15
Friday 16th December
Who is responsible for the naming of the new streets, new parks and new estates in a city? Whoever it was in Edinburgh slipped up with ‘Bright Park’, a misnomer so crass as to hint at a sense of humour, albeit one blacker than jet. The expectations that might naturally arise from such a label could include light, airiness, space and, possibly, green leaves, but not eight concrete tower blocks plonked down in a sea of pitted tarmac, a million shards of smashed glass in each pothole, and the unsightly whole encircled by a busy ring road. Two shops, timorous behind shutters and barbed wire, served the residents, and ‘community’ sculptures littered the estate as if ‘art’ might obliterate its ugliness rather than highlight it.
The lift was broken, so the Detective Sergeants had to trudge up the endless stairs to the sixth floor, inhaling the reek of stale ammonia with every step. Flat D lay directly ahead, and sellotaped to its cream-painted front door was a hand-made notice saying ‘Mair’. As Alice knocked it swung open, revealing a windowless hall stripped of furnishings and floor coverings. The place was deserted; the only furniture in it was a three-legged wooden table with an old fishtank perched precariously on top of it. The glass walls of the tank were coated in a greenish scum and a mass of dry, black weed was stuck to its base. On the bottom, with desiccated fronds collapsed over it, was a miniature pink fairytale castle, once the home of angelfish. The sounds of hoovering and Radio 2 could be heard through the door of 6E, and the plastic name-plate spelled out ‘A. Girvan’. An elderly woman carrying a baby answered the door and glanced at their identity cards, pursed her lips and whispered ‘The polis’.
‘Sorry to bother you,’ Alice explained. ‘We were hoping to see Teresa Mair, but she seems to have moved. Do you have an address for her?’
‘Teresa’s got nae address, she’s deid. You’se are too late to see her,’ the woman replied, cradling the child in one elbow and wiping its mouth on its bib with her free hand.
‘When did she die? Can you tell us what happened?’ Alastair asked, impatient for information.
‘Aye, come oan in.’
Once she had started to speak the woman seemed unwilling to stop.
‘Teresa took her ain life. She done it late November. Took an overdose, in the flat wi’ her ain tablets. The kids were split up soon aifter, poor wee things deserved better than that aifter a’ they’d been through. They’d had…’
Alice interrupted the flow. ‘Have you any idea why she killed herself?’
The rejoinder was immediate. ‘Oh aye, I’d bet ma pension oan it. She’d had enough, couldnae take ony mair, naebody much could hae.’ She deposited the now sleeping baby on the corner of the settee on which she was seated, and, lighting up, carefully turned her head to blow the first puff of smoke away from the child.
‘You ken aboot Davie, her wee boy?’ the woman asked.
‘Yes. We know about him and the court case about him,’ Alice responded.
‘I reckon that the court case wis the final straw, fer her. See, she’d pinned a’ her hopes oan it, fer the faimily like, an’ once she’d heard they’d lost she couldnae cairry oan. Mind, the wee yin wis her life. The other kids never got a look-in, there wisnae time and onyway she wis worn oot. She telt me that the court money would solve a’ their problems, they’d get a wee hoose somewhere nice, the special equipment that Davie needed an’ mebbe even someyin to help noo an’ then. Then Kelsie and the rest of them could be normal kids again an’ she’d hae plenty o’ time for them a’. She even talked aboot taking them on a holiday somewhere, mebbe Arran. Of course, aifter Sammy left…’
‘Sammy, Samuel McBryde?’ Alice enquired.
‘Aye, Sammy McBryde, the wee laddie’s dad. You ken’, the yin that wis killed, it’s been in a’ the papers. Him. Onyway, aifter he left Teresa she wis devastated, she just lived on her nerves. I never seen him do much for the boy, but I suppose he wis in the hoose at least an’ he did help a bit wi’ the other kids, as much of a daddy to them as John Bradley ever wis. Teresa wis suicidal aifter he walked oot, but she kept hangin’ oan, she reckoned that once they got their compensation a’thing would be alright again. Telt me that they lawyers had assured her that she had a guid case, that if it went to court she’d win, but more likely a big offer’d be made to keep it oot o’ the courts. Donny said…’
‘Donny?’
‘Her brother, Donny, Donald Mair. He’s her only brother, only faimily, in fact. Donny said she should take a break, he’d look aifter the kids fer her an’ she could hae a few days to hersel’. He’d aye helped her oot, but aifter Sammy scarpered he wis never awa’ from her hoose. I’m no’ surprised Marie threw Donny oot, I’d hae daen the same, he wis never there. Nothing wis too much trouble fer him where Teresa, Davie an’ the kids were concerned.’
‘Who found Teresa?’
‘He did. Donny. Came in here tae phone the polis an’ he wis as white as a sheet, he’d been sick, ken. Kept saying o’er an’ o’er that she shouldnae hae daen it. He wis shaky, like. I got him some tea an’ the kids spent that night here wi’ me.’
‘Where are the kids?’ Alice asked.
‘The Bradley yins, Joanne, Kelsie, Shane and Lexie an’ a’ went tae their dad in Glasgow. He used tae visit regular-like an’ sometimes they’d stay wi’ him in Whiteinch. Davie’s gone tae foster parents in Musselburgh. I spoke tae the social worker who picked him up an’ she said they’d be trying to find a permanent hame fer him, but she wisnae too hopeful, said disabled children were difficult tae place.’
‘Was the child’s father, Sammy, not considered?’
‘I dae ken. Donny telt me that Sammy had been asked tae take the boy but had refused. It wouldnae surprise me, aifter he left he never came back tae see the kiddie, his own kiddie, even the yince. Donny said he’d shacked up wi’ a new wuman somewhere in Granton. He’d have been useless onyway, he never lifted a finger fer Davie even when he wis aboot, an’…’
Alice interrupted, ‘What about Donny then, why didn’t he take Davie?’
‘Oh, he tried,’ Mrs Girvan replied, ‘he daen everything he could tae get the Social Work to let him care for a’ the kids, including Davie, but they wis having none o’ it. He wanted tae keep them all togither like, but he hadnae a hope, didnae even hae a hame o’ his ain, as Marie had thrown him oot by then. I think he wis sleeping oan a friend’s floor most o’ the time. Onyway, he blew it. I heard him bawlin’ at they social workers, crying them a’ the names on God’s earth, even wi’ the kiddies aboot. They should hae let him hae Davie though, ’cause he really did want tae look aifter him an’ he kenned mair than onyone jist whit wis involved. He’d hae done onything fer the boy. It didnae seem tae matter tae him that Davie couldnae understand or dae onything, he jist adored him jist the way he wis, an’ Davie seemed tae ken it. He wis such a lovely looking wee thing tae. I’ve got a photy, would you’se like tae see it?’