‘That’s right, Mr Thomson.’
‘How close were the two of you?’
‘Very, but it was a platonic relationship.’
Peachy grunted. ‘If ye were so friendly, why didn’t ye keep in touch?’ he asked.
‘April left town suddenly without leaving a forwarding address. Recently I came across an old photograph. I was curious to see how she was.’
Fortunately, I’d taken Alec’s advice about being straight with Peachy. It might have been a highly edited version of the truth, but it was still the truth. Otherwise I wouldn’t have had a hope of maintaining eye contact with him.
‘And you’ve come all the way tae ’Rossan tae visit someone ye havenae seen in over thirty years,’ he said. ‘Ye’ll forgive me for finding that a little strange, Mr . . .’
‘Gabriel,’ I said. There didn’t seem much point in asking him to call me Kenny and I sure as hell wasn’t going to risk calling him Peachy.
‘Like the angel?’ he asked.
‘Like the angel,’ I said.
‘How did you get my address?’
‘I’m staying at the Bannock Hotel. The head barman pointed me in the right direction.’
‘Alec McGovern?’
‘That’s right.’
Peachy shook his head. ‘Silly auld fool never could hold his tongue. He’s no right tae meddle in other folks’ business.’
‘All I wanted was to find out what happened to April.’
‘Well, now ye know.’
Apart from I didn’t. Not the full story, anyway. The other thing I didn’t know was why Peachy had invited me into his house. Having told me his daughter was dead, he could simply have slammed the door again. And yet here we were. Not getting on famously, perhaps, but talking nevertheless.
‘I hope you don’t mind me asking, Mr Thomson,’ I said, ‘but how did April die?’
Peachy’s eyes focused on a plain wooden cross hanging above the fireplace.
‘Like a hoor,’ he said, quietly. ‘She lived like one and she died like one.’
‘April was a waitress when I knew her.’
‘Are ye sure about that?’
‘Positive.’
‘Well, folk change.’
‘Even so, I find it hard to imagine . . .’
Peachy’s glare withered my sentence. ‘She turned her face from the Lord,’ he said. ‘Ye cannae blame me for what I did.’
I’d heard similar claims when working for Odeerie. Usually as precursors to tales in which the narrator wasn’t morally responsible for cheating his employer, or reneging on a debt. Now I knew why Peachy had invited me in.
Absolution.
‘Perhaps you’d like to tell me what happened,’ I said.
The old man fingered the top button of his shirt and straightened in the chair. He ran his hands over his face as though bathing it in water.
And then he began his story.
‘Mary and me weren’t keen on April going tae London, but when she got a place at university it seemed wrong tae stand in her way. From her letters she seemed happy enough, but then they dried up. At first we thought it was because she was so intae her studies. After a month passed, we started tae worry.
‘The college hadn’t seen her for weeks. Her landlady said she’d left an envelope in her room with the rent in it and a note saying she’d be leaving town. We were beside ourselves, but there was nothing we could do. The polis didnae want to know because she wasn’t a missing person, and we had nae idea where she would have gone.
‘About a year later a postcard arrived asking us to meet her in Glasgow. Nothing else. Just if we wanted tae see her then she’d be in a cafe in Buchanan Street. We arrived early and when she came through the door she had . . .’
Peachy’s jaw clenched. The sinews in his neck stiffened.
‘She had a bairn with her,’ he said.
‘Boy or a girl?’
‘Girl. She’d met some musician in Glasgow. He’d promised the earth and then done the dirty.’
‘What was she living on?’
‘Money from working as a chambermaid.’
‘Did you offer to take her back to Saltrossan?’
‘That I did not,’ Peachy said. ‘I hadnae come to faith then, but I still knew right from wrong. And besides, she didnae want tae come home.’
‘What did she want?’
‘For us to take the child. Said that living in a bedsit was nae life for it and she would be better off with Mary and me.’
‘But you didn’t agree?’
‘Why should I be landed with another man’s bastard? You make your bed and you lie on it, Mr Gabriel.’
‘What did your wife think?’
‘Mary wanted tae help, but I was the master in my own house. And it turned out I was a fair judge of character, as far as April was concerned.’ Peachy’s eyes returned to the cross. He breathed heavily through his nose like a man who had just taken a steep flight of stairs at a fair clip. ‘The next time we saw her, she was laid out on a slab.’
‘When was that?’
‘Eighty-six.’
‘How did she die?’
‘Overdose. The polis reckoned she’d probably just got hold of some stuff that was stronger than she was used to.’
‘April was a junkie?’
‘And she hoored tae pay for her drugs. It’s all there in the papers, if you don’t believe me.’ Peachy smiled. ‘Sorry, Mr Gabriel, have I just ruined a cosy wee memory there?’
Arsehole.
‘What happened to her kid?’ I asked.
‘Put up for adoption.’
‘You must have been devastated.’
Peachy shrugged. ‘April was nae daughter of mine,’ he said. ‘And her child was the issue of a sinful union.’
‘Did your wife agree?’
‘Mary left me. Blamed me for not taking them in.’
‘Are you still in touch?’
‘She passed last year. Her family didnae invite me to the funeral.’
I wasn’t surprised. The sanctimonious bastard would be lucky to get an invitation to his own funeral. And yet it was hard to feel revulsion and nothing else for Peachy. In heaven he might gain life everlasting; on earth he wasn’t having a happy time of it.
‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ I said.
Peachy leant forward. ‘I’ll thank ye nae to pity me, Mr Gabriel. The Lord tests us all an’ I know I’ll be granted my reward.’
The implication was that I would be lucky if the Lord granted me a can of Irn-Bru and a mouldy haggis. I’d had enough of Peachy Thomson for one day. In fact I’d had enough of Peachy Thomson to last a lifetime.
‘I’m sorry to have bothered you,’ I said, struggling to rise from the depleted armchair. ‘But I really should be on my way.’
‘Back to the Bannock?’ Peachy asked.
‘Just for tonight. I’m returning to London first thing tomorrow.’
‘Then I’d appreciate ye not telling Alec McGovern about this. Like I told the lassie, I’ve my reputation tae think of.’
‘What lassie was that, Mr Thomson?’
‘She came here askin’ about April as well.’
‘When?’
‘About a fortnight ago.’
‘What was her name?’
Peachy couldn’t recall. I pressed him for a description.
‘About so high,’ he said, holding his hand in the air. ‘Slim with dark hair.’