Ruth took three photographs. As she was lining up the fourth, her phone rang.
‘Hi, Ruth, it’s Deirdre Jack.’
‘Oh, hi Deirdre!’ She handed Beckie the camera and walked off back into the house.
‘Have the police been in touch, Ruth?’
The words sucked the breath from her lungs. She froze, gripping the phone so hard she could feel the muscles contracting, painfully, all the way up her wrist and forearm.
‘The police?’
‘Or Social Work? Saskia from Social Work?’
She sat down on the pew, her heart starting to gallop. ‘No. Why would they?’
‘I’m afraid we’ve done something very stupid. There’s a possibility the Johnsons have found out your address.’
‘The Johnsons? Beckie’s –’
‘Beckie’s biological family. Yes. I’ve just had a phone call from Saskia Mair, the social worker on Beckie’s case who –’
‘Yes, I remember Saskia Mair.’
‘She’s in a bit of a panic. It seems the Johnsons may have scammed your address out of her. Lorraine Johnson – we think it was Lorraine Johnson – phoned her up pretending to be me, wanting to check that Saskia had an up-to-date address for Beckie’s adoptive parents, and like an idiot Saskia read it out.’
‘Oh God.’
‘The police and someone from Social Work are going round to the Johnsons’ home now, to warn them not to try to contact you or Beckie and not to come near you, but you should just be aware that they may try to do so. It might be an idea to have a little chat with Beckie and explain the situation. Keep an eye out for them.’
‘Oh my God. But the Johnsons are dangerous, aren’t they?’
‘No, look, I’m sure you’re not in any danger from them. They may try to contact you though, which is obviously in breach of the court order specifying a closed adoption, so –’
‘But it’s a closed adoption specifically because they were thought to pose a significant risk of harm to Beckie!’ Her head was suddenly swimming.
This was her punishment, then.
This was the Universe punishing her.
Her, and Alec, and Beckie.
There were little grey blotches in her vision. She swallowed; blinked.
‘If she was living with them, yes, but it was more a case of neglect than physical abuse.’
More. ‘Oh God.’
‘I’m sorry, Ruth, I’ve scared you – Shannon-Rose is thought to have physically abused Beckie, but Shannon-Rose isn’t getting out any time soon, if ever, and the rest of the family don’t really pose a threat to her –’
‘Jed Johnson’s a murderer! He served sixteen years in prison for murder!’
‘A gangland killing’s a different kettle of fish from hurting his own granddaughter. Even Saskia had to admit that the grandparents seemed genuinely to love Beckie. I’m sure she’s in no danger from them.’
‘But there were fresh bruises on her arms and legs and back when Saskia had her taken away!’
‘Yes, but they could have been caused by rough play with other kids. Which again could suggest neglect, but –’
Breathe. ‘So they know where we live and they could be on their way here right now.’
‘Ruth –’
‘I’ll call you back.’
Ruth was aware of herself, as if from outside her own body, snatching up her car keys and going back outside and saying to Beckie, ‘Okay darling, I’m sorry, but you’ll have to resume the photo shoot later. We have to go.’
‘Go where?’
Beckie had a way of looking at you, her expression somehow primed, anticipatory, wary, ready to assume any number of variations according to your response.
‘To the shops.’
Beckie smiled.
Always an acceptable option.
‘I need to wee.’
‘Okay. Be quick.’
Ruth grabbed the soft toys from the tree – she was never sure quite why she did that – and ran to the car parked on the gravel area beyond the outbuildings. She threw the toys in the back seat and started the engine and then ran back to the house and upstairs to the landing. The bathroom door was shut.
‘Come on, darling.’ She put her shaking hand on the door.
‘Coming!’
The door clicked open and Beckie was smiling at her.
If anyone tried to take her darling she would kill them.
If she could, she would kill them.
‘Right, let’s go.’
Down the stairs, through the hall. At the door, though, she stopped. The Johnsons might be out there now. Shouldn’t they just lock themselves inside?
No.
The Johnsons could smash a window. Batter down the door.
They had to get away.
She took Beckie by the hand and together they stepped out into the sunlight, too bright in her eyes so she couldn’t see properly, she couldn’t see if there was anyone there, but she didn’t stop to scan around her, she started to run, pulling Beckie.
‘Mum!’ Beckie half-laughed, half-wailed.
‘We need to hurry, darling.’
‘Why?’
‘The shop will be closing soon.’
‘You didn’t lock the door!’
‘Well, never mind.’
‘You didn’t even shut it!’
Past the end of the old byre with its rusty corrugated iron roof, past the mill stone she’d planted up with thyme, into the dappled shade of the sycamore and onto the gravel, their feet sending little stones skittering.
She hauled open the back door of the car and bundled Beckie inside and onto her booster seat, fumbled with the belt, shut the door and jumped into the driver’s seat and slammed her own door, wrenching the wheel round in almost the same movement.
And then they were accelerating away down the road, and Beckie was saying:
‘Mum. What’s wrong? Mum?’
She drove them not to the shops but to the car park at the start of the walk round the loch shore, busy at this time on a sunny autumn afternoon with families and hikers. To make the call, she got out and stood looking at the white horses on the water while Beckie sat locked inside the car.
‘I’m sorry to have scared you, Ruth,’ Deirdre said at once. ‘The situation’s not quite what we thought it was. It’s okay, they don’t have your address after all.’
Oh thank God. ‘So it wasn’t Lorraine Johnson who called Saskia?’
‘Actually, it seems it wasn’t Saskia who called me. It’s all a huge cock-up, I’m afraid, and it’s all my fault. I’m so sorry. I – I was so sure I was speaking to Saskia. She said she’d just been scammed into giving out your address to someone pretending to be me. She said she’d tried calling you to warn you, but the number wasn’t being recognised and she wondered if you’d changed your mobile number… So I gave her your current one, like an idiot, and Alec’s, and your landline number and email address… I should have followed procedure, which in those circumstances – where someone phones up purporting to be a colleague wanting sensitive information – the procedure is to phone them back, just to make sure it really is them. But the thing is, I know Saskia quite well, and I was sure it was her.’
‘But it wasn’t.’
Far out on the water a yacht was tacking, white sails flapping then filling as it changed course. Two birds flew above Inchmurrin, and then three more, and soon there was a cloud of black specks in the sky. Rooks. She could hear them now, faintly, cawing in concerted bursts across the water.
‘No,’ said Deirdre. ‘Saskia never called me.’
‘So –’
In the car, Beckie wasn’t looking at Ruth. She had Fat Bear under one arm and Hildebrand under the other and was speaking to them. Ruth could see her lips moving.