73

‘Would you like something to eat, doll? Wee bit o’ sausage and tatties?’

…

‘Just checking your pulse, my love, nothing to worry about.’

…

‘Freshening up your water, doll. You keep your eyes shut.’

…

‘She’s no awake at the moment.’

‘Well, let me be the judge of that.’

…

‘Lesley? Lesley?’

‘Super, she’s clearly asleep.’

*

I wake up.

Fear grips me as I open my eyes to see that Mr Gordon is stood at the end of my bed.

‘See,’ he says turning to the nurse, ‘I told you she was awake.’

The nurse walks off. I don’t want her to, I don’t feel safe with just him and me in this room.

He stays at the end of the bed.

‘Lesley, I wanted to check you are all right. Let’s forget what was said in my office. I understand you are confused.’

I say nothing.

‘I was one of the first people the police interviewed. As a man with access to all areas of the Homes, naturally the police needed to eliminate me from their enquiries, which they have done, for all three deaths. When Jane died, and then when her close friend Sally died, we were all wondering who was responsible. And then of course, your poor pal, Morag.

‘No one has been more worried about you children. It is not just my job, but my duty to make sure you are all safe. Not being able to do that has been appalling. Anyway, I just wanted to come here to check on you, and explain the situation to you.’

I nod but say nothing. The nurse walks back in. ‘Are you done with her, Super? She really needs her rest.’

‘Yes, I am. Look after this lassie, she’s a special one.’

He leaves the room and the nurse comes closer.

‘OK, sit up, young lady, and take this medicine … just pop it in your mouth … sip of water … another sip. There you go, all done … back down for some rest.’

*

I stare at the ceiling, and I think about what the Super said, how bad it had all been for him.

He said they had been close friends.

I didn’t know Jane and Sally had been close friends. Some of the kids had said they were pals, but there were so many different rumours and stories. How close were they?

I feel sleepy.

If they were good friends, then Sally probably knew what Jane knew. And Sally was probably killed for what she knew.

So it wasn’t random. They were killed for a reason. The police must know this, but not what the reason is.

So Jonesy must have been killed for a reason, too. The same reason.

Not just some man wanting to kill girls. Jonesy must have known something they knew.

My eyes are heavy.

I try to keep them open. I must keep them open. I had it all wrong.

*

‘Switching your lights out now. Nurse is on the ward if you need anything.’

*

Jonesy, what did you know?

*

‘… there is such a thing as being too clever, Lesley. Ever heard the phrase “no one likes a smart-arse”? That’s the one you need to understand.’

I feel my hand being held and stroked, and I know this voice and it belongs to Mrs Paterson, except it’s not the posh voice she usually has. She sounds more like us kids, like this is the real her. My eyes are still heavy, and I keep them shut.

‘You always were a special one, and it’s no your fault, it’s the way you were born. You’re too clever and it’s got you into trouble. You’re like a wee dog with a bone, you. Dinnae know when to just leave it.

‘It’s none of our faults either. We weren’t interfering with that girl Jane years back. He does it, and I’m left to pick up the pieces. He’s sick. He knows it, too, it’s why he drinks. But he doesnae stop it, it’s inside him, and I’m the one whit’s got to stop it getting found out or we’re gone.

‘And once Jane was gone, her pal Sally comes along. Stupid lassie asks me for help. Tells me she thinks Malcolm killed Jane to stop her talking, that she knows he’d messed with Jane and that we had to tell the polis. Well, no if I have anything to do with it, you willnae.

‘It always comes down to the same thing, it always comes down to them or me, and it’s no going to be me. I never wanted you to become one of them. I always liked you, but after what you’ve done I have no choice. You’re trouble. Just like yer little pal. It wasnae her fault either. She overheard me shouting at Malcolm, telling him what I had done, telling him it was his fault I had to do it. She should never have come back at dinnertime, she should have stayed at school. But there she was, standing in the hallway. She heard the lot. She ran, but no quick enough.

‘It wasnae her fault, it’s no your fault, and it’s no my fault. It’s just the way it is. But I cannae have you taking this away from me. I got away from Montrose, I’m safe here, and I’m no having you destroy that.’

I open my right eye just the tiniest amount. I don’t want her to know I am awake. I can feel her holding my hand and though what I see is blurry and the room is dark, she seems to be looking down at my hand, not at my face. It is very late, or it could even be so late it’s early.

I know I am in danger. I know I have to get out of here, away from her, but I am stuck. The bedsheets are tightly tucked in around me. I won’t be able to get out in one quick move. I need to loosen the sheets – but how, without her knowing I am awake?

She’s still talking. She keeps saying she’s sorry. Then she stands up.

I can feel her moving up against the side of my bed.

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ she keeps saying.

I open my eyes, pull my arm back, and jab at her face with outstretched fingers. I catch her right between the eye and the nose with everything I have.

She yelps and recoils back, and I am already pulling at the sheets to free my legs and then I am running to the door. I open it and run down the ward to the nurses’ desk. It’s dark as anything with just a small half-light showing me where to go.

There is no one at the nurses’ desk. Behind me I can hear Mrs Paterson coming so I make a right and go down the flights of stairs until I am in the bottom corridor. Still there’s no one about and no lights on.

I head for the main entrance. If they lock it at night I am done for, but it is the only exit I know from here.

I hit it at speed and it opens and I am out into the night. It’s cold, my breath is steaming out and I need to work out where to go.

Think, Lesley, think.

But I can’t. I can’t work out who or where to run to; I just need to find someone who can help me, but the Homes are asleep and everything is still.

Mrs Paterson comes flying out the doors behind me. ‘Get back here, you wee shite!’ she shouts and I run, and all I can think of is Cottage 5, run back to Cottage 5, and I am running barefoot on the path then on the grass and my nightie is getting wet from the ground and I’m running as fast as I can and I am pulling away from her.

I cut across the grass, behind Cottage 32 and then back along the path but I’m slowing, and I can feel myself slowing and I have to keep going.

Eventually I get to Hope Avenue and I can see Cottage 5 and I run for it, and I know the front door will be locked as it always is at night but I head for it anyway and I’m going to make as much noise as I can.

I get to the front door and I bang on it with my fist – bang, bang, bang, bang – and shout, ‘Hello! Wake up, anyone!’

I know Mrs Paterson will catch up with me soon. If she gets to me before someone opens the door, I am finished.

No one comes, no lights go on, so I run round to the back door to the kitchen. Sometimes they forget to lock it. I step on something sharp and the pain shoots up my leg but I don’t let out a noise in case Mrs Paterson is close by. I get to the back door and I can see Mr Paterson sat at the table by the wall, his head resting on his hand. He seems to be asleep again. I try the door gently and it’s locked, but I know some of the older girls have hidden a spare key under a plant pot in case they come back really late.

I bend down to find the pot, lift it up and feel underneath for a key. There is nothing there. If I go to the front door again and bang on it, I will eventually wake Mr Paterson up; if I stay—

An arm grabs me around my neck from behind. ‘You stupid girl. You stupid, stupid girl!’ she spits.

And she’s squeezing my neck, tighter, and she’s growling, and I can’t breathe.

I … can’t … get … any … air.

Then she let’s go, but it’s only to spin me around and push me to the ground and kneel on me. And she starts choking me again, she’s using her two thumbs on my neck this time, and I’m fighting to push her away and I’m trying to scratch her arms and pull them off but she’s too strong and I’m going to die and I’m going to die where Jonesy died and I can’t fight any more, oh Jesus this is it, this is where it ends, and it wasn’t supposed to end so soon and I had things to do and I was going to make it out of here and her eyes are burning into me and pushing and pushing on my neck and I can’t hold out any—

She stops, and the pressure stops and she releases my throat, lets out a grunt and then slumps on top of me.

There is a thud as her skull hits the path beside my head.

I am desperately trying to get air in, but the weight of her body is pinning me down. I can just see blood dribbling out of her mouth; warm liquid is splattered on the side of my face.

I look up and see Cook standing there, holding the biggest knife in the house.

She reaches down and rolls Mrs Paterson off me.

I am on my back with my breath steaming into the air. My neck aches like it’s a rag that has been twisted dry.

Cook kneels down next to me.

‘You all right, doll?’ she says.

I cough, and wheeze and nod. I am not sure I can speak. I think she has broken my throat. A husky growl comes out.

I turn my head to the right, and I can see through the open kitchen door that Mr Paterson is still asleep at the table, oblivious to what has happened yards away.

‘I never liked her,’ says Cook. ‘There was something no right about them two. Always something strange about them, but nobody listens to me, nobody listens to Cook. I could see something wasnae right. I can tell. I can sense bad’uns.’

‘What do we do now?’ I manage to say.

‘Get the Super,’ she says. ‘Explain what happened. Get the polis here. Get that bastard arrested.’ She nods towards the kitchen.

She seems worryingly calm for a person who has just killed someone.

I look around to see if anyone is about, or if any lights have come on at the windows.

Nothing.

We are the only two people awake in the whole village. Mrs Paterson’s body lies at our feet. Where there was rage there is now stillness, other than the pool of her blood getting larger and larger, soaking into her hair.

Cook walks quietly into the kitchen, turns the light off, then comes out and shuts the back door, leaving Mr Paterson asleep.

Then we walk together, my bare feet on the grass again and the cold breeze on my legs.

My heart is just slowing down.

‘I dinnae trust him, and I didnae ever trust her,’ she says. ‘I seen his eyes when he looked at the young girls. He is a bad man, and she knew it too.’

‘I think she killed Jane,’ I croak.

Cook shrugs. ‘Could be. The lassie used to live here, did you know that?’

I nod. ‘When I was little.’

‘She got her moved out when she was about nine. I knew something was up. It was Mrs Paterson whit decided she had to go. One day she just says she’s no staying in this house no more, and she got moved.’

We continue walking. The lampposts are lighting the way towards the Super’s house. His place is next door to the executive building. He will be angry at being woken up but he’s the only one we can tell, and he’ll have to call the police.

‘Thank you,’ I say, ‘for saving me.’

‘It’s no bother,’ she replies. ‘Ah wisnae sleeping much, mibbie I knew something was up?’

‘Well if you hadnae, I’d be deid by now.’

She puts her arm round me as we walk. ‘Aye, and we cannae be having that for wee Brainbox. That’s your name, y’know.’

‘Is that what they call me?’

‘Oh, aye.’

‘We only call you Cook.’

‘I know.’

‘What’s your real name?’

‘It’s Morag, like your pal.’

We carry on walking in silence, then we reach the Super’s house and Morag bangs hard on the door six times.