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‘It’s good you’re making friends,’ Shona said calmly, but her heart was still hammering against her ribs. ‘Who were those lads in the car?’ When Becca didn’t answer she continued, ‘Dad said you we’re being bullied.’
‘Dad’s a drama queen.’
Shona took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. ‘Are they from your school? What did they say to you?’
‘Just some crap joke. They’re losers. It doesn’t matter.’ Becca slumped down in her seat as if pressed by a heavy weight.
‘Becca, I hope you’d tell me if there was a problem.’
‘There’s no problem. It’s just…’ She sighed. ‘It’s hard to fit in sometimes. They’ve all got their friends. Had them since primary school and I’m just… different.’
The pain of being fifteen and not fitting in. Was that all it was? Becca kept up with few of her London friends, but she still wore the clothes she’d bought, second-hand, in Camden Market’s vintage shops and played an eclectic mix of rap, Bowie, Fleetwood Mac and Queen. Her friend Ellie had introduced her to some Glasgow bands, but she still must have seemed like an exotic blow-in to the local kids. They probably mocked her London accent, while secretly coveting her city swagger. Becca was also pretty enough to turn heads and trigger jealous rivalries. But the talent for trouble that had got her expelled in London was rooted deep in her personality and perhaps Becca’s refusal to conform to any set of norms was also causing problems with her new friends. And growing up was tough, no matter where you lived.
Shona tried hard not to let the things she’d seen and experienced as a police officer ebb into her family life, to resist her urgent desire to shield Becca from all that was difficult and frightening. But there had been times when she couldn’t protect herself, so how could she expect to protect her daughter? It was impossible, she knew, but that just made her want it all the more. Shona saw that Becca was watching her, the crease of a frown between her eyebrows. ‘Come on,’ she said, in an effort to disguise her dark thoughts, ‘let’s get you home. I’ve a treat for you.’
‘What?’ said Becca suspiciously.
‘How about some of my special hot chocolate?’
‘Mum, I’m not a kid.’ She fell into step behind her mother. After they’d gone a short distance she caught up, hooking her arm through Shona’s. ‘Okay, but only if there’s mini marshmallows.’
‘Deal,’ said Shona, squeezing her arm and smiling. ‘Sure you’re okay?’
Becca nodded and smiled back. If only all problems, Shona thought, could be solved with a sugary drink.
Rob wasn’t back when they got home. She put a pan of milk on the stove to warm and sent Becca upstairs to change into pyjamas. While she was gone Shona slipped her notebook from her bag and in neat, inked capitals wrote down the make, colour and registration number of the boys’ car. She’d mention them to traffic and if she saw them again in the village, she’d be having a serious word.
Chapter 6
After a quiet weekend with no lifeboat shouts and easy-going B&B guests, Shona pulled the Audi into the layby on the outskirts of Gretna where she’d arranged to meet DC Dan Ridley. Rob had come home Friday night after closing time and, following a fulsome apology, had fallen into a deep sleep and woken to a hangover that had lasted most of the weekend. She hoped he’d suffered sufficiently to mend his ways, but she doubted it.
A burger van was moored on the layby’s scrubby verge. Local workers, in drifts of threes and fours, tucked into their Monday morning breakfast rolls on the line of battered plastic garden furniture cast out in its wake. Dan, incongruous in his suit and tie, his hair gelled and light beard neatly trimmed, was drawing curious glances. He stood apart checking his phone in one hand and nursing a large polystyrene cup of tea in the other. Shona unlocked the nearside door.
‘Hop in!’ she called through the rolled-down window. He stood for a moment, uncertain how to accomplish this, before throwing his half-finished tea in a nearby bin and pocketing his phone. He opened the passenger door to the accompanying whistles and cat calls from the seated workmen telling him it must be his lucky day. Shona couldn’t help smirking at his obvious discomfort.
‘Morning, ma’am,’ he said reaching for his safety belt, the car’s acceleration already pressing him into the seat. They passed a squat sandstone inn advertising Sky Sports and offering Gretna Green wedding packages from £499. On the other side of the road was a small industrial estate, the grey metal blocks set against the silver of the Solway Firth behind them.
Ridley cleared his throat. ‘I hear you came up from London, ma’am?’
Shona indicated and took a right turn into the estate. ‘Yes, that’s correct,’ she confirmed. It wasn’t a secret.
‘I’d like to work down there one day. Must be exciting at the Met.’
‘I wasn’t at the Met. I worked with City of London Police.’
‘Isn’t that all financial crime and public order?’
‘You mean serious and organised crime, international money laundering and counter-terrorism?’ Shona pulled up next to a yard, its chain-link fencing running down to the River Sark. Seeing his deflated expression, she smiled. ‘Don’t worry, that’s pretty much word for word what they said when they interviewed me for this job.’
When the DI’s position in Dumfries had come up she was the dark horse candidate. Plenty of internals were queueing for the post. By then, Rob had left the Milton McConnell banking group, Becca was in trouble at school and the need to move was pressing. Shona had pulled out all the stops to get the position. Detective Superintendent Malcolm ‘Mars Bar’ Munroe was kirk elder in the Church of Scotland and a teetotaller not known for his progressive outlook, but he had seen something he liked in Shona and championed her appointment. His curious nickname, she was told, was due to his habit of celebrating a result on a big case by handing out chocolate bars instead of buying a round of drinks for his staff.
Shona motioned Dan to follow her as she got out of the car. ‘Any idea why I’ve brought you here?’ She watched him take in the bridge, the overgrown riverbank, the jumbled piles of fishing gear spilling from the large, white plastic containers in the yard.
‘It’s amazing how many secluded spots there are in a town,’ he said, raising his eyebrows. ‘You think this is where she went in the water?’
‘I think it’s worth checking out. The lifeboat helm, whose judgement I trust, reckons a body deposited this far upstream could stay in the Solway Firth for weeks.’ She clicked the electronic lock on her car keys and zipped up her fleece jacket against the breeze.
‘How does it work?’ Dan asked. Shona frowned, not understanding. ‘The lifeboat and the job, being on call?’ he continued.
