"Shit." She followed Kilty into the living room. "Hungover on a Monday, they'll think I'm a fucked-up waster."
"Maureen, you need to address the-"
Maureen held up her hand and took a painfully deep breath. "Please, Kilty, help me today," she said. "Please, I'm going to a meeting tomorrow."
"Promise?"
"I do, I promise, I promise."
"Okay, then."
Kilty sat her down on the floor and took out a tiny makeup bag. She used concealer and blusher to draw features onto Maureen's face and put some eyeliner on her top lid to make her eyes look open, explaining that she wouldn't put it on the inside because her watery eyes would just make it run. By the time Leslie arrived the painkillers were kicking in, the blusher was doing its job and Maureen looked as if she were just having a slightly off day.
"Maureen's going to a meeting tomorrow," said Kilty, as she let her in.
"Good," said Leslie. "Who're ye going with?"
"I phoned Benny," said Maureen, wishing to fuck she hadn't told Kilty. She was bound to change her mind by the next day but knew they'd hold her to it.
"Right?" said Kilty. "Let's go."
A sharp wind hurled through the town, tugging the edges of their coats. They arrived at the court by eleven, which was ridiculously early because the jury would hardly have had time to sit down. Kilty chatted up the guard at the door and he told her to sit just outside and listen for a Tannoy announcement that Court One was coming back. They spent the next hour standing on the windy steps, smoking and waiting to hear. Kilty went down the road to a shop and brought back three takeaway coffees.
Forty minutes into their wait Liam arrived, with a broad smile for Maureen and a nod for the other two. Angus's family turned up, dressed up for the photographs, and scuttled past them on the steps, knowing who they were now that Maureen had given evidence.
At twelve twenty a white van pulled up at the gates, followed by a black taxi. The side door on the van slid back and three men got out: a man in a slick suit, another guy with a furry microphone on a long stick and a cameraman. They hovered in the door of the van, fixing a large light to the top of the camera, while the smartly dressed man smoothed his hair. Whoever was in the black cab was talking to the driver. The door opened. It was Joe McEwan, wearing casual jeans, a leather jacket and a baseball cap. He glanced at the cameraman and walked past, coming straight for Maureen. He acknowledged Liam and looked at Maureen, nodding her over to one side. "How are ye, Joe?" she said.
"The word is Farrell's getting out," he said, "and if he does, we think he'll be coming for you."
"Oh?" she said, feeling as if he was being silly because the dark days were past now and this was just a tie-up, just a small detail that needed finishing off.
"I expect you've heard about your dad?"
"Michael? Aye."
"He's a vicious bastard." Joe reached out and squeezed her upper arm in a soldierly gesture of solidarity. "I'm sorry."
She was astonished. "It's okay, Joe."
"If Farrell gets out it won't be for long. The Fiscal's applying for an arrest warrant for the rapes right now."
She nodded, wanting to get away from him and back to her friends, back to pretending that things were fine. The Tannoy warbled through the revolving door and Kilty called for Maureen to come. "Ye coming in?" she said.
Joe shook his head. "Look, we'll be rearresting him as soon as we can."
She smiled. "He might not get off."
"If he does we'll meet you at your house, okay?"
"Okay."
Joe pressed his lips together, and backed off down the steps to the waiting taxi.
"Come on, Mauri," said Liam. "It's time."
They got good seats at the front, near the jury, and Maureen noticed that neither Carol Brady nor Elsbeth was there. The lawyers gathered around the central table, tense and nervous. Angus's lawyer was sucking a sweet. The ratchet noise of a lock being pulled back heralded footsteps on stone stairs, and Angus Farrell came up from the cells, escorted on either side by two guards. He was wearing a smart sports jacket in a small brown check and his demeanor gave nothing away. The bow-tied man came through a side door calling, "Court," and carrying a big metal mace with a little crown on top. Everyone in the room scrambled to their feet. Angus's lawyer crunched his sweetie into little bits and swallowed it. Then the judge came in and they were allowed to sit down again.
The bow-tied man disappeared through a side door and the members of the jury filed back into the court. The giggling man and woman had grown tired of each other's company or had fallen out. They weren't sitting together or looking at each other. The judge asked something and the foreman stood up and unfolded a bit of paper. The case against Angus Farrell for the murder of Douglas Brady was found not proven, a verdict particular to Scots law, which meant that they thought he had probably done it but that there wasn't enough evidence. He was found not guilty of murdering Martin Donegan on the grounds of automatism.
The court was empty long before they moved. Too early. Maureen wasn't fit for this. She'd peaked too early. She couldn't find a shred of anger in herself. She was disappointed and irritated but she wasn't angry and she needed to be. She fell forwards, muttering, "Fuck," and banging her aching head off the back of the bench in front, landing exactly on the bruise from the toilet seat.
"Let's get you out of here," said Liam, taking her arm, and they all four stood up and inched along the bench to the door.
The foyer was busy. They had to struggle to get through the crowd of bodies to the door. They were almost there when Maureen began to see flashing lights and looked up. Angus Farrell and his lawyer were coming through the lobby, trailed by his shabby family. They were walking among a crowd of journalists barking questions and holding Dictaphones up to Angus's modestly smiling face. The lawyer was talking and Maureen's legs went slack as they came past her. Angus was inches from her. He turned, quite casually, and spoke in a normal tone. "I'll see you later," he said to her, his fixed smile making the statement sound snide and lascivious. Maureen saw the lawyer hear him say it, she noticed that the journalists heard him say it, and her brother, Liam, heard him say it. But Angus didn't give a shit because Angus had a plan.
They had driven up to Balloch, fifteen miles away on the banks of Loch Lomond, in case they had been followed. Liam turned the car round and drove back to Glasgow, taking back roads to Garnet-hill. Leslie and Kilty had gone straight to Maureen's flat to let the police in. Liam dropped Maureen near the house, waiting to see if she got into the close and watching for Leslie waving at the window before he drove off to park the car discreetly. Hugh and Something McMummb had already arrived and were waiting for her upstairs. She wished it had been anyone else. Hugh had gone off her, big-time.
Liam parked half a mile away and arrived back at the house with some bread and crisps, beer and whiskey so that they wouldn't have to leave before morning. They sat in melancholy silence in the front room, sighing occasionally, getting up and looking out of the window.
Quite sniffily, Hugh asked Maureen to show him the back way into the house and she took him into the close and explained that the back court could only be accessed through a space between the buildings opposite. Liam thought maybe someone should sit and watch the alleyway, but Hugh pointed out that there were other ways into the back court.
Maureen's head was thumping; she had a rushing in her ears and couldn't break her mind from the circle of thoughts that Angus was out and Angus was coming. He had a plan, a clear plan of what he was going to do, and she couldn't fathom what it was. Her head was aching at the back, her jaw was sore and the skin on her forehead began to tingle with prolonged tension. She crossed her arms and pressed the sore skin on her arms to wake herself up. She looked up and found Kilty holding out a lit cigarette and a glass of whiskey. Maureen took the cigarette.