28

Mary pushed to the front of the queue at the court. ‘Sorry, sorry, it’s urgent.’

She grabbed her bag and ID from the scanner and ran downstairs to the cells. A dungeon, it was, guarded by the World’s Unhappiest Officer. ‘I need to see John Paul O’Donnell,’ Mary said.

He would not be distracted from the Daily Mail. Mary knew there was only one way to get what she wanted. She put her ID on his desk and waited for him to pretend to finish reading his article. Eventually, he folded his paper and walked nonchalantly towards the cells.

‘Booth one,’ he called back.

John Paul’s eyes were red, his face grey. He took his seat on the opposite side of the glass and stared at the floor. He was expecting help, no doubt, as he had all his life. He was sitting there expecting her to fix things for him.

Mary waited till the officer was back at his desk. ‘What computer did you put it on?’

‘The silver one,’ said John Paul.

‘Where was it?’

‘On the table in the living room.’

‘Was there another computer in the house?’

‘Didn’t look.’

Palpitations; holy shit, she could hear them. She had no time for palpitations now. ‘Jesus Christ, John Paul, do you ever do anything right? Your poor grandpa must be turning in his grave. Fuck, you idiot; you pea-brained useless fucking ned.’

He was crying when she stood, and for all of two seconds she didn’t give a toss.

‘I’m so, so sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean any of that.’

Did she though?

‘I really didn’t mean any of it. And whatever happens, I’ll keep you out of it, I promise.’

She ran right past Roddie and Adeela, who’d been waiting for her outside the court.

‘Gotta go, Adeela, thanks for everything. Roddie, come with me – quick – I’ll explain in the car.’

But she didn’t explain in the car. There was still a chance she might not need to. So she lied instead. ‘I was having a panic about Jack,’ she said. ‘I just need to check he’s okay.’

The service buzzer let them in, and Mary prayed as she took two steps at a time: Please God. Please God. Please God. She knew her prayers were no good – they never had been – when she saw the open door and heard a man talking. She ran inside Liam Macdowall’s flat and stopped dead in the hall. Jack was sitting at the dining table opposite Detective Sergeant Minnie Johnstone and a colleague Mary had never met. Her baby boy was sobbing.

He was under arrest, Minnie explained, for downloading abusive images. They were taking him into custody, and he’d appear in court tomorrow.

But Mary could explain. ‘Listen, Minnie, please. The images are Jimmy McKinley’s.’

‘What?’

‘I found a pen drive in his house. I was going to get it to you – I left you a message? But you will not believe the week I’ve been having.’

Minnie asked her to take a seat and gave her a glass of water. ‘And where is the pen drive?’

‘I destroyed it, with my drill. I thought this was Derek McLaverty’s MacBook. I downloaded the pen drive onto it, then I destroyed the drive.’

‘Mary, take a breath,’ Minnie said.

Roddie was tapping his fingers so loudly. ‘Take a breath, baby.’ He thought she was mad. That would be so much better.

‘How did you get into this flat?’ asked Minnie.

‘I broke in.’

‘Oh yeah. How’d you break in?’ said Minnie.

‘I’m telling the truth. I wish I wasn’t. I put it on Derek’s MacBook, which I assumed was this one, to stop him. He’s ruining our lives. Minnie, this has nothing to do with Jack. I did it. Don’t arrest him and make him go to court. Please believe me. It’s true. The press will be all over this at court even if it’s dismissed. No matter what, Jack will be all over the internet as a paedophile.’ Everyone was ignoring her. ‘Please listen to me, Minnie.’

Minnie sighed and relaxed, which made Mary do the same.

‘I understand, Mary. He’s your son. You and Roddie are his parents. You’ll be in his life forever.’

Mary nuzzled her son’s head into her chest. He was having difficulty breathing and couldn’t stop crying.

‘You want to know what was on it, Mary? Remember Fred – we coworked on him five years back? Remember the stuff he liked to look at? Well the images on your son’s computer make Fred’s baby-plus-cats series look like Mary Poppins. Am I right in thinking you’ve just been sentenced for domestic assault?’ she asked Roddie.

‘Yes.’ He was staring at the floor the way John Paul did.

‘And that you had an affair with your client?’ she asked Mary. Minnie was doing a risk assessment on the entire family, and it was not coming out well.

‘No, I didn’t. That was a lie, ask Holly.’

‘You’re a denier?’ said Minnie, who was once lovely enough to be Minnie Mouse. ‘Everyone hates a denier.’ She grabbed Jack’s arm, forcing him to stand, and began reading him his rights.

‘Jack,’ Mary said, ‘I am telling the truth. I did this. I can get you out of it.’

‘Really? If it is the truth, no-one is ever going to believe it. Did you really? Did you really do that?’ Jack was not going down with dignity. Mary tried to wipe his nose with a tissue, but he pulled away. ‘What did you do, Mum? What the fuck did you do to me?’

Mary turned to Holly, stony-faced at the kitchen door. ‘Holly. It’s a crazy story, I know. You know me. Tell the police – I’m a fucking lunatic. You have to believe me.’

Holly kept her arms folded and thought about her answer before giving it: ‘You know me, Mary, I believe anything.’

The other officer packed away the MacBook and all Jack’s other belongings. They were ready to take him away.

‘You’re the fucking blast, Mum,’ Jack sobbed as they walked him to the door. ‘You’re the fucking blast and I’m just another of your fucking ripples.’

Before Minnie left the flat, she turned back and said: ‘Mary, I won’t tell your bosses the state of you today, but my advice is you avoid covering up for him, eh? Just makes him seem even creepier.’ She pushed Jack’s head and followed him out the door, shouting back one last thing: ‘And don’t call me Minnie.’

Jack stared ahead till the police van doors slammed shut. He looked like he’d gone into shock.

‘You are a weapon of mass destruction,’ Roddie said, watching the van disappear.

‘Do you believe me, though?’

‘You’ve ruined his life.’ Roddie was crying. ‘You’ve ruined his life.’

No, she hadn’t. She’d fix this. She’d make a plan.

‘Listen. I’m gonna head home,’ said Holly, pale-faced and depleted. She gave Mary a look that could only mean goodbye and headed down the road.

An action plan began to form in the air, as if Mary had a flipchart and a pen that worked. ‘I’ll sort this,’ she said to Roddie, who was dumbstruck.

Action 1: Ensure Jack’s safety.

She dialled Govan Police Station. ‘Hi Herb! I believe you’ve got Jack Shields-Lawson arriving soon? How’s Alice by the way?’

‘Ach she’s a winner. Three on Saturday!’

‘Three! Doesn’t it fly in? This is unusual, but Jack Shields-Lawson – I’m his mum, Herb. He’s my baby. Can you check on him? Make sure he’s okay? Tell him I’m fixing things and not to worry. There’s been a terrible mistake.’

‘Will do.’

Action 2: Lawyer him up.

She dialled Adeela. ‘Mary here … Oh you’ve heard already? Can you get to Govan? Take him some money, tell him I’ll visit him wherever he is after work. Jack Shields-Lawson, his date of birth is … What?’

Adeela did not wish to take the case and had hung up before Mary could say ‘fuck you’. She realised she was still standing on the pavement outside Macdowall’s flat, and Roddie was still staring at her.

‘Oh my God, Mary. I was gone a week.’

There was no time for this conversation. Mary was talking to another lawyer, and then to Karen, in case Jack ended up at Lowfield. She hung up when she realised Roddie was chanting.

‘I have to get out.’ He shook his arms, as if Mary had been stuck on them. ‘I have to get out,’ he said, and backed away.