The Old Boys by Mark Gillespie

Author:Mark Gillespie [Gillespie, Mark]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-11-29T00:00:00+00:00

8

JAY

Jay’s face was tight with concentration.

“Michelle Carson? Hmmm, I remember the name. What happened to her?”

Davie’s tone of voice was sombre. “Blonde girl. She was so quiet – I hardly ever heard her speak. She was in maths with you Iain. Same chemistry class as us, Jay. Mrs Nimmo’s class, remember?”

“Mrs Nimmo,” Iain said, laughing softly. “God man, there’s a blast from the past. The dragon lady.”

Jay closed his eyes. Tried to reconstruct Michelle Carson’s face in his head but although he recalled a vague outline, her features were lost to him. Maybe it was the weird bird noises coming from outside that distracted him. Hooting sounds, like someone mimicking an owl. Or maybe it was a real owl. What did Jay know about owls or birdsong or life in the sticks? He was out of his element here. A city boy trapped in a country nightmare.

He glanced at the others. No one else had said anything about the owl. Jay hoped to God he wasn’t imagining it.

And there were other noises. Every now and then, Jay was certain he could hear creaking footsteps outside the cabin. A pair of boots trampling over fresh snow. Right outside – just behind that wall, metres away from the three men. Jay had no desire to get up and investigate. If it was them, it was a statement. It was their way of letting the three men inside the cabin know they were surrounded. Just a little reminder, not that Jay needed one. The whisky was good but it hadn’t dulled the memory of those withered, leathery masks. And the thought of them just behind the curtain over there…

Confess.

“Do you remember her?” Davie asked.

Jay sat forward. “All I remember is she was a big girl. Blonde, bob-style haircut. Kind of plain looking, eh?”

“She wasn’t that big,” Davie said, shaking his head. “We called her fat but she was never fat. I remember the…”

He slammed his fist down on the arm of the chair.

Jay flinched. Looked at Iain, then Davie. Wondered if he’d missed something. “What is it mate?”

“I remember the scratches on her arms,” Davie said, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat. Got it back together before continuing. “She always had scratches on her arms. I didn’t understand what those were until years later. What she was doing to herself.”

Iain nodded. “Didn’t you put a bowl of ice cream on her desk once?”

“Yes,” Davie said, staring up at the cobweb in the corner of the ceiling. “And if there’s any justice, I’ll burn in Hell.”

Jay groaned and fell back onto the couch. This little trip down memory lane was getting them nowhere. They had a problem to solve, something immediate and urgent and they didn’t have time to lament all the shitty things they’d done as teenagers. “Okay, we’re scumbags. Were scumbags, a very long time ago. I’ll ask again – how does that make us killers?”

“Didn’t you hear?” Davie asked.

Jay hesitated. “Hear what?”

“Michelle Carson jumped off the Erskine Bridge about ten years ago.

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