Ruth said, ‘We need to make sure that none of them ever come anywhere near her again.’
Alec nodded. ‘But how are we going to do that?’ He turned to Saskia. ‘I mean – what do you think they’ll do? Are they going to try to take her, or…’
Saskia grimaced. ‘Honestly? I think they will.’
Alec suddenly stood, dropping Ruth’s hand, and walked to the sink. He ran the tap and splashed water on his face. ‘Sorry.’
Saskia got up and handed him a towel. ‘This is where the justice system falls down. These people are violent convicted criminals, Beckie suffered in this family, and they are – I’m not going to beat around the bush here – they are a danger to her and to you, yet there’s nothing the police or the courts can do about it.’
‘So what can we do about it?’ Alec was gripping the towel in both hands. ‘What do we do about it?’
Before Saskia could answer, Ruth said, ‘We go. We just go. We disappear.’
She’d done it before.
She could do it again.
8
There’s plenty room on the grass by the roadside, eh, but when I says, ‘Just stop here, son,’ Ryan keeps on going and pulls the Audi into the proper parking bit by the old wrecked farm buildings. It’s a fucking off-road vehicle that’s never been off fucking tarmac.
The place is a right mess, weeds and that all over. This is where Bekki’s been for five years? Ms Adoption Woman comes out and sees the place needs knocking down and goes Aye that’s fine then?
‘Right,’ says Jed, and he and the boys get out. Ryan leaves the engine running and the headlights on.
I get out the car.
Christ. If it wasnae for the headlights it’d be pitch black.
Safe for a wean? Out in Teuchterland in the middle of fucking nowhere?
When I get to the cottage, the door’s lying open and the lights are all on, and Jed’s raging.
‘You stupid fucking cow!’ he’s in my face. ‘I telt ye we needed to get her! I telt ye!’
Fuck it.
We’re in the front room. I can hear the boys through the house, ripping the place up, smashing stuff. It’s just an empty room we’re in.
The fuckers have gone.
Jed goes and kicks the wall.
I goes, ‘Fuck it.’
‘Aye, fuck you!’ Jed’s back in my face. ‘“Naw Jed, this needs planning but, we cannae just roll up and get her but.” Planning, is it? Planning?’
Aye, planning.
A wee flat rented away the other side of the city. Couldnae just take her to our bit. Jed was ‘Fuck that, let the polis come and try and take Bekki off of us again, just let those fuckers come and try it,’ but Ryan and Travis and Carly and Connor were like that: ‘Naw Da.’
Plan was, me and Carly’d disappear and stay in the wee flat with Bekki till the villa on the Costa Brava’s finished. It’s gonnae have white walls and big glass windaes and doors, and a brand new kitchen and bathrooms and en suites – Bekki’ll get the best room, mind, with a sea view and her own wee en suite – and brand new furniture, black and white and grey, all matching, and outside a massive infinity pool. Bekki and the other weans never out the sea. Life of fucking Reilly.
We’ll tell Bekki the Morrisons stole her off of us, and we didnae know where she was, but now she’s safe home and no fucker’s taking her off us ever again. If she starts with I want Mummy and Daddy, we’ll be like that: They don’t want you hen, they gave you back. They’re no your real mum and dad. We’re your real family.
‘Stupid fucking bitch!’ He pulls his head back and spits right on my lips.
I spit it right back at him and he takes a hud of my shoulders and slams me back against the wall. I knee him in the baws.
He doubles over. ‘Ah fuck. Ah fuck.’
‘Maw,’ says Travis. ‘They’re no here.’
Travis, God love him, was at the back of the queue when they were handing out the brains in the Johnson family.
It’s another fucking wee Teuchterland hovel, roses round the door maybe, but Christ, the windaes and the door are from nineteen-canteen. Like they think they’re in a fucking stately home preserved for the fucking nation, draughty shite windaes an’ all.
Needs gutting.
I ring the door again. It’s 6:30 in the morning. They cannae be out.
Door opens and a woman’s standing there. She’s up herself, long shiny hair and long legs in designer jeans.
‘I’m sorry to bother you so early in the morning,’ I goes with a polite wee smile. ‘I’m hoping you can help me. I see Backhill Croft is empty now, and I’m just wondering if maybe it’s for sale?’
‘Oh. Well. I imagine it will be. But it’s not on the market yet or anything…’ She’s got a voice like she’s Scottish, aye, but she wishes she wasnae.
‘You wouldn’t happen to have contact details for the sellers?’
‘No. Sorry.’
‘They’ve moved away, have they?’
‘Yes. Sorry, I can’t help.’ And the bitch goes to shut the door on me.
I breenge against it and go, ‘Come on yous,’ and Jed and the boys are in and through the house.
I push the bint down on the floor and she’s all ‘Oh, oh, oh’ and I’m ‘Tell us where they are and I’ll no touch you,’ and then Jed and Travis are back with a man in boxers and a wee lassie in her jimjams, eyes like saucers, poor wee bairn, and Travis dumps her down on a chair and I’m ‘Tell us where they are and they’ll no hurt your bairn’ and she’s ‘I don’t know where they are, they’ve just gone, they never told us they were going even, men with a removal van just came and took all their stuff but they wouldn’t tell us where they were taking it or why the Morrisons had left so suddenly or anything, and I’ve tried calling them but their mobile numbers are unobtainable –’
Shit.
‘What’s their names? Alec Morrison, aye, and what’s his wife called?’
‘Ruth,’ says the man. ‘And their little girl’s Rebecca. They call her Bekki.’
They call her Bekki?
‘You’re friends with them, aye?’
‘We thought we were,’ says the bint. ‘But they just up and left without a word –’ And she clamps her mouth shut and stares at me, and it’s pure comical so it is.
‘Aye. The explanation? You’re looking at it, hen.’
‘Oh my God.’
‘Oh my God,’ goes Travis.
I goes, ‘Right. You’re going to tell us all you know about your good pals the Morrisons, aye? Where they work. Where their friends and relations stay at. What they have for fucking breakfast.’
‘And if you tell anyone,’ says Ryan, leaning against the wall, ‘if you tell the polis or Social Work or that, if you tell anyone and I mean anyone that we were here…’