Alex Gray - Glasgow Kiss

‘For those of you who saw this morning’s Gazette , you will also know that the police have been questioning two people already.’ Maggie paused again, looking around at the kids she had known for the last three years. They were young adults now, looking ahead to university in a couple of years and the prospect of a good career. Perhaps it was the frieze outside on the wall but she had a sudden memory of that first day she’d had them all assembled here, their faces turned to her, uncertain of what life would be like for them at Muirpark. She felt some of that same uncertainty now and wished she could offer the warm assurances she’d given them way back in First Year.

‘I know you’ll want to ask me questions, but can I say something first?’ Maggie heard her voice, confident and assured, as if it was coming from somewhere else, belying the nerves churning in her stomach. ‘My husband is the Senior Investigating Officer in Julie’s murder.’ She took another deep breath as one of the girls began to cry. ‘What I wanted to say was that I can’t divulge anything about the case that isn’t in the public domain, so don’t ask me. Please. Mr Lorimer is bound by codes of confidentiality. I’m sure you appreciate that.’

A few murmurs arose and Maggie saw some heads nodding, though she lacked the courage to look at Julie’s closest friends; she could imagine what they must be feeling. A swift glance to her left showed the place where Kyle usually sat was empty this morning. But she mustn’t mention his involvement.

‘One of the things mentioned in the paper is Mr Chalmers’ suspension.’

Some muttering could be heard towards the back of the class but Maggie pretended not to hear it.

‘Please remember,’ she said quietly, ‘this is a newspaper, selling stories, not a definitive judgment by a jury of fifteen people. It’s a sad fact of life that you have to learn not to be gulled into believing everything a newspaper tells you. Your teachers here will keep you all updated about this awful tragedy. And if anyone needs to talk to me in private, well, you know I’ll be here whenever you want me.’

The muttering had ceased now though there were still soft sounds of weeping from a couple of the girls. Normality — Maggie thought, remembering Manson’s mantra — give them some shape to their day. Then she raised an arm towards the girl at the very back of the class.

‘Jessica, since Kyle’s off today would you mind taking the register down to the office. Thank you.’ Maggie let them begin to talk among themselves as she busied herself with ticking off names on the beige record book then writing down the names of pupils missing from her class. When she came to D for Donaldson, Maggie bit her lip, trying hard to conceal the pang of dismay that she felt.

Once Jessica had left, Maggie came round to the front of her desk, perching on the edge as she usually did. ‘The school will be visited by police welfare officers today,’ she told them, ‘and there is also the opportunity for professional counselling, should anyone feel the need for that.’

‘Mrs Lorimer?’ Manda had raised a languid hand. ‘Is it true that Mr Chalmers has been arrested?’

‘In the light of the accusation Julie made, Mr Chalmers was questioned by police, Amanda. That’s not the same as being arrested.’

‘Helping the police with their inquiries.’ One of the boys offered the well-used phrase.

‘Exactly.’ Maggie nodded. ‘And any of you can do the same if you have any information about Julie’s disappearance. Anything can be useful to the police, no matter how small or insignificant you might consider it to be,’ she told them, grimacing as she realised her words echoed every episode of Crimewatch . But at least she had diverted their attention away from Eric.

As the bell rang for the end of registration and the Fourth Year trooped out, Maggie wondered at her last words to them. Was that tempestuous scene between Julie and her RE teacher big enough and significant enough to share with the police? And would it be her courage or her loyalty to Eric that would fail her?

Kyle woke up, the pain in his face throbbing. How he’d managed to sleep after last night was anyone’s guess. If it hadn’t been for Jamesey coming in and pulling his da off. . Kyle gave a groan as the memory flashed vividly back to him, his father’s curses ringing in his ears. The words had hurt him almost as much as the blows. Did he think he’d actually murdered his own school pal? He was mad, that was true enough, Kyle told himself, but surely not mad enough to believe that? There’s always wan, the old man had shouted, and yer maw always a bad streak, he’d yelled. Kyle had lost it then, had lashed out at the old man, but he’d been battered stupid instead. He sat up, fingering the swollen skin below his eyes where it hurt most. He’d have a couple of keekers, he thought, blinking painfully.

Kyle suddenly remembered the tall policeman with those penetrating blue eyes who had looked at him as if he could see right into his mind. He could sort out his da if anyone could, he thought. Why couldn’t he have been born to a man like that? Life just wasn’t fair.

‘Ye awake, wee man?’ Jamesey stood in the doorway, one hand holding a dinner plate full of bread and jam. ‘Ye want wan?’ he added, nodding towards the pieces, his own mouth already full.

Kyle shook his head. The very thought of eating turned his stomach and even watching Jamesey’s jaws masticating the thick wedges of bread brought a sour taste of bile into his mouth. ‘Wouldnae mind some Irn Bru, though,’ he muttered.

‘Aye, well, see if therr’s ony left,’ his brother replied, moving out of the room. The sound of the fridge door opening and shutting was followed by a metallic snap as Jamesey tore off the widget.

‘Here ye’are,’ he said, holding out the can. ‘Phenomenal!’ he added, grinning stupidly.

‘Great,’ Kyle gasped between gulps as the orange liquid slid down his throat. ‘’S better. Thanks.’

Jamesey settled himself on the edge of the bed. ‘Whit was a that aboot last night, then?’

Kyle didn’t reply, tilting his head back and pretending to drink the last drops from the can though it was already empty.

‘Mean, th’old man wis fair ragin wi ye. Cannae blame him, righ’nuff, huvin tae go doon the polis fur ye. Dinna tell me ye were at the skag, eh?’ The older boy nudged Kyle slyly, his gap-toothed grin creasing his unshaven face. He could be a moody bastard, Kyle thought, but he had his better moments like now when he was trying to be nice. James Kerrigan had a certain sort of charm whenever he smiled, a fact that he used to his advantage and not only with the lassies. He’d talked his way into the prospect of a good job since leaving school, though Kyle was certain Jamesey could have gone on to college if he’d wanted to. Now his big brother was well in with Tam, the eldest of the three boys and the district’s main drug dealing thug who was the spitting image of their father.

‘Jamesey,’ Kyle began, ‘see what he said last night. About my mother?’

‘Ach, ye dinna want tae listen tae thon garbage, man,’ Jamesey snorted in disgust.

‘Aye, but is he serious?’ Kyle persisted. ‘ Is he no my real father?’ He paused, awed by the enormity of the idea. ‘D’you know anything about it?’

James scratched the side of his nose for a moment then sniffed. ‘Aye, well, he’s said it aften enough, since he came hame, hasn’t he? Mibbe ye should look it up at the registry. See yer birth certificate, eh? They cannae stop ye now, can they?’ The older boy slid his bottom off the bed and began munching on another piece of bread. ‘See’f it wis me ah’d gie him a right doin. Glasgow kiss. Like that. Oof!’ James lunged his head forwards imitating the blow. ‘Nane o yer Queensberry Rules, kiddo. Dae him right.’ James gave him a wink and sauntered back out of the room.