The Cloud. Episode 50.

Edinburgh. February 2020.

Janet sat down heavily on the bench in Princes Street gardens and pulled her scarf tighter around her neck. That went well, Jeremy had said, as he’d buttoned up his thick woollen coat and ushered her out into the street. A consummate professional as expected. We’ll go for a coffee and  debrief. There’s a little place round the corner that does excellent cheese scones.  He’d put his hand on her arm and moved her in the direction of the cafe. Janet had muttered some excuse that she didn’t feel so well and had hurried away from him in the opposite direction before he could insist. She’d ignored the splutter of his surprised calls at her back. She wasn’t sure how she’d ended up in the gardens by this particular bench. I’ll call you later, she’d said, or something to that effect. There’s a lot to take in.

There was indeed a lot to take in. In front of her on the weak winter grass, two crows were squabbling with a large herring gull over an empty crisp packet. The birds hopped, skipped and jibed as the packet was torn from one beak to another. It’s empty, you idiots, Janet wanted to say. And its two against one. The gull, however, showed no sign of giving up, even as the larger of the crows hopped onto its back and threw a jab at the back of its skull. Distracted, the gull swiveled its head around, and the crow on the ground grabbed the packet, winked at Janet, and flew up into the weeping ash tree with its worthless prize. The other crow took one last jab and flapped up to join its mate in the bare branches. The gull looked at Janet, blinked, and lifted off towards a discarded cardboard coffee cup further along the path. The crisp bag floated down from the tree a minute or two later.

It would rain soon, Arthur had remarked cheerlessly in the detective’s office.  Janet looked up at the sky. A habit now, searching for Cyril. A pointless one of course. It wasn’t a day for cirrus clouds. There were no celestial brush strokes or fallstreaks. Instead the sky was plugged with drab and unremarkable nimbostratus. The thick featureless grey hung across the city like an old mosquito net. The damp of the cloud crept into Janet’s scalp, stole along the bare skin on her ankles, and sidled into the harrying pain of her wrist joints.

Lisa Connolly-Smythe. What a mouthful that must have been for a little girl. Had the Inspector been carrying on with her when he had a baby at home? Or did baby Lisa come later? After the Inquiry.? Maybe years later? Janet was hopeless at estimating people’s ages. But the Inspector had never taken Janet to his house and Janet had never asked why. Or at least she didn’t remember asking. Had he been hiding a family all along? Or maybe she had been to his house and she couldn’t remember? It was all such a long time ago.

Perhaps this wasn’t a coincidence? Jeremy was setting her up? Bessie knew and she’d told Jeremy and they were in it together and they’d chosen this private detective to out her once and for all. They’d bring her down out of some warped sense of justice or jealousy or just bloody vindictiveness. She should quit now, just leave Cyril. Maybe those criminal kids were right that he shouldn’t be caged up. That he’d better off in the sky. She was just a stupid lonely old woman who’d attached herself to a cloud instead of people. And now her past was finally chapping at her door.

Her phone buzzed in her handbag. She pulled it out. Bessie. Bessie calling her to ask how the meeting went? Bessie calling to ask why she’d run away from Jeremy? Or Bessie calling to dig for information on how both of Janet’s brothers had died young in such tragic circumstances. She let the phone ring out.

She got up and walked along the path towards her bus stop. A discarded Metro paper flapped across her feet. She stooped and picked it up. She couldn’t understand why people felt the need to litter. She continued on until she got to a bin. She glanced at the headlines as she threw the paper in. The first British persona had died of corona virus. A man on a cruise ship in Japan. Janet shivered. The rain started. Heavy and insistent. Janet didn’t have her umbrella. She put her head down and quickened her step.

To be continued.