The Devil's Due: A Cooper and McCall Scottish Crime Thriller by Ramsay Sinclair (good inspirational books .TXT) 📗

“They live on Frankfield Road. Number--”

“Number thirteen,” Jimmy spoke over Jen sweetly, clearly preferring my softer approach to Jen’s domineering one.

“Unlucky for some, eh?” I joked, although my timing couldn’t have been worse. “Uh, Jen, I think I can handle it from here.” Jimmy wouldn’t open up with Jen hanging around. She sighed in relief, glad to be free of any more responsibility.

“I’m taking Jimmy home,” I planned for all of our benefits. “He can’t stay here all night, and neither can we.”

Jen bid us goodbye, aware that I’d have forms coming out of my ears after this palaver, so I could kiss my weekend away.

“We’ll wait a bit longer,” I promised Jimmy who, luckily, waited patiently. I called his mum, and the dial tone rang. And rang. And rang again. Those twenty minutes I promised myself suddenly turned into thirty. Then forty.

Obviously, no one was going to show up. His dad couldn’t collect him, nobody knew his whereabouts. Jimmy admitted the rest of his family lived in England. Overall, everything was an absolute shambles and me, a nervous wreck. My calm exterior was no more than a pretence for Jimmy’s sake.

“Alright, buddy,” I kept my tone high so that Kimmy would feel at ease. “Shall we walk you home then?”

He cheered, excited about chatting to me for another hour or so. Perhaps, we’d bump into a panicked Laura on the way, fussing to herself about forgetting Jimmy.

We set off, past the school gates where the Scottish sky gradually faded to grey. Jimmy’s legs had to do double the work to keep up, so my pace remained purposely slow. With his backpack shoved precariously on his shoulders, he was a picture-perfect child.

Jimmy perked up along Moray way, excited to get home. My hands fumbled in my pockets to see if I had anything to eat in there. Sure enough, a snack bar I’d brought from a local garage hid down low. I’d only purchased it yesterday, so it would still be perfectly fine to eat.

“Here,” I passed it over to Jimmy. He accepted it, unwrapping the bar eagerly. It made me chuckle in delight at his appreciation for the small things.

“Thank you, Miss Lucy,” he gobbled away.

“You’re very welcome, Jimmy.”

Before long, Jimmy’s small hand slipped in mine. My heart melted at the small gesture. His frozen fingers gripped my own for safety. Boy, I longed for children of my own. I loved being a teacher, but it wasn’t the same as having a child of your own and nurturing them into someone amazing. That’s where I felt a gaping hole in my heart.

William, my ex, couldn't fathom the idea of having children, especially with me. He wouldn’t be ready for that kind of commitment, anyway. I knew that now. After I found out he’d been cheating on me, I realised why he wouldn’t take that chance. He ended up settling with the girl he cheated with, although the last I heard, he’d picked up those old partying habits again.

Jimmy tugged impatiently on my hand, leading me along his street. “This one.”

A few cars decorated the road, and festive, tingling lights trimmed a few houses. What an odd picture it must have looked, a grown woman being dragged along by a child. Frankfield Street unfolded beyond my fogged-up glasses, nothing special.

“Through here?” I muttered lowly, uncertain of which particular route to take to reach their exact house. Jimmy unhooked his tiny hand and zoomed ahead. Thank goodness his clothes brightened the way, for I feared I would lose him otherwise.

A rusted, frosted gate swung open below the boy’s pushing motion. I entered their premises behind, grinning at the precious sight I was met with. A swing set stood proud, if slightly rickety. I presumed Jimmy’s father had DIY’ed it before he left. A few stone statues dotted around the place, sporting random poses. A hedgehog splayed a leg cutely, and a duck stared, features set in stone like a miniature Beatrice Potter book.

Jimmy bounded leaps up to their front door. “Come on, Miss Lucy.”

Their ornate wreath was placed proudly upon the door, invitingly. Rustic with a hint of childishness.

“Hang on a moment, Jimmy,” I softly reminded him, my southern accent prominent in the unlit garden. “I’ll knock first. Don’t want you to scare your mother now, do we?” I chuckled. My rosy cheeks stung from the cold, and my hair hung flat with the damp and misty air.

Although all Laura’s curtains were closed, lights emitted from all four windows. I presumed she was indoors.

“Mum’s home,” my young student piped up anyway, impatiently urging me to go ahead. Laura would understand my reasoning for bringing Jimmy home, wouldn’t she? Yes, she was a lovely woman, kind and charitable.

“It’s open,” Jimmy reiterated as though I was stupid and pushed his way straight through. The door now hung wide open, enough to see the entire floor plan right before my eyes.

“Hello?” I shouted out as a token effort, following Jimmy.

“Mum?” he joined in my shouts, skipping hungrily to their kitchen to grab a second snack. My shoes loudly clunked across the hard-wooden floor, full of baby nappies. Feeding bottles and a changing mat took up more than half of the room. Colouring crayons rolled under their sofa, probably to be lost forever.

I heard Jimmy rustling and slamming a few cupboards. I’d presumed he’d gotten side-tracked by the cereal cupboard. Cereal sounded amazing right about now. A distant wail threw me entirely off course, giving away that the new baby was situated upstairs, kicking up a fuss.

“Laura?” I hissed uncertainly from her downstairs hallway. The unfolding staircase climbed imposingly from where I stayed.

No reply.

It felt wrong inviting myself up someone else’s steps, yet the baby gargled impatiently. Daring me to go and see. It welded a certain kind of unexplainable power over me, gravitated my body places it shouldn’t go.

“Hello? Laura?” My voice trembled, hating being so far into the house with no way of excusing my nosiness now. Casting