Death of a Valentine

The day of Josie’s wedding to Hamish Macbeth dawned bright and sunny. The village buzzed with anticipation. Those who were not married found the whole idea of a wedding romantic, and those who were had a feeling of schadenfreude that some other poor soul was about to be chained in holy matrimony.

Cottage bedrooms reeked of mothballs as rarely used finery was taken out to be put on. Men grumbled that their suits had shrunk and the more tactful wives refrained from pointing out that they had put on weight.

The Currie sisters, each donning a large hat, looked like a couple of small toadstools, for the hats were of brown straw topping their camel-hair coats.

Josie squeezed herself into a body stocking and took a swig of vodka to stop her hands shaking. Her mother came into her room to help her put on the wedding gown.

“Your face is all blotchy!” exclaimed Flora. “You smell bad. Have you had a bath?”

An excess of vodka sometimes does not smell like alcohol but more like a nasty body odour.

“It’s just nerves,” said Josie, spraying her armpits with deodorant. “Help me on with my dress and then I’ll make up my face.”

In the police station, Hamish stood before the wardrobe mirror in his bedroom, dressed in a rented morning suit, and surveyed himself miserably in the glass.

Jimmy came in, similarly attired. “Cheer up, Hamish. It’s your wedding day. And you’re going off on your honeymoon. Think of all that hot sun.”

If only I could win the lottery, thought Hamish. We could live in separate houses. Why on earth did I not just promise to pay maintenance for the child and remain single? But in his heart he knew that in an old-fashioned village like Lochdubh it would be looked on as a scandal. Daviot would never stand for it. Seducing a policewoman!

“I gather we don’t have a limo to take us to the kirk,” said Jimmy.

“It’s only a few yards. We walk.”

“Your ma must be pleased.”

“Aye, she’s looking forward to seeing some grandchildren,” said Hamish. He had been avoiding his family of late, frightened that that strange highland telepathy might pick up on his distress. He had not even introduced Josie to them, making excuses time after time that she was out on a job.

“Well, let’s go,” said Jimmy impatiently. “Want a drink?”

“No.” Hamish made his way to the kitchen door. He bent down and patted Lugs and Sonsie. Angela had promised to look after them while he was on honeymoon.

They walked out of the police station and on to the waterfront. It was a perfect day. Hardly a ripple disturbed the blue waters of the loch. A group of fishermen heading for the church gave a ragged cheer.

Hamish looked around himself bleakly. He felt he was saying goodbye to all the happy times he had known. “Man, you’re as white as a sheet,” said Jimmy.

The church was full to the bursting point. He took his place at the altar with Jimmy at his side and sent one last desperate prayer upwards. “Dear God, if there is a God, get me out of this!”

“You look right miserable,” hissed Jimmy.

“I’m still a bit weak,” said Hamish. Priscilla Halburton-Smythe had sent him a congratulatory message from Australia along with her apologies that she was unable to attend.

There was a murmur of anticipation. Then the choir burst into a rendering of “You’ll Never Walk Alone.” “Yuk,” murmured Jimmy. “Did you think o’ that one, Hamish?”

“Nothing to do wi’ me,” he muttered.

Then Charlotte, Josie’s bridesmaid, hurried up the aisle and said to Hamish, “You’ve got to come outside. Those wretched pets of yours are stopping Josie entering the church. It’s a disgrace, that’s what it is.”

Hamish ran down the aisle and outside. Josie stood there on the arm of her uncle. In front of them, barring the way, stood Sonsie, hissing, fur raised, and Lugs barking like mad.

“That’s enough!” shouted Hamish. “Off home the pair o’ ye.”

They slunk off and Hamish went back into the church and up to his former position at the altar. The choir, which had fallen silent, burst out into song again.

Hamish stared straight ahead as Josie made her way up the aisle.

Jimmy turned round. “My, she’s got fat,” he said. “Has she got a bun in the oven?”

“Shut up!” said Hamish.

When Josie stood next to him, he stared straight ahead.

Something’s far wrong here, thought Jimmy suddenly. He’s hating this. What can I do now? I can pretend to have lost the ring. Maybe that’ll help.

Hamish did not listen to the opening words of the marriage service.

Then Mr. Wellington said the piece about anyone having any reason against this marriage to speak now or forever hold their peace.

The church doors crashed open and a clear voice said, “I have.”

There was a babble of shocked alarm as Elspeth strode up the aisle.

“Explain yourself,” shouted Mrs. Wellington.

Elspeth faced the congregation. “This woman, Josie McSween,” she said, her voice dripping with contempt, “has tried to trick Hamish into marriage. At one time, I believe, she doped his drink with Rohypnol-it’s commonly known as a date-rape drug. She pretended she was pregnant. Hamish took a urine sample and a blood sample to the forensic lab in Strathbane. They lied to him and told him he was in the clear. I have confirmation from a forensic lab in Aberdeen.”

Her eyes ranged over the congregation and settled on Lesley and Bruce. “Yes, I took the samples out of your lab. So sue me! Josie got a certificate from a shady doctor in Strathbane to say she was pregnant. I wondered whether he would admit to it. Listen to this!”

She switched on the tape recorder. The congregation listened in appalled silence. Josie turned to flee. Charlotte shouted after her, “You stole my pregnancy kit, you wee bitch!”

Flora hurried after her daughter. Josie jumped in the limousine, waiting outside. Her mother climbed in after her.

“ Perth!” shrieked Josie to the driver as the congregation began to stream out of the church.

Lesley and Bruce found Daviot looming over them. “You are suspended from duty pending a full enquiry,” he said. “Not another word.”

As they went off, Daviot turned round and saw Jimmy. “Where is Hamish? This is awful. I am sure he is not recovered from that shooting.”

“He’s down on the beach,” called Angela.

They all rushed to the waterfront wall.

Hamish Macbeth was turning cartwheels along the beach with the dog and cat prancing beside him.

Instead of being delighted that Hamish had escaped being tricked into marriage, a good number of the villagers were feeling positively sulky. They trooped up to the manse to retrieve their wedding presents. They thought that at least the reception might have gone ahead and let them enjoy a party, but Flora had stopped on the road to cancel everything. Because Flora had employed a catering firm who were already packing everything up, there was nothing they could do but mutter that Hamish should have known something was wrong.

In the police station later, Jimmy said the same thing. “Had ye gone daft?” he asked. “Couldn’t you tell when you’d had sex or not?”

“How could I think otherwise?” said Hamish. “I woke up and there she was, in the bed. Then she gets proof she’s pregnant. What else could I do?”

Superintendent Daviot walked into the kitchen without knocking. “This is a bad business,” he said. “I want a full statement from you, Macbeth. Forensic experts are hard to find. There’s to be a full enquiry. Josie McSween is not fit for the police force. She will need to make a statement as well. But I cannot understand how an experienced policeman like yourself came to be tricked.”

Hamish was beginning to wonder the same thing himself but Jimmy leapt to his defence.

“How was he to know, sir?” he asked. “A good copper goes by the evidence, and Josie had all the evidence.”

“Dr. Cameron has been arrested,” said Daviot. “He won’t weasel out of this charge the way he did the last one.”

“How did Josie get the Rohypnol?” wondered Hamish. “Maybe she got it out of the evidence room. There was a case last year where it was used.”

“The press are all gathered outside,” said Daviot. “You’ll need to speak to them or we’ll never get rid of them.”

“Could you do that?” asked Hamish. “You’re awfy good wi’ the press.”

“I will do that now,” said Daviot, who adored getting any sort of publicity. “We’ll put it out that you are still weak after that shooting. Where were you supposed to be going on honeymoon?”

“ Corsica. Tomorrow morning. For a week.”

“Then I suggest you take yourself off there while we sort things out here and return in time for the board of enquiry.”

Daviot left the kitchen and soon his voice could be heard outside, making a statement.

“Where’s Elspeth?” asked Hamish. “I owe her a lot.”

“She’s up at the hotel.”

“Tell Daviot I’ve gone for a walk to clear my head.”

Hamish slid out of the kitchen door followed by Lugs and Sonsie and started the long walk by way of the fields at the back to the Tommel Castle Hotel.

He was directed to Elspeth’s room and knocked at the door. When she opened it, he said, “How can I ever thank you!”

“Come in, Hamish, and bring the beasties with you.”

Hamish sat down wearily. “Thon was one great piece o’ detective work, Elspeth.”

“You need to thank Angela as well. She was worried about you. I guessed because she told me you’d gone to Dr. Brodie for blood and urine tests that you were sure you’d been drugged. Then there’s Josie. Angela was sure you didn’t care anything for her. I just wanted to make sure.”

“You’d make a better seer than auld Angus any day. He didn’t suspect a thing. Look, Elspeth, this is short notice but I’ve got plane tickets to Corsica and the hotel is booked-single rooms, mind. I’ve been told to take a break. Why don’t you come with me?”

“Maybe I could. I’ve been told to take some leave.”

“I’ll get Josie’s air ticket changed to your name. It’ll be great to get away. The press’ll be hounding me for a week. We’ll need to be at the Inverness airport at six in the morning.”

Elspeth was suddenly very happy. “We can make it.”

“Right. I’ll just use your phone and see to that ticket.”

Josie and her mother were sitting gloomily in a hotel outside Perth. As the limousine had turned into their street, Flora saw press ranged outside their house and told the driver to reverse quickly. She had left Josie in the hotel and had gone back to pack up clothes for them to wear, not wanting to return to Lochdubh. The press followed her when she left after loading two suitcases into the limo. “Can you lose them?” she asked the driver frantically.

“Sure,” he said. By shooting two red lights in Perth, racing up the A-9 at one hundred miles an hour, and then swerving off the road and up a farm track, he was able to hide out until the pursuers roared past.

Flora had been left very comfortably off but she felt bitterly that Josie’s caper was costing her a fortune as she paid off the driver and tipped him handsomely. Then there were gratuities paid to the staff of the hotel so that they would deny ever having seen them.

“It’s all Hamish’s fault,” said Josie. “I’d have made him a good wife.”

“You’re mad!” said her mother, and Josie burst into tears.

The police called for her two days later and told her a police car was waiting for her downstairs to take her to Strathbane. The hotel staff were willing to lie to the press but not to the police. Flora wanted to go with her but was told firmly to stay behind.

“I’m going home, Josie,” she said as Josie was led from the hotel. “If the press are there when you get back, you’ll just need to face them.”

Angela said to her husband, “Hamish has gone off to Corsica with Elspeth. Do you think they’ll get married?”

“God forbid. This village has had enough of Hamish Macbeth and his weddings. And the sooner he gets back here and picks up those pets of his, the happier I’ll be. That cat of his frightens me to death.”

Josie, on her way into police headquarters, was stopped by Blair. “Tell them that Macbeth led ye on,” he said. “Tell them he wound ye up.”

So Josie, dressed neatly in a tailored suit and white blouse with her hair brushed and shining, said in a low voice that she was so very sorry, that Hamish had wooed her and led her on.

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.

And there was that bottle of vodka she had hidden in the garden, just waiting for her.