11

Harry was as good as his word. I received an email from him within the day, giving me the address of David Collins. Although Collins himself had gone quiet on the Facebook page another cop who knew him read Harry’s post asking Collins to get in touch, and provided Harry with the man’s address.

‘He’s retired now, I’m told, so I’d imagine he’d welcome a chance to blether about the old days,’ Harry wrote in his email. ‘I’m sure it will be a welcome relief from sitting around, scratching his nuts and watching daytime TV.’ This characterisation was followed by a smiley face emoticon and a LOL. It felt oddly reassuring that old Harry was keeping up with modern society.

The path I walked down and the small garden surrounding it were beautifully cared for. Not a single weed and any cracks in the paving were filled in with sand. The turf looked good enough to be used as a putting green and the roses under the front window still held on to a pair of red blooms despite the imminent arrival of winter.

The front door opened even before I could lay a knuckle on it.

‘Well, if it isn’t young Docherty.’ David Collins’ voice was loud in the late-morning air and held a note of enquiry.

‘Hello,’ I said somewhat discomfited. ‘Mr Collins?’

‘The one and only,’ he said.

‘I’m surprised you remember me.’

‘Course I do,’ he replied. ‘Your old man was a good mate. And you don’t forget what happened to him – to his family – too easily.’ He looked me up and down.

It had been about ten years since I had spoken to this man – for the one and only time. He still had that stiff bearing, the keen gaze … and yes, the bracing handshake, I thought as he shook my hand, but his hair was almost white and the skin around his eyes was so lined, stretched and heavy that it looked as if his eyes had slipped slightly down his head.

I heard a woman’s voice from behind him. ‘Well, invite the boy in, Davie. Don’t have him standing on the path.’

David laughed and welcomed me in. As I walked past him I thought I detected the slight odour of whisky. It was only around noon, so surely I was mistaken.

Ushered into the living room, I found myself in doily heaven – almost every surface was protected by one. Even the glass table in the corner of the room that held the TV had a couple of white lacy circles to save the gleaming surface from the stand. The air was sweet and perfumed, and too warm, as if the heating was on full and every available plug point had an air freshener.

‘Have a wee seat, son,’ said David’s wife from her throne in the corner. She looked exactly the same as when I met her all those years ago. Her fingers were twitching away on a crochet hook as she spoke. ‘My, you’re looking well, Thomas,’ she said.

Her husband fired her a warning look, and I realised what she’d just called me.

‘Cuppa?’ he asked, and a few minutes later we were munching Kit Kats and talking about the weather.

‘You called me Thomas when I came in, Mrs Collins,’ I said, and then offered a smile of apology for changing the conversation so abruptly.

She looked confused for a moment. Had a sip from her cup. Then, ‘Did I? You sure? Don’t know where I got that from.’ She shot her husband a look. ‘We know fine well your name’s John.’

‘It’s okay,’ I said with what I hoped was a conciliatory tone. ‘I know about him … Thomas.’

Neither of them said anything.

‘I know I had a brother who vanished when I was a baby,’ I added,

‘Didn’t just vanish,’ said David as if he’d realised there was no further point in keeping up any pretence. ‘He’s probably dead.’

‘Davie,’ Mandy said in a harsh tone. ‘Don’t be so cruel.’

David looked at me before sending a look to the ceiling. Then said, ‘Did your mum finally come clean then?’

‘Not exactly,’ I replied and felt a churn in my stomach as I prepared to tell them. With each time I talked about it, the seriousness of this discovery was weighing on me more and more. ‘I was attempting to clear out the house…’ I gave a rueful smile at this admission. ‘And I found his birth certificate in a box.’

David said nothing. He took a long drink from his mug before placing it on the carpet just to the side of his right foot. ‘Why come and see us?’ Whatever joviality was now gone. He was in cop mode.

‘I … eh … I came across some sympathy cards among my mum’s stuff. Saw one from you guys…’ The atmosphere in the room was now decidedly chilly.

‘And how did you find me?’

Me not us.

‘I … I spoke with Harry Bone. He’s in the same nursing home as my mum.’

‘Ah. Saint Harry fucking Bone.’

‘It’s getting close to your nap time, Davie,’ Mandy said. Her tone was soothing but it held a note of steel. Then to me, ‘Davie doesn’t sleep well during the night, so he likes a wee nap before his dinner.’

‘He was a prick of a man,’ said David. ‘Coming up here from Ayrshire after your dad transferred. Didn’t want the case to go cold, he said. He was a right pain in the arse. If he was in front of me right now—’

‘You’d shake his hand, give him some of your whisky and talk about the old days as if they were the best times of your life,’ Mandy interrupted.

I examined my mug, wondering if I should just get up and leave.

‘Your brother disappeared, John,’ David was looking in my direction but his eyes were glazed by the past. ‘Was around Easter. We had a cold one that year. I remember frost and stamping my feet on the ground to keep the blood circulating.’ He exhaled as if there was a sudden weight in his lungs. ‘I didn’t really know your family that well, to be honest. We saw you at the odd birthday party, or Christmas do down at the police station.’

It occurred to me that he’d said just moments earlier that he and Dad were good friends. They couldn’t have been that friendly if he didn’t know Thomas, me and mum that well.

‘We’ve got two kids that were the same age as … your Thomas,’ Mandy said. ‘Our Sean was in Thomas’s class at school.’

‘What kind of boy was he?’

Mandy shrugged. ‘A nice enough lad, as I remember. Liked his footie.’

‘He was a wee shite,’ David said.

‘Davie,’ Mandy remonstrated with him.

‘No point in sanitising his memory, hen.’ Then to me, ‘He was disruptive in class. Acting out. Always getting the belt.’

‘We were worried he’d be a bad influence on our Danny,’ Mandy admitted.

‘He was quite studious as a younger boy,’ said David. ‘Liked a book. But then puberty hit and he became a bit of an arse.’

‘In what way?’ I asked.

‘Drinking, fighting, the usual stuff. As if he was trying to embarrass your old man. Cops get it all the time, son. Their kids can get bullied by the other weans for having a dad in the police, so they act up to show how tough they are. And your Tommy performed that act with a fair bit of relish.’

‘Can you remember much about that night?’ I asked.

‘Your mum came charging into the station around seven p.m. Your dad was on back shift. She was in a right state. Said Tommy hadn’t come home from school.’ As David spoke I recalled again Mum’s panicked expression whenever I was ten minutes late. ‘We visited his usual haunts, checked out his pals, but found nothing.’

‘Any leads? Any known paedophiles in the area? Was there anyone out to get him?’

‘We did our job, John,’ David said, irritation in his voice. ‘This wasn’t Carry on Sleuthing. We knew what we were doing.’

‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I didn’t mean to…’

David ignored my attempt at an apology. ‘The community cops had a good handle on what was going on in their patches in those days. All the known paedos checked out … they tend to target younger kids anyway. And none of the local neds had it in for Tommy, as far as we could find out. He tended to save his bad behaviour for those in authority.’ He gave me a quick, rueful smile.

‘All the mums were talking about the Shows being in town. And how it was probably some sicko that worked there who got him,’ Mandy said with a small note of gossipy excitement in her voice.

Harry had also mentioned the Shows, I thought.

‘Nothing came from that,’ David said somewhat defensively. ‘We investigated everyone connected with it. The family that ran it. All the men who worked for them. They were often the subject of suspicion…’ he gave his wife a look I struggled to make sense of ‘… so they ran a very tight ship. Seems we liked to be entertained by these people but we were also quick to blame any incomers if something went wrong.’ He leaned forwards in his chair and finished what he was saying with a hard-clipped tone. ‘There was nothing there. Nothing.’

I realised that as he’d been speaking I had leaned forwards in my seat too. I exhaled, and sat back, wondering how I could gracefully leave.

As if she read my mind, Mandy spoke: ‘You’ve got to have your nap, Davie. See the boy to the door first, eh?’

With a grateful smile I stood up and walked to the front door with David following me. As I stepped outside he cleared his throat.

‘Nothing good can come from raking up the past, son.’ His expression was grave and respectful. ‘Your parents were certain Thomas died that day. For your own sake that should be the end of it.’