M Beaton: Death of a Valentine

But because she had proved herself to be an expert liar, this was not believed-which she saw immediately from the stony faces looking at her. The interview went on for a long time as they dragged everything out of her, from taking the date-rape drug from the evidence room, to drugging Hamish, to faking evidence that she was pregnant.

Finally, Josie was told to wait outside. She sat miserably on a hard chair in the corridor. She felt numb.

When she was called in after ten minutes, she was told she was no longer welcome on the police force. Hamish Macbeth had phoned from the Inverness airport to say he would not be pressing charges. They wanted the whole scandal hushed up as quickly as possible. If Josie talked to the press, however, they would press charges against her.

Downstairs, nobody looked at her as she made her way out. She now had to drive to the manse in Lochdubh to collect her clothes. She had begged her mother to do it for her, but Flora had hardened towards her daughter and told her to do it herself.

She hoped against hope that Mrs. Wellington would be out when she arrived, but that lady was in the kitchen. “I’m sorry,” said Josie.

Mrs. Wellington was stirring something vigorously on the stove. She did not turn round. “Get your things and go,” she said.

When she had everything packed up, she took her suitcases out to the car and drove out of Lochdubh. As she was approaching the Tommel Castle Hotel, she suddenly thought that one drink for the road would brace her. She went into the bar and ordered a whisky.

Mr. Johnson came in after she had sat down with her drink and began talking to the barman. She went up to him. “Is Miss Grant staying here?”

“No she’s not,” he snapped. “She’s gone off to Corsica with Hamish.”

Josie slowly sat down again. How could they do this to her? It was her honeymoon.

Hamish and Elspeth spent a few blissful days either walking around the old walled Genoese town of Porto Vecchio or swimming at the beach of Palombaggia, a dream of white sand and clear blue water protected by pink granite rocks. Hamish said he still felt a bit shaky, and in the evenings, he liked to sit in some café or other watching the people go by.

Elspeth talked about her work at the television station. Unlike Hamish, she felt she could not relax because she knew there were a good few women who coveted her job. At times, when Hamish was dreamily sitting looking out at the crowd, she had an impulse to rush to the airport and get the next plane home. It was not as if Hamish showed any romantic feelings towards her. He treated her more like a male friend and at night they both retired to their separate rooms.

On their fourth evening there, Hamish suddenly said, “If you got married, would you leave your job?”

“No,” said Elspeth. “Well, maybe. I haven’t had much success with men.”

Hamish was wondering whether to propose. He did not relish the idea of moving to Glasgow. Elspeth was easy and affectionate with him. She could always work for Strathbane Television. Horrible although the experience with Josie had been, it had put the idea of children into his mind. A son or daughter would be great. He had seen jewellers with pretty rings. He had been on the verge of proposing to her for so long but something had always thwarted him. Perhaps it would be a good idea just to take the plunge and see what they could work out.

Back in his room that evening, he thought that perhaps he would find out if there was any news of Priscilla. He obscurely felt it would be some sort of way of saying goodbye to the love that had plagued him for so long.

Elspeth was sitting out on the balcony of her room when she clearly heard him telephoning and asking for news of Priscilla. Always Priscilla, she thought. She went indoors, determined not to hear any more.

Over breakfast the next morning, Elspeth noticed that Hamish was glowing with happiness and excitement. “I think I’ll take myself off for a look at the shops this morning,” said Hamish. “Don’t bother coming with me.”

“I’ll probably stay here on the terrace and read,” said Elspeth. She was suddenly determined to follow him. She felt he was up to something.

Hamish stopped in front of a jewellers’ window. Then he went inside the shop. The door was open. Elspeth heard him saying, “I’m looking for an engagement ring.”

So that was that, thought Elspeth. That phone call and then all his happiness and excitement at breakfast. Priscilla must have arrived back from Australia and he must have proposed to her on the phone. And he didn’t say a word to me!

I have risked my career for that bastard, she thought, as she returned to her room and hurriedly packed. I am not even going to leave a note for him. I just want out of here.

When Hamish returned to the hotel, he went straight up to Elspeth’s room. There was no reply to his knock. He decided to go down onto the hotel terrace and wait for her.

After an hour, he went in to the desk and asked if Miss Grant had left a message for him.

He was told to his horror that Miss Grant had checked out. He took a taxi to the airport. He was just in time to see Elspeth disappearing through Departures.

“Elspeth!” he shouted. But she did not turn round. He tried to get through into Departures but was told he could not pass. He begged and pleaded. He said he was a police officer, but to no avail.

What had gone wrong? If she had been called back to Glasgow, why had she not left a note for him?

But as he wearily returned to the hotel, he began to feel very stupid indeed. He had kissed her good night on the cheek but, apart from that, he had not shown any romantic feelings towards her. Perhaps she had felt she had done enough for him and had got bored.

By evening, though, a strange thing had happened. With Elspeth gone, he could not remember what had prompted him to want to propose. When she was with him, he felt their companionship was so strong that surely he was in love with her. But if he were in love, he should be feeling heartbroken. He decided to treat himself to a lobster dinner that evening and forget about the whole sorry business.

Flora was seriously worried. Josie was hardly ever sober. At last, she confronted her daughter. “Josie, either you go to an AA meeting or I’m turning you out.”

“You wouldn’t,” gasped Josie.

“I would that. Here’s the address. Get yourself along there this evening. You haven’t started drinking yet today and you’re not going to. I’m going to watch you like a hawk every minute.”

Flora drove Josie to a church hall that evening and said grimly, “I’ll be back to pick you up when the meeting is over.”

Josie walked into the hall. All the faces seemed like a blur. She sat down at a large table. The meeting began. The secretary said, “As usual at this meeting, we go round the room and introduce ourselves.”

When it reached Josie, she clasped her shaking hands and said, “My name is Josie, and I am an alcoholic.” And with that, she burst into tears. The man seated next to her put an arm around her shoulders. “You’ll be all right,” he said, handing her a clean handkerchief.

Josie barely listened to the speaker. The man next to her had his hands on the table. She could see his sleeve and an edge of white shirt with cuff links. He was wearing a gold watch. Josie dried her eyes and stole a look at his face. It was a square handsome face, and he had blue eyes.

At the end of the meeting, she said, “Can you help me?”

“We could go for a coffee, if you like,” he said.

“Oh, my mother will be waiting outside to take me home.”

“It’s important you get help,” he said. “We’ll tell her I’ll drive you home.”

Josie’s mind rocketed into romance immediately. He looked rich. He was miles better looking than stupid Hamish Macbeth. Life was definitely looking up.