Chapter 12

Margaret sat in Iain's front room and took a gulp of the whisky Shona gave her. "I'll look after it," Shona offered. "'Til your ready."

Margaret downed the two shots and panted. "I can manage."

"Ah know," Shona sniffed. "Ahh but ya've been through a lot," she was told. "Shock. Yer've had a big shock." Shona looked up at the solicitor. "Please." Margaret's eyes dropped and looked at the baby in her arms. "Ah want another bairn but Iain says no. Ah, for one night."

Margaret nodded and held the baby tightly in her arms. "You be good," she told the infant, peeping back at her with soft eyes. A tear rolled down the young solicitor's face and she wiped away. "I promised yar mummy we'd look after you. And we will." She gulped and focused on her hand for a moment and sniffed. "The whole town will. 'Cause you ain't had it easy and yer such a sweet thing."

She slowly passed the young child to Shona who cooed as it reached her grip. "Ahh, she's a bonnie bairn." Margaret looked out of the window and rubbed her eyes.

"Was only nineteen," she muttered and began to recount the story Annabel had told her over the previous few days. She was interrupted by the soft sound of feet on the stairs and spun around to look at a small infant standing in the doorway.

"Ma," she cried and held out a limp teddy bear.

"Why aren't yar asleep?" Shona asked. "Back to bed, Moira."

"It's noisy," the girl complained and saw the bundle of blankets that housed Annabel in her mother's arms. "Baby?"

Shona nodded. "Aye, she's stayin' with us for a bit. Day or two, mebbe more." The girl screwed up her face. "Little sister."

"I dunnae want a sister," Moira shouted. "Ah want a kitten."

Shona sighed. "Yer not havin' a kitten," the mother said firmly. "Go sleep," she barked and Margaret got up to take the objectionable infant back to her bed.

"But I wan' a kitten," Moira said firmly as she was escorted up the stairs.

Tony sat opposite the Detective in the London interview room and blinked. "I said prove it."

The Detective smiled and looked up at the ceiling. "We got you for the Annabel Sprott murder and the George Baynes attempted murder," he said matter-of-factly. "We'll get you on more."

Tony spluttered and sneered. "Ya ain't got nuttin' on me. That Copper bloke killed Annabel and I ain't heard of no George Baynes."

"George Baynes. Otherwise known as Runo Garbelli, a blue movie star..."

" ... although with his injuries he ain't gonna be in many more blue movies," the junior Detective quipped and Tony forced a smile.

"Ya ain't got nothin'," Tony spat and the Detective shook his head.

"I got Willie." Tony's expression changed. "Ya see, Willie's been working for us for months. We got a lot," the Detective promised and watched as Tony rubbed the bridge of his nose. "We'll break for lunch," he said firmly and leant across the table. "I got enough to put you away for a very long time," he told him and called in two uniformed police officers into the room. They escorted the gangster into his cell, leaving him to stew while his dinner was brought to him.

A tall lady, dressed in a canteen uniform, arrived pushing a trolley and opened the first hatch, pushing the tray into the room, followed by the second and the third. When she got to Tony's cell, she pulled out a gun, opened the hatch and fired into the room, hitting the gangster squarely in the chest. "That's from my daughter," she cried and fired it again and again. Two police officers bundled the mother of Annabel Sprott to the ground, smashing her head against the floor and killing the assassin instantly.

"Ambulance," they cried out. "We need two of them." But it was already too late for both of them.

Margaret wiped her eyes as she walked up the road to the church dressed in black. Although Annabel was barely known in the small town, there had been a sombre tone all week as the accounts of the encounter with Tony had been told and retold in hushed whispers.

She had found it difficult to talk about what had happened and had been to see Abigail every day. The young girl seemed extraordinary resilient – taking her first steps the day after the shooting and looked almost bemused as the women of the village sat on the chairs, paying attention to her, and sobbing no matter what the little girl did; she seemed to like the attention!

Shona was waiting for her outside the church with her four children and Abigail – all dressed predominantly in black. Margaret had left Abigail with the Kennedys and was happy she had settled in. Shona had reminded her that a permanent solution to her long-term future would need to be agreed and Margaret didn't disagree, but it was a discussion for another day.