Free Where There is Evil by Sandra Brown Page B

could be colourful and his temper flared up quickly, but he shared none of my father’s sexual
traits, and was a man of integrity. He had done well for himself, and was manager of the city’s sewage works. Although his wife had reservations about my father going to live with them
initially, and had no time for his extramarital exploits, Robbie agreed that he would find Alex work, which he did as a security man at the sewage plant. My father was to establish himself in the
post, which was reasonably paid, and once he had found a house, my mother would join him and send for us when funds allowed. My brothers, still both at primary school, were quite excited by all
this.
    My father was keen to leave Coatbridge, and left to the relief of his own parents and my mother’s, who all found him difficult to cope with. However, no sooner had my mother arrived to
visit him than Uncle Robbie had a catastrophic falling out with his brother. He had been given a copy of the telephone bill for the plant, and had spotted a series of long-distance calls to
Coatbridge. In those days, bills were not itemized but, knowing we were not on the phone, Robbie tackled my dad and discovered that the affair with Cora was not over. The house he had found was to
share with her, not us.
    My uncle hit the roof. He had to pay for the private calls himself and then to dismiss his own brother. My father had caused him such humiliation that he ordered him out of his home, and said he
would have no more to do with him. He sat my mother down and gently explained why he would provide no further help with the planned move, as she sat sobbing, and my dad packed, to my aunt’s
undisguised relief. ‘I’ll always have a lot of time for you and the kids, Mary, and I’ll help you ones any way I can,’ Robbie told her, ‘but I wash my hands of oor
Alex. That big bastard had better no’ show his face over my doorstep again or I’ll let him have it. I know how strong your Christian duty is, but if I were you, I’d think about
divorce and get shot of him.’
    But my mother simply followed my father back to Lanarkshire.
    The first thing I insisted on in our new home, at 9 Ashgrove, was that not only did I have a bedroom to myself, but that a lock was put on the door. No one questioned why I wanted it, and when
any friends expressed surprise, I explained it was to keep my little brothers out. The other great advantage about living next door to my grandmother was that I could spend a great deal of time in
her house. If ever I found myself alone with my dad, I made a beeline for downstairs or made excuses not to open my bedroom door.
    I was careful now about whom I brought home. Two chums I played with were different in maturity and appearance. Barbara had been raised in a strict, religious background. She was small, fiercely
intelligent with glasses. The other girl, whom I shall call Ellen, was much taller, heavier, more physically developed than either Barbara or me and more wordly wise too. The three of us had little
pocket money, but Barbara and I noticed that Ellen pleaded poverty regularly, but then acquired funds out of the blue, treating us when the ice cream van came and occasionally being what we called
‘flush’. My father looked out for her comings and goings and Ellen warmed to any sign of affection.
    I liked the teenage Ellen. We shared a love of reading and would sometimes go to the cinema together. One night, when we were fourteen, Ellen and I sat mesmerized through the first of the James
Bond films, at the Odeon in Coatbridge, and missed the last bus to Whifflet. Shrugging off the mile and a half walk, we queued for chips, then set off on foot, chatting with two young lads faced
with the same journey – we were pretty pleased to have their company on the dark road. Before we arrived in Whifflet main street, we were on first-name terms and arm in arm. Near Tennents
Works, the boy beside me nudged me and pointed to a small black car