Losing My Identity Read online

  That photograph of the Gill family was still lodged in her brain. He was happy then. Young and in love, and happy with his little family. That had been a different Hari. Just as she was a different Leila.

  The cheery chappie who knocked at Leila’s door two mornings later showed her his ID with some alacrity. He announced he was there to fit a burglar alarm, on the instructions of a Dr Gill.

  ‘Don’t you need to measure up, and so on?’

  ‘I have everything I need with me. I’d been told how many rooms there are, and so on.’

  And obviously if she asked how much it was going to cost, she couldn’t afford it. Ah well. It wasn’t as if she couldn’t afford it. Still, her first instinct was to tell him to bugger off, then text Hari and tell him to butt out of her private life. But that was ridiculous. She offered the workman a bared-teeth rictus of a smile, and tried not to follow him round the house as he fitted wires and boxes and all sorts of palaver. Finally, he taught her how to operate the damn thing, so she wouldn’t inadvertently wake the street every time she came home.

  ‘Do I pay you now, or do I get invoiced?’

  He consulted an iPad. ‘All paid for, madam.’

  ‘I believe there’s a monthly charge?’

  ‘That’s set up too.’

  Damn you, Hari. As soon as the workman had gone, she tried Hari’s phone. He answered immediately. ‘Has the man been to fit the alarm system?’

  ‘He has. You might have given me some say in the matter.’

  ‘But Leila, you agreed it was necessary, after the break-in.’

  ‘I’d have arranged it in my own good time. And paid for it myself. You need to tell me what I owe you and give me your bank details, so I can transfer it.’

  ‘Don’t be churlish. It’s a present.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  ‘It was my fault you weren’t there the night you were burgled. I don’t want to feel guilty and nervous every time I keep you out overnight. I want you to be able to stay over whenever you want, and not have to worry.’

  Whenever you want.

  ‘Well, I still feel I should pay for it. But thank you very much for the thought. I need to sign up to pay the monthly fee at the very least.’

  ‘We’ll discuss it.’

  ‘You’re always going on about getting a place together. It’s a real waste of money to have had that alarm put in, if we did get round to that.’

  He didn’t rise to the bait. ‘You’ll easily get it back on the price. People these days want security.’

  He was too used to getting his own way. That still troubled her. She’d spent so many years, so much effort, honing her self-sufficiency. Did she want to throw that away, no matter how great the temptation? You didn’t get it back once it was gone. Not at her age. And Hari – any man – had the capacity to hurt her. She was sick of the way he wanted to make all the decisions, to tell her what was good for her. His version of what was good for her.

  She was still nursing her anger when he arrived at her house shortly after five.

  He fished in the briefcase he always carried to work. ‘By the way, these are as close as I could find in Glasgow to the ones you had.’ He held out a jeweller’s box. Ruby drop earrings.

  ‘They’re almost identical.’

  His brow cleared. ‘My memory’s pretty good then.’

  ‘You didn’t need to do this – I could always claim on my insurance.’ She tried to keep the emotion out of her voice. Hari was so damn pragmatic, where Sam had been romantic.

  ‘Indulge me. As I said, I consider it was my fault. If I wasn’t so selfish about being in my own place, we’d have been here, and there wouldn’t have been a problem.’

  And if it weren’t for the bunnies, we’d spend a lot more nights in my place. ‘We might have been murdered in our bed.’

  ‘Nonsense. That doesn’t happen.’

  ‘It does. I read the papers.’

  ‘All right. It happens. It happens to women living alone who interrupt a burglar, or where it’s not a straightforward house-breaking but a settling of scores. Anyway, you have nice earrings again.’

  ‘Sorry. Thank you very much, Hari.’

  ‘I was thinking – the mystery about your grandmother. Would you learn any more from following up your grandfather’s family tree?’

  She laughed sadly. ‘You know what one of my grannie’s favourite sayings was? “A woman needs a man the way a cobra needs a concertina.”’

  ‘But I mean your real grandfather – Flora’s husband?’

  ‘He died in 1920. His death certificate’s here. I don’t think he ever lived with them. Greer was forever telling me I wasn’t the first girl to grow up without a father, and that she was none the worse for it. And as far as I can ascertain, he was illegitimate anyway. I’m not sure I want to find any more family scandals.’

  Hari shrugged. ‘I thought that perhaps it would give some clues.’

  An hour on the Scotland’s People website next day brought a few more details. Hector Gibson’s will, dated six months before he died. He seemed to have left his house in trust for Greer, but Leila had never heard of any inheritance coming from that quarter. Far from it. But then, if Eva had taken Flora’s identity, the last thing she would have wanted would be any contact with Hector Gibson or his executors…

  Fourteen

  They were on their way to another weekend at the cottage. By the time they’d reached Loch Lomond side, it was already dark. Just past Inverbeg, they passed a ‘Road ahead closed’ sign.

  ‘Damn! I wonder where it’s closed? Let’s drive on a bit and see if we can get as far as Arrochar. I know a back way into the estate from there,’ said Leila.

  A few miles further on, a tailback of three cars behind a lorry, all stationary.

  ‘I’ll go and see what’s happening,’ Leila said.

  What had happened was that the lorry had struck a horse running loose on the narrow roadway in the twilight. She ran back to the car. Through force of habit, she’d put her emergency bag in the boot – it was always in the back of her mind that one of the bunnies might take ill.

  She knelt on the damp roadway and started to examine the fallen animal. Its eyes were rolling in its head, and from the extent of its injuries it must have been in agony. But, as is the way with animals, it made scarcely a sound, beyond its laboured breathing. Leila laid her hand on its neck and tried to comfort it as best she could.

  It didn’t take her long to figure out that there was no good news. By that time, the uniformed constable from the police car parked on the verge was dithering around her.

  ‘I’m afraid there’s nothing that can be done for this animal,’ she told him briskly. ‘Both its front legs have multiple fractures, and some ribs are broken too. I’d say it has massive internal injuries.’ She went on stroking the beast’s head as soothingly as she could muster.

  A loud sob echoed behind them. It was the lorry driver, still in his cab, his head on his arms resting on the steering wheel.

  ‘It needs to be euthanized as soon as possible. Do you know who the owner is, by any chance?’

  The cop shrugged. ‘I’m thinking it’s one of Annie Sloan’s – but I’m not sure.’

  ‘Are you able to contact her very quickly? I need to know who her vet is.’

  ‘I tried her phone and left a message.’

  ‘Which vet covers this area?’

  He shrugged again. ‘I’d say she probably uses Dave Inglis up at Inverary. I tried him too, but he’s stuck behind the landslip this side of Arrochar. That’s why the road’s closed,’ he added, seeing Leila’s incomprehension.

  ‘I’m a vet. But I’m not on duty. I don’t have the kit with me to euthanize a horse. Is there someone nearby who’s competent with a gun?’ She was still stroking the animal’s neck rhythmically.

  ‘There’s the keeper on the estate just up the road.’

  ‘Can you contact him, please? This animal shouldn’t be left to suffer any longer tha
n necessary.’

  Hari was at her side, his hand on her shoulder. ‘Anything I can do to help?’

  ‘Not really. There’s absolutely nothing that can be done. This animal needs to be put out of its pain quickly. He thinks he knows someone.’ She nodded towards the cop, who was on his phone. ‘What’d be great is if you could deal with the lorry driver. He’s very upset. And the owner, if she shows up.’

  The keeper was there within five minutes. With a two-two rifle. Not the ideal weapon, but needs must. Leila gave the horse a final pat, stood up, dusted the knees of her jeans, leant down and indicated a spot on the animal’s forehead. ‘Just there, please. It’s important to be completely accurate.’

  He nodded, placed the gun. She took a step back, not wanting to risk blood-spatter on her clothes. But she didn’t shift her gaze or close her eyes. It’s important not to look away. The report of the gun reverberated around the narrow roadway. Leila glanced round, Hari had taken the driver out of his cab and walked him back along the road. She heard a further car join the queue, then a girl’s voice, loud and distressed. She heard Hari speak soothingly to her in turn. Leila knelt beside the horse again; she laid the stethoscope to its neck then to its chest, and nodded to the keeper. ‘OK. Well done. Thanks for your help with that.’ She stood again with some trepidation, ready to encounter the young woman she presumed was the owner – a tall, dark girl, hair drawn into a ponytail. Leila was prepared for a confrontation.

  ‘This is Miss Annie Sloan,’ said Hari. His hand was supporting the girl’s elbow. ‘I’ve explained to her that her horse was too severely injured to survive, that you did all you could.’

  ‘I’m afraid there isn’t time to hang about in such cases,’ Leila said, aware that she sounded defensive. ‘I understand the local vet’s stuck on the other side of a landslip. It would have taken too long to get round by any other route.’

  The other woman dried her eyes. ‘No, it’s OK. I’m so grateful you were here to look after him.’

  ‘How would he have got onto the road?’

  ‘People going down to the loch-side are forever leaving the gate open. I keep meaning to put a padlock on it.’

  Bit late to think of that. ‘What age was he?’

  ‘Fifteen.’

  Leila felt strangely relieved. It had been difficult to tell, between the lack of light and his injuries. She’d feared he was much younger.

  The cop was still hanging about.

  ‘Can I leave you and the owner to sort out…?’

  ‘Of course.’

  She grabbed Hari’s arm. ‘Can you turn in this space? Let’s get the hell out of here.’

  He managed it in three moves. She couldn’t have.

  ‘Back to Glasgow, I suppose?’

  ‘Let’s find somewhere to stay overnight,’ said Hari. ‘They might have the road cleared by the morning.’

  ‘What about the bunnies? I can’t imagine too many hotels mean that by “pet-friendly”?’

  ‘They’ll be fine in their carrying cage in the boot. It’s not cold. I need to tell you this, Leila – you were wonderful back there. That’s the first time I’ve seen you at work. You were amazing. Utterly calm and professional and competent.’

  ‘As one has to be, in our line of work, you and me both.’

  ‘I was immensely proud of you.’

  ‘I’d love to be able to watch you at work sometime. In court, I mean.’

  He laughed half-heartedly. ‘It’d make me terribly nervous, knowing you were there. The worst of barristers I can face with equanimity, but my Leila… You really want to? Perhaps one day then.’

  A hotel outside Luss had vacancies. It looked a tad run-down, but it’d serve the purpose. All Leila wanted to do was try to rest. She’d been looking forward to a relaxing evening at the cottage, a drink when she arrived. She’d resisted the impulse to make herself a cocktail while she was waiting for Hari to pick her up. Just as well, in the circumstances. She’d needed a completely clear head.

  They’d missed dinner, but the receptionist said the staff could fix them a hefty snack to eat in the room. Leila headed towards the stair. ‘Could you send up a couple of brandies first, please?’ she heard Hari ask. ‘My wife’s had to deal with an unpleasant situation. Bit of a shock.’

  She waited for him on the landing. ‘Did you sign us in as Mr and Mrs?’

  ‘No! What do you take me for?’ He grinned as he unlocked the door. ‘Real keys!’ he said. ‘Don’t know when I last saw that in a hotel.’

  ‘Stop changing the subject.’

  ‘I signed us in as Dr and Dr.’

  ‘You’re as bad as Phyllida. Hung up on titles, Herr Professor Doktor. Dr and Dr Gill?’

  He pushed her unceremoniously onto the only armchair in the room. ‘Yes. I’d hoped we might manage to formalise that, someday soon, by the way.’

  ‘Are you proposing, Hari?’

  ‘I suppose I am. Sorry – I intended it to be in more romantic circumstances.’

  ‘We’re fine as we are. What’s the point, at our age?’

  Age had nothing to do with it. If Leila was honest with herself, it was because Hari had been married before. He still didn’t appreciate (any more than Sam had) the need she had to be the only one.

  ‘Do you have doubts?’ he said. ‘About us, I mean.’

  ‘Of course. I’ve lived on my own almost all my life. I’m good at being on my own.’ But I don’t want to be alone. Maybe life was all about compromise, right enough. You took risks, or you might as well be dead. You lost one identity, you gained another. ‘I don’t see the sense in all the palaver of getting married. There’s so much paperwork, for one thing.’

  ‘You could keep your own name, if you want. You wouldn’t even need to get the monograms on your coveralls changed. Same initials.’

  ‘That doesn’t seem like quite enough of a reason.’

  ‘I’m very conservative, you know, Leila. With a small ‘c’, by the way. I think the Conservatives are the work of the devil.’

  ‘You see?’ she said triumphantly. ‘We hardly know each other. I have no idea what your politics are.’

  ‘I’m not very political.’

  ‘Labour then?’

  ‘Hmmm. They’ve gone off the rails a bit.’

  ‘So who did you vote for in 2010?’

  ‘The Liberals. You?’

  ‘SNP.’

  He laughed. ‘No need to ask which way you mean to vote in the independence referendum next month. I’ll vote “Yes” too. We’re not so very far apart in politics after all.’

  ‘You’re joking! A LibDem voter! The Liberals do nothing but Nat-bash.’

  He began to look uncomfortable. ‘Well, I’ll never vote for them again. It makes very little difference anyway.’

  ‘But it illustrates perfectly why we shouldn’t even be thinking words like “marriage”. Our relationship’s all now. It has no hinterland.’

  ‘Now is all we’ve got. You told me that the first night you spent with me.’ He knelt at her feet. ‘Stop being obstructive. You were so wonderful back there.’

  ‘You weren’t so bad yourself. I half expected Annie what’s-her-name to sue me. Or give me a black eye for not fixing her horse. Will that driver be OK?’

  ‘I told him to knock off for the night once he’d got sorted there. Maybe he’ll turn up here too.’

  A discreet tap at the door. Two huge plates of sandwiches, and their brandies. Leila drank hers in two gulps, even though she didn’t particularly like brandy, and would have preferred whisky. Or arak…

  ‘Here.’ Hari decanted the rest of his glass into hers.

  ‘Are you trying to get me drunk, Dr Gill?’

  ‘Not after the way you behaved last time. Now, about this idea of getting married. I guess we’ve both inherited good genes for longevity from our mothers at least. Mine made it to over ninety, and yours to almost a hundred. We’re both fit and healthy. If we look after each other, we could have twenty years together. Mor
e, even. Much more.’

  She was taken aback. He was already looking that far ahead?

  Eva’s voice in her head: A wedding’s just a funeral where you can smell your own flowers.

  ‘You’re trying to find an excuse to wear your ring again, so the female students won’t hit on you.’

  He didn’t take that in the spirit it was meant. ‘That’s a bit below the belt, Leila!’

  ‘I was joking.’

  ‘I don’t think it was very funny. Stop trying to change the subject.’

  ‘I still don’t see why we need to go through all that fuss. We’re fine as we are. Anyway, it doesn’t sound as if marriage was a bed of primroses for you either. Why would you want to do it again?’

  ‘Because I know we can be happy together.’

  ‘I don’t know anyone marriage has worked out really well for. I probably know far more divorced couples than ones who’ve stayed together, out of the ones I’ve kept up with. It certainly doesn’t sound as if it worked out for you. You got nagged. Well, I don’t need anyone to nag me, thank you. I’ve never had to try to accommodate that.’

  His mouth was hanging open. ‘I’d never nag you. I recognise you need your own space. We discussed that. Leila, I don’t understand why you’re angry with me.’

  Because I don’t want to be the ‘other woman’, even if the first one’s six feet under. In fact, I don’t even know if she is. It may have been a cremation. There may be a tasteful little urn somewhere at the back of a wardrobe. And Sam. Would Sam still visit her in dreams if she was married to someone else? She found she was sobbing.

  Hari gathered her in his arms. ‘I’m sorry. This isn’t you talking, sweetheart. It’s delayed shock. We’ll discuss it tomorrow. I know we both need to make a lot of adjustments to our lifestyles.’

  And Leila couldn’t shake off the feeling that she was the one who was having to do the adjusting.

  ‘Get into bed now,’ he added.

  She lay down, still racking her brains to think of a single completely happy marriage she’d ever witnessed. Never a one. Semi-contented inertia was as good as it got, once the gilt had worn off the gingerbread. Beatrice would have settled even for that. She wouldn’t.