Denise Mina - Garnethill

Siobhain looked up and smiled over at Maureen. "Hello, Helen," she said. She was wearing the clothes she had had on last Wednesday but they were still immaculate – she didn't do much to get them dirty.

"My name's Maureen, actually, Siobhain."

Siobhain was confused. "Did I forget?" she said.

"No," said Maureen. "Tanya always gets my name wrong. She introduced us."

"Oh, yes. I like your new hair."

"So do I," said Maureen.

The old lady was standing between them, grinning, gumsy and confused, her teeth lying in front of her on the floor. Maureen picked up the dentures and carried them to the little kitchenette at the back of the room. The lady put her hands out in front of her and kept her eyes on the teeth as she followed Maureen to the sink. Maureen turned on the cold tap and held the teeth under the water. She handed them back. "Thank you," said the lady graciously. "Thank you very much."

Maureen pulled a plastic chair next to Siobhain's and sat down. The old lady followed her, standing between them and the television. Siobhain leaned over the armrest and carried on watching Columbo . The lady put the teeth in and tried to smile at Maureen again, and again her teeth fell out. Maureen stood up.

"No, leave it," said Siobhain. "She shouldn't be wearing them at all, she found them in a drawer. Gurtie," she said to the old lady, "Gurtie, dear, you shouldn't put them in your mouth."

Gurtie looked puzzled.

"What are you watching?" asked Maureen.

" Columbo . It's very good. I like that man."

Maureen stroked the back of Siobhain's head: her hair was knotted again. It must be where she rests her head when she is sleeping, thought Maureen, where she rubs her head on the pillow. "The knot's worse today," she said. "Shall I comb it?"

"Yes, please."

She moved her chair behind Siobhain and took out her sharpened stabbing comb. Gurtie came over and offered them a ripped Observer magazine. They said no, thank you, Gurtie. Gurtie sat down in a chair and stared at the side of the television for a little while before wandering off into the next room.

When the knot was combed out Maureen dragged her seat next to Siobhain and sat down. They watched television for a while, eating a bag of crisps Maureen had brought with her. Columbo solved the case and the ads came on. Siobhain turned to face Maureen. "How wicked that Hollywood lady was."

"Yeah," said Maureen.

"And she did it for the money. Terrible behavior." She settled back into her seat.

"Siobhain, I wanted to ask you something."

"What is it about?"

"You know what it's about."

Siobhain looked at her hands. "I have to tell you I can't talk about it."

"I know you can't, I don't want you to talk about it. I want you to tell me the names of some of the other women in the ward at the same time. Could you do that?"

"I don't remember very well. But I suppose… yes."

Maureen got out Martin's list and Siobhain wrote the names at the bottom. She could only remember four: Yvonne Urquhart, Marianne McDonald, Iona McKinnon and Edith Menzies. They were all Highland names. "That's why I remember them. I can't remember foreign names so well."

Maureen thanked her.

"No." Siobhain stiffened in the chair. "I remember." Her voice dropped to a panicky whisper. "Iona is not-she died."

"Oh," said Maureen, surprised by how upset Siobhain was. She would surely have remembered that the woman was dead if they had been that close. "I'm sorry, were you friends?"

"No." Siobhain was losing her breath. "She took her own life. Tanya said."

"How did Tanya know?"

"At the Rainbow. Iona was at the Rainbow."

"Breathe in, Siobhain," said Maureen. "Take a deep breath."

Siobhain struggled.

"Listen," said Maureen, "tell me what programs you watch on Saturdays."

Panting, Siobhain started relating the programming schedule for Saturdays. By the time she got to ten o'clock she was perfectly calm. Maureen wanted to leave but thought Siobhain might get bad again. She sat until the end of Howards' Way . "I should really be going," she said.

Liam had a crick in his neck and was hung over and sorry. He was sitting on the burst settee and nursing a mug of strong coffee with his neck bent at an awkward angle, looking up at her, unshaven and repentant.

"You called me a prick," said Maureen.

"Sorry. Mum phoned for you." He said that Winnie was drunk and being abusive and hunting for Maureen.

"Can't we screen the calls on your answer phone?"

He turned his entire torso as he looked for his fags on the settee. "The police took it away," he said. "They only needed the tape. I think they took the machine out of spite." He spotted them on the floor, bent down carefully and took one out of the packet. He caught her eye as he lit it and threw the packet to her.

She took one. "We could go to mine," she said, "and get my answer phone."

"Will the police let you go in?"

"Yeah, they've said I can go home."

"Have you been back yet?"

"No."

"Let's go," he said, levering himself off the settee.

It wasn't raining so they left the car and walked down to Garnethill, climbing the steep hill to the flat. Liam was sweating by the time they got to the top of the stairs. "God," he said, "I'm so unfit."

She put the key in the lock and opened the door. Liam reached out to stop her going in. "I'll go," he said, wiping the sweat from his glistening forehead. "I'll check it out."

She waited outside, picking at the thick chewy gloss on the door frame. When he came back out to give her the okay his face was white with shock.

Maureen stepped nervously into the hall. Liam had pulled the living-room door shut. It was warm in the flat-the neighbors downstairs must have their heating on. The salty smell from the living room was high in the hall: she tried to breathe short shallow breaths so that it wouldn't get deep into her lungs. The paintwork on the hall cupboard was marked by sticky strips where the tape had been. A note was lying on the floor; it had been folded in half and shoved under the door. It was from Jim Maliano across the landing, telling her to knock on his door when she got back, he had made too many lasagna portions and they wouldn't fit into his freezer, did she want some? She pressed the Play button on the answer phone and handed the note to Liam. "Is that the prick across the landing?" he said.

"Yeah, but he's not a prick now. I like him."

"I didn't know you liked lasagna that much," he said, turning his upper body to her, handing the note back.

"Naw." She smiled. "Remember, he was kind."

Liz had called her, could Maureen phone her back. Someone called Danny wanted her to call him at a Glasgow city-center number. The call was followed by three put-downs. Maureen didn't know anyone called Danny. Liz phoned again, please phone her.

Another mystery caller asked her to phone him at an Edinburgh number. His call was followed by another put-down.

She rang the number for Danny and was welcomed to the Alba Newspaper Group. She hung up. The mystery caller from Edinburgh was from a news agency.

Liam listened with her. "Vermin," he said.

She unplugged the answer phone and wrapped the flex around it.

"I thought you were going to get cleaners in here," said Liam, glancing nervously at the living-room door.

"Yeah, but it's not covered by the insurance."

"Fuck, you're going to have to do it yourself?"

"Yeah."

"I'll give you a hand cleaning it up," he said reluctantly.

"You've got your own house to worry about. I think I'd rather do it alone anyway." It might have been the void left by her lapsed Catholicism but important events prompted her need for ritual. Certain things had to be done in certain ways to mark the end of the cycle of events; like secular voodoo, it helped to resolve matters, signifying and punctuating.