Long Tale Press

Prologue

Stonehaven, Scotland

“It is the judgment of this court that full custody of the minors John and Catroina McCrae is given to Anne McCrae, and that the father, Gerard McCrae, be denied all access to the abovementioned minors, until such time as he can demonstrate that he has gone through rehabilitation for his alcohol dependency. This court will re-examine the situation in one year’s time. Court is adjourned.”

This can’t be happening…this can’t be real… Gerard McCrae looked over at his former wife, his eyes swimming with tears.

“Don’t take my babies from me, Annie,” he said desperately. “I’m beggin’ you!”

But Anne ignored him, simply got up and left the court room with her lawyer. Gerard watched her leave, his heart aching. He put his head on his folded arms and cried silently as his solicitor stood by, watching with a detached expression.

“Come on, Gerry,” said his solicitor after a few moments. “Let’s get out of here.”

Gerry looked up at the older man, whose face remained as impassive as it had throughout the entire proceedings. He doesn’t give a shite that I’ve lost my kids, he thought bitterly as he wiped his wet face on his shirt sleeve. He gets paid no matter what happens.

“Are you coming?” asked the solicitor as he closed his attaché case.

“Yeah,” said Gerry as he stood up. His head ached, his mouth was dry. I need a drink... he thought desperately, hating himself for his weakness.

“I’ll drive you home,” offered the solicitor, knowing that his client’s license was still on suspension.

“Just drop me off at McGuinty’s,” said Gerry.

The solicitor frowned. “You’ll never get to see your children if you keep up with that,” he admonished.

“I know,” returned Gerry with a scowl. “But I’m not gonna dwell on that tonight. Tonight I just want to forget everything. I’ve just lost my family; can’t you understand how I’m feeling right now??”

The man sighed. “No, I can’t,” he replied. “But if you want to drink yourself into a stupor, then there’s nothing I can do to stop you.”

“No,” agreed Gerry. “There isn’t. There’s nothing anyone can do, so just leave me be, and mind your own fuckin’ business.”

Shaking his head, the older man opened the door to the courtroom. In his mind he was confident that one year in this man’s life would not make one iota of difference. He was an alcoholic, and more than likely would always be one. He’d seen in hundreds of times before. This man was certainly no different from any other drunk.

“Have it your way, Gerry,” said the solicitor. “You always do anyway.”

One hour later, Gerry sat at the bar, his usual poison, Ballantine’s Finest clutched in his hand. McGuinty’s had been his sanctuary every day for the past three years. At first it had only been after his shift at the precinct with some of the lads that he would pop in for a nip, always in control, never in excess. Then, after that black day in April of 2001, he had started coming more frequently, started missing work because of hangovers. Finally, when he’d had his badge taken from him one year earlier, he’d started his binges earlier each day. At first he’d tried to blame his police work for his dependency; being a homicide detective was grueling, stressful work after all. However, he couldn’t fool himself or those who knew him well; the dream, the recurring nightmare of that one monstrous day that was at the heart of it. His wife hadn’t wanted to hear that, however; she hated police work, had begged him to quit for years, and when he refused, she had simply turned off and become disengaged from their marriage until they had become like two strangers living under the same roof. His partner, Ken Tanner had seen it coming, and had tried to warn him, tried to get him to seek help; but Gerry McCrae was not a man who liked to be told what to do. He hadn’t heeded his warning, nor wanted his advice; nor that of his other comrades, family or even his parish priest whom he had known since he was a young lad. He had continued on his path of destruction, careening faster and faster towards the point of no return.

“So,” said the barman, Gord, as he stood before Gerry. “How did it go?”

Gerry looked up at him before downing the last of his scotch. “How do you think?” he asked laconically.

Gord shook his head. “Not good, eh?” he said. “Can’t say I’m that surprised, Gerry.”

Gerry frowned as he emptied his glass. “That’s comforting,” he said as he slammed his glass down on the bar.

“Well, surely you didn’t expect anything different?” continued Gord. “I mean, look at you, man. You’re a mess.”

“Look, Gord,” said Gerry, “I don’t need you preaching to me, alright? I’ve had enough sermons for one day.”

Gord nodded. “You know, I remember you when you were a strapping, fine young police officer, Gerry,” he said, ignoring the man’s protest. “And it pains me to see you now, it really does. And you know why? Because I see myself in you.”

Gerry was curious, despite himself. “Do you now?” he said, holding his glass up for more scotch.

Gord nodded, holding the bottle in his hand. “Aye,” he said. “Very much. You see, I found myself in the same situation as you about 10 years ago. Lost my job, my wife took our kids and left me, all because of the bloody bottle. But I beat it, Gerry.”

“So what are you doing working in a pub?” asked Gerry skeptically. “I’d think that would be the last place on earth you’d be workin’ in.”

Gord could see that he’d captured Gerry’s interest. “Well,” he said, setting down the bottle, Gerry’s eyes not leaving it for a moment. “I hated myself for it, just like you hate yourself right now. I vowed that I’d not let it destroy me. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I did it, lad, and so can you.”

“How?” asked Gerry simply.

“I got a job tending bar,” continued Gord. “Now, you might think that’s madness, but it was the best thing I could have done. I surrounded myself with temptation, every day, and it was hell at first; but eventually, it worked. Eventually I started to see the poison for what it was, and began to loathe the very sight of it. Killer cure, for sure, but it worked.”

Gerry frowned. “I can’t imagine how that would work,” he said gruffly. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

Gord smiled patiently. “No, I guess it doesn’t to you; but I can promise you, it worked for me. You see, I kept a photo of my children in my pocket at all times, and every time I felt the urge to have a drink, I’d look at it, and the look on their faces stopped me. I fell off once or twice in the beginning, I’ll admit; but after a few weeks, it got easier and easier. And now I can say I haven’t had a drink in over 8 years now. And I work here, and have been able to see my children on a regular basis. Isn’t that what you want, Gerry?”

Gerry thought for a moment, still not believing what the man had told him. But if there was a chance, didn’t he owe it to his children to try? The thought of not having even a small part in their lives was like a knife in his heart.

“Here,” said Gord, taking a piece of paper from behind the bar. “I have a cousin who owns a pub up in Aberdeen,” he said, writing down a name and address on the paper. “I understand he’s looking for some help. Why don’t you check it out? What have you got to lose?” he said, passing the slip of paper over to Gerry.

Gerry looked down at the paper. “Not a damn thing,” he said softy. He picked up the paper, and then looked at the barman.

“Go on, lad,” urged Gord. “Give it a shot. The worst thing you can do is end up right back here. What else have you got to do?”

Gerry nodded, looking down at the paper again. “Aye,” he said, “that’s true. I’ll give it a shot, Gord. God knows I haven’t a thing to lose by trying.”

Edinburgh- one week later

With breath held, Emily waited. Sitting on the edge of the bed, straining her ears, peering into the utter darkness of the room, she waited. Is Bill asleep or just waiting…? He had to be asleep, she thought desperately; if he knew what she was about to do, if he caught her…the thought of it filled her with cold anxiety. I can’t do it, she thought frantically. What was I thinking, imagining that I could get away with this??

The sleeping form in the bed gave a loud snort as he rolled over onto his side, away from her. Feeling the tension between her shoulders ease a little, she slowly stood up. Keeping her eyes fixed on the sleeping hulk, she silently walked to the dresser. Emily picked up his wallet which Bill had tossed on the dresser just as he had done for every night for the past 5 years. Opening it, she was dismayed but not terribly surprised to find the billfold empty. It was Friday night, after all; undoubtedly there had been at least £50 in the wallet before the evening at the pub, but all of it had been drunk away. She quickly flipped through the credit card section and found the bank card, the one she had been refused access to for so long. Pulling it out of the wallet, she slipped it into the pocket of her trousers and then left the room.

Wrapping the child’s favourite blanket around her, Emily picked up her daughter from her bed and held her close, praying silently that she was doing the right thing. Looking into the sleeping child’s face, she smiled grimly, knowing that she had no choice. Isabelle was only 3, but already was aware of what was going on. How much longer would lies fool the child? How long before she too became a target for the drunken tirades that had become a nightly event in their household?

Kissing her daughter’s face, Emily left the room and headed towards the front door. She popped the trunk of her car, double checking that the suitcase she had placed there earlier that day was still there. It was, so she closed the trunk again, wincing when the bang of the metal fractured the still night air. She stood, frozen for a moment, not breathing, half expecting him to burst through the front door, raging and violent; but no one came, so she breathed again, and opened the rear door of the car, carefully strapping her sleeping daughter into her seat. Isabelle opened her eyes briefly, looked around, and then fell back asleep.

Heart pounding, palms sweating, Emily turned the key in the ignition. Easing it into reverse, she backed out of the driveway; not turning on the headlights for fear their glare would alert her sleeping husband. Reaching the street, she put the car into gear, and sped off down the road. Glancing back in the rearview mirror, she watched as the house slowly disappeared from view. Astonished to find tears rolling down her face, she brushed them away as she continued to escape, continued on the road to freedom.

Aberdeen was 125miles away, she reflected. Checking the gasoline gauge she realized that she would need to stop for petrol before beginning the long trek. She made her way to the only one in the neighborhood that offered 24 hour service, and asked for a fill up. Glancing in the rear view mirror, she saw that her daughter was still asleep. No doubt the child would be utterly confused to wake up in her aunt’s flat 125 miles from home. She paid the young man with the only cash she had left in her pocketbook, not daring to use her credit card. Credit cards can be traced she told herself. I can’t take that chance…

Moments later Emily was on the highway headed north to Aberdeen and what she hoped would be a fresh start at life. She turned on the radio, keeping the volume low enough so as not to wake up the sleeping child in the back. Finding a classical station, she let the music work its usual magic on her rattled nerves. Soon she found herself relaxing as the sounds of Beethoven’s Emperor Piano Concerto washed over her. Everything is going to be fine, she told herself. Everything will be just fine..

I Gerard McCrae sat waiting at a table as the manager, one Charlie Connors, looked over his application. The pub was empty, as it was still early in the day. It had taken Gerry two days to work up the nerve to get on a bus to Aberdeen, where he had spent the first 3 day wandering around trying to find the courage he needed to do what he must do. Having found a cheap flat (no phone, but hot water!) he had decided to set out for the pub that Gord had directed him to on the morning of the 6th day. He hadn’t had a drink for 24 hours, and his hands shook as he waited for the manager’s decision. His eyes kept returning to the wall behind the bar, where bottle after bottle of alcohol taunted him silently. “When can you start?” Gerry turned his attention back to the man across from him. “What did you say?” he asked. The man frowned, not impressed by Gerry’s inability to remain focused on the interview. Still, he was desperate for help, and this man seemed as good as any for the job. “I said, when can you start?” repeated Charlie. “I need someone straight away. Can you start tonight?” “Tonight?” repeated Gerry, surprised by how easily the job had been landed. “Yes, yes I can!” he responded enthusiastically. “Thank you, sir!” The man nodded. “I assume you have an excellent knowledge of mixed drinks? You know your alcohol?” Gerry smiled at the irony of the question. “Yes,” he replied. “I certainly do. Go ahead, ask me anything.” “Alright,” said Charlie, thinking for a moment. “What’s in an Irish Car Bomb?” Gerry thought for a minute. “Let’s see,” he said, looking at the wall of booze behind the manager. “That would be 3/4 pint Guinness stout, 1/2 shot Bailey's and 1/2 shot Jameson Irish whiskey.” The manager nodded, impressed by Gerry’s knowledge. “Good,” he said. “How about a Wookie?” “Easy one,” said Gerry. “Peach schnapps, amaretto, and heavy cream.” “Very impressive,” answered Charlie. “The job is yours if you want it.” “I’d like it,” replied Gerry before he changed his mind. “And I can start as soon as you need me.” “I need you today, Gerry,” replied the manager. “I’m strapped. In fact, I’m still looking for a barmaid. I may need you to interview some girls for the job, if you can manage it.” “I can do that,” replied Gerry. “I’ve interviewed more than a few people in my life.” “Good, then I’ll leave it to you,” said the manager as he looked at his watch. “I need to run right now, but I’ll see you at 6 tonight. Shift is until 2AM, plus clean up afterwards.” Gerry nodded his understanding. “I’ll be here,” he said. “Good,” said Charlie as he stood up. He put his hand out to Gerry. “Good to have you aboard, Gerry.” Gerry stood up and shook the man’s hand. “Thank you, sir,” he said. “You won’t regret this.” Charlie nodded. “Good,” he said. “I’ll see you later then. Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

Gerry arrived for his first shift at a quarter of 6 that evening. He had knots in the pit of his stomach as he entered the pub, knowing that he was to spend the next 8 hours surrounded by his worst enemy. He found an apron on the bar, and slipped it around his waist as he took his place behind the bar. Glancing at the wall of liquor behind the bar, he swallowed hard, doing his best to keep his attention focused on the task at hand. From within his shirt pocket he withdrew a photograph taken from last Christmas of his two children, John, who was 7 and Catroina who was 5. He smiled, drawing strength from their bright faces. I can do it if it’s them I’m doin’ it for, he told himself. I can do it for them. The next 8 hours were the longest of Gerry’s life, as the crowd of Thursday regulars streamed in and the alcohol started flowing. He found his hands shaking and his palms sweaty so many times that he had to run to the men’s room to splash cold water on his face numerous times; but he didn’t falter. And when he fell into his bed at 3AM, he did so with a sense of satisfaction that he had not felt in a long time. Just before he drifted off to sleep he set the photo of his children on the small table beside his bed, wanting their faces to be the first thing he would see upon awakening the next day. “Goodnight my wee angels,” he said softly, and then turned off the light and fell into a deep sleep.

Mary McDonough was awoken in the dead of night by an urgent knock upon her door. She sat up, alert at once, half wondering if she had been dreaming. But when the knocking persisted, she scrambled out of bed and headed for the door. Peering through the peep hole, she saw her sister Emily on the other side, her sleeping daughter in her arms. Mary opened the door at once, alarmed to see Emily at such an hour. “Emily!” Mary exclaimed as she pulled her sister into the flat. “What on earth...” she stopped when she saw the fresh bruises on her sister’s face. “Oh, Em,” she said, wrapping her arms around Emily’s neck. Emily made no reply at first, simply allowing her sister to hold her in a tight embrace. “I’ve left him, Mary,” she said at last. “I’m finished with him.” “It’s about time,” said Mary as she released Emily from her embrace. “Come in and lay Isabelle down.” Emily followed her sister into the flat and into the small bedroom. Carefully she lay the still sleeping child down and covered her up. Emily stood beside the bed, watching her daughter, feeling utterly exhausted, emotionally spent. “Let’s let her sleep,” said Mary, taking Emily’s hand. “Come on, I’ll make some tea, and get you some ice.” The two sisters sat down at the small kitchen table, steaming cups of tea in front of them. Emily held a bag of frozen peas against her cheek. “I’m sorry to show up like this,” began Emily. “I didn’t know where else to go…” “Don’t you even think of apologizing!” cut in Mary, reaching out for Emily’s hand. “I’m so glad you finally did it, Em. You should have left that monster years ago.” Emily nodded, a constriction forming in her throat. “I know,” she said softly. “But I was so afraid, Mary. I’m still afraid.” Mary frowned. “You’ve nothing to fear now, Em. He’s 125 miles away, he has no way of knowing where you are.” “I hope not,” replied Emily as worry creased her brow. “He’s never set eyes on me,” replied Mary. “He doesn’t even know you have a sister in Aberdeen! How could he possibly know?” Emily looked at her sister doubtfully. “That’s true,” she said. “But…I took his bank card, Mary. I was desperate; I had next to nothing of my own...” “You haven’t taken any money out have you??” asked Mary quickly. “No,” replied Emily, shaking her head. “Not yet.” Mary breathed a sigh of relief. “He could trace it, Emily,” she said. “You can’t take any money out here that would lead him right to you!” Emily frowned, dismayed that she hadn’t thought of that. Mary was a police officer however; she would think of such things. “Then what am I to do?” asked Emily desperately. “I used my last £10 note to buy petrol before I left Edinburgh!” “Well I have money, you don’t need to panic about that,” reassured Mary. “And we can always take a drive out of town to withdraw money if you want. Throw him off the trail, it would. You should sell your car, too.” Emily nodded her head swimming with the enormity of what she had committed to. “I want to get a job,” she said. “I won’t let you put me and Isabelle up for nothing. I want to pay my way.” Mary shook her head. “No, that’s not necessary,” she said. “I can…” “I know you can,” interrupted Emily. “But it’s important that I do this, Mary. I need to make my own way. For so long I’ve been totally dependent upon someone else for everything, from the food I eat to the clothes on my back; I want to earn my own keep. I don’t care what I do, either. I need to do this, Mary. Can you understand?” Mary smiled. “Yes,” she said. “I think I do. But you know I work during the day; what kind of job would you get that would allow for Isabelle to be cared for? I don’t mind watching her when I’m off, but, we can’t really afford a babysitter now can we? Do you see the dilemma?” “No, I won’t leave Isabelle to a babysitter’s care,” said Emily emphatically. “I can’t take the chance that Bill will find her and take her from me. I know that’s highly improbable, but I won’t take even the smallest chance.” Mary shook her head. “No, of course not. So what then?” Emily thought for a moment. “I’ll simply get a job that allows me to work evenings when you’re home.” Mary frowned sceptically. “Not many jobs like that that you’d be qualified for, Em,” she said. “Unless you work on the docks or tend bar in a pub. Not many night jobs for teachers about you know.” Emily shook her head. “No,” she said. “Not that I could teach now anyway. I’ve been out of the profession for so long. I don’t fancy working in a pub, but it may be the only thing open to me. I’m not exactly fit for dock work.” Mary smiled. “No, I’d say not. I don’t like the thought of you working in a pub, Em,” she said. “There are some mighty rough customers that come in there at night, you know.” Emily snorted. “None could be as rough as the man I’ve lived with for the past 5 years,” she said. “If I can endure him, I can endure anything.” Mary sighed, knowing that her sister was not one to be dissuaded once she had made up her mind. “I suppose so. Well I’m off tomorrow. We can have a look at the adverts in the paper in the morning to see what’s available.” Emily nodded. “Yes,” she said. “Let’s do.” “Right,” said Mary, standing up. “But for now, you need to get some sleep. Don’t you worry about Isabelle; I’ll get up with her in the morning. You sleep and I’ll take her to the park or something. I’ll pick up the paper while we’re out. Sound like a plan?” Emily smiled. “Yes,” she said. “Thank you, Mary. God knows what I’d have done without you.”

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