Jane Renshaw - Watch Over Me

Bekki pokes the straw in the shake. ‘Burgers and chips aren’t good for you.’

‘All right, missie, you can have a nice salad if you want.’

‘I mean for you .’ She gives me a gorgeous wee smile.

‘Oh, here we go, Connor, here’s Miss Calorie Conscious on the case again.’

‘Aw Maw, she’s right enough, you’re getting a right lard arse on you. You need to get back on that exercise bike.’

Bekki snickers.

‘Huh! Less of your cheek, my lad!’

‘It’s less of your cheek we’re needing – less of your bum cheek, eh?’ And he’s chuckling away and Bekki’s choking on her shake, and I’m grinning all over my fucking face.

And when she’s off washing her hands before tea, I’m like that: ‘No happy? She’s no happy?’

‘Course she’s no fucking happy! You’re living in a fucking dream world if you think she’s fucking happy about any of this! Okay it’s no so bad with just us, but what’s gonnae happen when we’re in Spain and it’s Here wee Bekki, here’s fucking Psycho Granda, and aye Ryan and Travis are fucking mentalists but hey, they’re no worse than that wee shit Corrigan, your wee shit cousin’s gonnae be in your face twenty-four-seven, aye we’re all living under the same roof, whoopy-doo .’

‘Your Da’s sakeless so he is. Travis, aye maybe he has his moments, eh, but there’s no malice in the boy.’

‘He broke my fucking arm!’

‘Bairns, eh? Yous were bairns. And Ryan’s always looked out for you. What for are you calling him a mentalist?’

‘He’s a fucking murderer!’

‘Keep it down, son! Aye, Ryan’s no angel, but Christ on a cheesy biscuit! No fucker’s ever messed with you cos they know if they do, Ryan’s gonnae do them. He’s always looked out for this fucking family and that’s the thanks he gets?’

‘Aye, okay, maybe he looks out for us and that, but how’s Bekki gonnae react if she finds out he –’

‘She’s no gonnae find out.’ I go and shut the door. ‘Look, son. Right enough, it’s gonnae be hard on Bekki to begin with, aye, but I know what I’m doing here. She’s getting on fine with you and Carly and she loves wee Willow. I’m thinking tomorrow we can all go a wee trip to the zoo and Bekki can meet Mandy.’

Connor’s got a right face on him.

‘Right enough, it’s best we wait till we’re in Spain before she meets the boys and Jed and the other bairns. Wait till the bitch is convicted and the adoption’s finalised and that. Get it all done and dusted –’

‘Aye, wait till we’ve a legal fucking hold on her and she’s in another fucking country where she cannae speak the language and she cannae run away to Edith’s or Mia’s or that. Aye Maw, that’ll be ace. Bekki’s gonnae be made up.’

‘I’m no saying it’s ideal, and aye, there’s maybe gonnae be tears, but long term, it’s for the best, aye?’

Connor rolls his eyes and I’m in his face.

‘Get off my fucking case, son. We’re in this together for Bekki, right?’

‘Aye, whatever you say, Maw. Whatever you fucking say.’

My dear, darling Beckie

I’m so sorry

She sat back in the chair. The view from her window was of the wall of the block opposite, against which a slender birch tree grew. She had watched the tree – she thought of it as ‘her’ tree – lose its leaves, she had watched it agitated by November gales and worried for it, she had watched the snow delicately ice its branches, and now little fat buds were swelling at the end of every twig.

Beckie didn’t want this letter.

She didn’t want any contact with Flora.

And who could blame her?

Yesterday the jury had returned their unanimous verdict that Flora was guilty of the charge of murdering her husband. And now it would be all over the press in every horrendous detail:

Rachel Clark has killed again.

Beckie was going to find out all about what Rachel had done.

She scrunched up the letter and dropped it into the raffia wastepaper basket.

The contents of the room were designed to offer as few opportunities as possible for violence. So the bin was raffia, not metal or even wicker. There were no drawers in the desk she was sitting at, only open spaces for your things. Drawers, even the kind that were anchored in place, could be pulled out and used to clobber someone.

‘Flora, this fucking stinks. I’m that sorry.’

She turned in the chair.

Danielle was standing at the door, scratching at the side of her mouth where the skin was always dry.

‘Thanks, Danielle.’

‘Least you’re no getting transferred to some other fucking hole for the rest your sentence, though, eh? Least you get to stay wi’ us?’

Flora smiled.

Wendy appeared behind Danielle. ‘You’re gonnae appeal though, right?’

Wendy favoured cut-off T-shirts that showcased her muscly arms. Today it was a neon-green number with the slogan ‘Blink if You Want Me’ emblazoned across it in silver text.

Flora nodded. ‘Actually, Wendy, I was going to ask you something.’

Most of the women didn’t talk much about what had brought them here. Some not at all, and that was respected. Flora had told Wendy and Danielle what had happened, in general terms, not naming any names because you never knew what connections people might have in this place. But now she was desperate.

‘Aye doll, go for it.’ Wendy swung herself up onto the top bunk, trainers swinging perilously close to Flora’s head.

‘You’re Glaswegian?’

‘Aye I’m a Weegie, can you no fucking tell?’

Flora shifted her position in the chair. ‘I’m wondering if you know a family called the Johnsons. Jed and Lorraine are the parents, and the kids are Ryan, Travis, Carly and Connor. And Shannon-Rose –’

‘Aw fuck, Flora, you dinnae want to have nothing to do with they fuckers. They’re fucking animals.’

‘Well, yes, I know. They’re the ones who killed my husband and set me up for it. They’re Beckie’s biological family. Shannon-Rose is Beckie’s biological mother.’

Wendy’s legs stopped swinging, and she whistled.

‘The thing is, they have alibis for the morning it happened – provided by the mechanics at a garage who say Ryan, Travis and Jed were there the whole day, apart from lunch in a café where the staff and customers also vouch for them and say Lorraine was there all morning.’

‘Aye, dinnae tell me, doll – Finnegan’s Garage on North Castle Street, and The Cup that Cheers down past the Haghill Cemetery?’

Flora could only nod.

Wendy snorted. ‘The Cup that Cheers – aye right, more like The Cup that’ll Gie You the Dry Boak. Fat cow runs the place’s about forty fucking stone with a leg ulcer on her you can smell from the fucking pavement? Never anyone in the place, but from the witness statements get read out in the High Fucking Court you’d think it was jumping every fucking day of the week.’

‘Do you… You wouldn’t be able to help me, would you? If you know anyone who could help break the alibis –’

Wendy held up her hands. ‘Hold your horses, Flora. I’m thick as shite maybe but I’m no daft. I’m no going up against they fuckers, no way.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘Christ. The fucking Johnsons ?’

‘They found out that we were the couple who adopted Beckie, and they’ve been targeting us ever since.’

‘Fuck!’ Danielle was wide-eyed. ‘They topped your old man? Your pal that’s got Beckie, she’d better make sure they cannae find her, eh?’

‘Well, she’s moved house.’ Flora swallowed. ‘But I don’t think… The Johnsons can’t actually have wanted Beckie back. They could have snatched her easily any time. I think they’re just doing it out of… spite, I suppose.’