Come to Harm

thirty-one

Keiko rubbed at her eyes with bunched fists like a baby, trying to scrub out that picture of Malcolm heaving the weight up from the pot with both hands, barely aware through her sobs of a rhythmic cellophane crackle as she moved and a soft bumping against her chest from outside as well as in. Slowly though, as the stink and steam fell away and she came back to the cool kitchen floor and the quiet sweet air, it dawned on her that she still had the bag of meat she’d bought from Mrs. Poole clutched in her hand. She threw it away with a shriek and it skittered across the floor until it hit a table leg where it rested, letting out quiet rustles as the wet weight inside settled onto the lino with a serious of tiny relaxing shifts.

A curious thing was happening inside her. While her body sank unstoppably down towards that sickness that had been waiting for her just below the surface all this time, her mind rose up out of itself and began calmly to sort through the jumble. It made her dizzy, this pulling apart of body and mind, but it was refreshing too, like looking up from small print to glance out of a window at a distant view.

Malcolm had said it didn’t matter what you made it with as long as you took the time to skim off the scum. People here didn’t worry about horsemeat scandals, but they were losing the old ways. People like Pamela Shand were moving in, and Murray, who should have been one of their own, couldn’t be trusted, had to be kept at home and in the shop where his mother could watch him. And he wouldn’t tell Keiko what was wrong because she would never believe him.

She stood up on shuddering legs and stumbled to the front door to double lock it. Murray was trying to get to the bottom of things, solve the puzzle, and meantime he worked hard every day-and made her work hard too-to stay skinny and safe, while Malcolm fed her suet and Mrs. Ballantyne fed her sausage and it didn’t matter what kind; it was the good big portions that mattered. And Mr. Dessing fed her haggis balls and puff pastry and it didn’t matter what was under the pastry, it was the presentation that mattered. And it made no difference what was in Mr. McLuskie’s bridies as well, since the pepper masked the taste of it. And Rosa Imperiolo knew that it was the batter that counted, no matter what you dipped in it to fry. And all of their wives and husbands on the committee, making the plans, were twisted up in knots with the knowing and waiting and couldn’t hide it. Couldn’t pretend they had no secrets eating away like rot inside them as she sat at their tables and they stuffed her, endlessly stuffed her, tamping the food into her gullet like grain into a goose for foie gras.

And Mr. Poole knew. And what he knew had killed him. And his body wasn’t up there in the cemetery, in its grave, waiting for visitors. Because-oh God-bodies, once they were taken apart, were just bones and meat.

And this flat, this flat that no one wanted her to ask about, this flat had never been empty, never been used just for meetings. Who could say how many people had lived here, hardly believing their luck-all the gifts, the friendly faces, the feasting? And now they had an ambitious international project. Something more exotic than Tash for them all.

Tash. Murray kept her safe, but she left him and then she got fat and vanished. But Dina hung around him and got skinny and got away. And Nicole got away too, from the creep across the road. But Tash Turnbull got fat and was gone now, a foster child whom no one would search for.

How many children had Mrs. McMaster fostered until they were big boys and girls of sixteen? How many of them had disappeared? Was Fancy the only one who had really run away? And why did she come back? How could she bring her baby back, if she kn-

Keiko stopped pacing so abruptly that she swayed and had to take a steadying step. She was in the living room facing the fireplace, and she smiled at her grey face in the mirror. No. Fancy could not stand the thought that there was anything beneath her own skin, could not bear talk of a pierced navel, could not sit through an anatomy lecture even with her eyes shut. Fancy was no part of this.

She took the sharpest knife from the rack in the kitchen and put it up her coat sleeve, holding it in place with the tips of two fingers, then she crept downstairs, leaving the door to her flat ajar in case they heard it shutting, steeled herself to get out of the street door and away. Away, away, away. She was passing on the far side of the Green before she let out her breath.

Fancy’s front shop was empty, but the door to the back was open and she sang out as Keiko approached the counter, “Come through!”

“It’s only me,” said Keiko.

Fancy was kneeling at the foot of a tailor’s dummy pinning the hem of a red cloak. “Hiya,” she said, sitting back on her heels and smiling. “What do you think of this? Toxic, eh? It’s for Etta McLuskie to wear to help hand out presents at Christmas. I don’t know who she’s meant to be. Santa’s sister? Santa’s granny? Lady Provost of Lapland? There’s about a million elf costumes but oh no-What’s up?” she said suddenly. “What have I done now?”

Keiko talked for half an hour to get everything out, her eyes wide and fixed on the floor. Then she raised her gaze to Fancy’s face, which was wooden and unreadable.

“Do you feel sick?” Keiko asked.

“Just a bit, yes,” Fancy said, through clenched teeth. “Can’t think why. Keiko, do you think I would have brought Viola back here if this wasn’t a good place?”

Keiko knew her words were going to hurt, so she said them very quietly. “I see how much you need to think that, and I’m sorry to take it away from you, but you’re not-after everything you’ve been through, you can’t be-a good judge of this place, these people.”

Fancy’s jaw firmed again as she clenched her teeth back together. “Okay, I can’t deny that. I’m just a dumb bint that don’t know nothin’. I wondered when you’d realise you were too good for m-”

But Keiko sprang out of her chair and took hold of Fancy by the elbows, the knife clattering out of her sleeve and falling to the floor, making her jump. “No!” she said. “You are the best, kindest… and the best mother and the best friend…” Both of them were fighting tears, their noses turning red.

Fancy pushed Keiko back and addressed her again. “Listen to me,” she said. “It’s just not possible, Keeks. It couldn’t happen that so many people could all be bad all at once. Even if it started from one person, like from Malcolm, how could he persuade all those people to do something so disgusting and crazy?”

“Little by little,” said Keiko. “Like he did with me. He’s easy to talk to and easy to listen to. It is as though he puts a spell on you until you find there’s no disgust and it doesn’t seem crazy anymore. It’s easy and comfortable, and that’s why he’s so dangerous.”

Fancy pressed her hands to her face and then pulled them out to the sides, stretching her skin. “You’re dead wrong,” she said. “He’s easy because he’s a nice guy. He’s a bit weird about his job and he’s freaky to look at, but basically he’s a really nice person.” She looked at the knife on the floor and then back at Keiko with a lighter kind of exasperation. “Just because Murray’s the pretty one, it doesn’t mean Malcolm has to be a monster.”

Keiko’s mind eddied back down to somewhere nearer her body where it belonged, but she shook her head, insisting. “Why would Malcolm say the carcass had two knees-I’m sorry!”

Fancy shuddered, even at the second hearing. “They do have two knees! There’s only one animal in the world that has four knees.”

“What?” said Keiko.

“Elephants.”

“How do you know that?”

“From Vi. From homework. Ask me some dinosaur names. Ask me anything.”

Keiko blinked.“But why did Murray say he didn’t know what killed his father?”

“I don’t know,” said Fancy. “Why does anyone say anything?”

“Well, why did he say that his father’s body wasn’t in his grave?”

“He didn’t!” said Fancy. “I was there, remember. He didn’t say his dad’s body wasn’t in the grave-I can’t believe I’m talking about this, I’m never going to sleep again-he said his dad wasn’t in the graveyard, because he loved his dad and there’s more to a person than what they leave behind to be buried. Keiko, I was here when Mr. Poole died, you weren’t. He was laid out in the house for viewing. It was an open coffin.”

“You saw him?”

Fancy almost laughed, almost. “Have we met? No, of course I didn’t see him. I couldn’t bring myself go near the place because the bloody coffin was open, and I felt terrible about it. But do you think I’ll ever forget everyone else going on and on about how peaceful he looked?” Keiko wanted to interrupt, to protest that of course people would say the right thing, but Fancy held up her hand. “Mrs. Watson was there. Hm? Mabel?”

“Yes, but Mrs. Watson is involved somehow. I told you about her face when she saw the letter.”

“Okay,” said Fancy slowly, “but if she isn’t one of them and she sent a letter threatening to expose them, why would she lie about Mr. Poole being in his coffin all ready to be buried?” Keiko twisted her mouth in grudging acknowledgement. “And anyway, Pet took Vi to the wake.”

“Viola saw him?”

“Oh yes, and it gave her great satisfaction to come home and tell me all about it. She said he looked like Fred Flintstone-whatever that’s supposed to mean-and that they had dressed him up like a baby and she thought it was a shame because everyone knew he always wore men’s clothes.”

Keiko nodded slowly.“Viola saw Mr. Poole in his coffin. Okay.” She bent her head briefly. “But what about the rest of it? If it’s not what I think it is, then what is it? What is wrong with them?”

“Who?”

“Mrs. McLuskie, Mrs. Dessing, Mr. Ballantyne, Mr. Imperiolo. You see what they’ve got in common?”

“It’s the committee,” said Fancy.

“Exactly. And they all did my dry run questionnaire and they’re all in a… a state about something.”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” said Fancy. “What do you mean? You said that stuff you do was supposed to be confidential.”

“It is,” said Keiko. She couldn’t meet Fancy’s eyes. “Supposed to be. I was desperate, Fancy. I was trying to help Murray and he wouldn’t tell me what was wrong.”

“Well, I can tell you what Iain B and Vinegar Tits Dessing are in a state about,” said Fancy. “They’re having a fling. They walk their dogs at the glen. Pet can see them from her shop window, says they’re in the woods for hours sometimes. And once she saw them in a bar in Dirleton.”

Keiko shook her head. “That’s only two of them,” she said. “What do all four of them have in common to be so scared about? And the Pooles, of course. They wouldn’t let themselves be tested. They refused.”

“Maybe they didn’t trust you,” said Fancy, making Keiko flush.

“A butcher, a baker, two publicans, and a restaurateur,” Keiko said.

“What about Mrs. Watson?” said Fancy. “Did you snoop at her answers too?”

“Mrs. Watson sells fruit and vegetables,” said Keiko. “She doesn’t get any supplies from Malcolm Poole.”

Fancy rubbed her face again then stood and went to the cupboard to get her bottles of port and brandy. She poured two and pushed one across the table towards Keiko.

“You really have gone absolutely barking mad,” she said, and she began counting off on her fingers. “Iain and Sandra are at it. Etta McLuskie? Pet reckons Etta’s pulling strings about the redevelopment. Kenny Imperiolo… I don’t know.”

Some distant memory was stirring in Keiko. “I think he writes all his own reviews for restaurant websites,” she said.

Fancy gave a shout of laughter. “Genius!” she said. “Of course he does! Man, I can’t believe nobody rumbled him before now. He must be shitting hedgehogs. Jimmy McKendrick’s got that hotshot web manager picking the Painchton site to bits trying to do that… you know when you get it up the Google rankings?” She laughed. “No secrets from those guys. They’re like hackers.”

“Yes, all right,” said Keiko. “I admit all of that, but are you telling me you never thought the committee was doing anything except plan the redevelopment?” Keiko said, watching Fancy closely.

“No way, Jos-” Fancy began. Then she stopped. “Actually yes, I did. I do. I don’t know what it is they’re up to, but please believe me: top of the list of what it’s not is… that thing you said.”

Keiko bit her lip. “Why does Mrs. Poole hate me so mu-” She shook her head as Fancy tried to protest. “She does hate me. Why did Murray leave the butcher’s shop in the first place, before his dad died? Why has she dragged him back?” She waited while Fancy chewed her lip in silence for a minute.

“Who knows why Murray left,” she said. “Because he doesn’t like it? Who knows why she wants him back. Because her husband’s just died and she wants her sons near her? Why does she hate you? Maybe because her husband’s just died and she doesn’t want you to take her son away. Maybe she doesn’t want you to make her big fat miserable son even more jealous of his brother. Maybe she’s just a racist. It happens.”

“Okay,” said Keiko, “but listen to this. You admit that the committee is up to something, but you think it’s a coincidence that they’re all supplied by Malcolm and they all meet up at Mr. McKendrick’s all the time and they’re all up to high doh and oxters and crabbit as wee ferrets, but-”

“Jesus Christ,” said Fancy.

Keiko raised her voice and kept going. “But what about the food? What about the schedule? They didn’t even hide it-it was like a campaign. It was unstoppable, an obsession to get me into their houses and stuff me with four-course meals and give me great big tubs of leftovers and come and check to see that I’d eaten them. It was… it was madness.”

“Yeah,” said Fancy. “Death by drop scone. See I never got much of that-except from Pet-because they didn’t approve of me, but you were always going to be for it: a good girl like you, all on your own and thousands of miles from home. You might as well have had a red cloak on and a basket of stuff for Grandma.”

Keiko was nodding, but Fancy saw through it. “What?” she said. “What else is there?”

“Janette Campbell,” said Keiko. “Why was she so cold when I talked about the slaughterhouse? I don’t believe it was what Malcolm said.”

“Neither do I,” said Fancy. “I never did. Janette Campbell doesn’t have much time for Murray. I reckon it was finding out you’d taken up with him that bugged her, not the mention of that back shed.”

“But why didn’t you tell me that?” said Keiko.

“Because Malcolm was there, remember?” Fancy said. “It was steak and kidney pudding day. And I didn’t want to say that someone didn’t think much of his brother in front of him. And then I forgot.”

“But why?” said Keiko.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Keiko!” said Fancy. She poured herself another drink and after a sip of it, she spoke very slowly and loudly. “Okay, I didn’t forget. I just don’t like talking about it, but okay, you win. I, Frances Mary Clarke, did not tell you that Janette Campbell bears a grudge to Murray Poole. Shoot me.”

“I didn’t mean why did you forget,” Keiko said. “I mean why doesn’t Janette-”

“For God’s sake!” said Fancy and then started speaking very loud and slow again. “Because Natasha was her shampoo girl and she probably told Janette that Murray was a crap boyfriend. Or… I don’t know.”

Keiko frowned.

“What now?” said Fancy.

“Who’s Natasha?”

Fancy blinked. “Tash,” she said.

Keiko stood up and jammed her hand into her jeans pocket. She pulled out the necklace and let it swing in front of Fancy’s face.

“I found this in my kitchen drain,” she said. “This is what was clogging it.”

Fancy reached out and grasped it. “That’s Tash’s,” she whispered. “Pet’s got a picture of her wearing it.”

“It was fastened,” Keiko said. “It didn’t just fall off.”

“Oh my God,” said Fancy.

“Has anyone heard from Tash since she left?”

“Mother of God,” said Fancy. She held the chain and put it to her lips. She looked up at Keiko with fresh tears in her eyes. “What have I done?” she said.

Keiko took her free hand. “Please,” she whispered. “Tell me.”

Fancy waved to the bottles, and Keiko refilled both glasses with even bigger measures than before.

“I lied to you,” Fancy said when she had taken a big swallow from hers. “It was true about the state Pet was in when I came back, rocking with the baby, crying, all that. And the ego boost, that was true too. Except the more time went on, the more I got the idea that it was Tash she was mourning, and Vi and me were like a consolation prize.” Keiko shook her head but Fancy ignored her. “And I sort of knew I should try and get in touch with Tash and tell her she was wrong about foster mums. We all get so cynical so young, you know? Toughen up so no one can hurt you? We all used to tell ourselves the carers were in it for the money. Only I must have known it wasn’t true with Pet, or why did I come back, right? And I knew I should find Tash and tell her. But…” Fancy ducked her head down between her shoulders the way she had the first time they met. “I didn’t want to share. I didn’t want Pet’s favourite coming back and shoving me out.”

Keiko was shaking her head faster now. “Pet loves you,” she said. “She adores you. And Viola. No one could shove you out!”

“Well,” said Fancy. “That’s what I did, anyway.”

“You didn’t do anything,” Keiko said. “All your feelings are understandable and natural, even if they’re wrong.”

“Yeah, but I did lie though,” said Fancy, in a tiny voice. “By omission.”

Keiko groaned. “Please forget I said that.”

“And the other thing too. I didn’t look for her to try to get her home again.” Fancy’s voice had grown hoarse. “And then-Jesus, this is hard to say!-when Pet asked me to, cos she’s useless with the Internet, I said I would, and then I said I had, and I said couldn’t find her.” She caught a sob before it could get free. “But I never checked at all because I was scared if she came back there’d be no place for me. And then, after you asked about her and Nikki and Dina the other day, I did search and there’s nothing. I left it too late and she’s lost now. She’s really gone.”

Keiko put down her glass and took Fancy’s out of her hand, then she wrapped her arms around Fancy’s shoulders and hugged her close. Fancy buried her head into Keiko’s middle and finally let go. Keiko bent and kissed the parting of her hair.

“I am so sorry,” she said as Fancy wept. “I’ve dredged up your worst memories and made you feel badly. You did nothing wrong.”

“I let her stay lost,” said Fancy, her voice sodden and muffled.

“You were young,” Keiko said. “Then you grew up into a good person and a good mother, and you are a wonderful daughter and friend. You did nothing wrong.”

Fancy sniffed and pulled back, turning her face up to look at Keiko. “Well, neither did you then,” she said with a watery smile.

Keiko went to get a cool cloth and took her seat again.

“You know what the real mystery is?” Fancy said after she had blown her nose and finished her drink. “Murray thinks he can tell you what to do and what to look like and drop mysterious hints until he’s got you demented. And Craig McKendrick has been playing silly buggers with me since he first stuck his hand up my jumper on a school trip. Jesus, you jumping when Murray says jump must be making him as happy as a pig in shit, you know! And so the only real mystery is why I-after everything I learned the hard way from Viola’s dad-and you-who spend your whole life studying human nature-give one single solitary sod about either of them.”

Keiko finally felt her body and mind smash back together at last. “I’ve made such a fool of myself,” she said. “I just want to crawl into a hole and hide. I don’t know how I’m going to face anyone.”

“Nobody knows what you were thinking, you bampot,” said Fancy. “Or hey! You could always walk home backwards like Vi does. Rewind!”

“I must have gone mad. I really thought-”

“Look,” said Fancy. “You’re in a new country, a long way from home and it must seem like, ‘Oh my god, what a crazy place, what’s going on?’ Like all kinds of things that could never happen at home might happen here. But it’s not real. It’s like if I went to Tokyo, I would be just the same. Total head wreck.”

“Well, I’m over it now,” Keiko said. “And you’re right about Murray. But…” She hesitated. “Don’t be too hard on Craig. He did warn me. Except I thought it was Malcolm he was warning me about.”

“Did he say he warned Tash?” said Fancy. Her voice was cold. “Or was he another one who reckoned she didn’t matter?”

“He didn’t mention Tash,” Keiko said. “He felt bad even saying what he did. He was trying to be loyal to his friend.”

“Yeah, well, his friend’s not worth it and he’s definitely not worth you. And poor Malcolm-he’s done nothing!”

“Please promise me you will never tell anyone what I said, what I thought,” Keiko said.

“Cross my heart and hope to die and be served at a barbecue to all my friends and neighbours,” said Fancy with a smirk. “I won’t tell a soul.”

Keiko called in to say sorry to Mrs. Watson for dashing through the shop earlier. Mrs. Watson stroked her arm and made soothing noises through her giggles.

“Well now, you must just put it out of your mind in time for New Year’s Day, so you can sit down to your hough dinner and enjoy it. I’m just the same with tongue, mind. I love a slice with a good sweet pickle, but I couldn’t cook it for a king’s ransom. Lying there in the pot looking just like a great big tongue.” She shuddered and then squeezed Keiko’s shoulder. “So I won’t tell if you don’t tell. And don’t you worry about Malcolm; he’s used to the rest of us being more squeamish than him.”

Keiko stood still, staring at her, wondering if she could ask-just ask straight out-about the letter and why Mrs. Watson had looked that way. If Fancy was right, there would be some silly, innocent explanation for it.

“And speaking of the Pooles,” said Mrs. Watson. “I was hearing in the post office first thing that Willie Byers has finally caved in and agreed to sell to the Traders. He went round and told Jimmy McKendrick last night.”

“Really?” said Keiko. “That’s excellent news. Well, not for Murray.” What would he do? she wondered. Cut the ties, leave Painchton, and find a proper place of his own? For a split second, the feeling this thought produced-a flattening out, a downward swoop in her insides-might have been mistaken for disappointment, but in no time at all she had identified it: it was relief.