘That’s very good. I would very much like to speak to them. Sarah, open the door.’

Sarah hesitated and then pushed the buzzer.

Her mother came up the stairs, looking thinner than ever in her designer clothes, clutching a large Jenner’s bag to her chest. Sarah was shaking but introduced the detectives. Her mother responded politely; everyone was observing the social niceties. DI Chisholm led them all into the drawing room.

‘Mum, the police are here about Shona’s death.’

‘I know, and that’s what I want to talk about. Ever since that Baird was freed I’ve been troubled. But now that Rory is a suspect, I’ve had no rest.’ Her voice was shaking but she struggled to compose herself. ‘It wasn’t Rory. I know.’

Sarah gasped, frightened by what her mother might say next. Mrs Campbell opened the Jenner’s bag and took out a blue leather box. She opened it carefully, revealing a pair of silver-backed men’s hair brushes nestling in the blue velvet lining. Sarah recognised them from the dressing table in her parents’ bedroom. Her father was never a vain man, but he had always brushed his thick luxuriant hair with them, one in each hand.

‘These were my father’s and he gave them to my late husband.’ Flora spoke with precision and calm. ‘They are among the few possessions I took from the Portobello flat when I moved. When Sarah told me about Rory and this DNA thing, I looked at them and saw there are still one or two of my husband’s hairs there.’

All the eyes in the room were fixed on her. DI Chisholm was about to say something, but Flora waved him aside. ‘Rory was not the murderer.’

Chisholm nodded to the female detective, who took a notebook out of her pocket. ‘Can you tell us the whole story, Mrs Campbell?’

The old lady took a deep breath and began. ‘This is so difficult. I made myself forget it, pretended it never happened.’ There was a bright spot of colour in the middle of each cheek, but otherwise her face was deathly pale. ‘I remember that terrible night. He went out to look for Sarah and came back, covered in mud and full of rage. He was always a religious man, but after that he was obsessed. He was always praying, always at the church.’ Sarah noticed that her mother couldn’t say her husband’s name.

‘That was the night Shona McIver disappeared?’ Chisholm asked gently.

‘Yes, but it never crossed my mind that he could’ve had anything to do with it. He was a man of God. And they found the murderer very quickly.’ She took another deep breath. ‘Then six years later he had his heart attack. We were alone in the house. He was so frightened. He was shaking, saying he was going to hell, to eternal damnation because of what he’d done.’ The old lady looked up and continued speaking, her voice quiet but firm. ‘I didn’t know what he meant. Then he said he had to confess or he would burn in hell for ever. He made me listen to what he had done, the terrible crime he had committed.’

Everyone was silent.

‘He said he found her in the park alone. She stopped to talk to him and smiled at him. He said she was so beautiful he just wanted to hold her.’ Her voice faltered. ‘Then the devil took him over.’

Sarah stared at her mother. Her brain felt as if it was imploding.

Flora looked round the room. ‘He couldn’t control his passion. He said it was an accident. He didn’t mean to kill her. He was too strong.’ She took out a lace-trimmed handkerchief and screwed it up in her hands. ‘In that last moment he cried out for forgiveness.’ A shocked silence hung in the air. ‘And then he died.’

Nobody dared to speak until Chisholm broke the moment. ‘Why didn’t you say anything about this at the time, Mrs Campbell?’

‘What would have been the point? That other man was in jail.’

Sarah couldn’t keep silent. ‘But Logan Baird has been in prison
all this time
.’

Mrs Campbell jutted her chin forward. ‘Everyone said he was a danger to young girls.’

Sarah leant forward to say something but Flora looked her in the eyes. ‘I did it for
you
. Can’t you see that? If people had found out you were the daughter of a murderer, you’d never have married, we’d both have been totally ostracised from society.’ Sarah was about to explode but Chisholm gestured to her to keep quiet.

‘Mrs Campbell, you should have told the police this at the time. Your actions were responsible for an innocent man being imprisoned for very many years. Nevertheless, I’d like to thank you for telling us now. Thank you too, for bringing the brushes. They will be useful for the conclusion of this case.’

‘Sarah told me that you can get that DNA thing from a single hair.’

‘That’s right. Now, if you would be so kind as to accompany us to the station we will be able to get a full statement.’

*

Tom opened the front door gently. ‘Sarah?’ He’d sent a text message to see if the coast was clear, but there’d been no reply.

The flat was silent except for the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall. Tom checked the kitchen and then looked into the front room. Sarah was standing silhouetted against the high casement window, looking out at the dark sky, heavy with threatening clouds.

‘Sarah? Is everything all right?’

She turned towards him, her face pale and drawn.

‘What’s happened?’ Tom stepped quickly to her side and put his arms round her, feeling the tension in her body.

Keeping her eyes lowered, Sarah told him everything that had happened, in a low clear voice. There were no tears, just a dazed bewilderment.

Tom listened without speaking, surprised at his own reaction. He was shocked that Sarah’s father was the murderer, because he’d seemed so upstanding and correct, a bastion of the Free Church, but mainly he just felt relief. Relief that it was all over, that the truth was known at last. Now he wanted to look to the future, because for the first time in his life he knew what he wanted and where he was going. He wanted to study art and be with Sarah.

Sarah paused, then straightened herself and looked at Tom. ‘Have you got the spare keys to the flat?’

Tom was puzzled by the change of subject; he felt in his pockets and nodded.

‘Keep them. They’re yours. This is your home now.’

Tom’s mouth fell open. This was what he wanted more than anything, but he’d been prepared to wait. ‘Are you sure, Sarah? We haven’t even had the memorial service for Rory yet. People will definitely be shocked.’

Sarah brushed her hair back from her face. ‘For the first time in my life I feel certain about what I want. I’ve spent my whole life trying to keep other people happy, doing what I thought other people, especially my mother, wanted me to do. But she was living a lie and so was I.’ She looked defiantly at Tom. ‘I don’t care what anyone thinks. The twins really like you, and they’re the only people whose opinion is important to me.’

Tom took the keys from his pocket and held them up. ‘Well, if you’re really certain, I’m honoured to accept.’ He gave a mock bow.

They laughed, and at that moment the sun pierced the clouds, and streamed in through the window, capturing them in its glow. The shadows of the past, which had hung over them for so long, were clearing at last.