Seems like Elizabeth Susan Innes died aged fifty-three, cause of death ‘Motor vehicle accident’. But the interesting bit’s no her death – it’s her maiden name. Hertz. That’s barry because it’s no exactly common, eh?
‘Right son. Get online at Scotland’s People and see what marriages you can find for some bastard Innes and Elizabeth Susan Hertz.’
‘If they really were Australian, I’ll have to get on the Australian site.’
‘Aye, get on that an’ all.’ I turn up the telly and sit back with my Galaxy. Fuck the fucking diet.
All through Bargain Hunt and the news, Connor’s tapping away on his laptop. News is all shite about Brexit, just a ten-second update on Mair on Reporting Scotland, saying the police enquiry is continuing and a neighbour has been taken in for questioning. Stupid fuckers havenae a fucking clue.
Literally.
That’s worth sharing so it is. ‘Havenae a fucking clue, eh son?’ I goes.
Connor rolls his eyes.
Neighbours starts and I’m onto the ginger and then Connor’s bringing me the laptop with a wee smile that’s no fooling no one, and I’m all ‘Cracked it son?’ and he’s trying to play it cool but he cannae, he goes, ‘God aye!’ and he dumps the laptop on me and goes, ‘Here’s a Scotland’s People entry for Elizabeth Susan Hertz, right, getting married to Alan Clark, in Peebles in 1968. Must be her, aye? That’s the only marriage listed. Doesnae give the details online, you have to send off for the certificate if you’re wanting it. Then there’s another record for Rachel Elizabeth Clark, born 1969 in Peebles. That fits with Flora’s age, eh? And an Alan Clark died in Peebles in 1975.’
‘Get us copies of they certificates, Connor. Elizabeth marry again to some fucker Innes?’
‘Naw.’ Connor’s grinning all over his spotty wee face. ‘I’m thinking Rachel and her maw must’ve changed their names, right, because when I Googled Rachel Clark… Check it!’
He brings up another screen. A Daily Record article.
‘There’s loads a’ hits!’ He’s peeing his pants. ‘Hundreds. But this’s it in a nutshell.’
I’m looking, and my gob is hanging open. ‘Christ on a cheesy biscuit.’
‘Aye. And that fucking bitch has Bekki.’
‘No for much longer, son. No for much longer.’ I’m reading down the article and God, I’m raging. Those fuckers gave Bekki to this bitch? I’m wanting to get out my chair and get round there and snatch our wean, but I cannae. This changes everything, aye, and it changes nothing.
‘Looks like we’re having us another wee road trip the morn, son.’
‘To Peebles?’
‘Naw, to the fucking moon.’
Flora knew they were talking about her. As Beckie gobbled her lunch and Flora sat at the table pretending to listen as she outlined her latest plan to get Edith to like her, she could see Neil and Caroline standing in the garden – ostensibly looking to see where the Johnson thug had got over the wall in case he had left any evidence – but she knew they were talking about her: poor pathetic Flora falling apart.
Neil was grimacing, and Caroline was touching his arm.
‘Isn’t it?’ Beckie said.
‘What, darling?’
‘Mum! You haven’t been listening!’
‘Sorry, I’m just tired, Beckie.’
Beckie’s little face was suddenly heartbreakingly serious. ‘I know. I’m sorry. You don’t want to be bothered by all this, like, stupid kids’ stuff. I don’t want a party anyway.’
‘Of course you do! I’m fine really, and it’ll be good for me to have something nice to concentrate on.’
‘Let’s just cancel. No one’s going to come anyway. It’s going to be shit.’
‘Beckie, don’t be ridiculous! And please don’t use that language.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Of course people will come. You’ve got lots and lots of friends.’
‘But they’re not allowed,’ said Beckie slowly, looking down at her bowl and scraping at the last of the soup.
‘Not allowed to come to the party? Why not?’
‘Thomas says his mum has been spreading these… rumours…’
Flora sighed. ‘What rumours?’
‘About Dad being violent to a pregnant woman and you having… mental health issues and hitting me. And… that you and Dad are psycho and… stuff like that…’
‘Oh, Beckie!’
Beckie looked up at her with a tight smile. ‘It’s okay, Mum, anyone with half a brain knows it’s not true. Thomas says he’s been telling everyone that his mum is just a stirrer and that you and Dad are like really nice and fun. And that everything that’s happened is just because of the Johnsons twisting everything round on you when it’s them who’re the psychos and –’
The glass doors to the garden came open and Neil and Caroline came breezing in with false bright smiles for Beckie.
‘Beckie’s not going back to school this afternoon,’ said Flora, getting abruptly to her feet. ‘We need to speak to Mrs Jenner – Beckie has been on the receiving end of some very nasty – very nasty rubbish about us being violent and –’
‘Mum! I don’t mind. It soooo doesn’t bother me.’
‘What?’ Neil was at the table in an instant, crouching down beside Beckie and putting an arm round her thin shoulders. ‘What have they been saying?’
‘I’ve not even really been listening. They’re all like “Blah blah blah” and I’m like “Whatever!” Really, Dad. I could. Not. Care. Less what those losers say.’
‘They’ve been saying we’re violent?’
‘Ailish,’ said Flora. ‘It seems Ailish has been spreading stuff.’
‘That bloody woman!’ said Neil.
‘Language, Dad,’ said Beckie.
Neil grinned and gave her a little squeeze. ‘Sorry, Beckster.’
‘Stress of the moment.’
‘Indeed… So, would you like to stay off school for a bit?’
‘Nope, it’s fine. I’ve spread this rumour of my own about Ailish. You know how she’s always on about how she was the best team leader ever at the Bank of Scotland, before she became the best mortgage advisor ever in the whole of Edinburgh, or maybe the UK? And there was this guy Malcolm in her team who she’s always making fun of in a like really nasty way, saying he smelt and stuff and she gave him Sure deodorant in the Secret Santa? I’ve been telling people that Malcolm has just got the courage to come forward and accuse her of like discrimination against people who sweat a lot because they’ve got something wrong with them, and he’s suing her for ten thousand pounds.’
‘Oh wow, Beckie,’ chortled Caroline. ‘That’s… very wrong.’
Beckie was smug. ‘Ailish is maybe going to jail and that’s why she’s spreading rumours about other people – she’s hoping everyone will stop talking about her and –’
‘Beckie.’ Neil shook his head, his mouth twisted in an effort not to laugh. ‘Spreading lies about people is never the right thing to do.’
‘It certainly isn’t,’ said Flora.
Caroline was grinning. ‘Ailish obviously doesn’t know what she’s up against.’
‘She started it,’ Beckie agreed. ‘But yeah, Mum, I know, two wrongs don’t make a right.’ She stood, wiping her hands on her napkin. ‘Anyway, I’m going to just leave it there because if you go on too much, people don’t believe you. And when people ask him about it, Thomas is going to say, “Yeah she’s maybe going to jail but I can’t talk about it.”’
‘Oh,’ said Flora weakly. ‘That’s –’
‘Really disturbingly Machiavellian,’ finished Neil.