Banquo turned and looked at the photograph on the bedside table. It was of him and Fleance; they were standing under the dead apple tree in the garden. Fleance’s first day at police college. He was wearing his uniform, it was early morning, the sun was out, and the shadow of the photographer fell across them.
He heard a chair scrape and Fleance stomping around. Angry, frustrated. It wasn’t always easy to grasp everything straight off. It took time to acquire understanding. Like it took time and willpower to renounce drugs, the escape you had become so addicted to. Like it took time to change a town, to redress injustice, to purge the saboteurs, the corrupt politicians and the big-time criminals, to give the town’s citizens air they could breathe.
It had all gone quiet downstairs. Fleance was back at his desk.
It was possible if you took one day at a time and did the work that was required. Then one day the trains might run again.
He listened. All he heard was silence. And rain. But if he closed his eyes, wasn’t that Vera’s breathing beside him in bed?
Caithness’s panting slowly subsided.
‘I have to call home,’ Duff said, kissing her sweaty forehead and swinging his legs out of bed.
‘Now?’ she exclaimed. He could see from the way she bit her lower lip that it had come out more angrily than she had intended. Who said he didn’t understand people?
‘Ewan had toothache yesterday. I have to see how he is.’
She didn’t answer. Duff walked naked through the flat. He usually did as it was an attic flat and no one could see in. Besides, being seen naked didn’t bother him. He was proud of his body. Perhaps he was especially fond of his body because he had grown up feeling ashamed of the scar that divided his face. The flat was large, larger than you would have imagined a young woman working in the state sector would have. He had offered to help her with the rent as he spent so many nights there, but she said her father took care of that side of things.
Duff went into the study, closed the door after him and dialled the Fife number.
He listened to the rain drumming on the attic window right above his head. She answered after the third ring. Always after the third ring. Regardless of where she was in the house.
‘It’s me,’ he said. ‘How did it go with the dentist?’
‘He’s better now,’ she said. ‘I’m not sure if it was toothache.’
‘Oh? What was it then?’
‘There are other things that can hurt. He was crying, and when I asked him why, he wouldn’t tell me and said the first thing that came into his head. He’s in bed now.’
‘Hm. I’ll be home tomorrow and then I’ll have a chat with him. What’s the weather like?’
‘Clear sky. Moonlight. Why?’
‘We could go to the lake tomorrow, all of us. For a swim.’
‘Where are you, Duff?’
He stiffened, there was something about her intonation. ‘Where? At the Grand, of course.’ And added in an exaggeratedly cheery voice, ‘Beddy-byes for tired men, you know.’
‘I rang the Grand earlier this evening. They said you hadn’t booked in.’
He stood up straight with the phone in his hand.
‘I rang you because Emily needed help with some maths. And, as you know, I’m not that good at putting two and two together. So where are you?’
‘In my office,’ Duff said, breathing through his mouth. ‘I’m sleeping on the sofa in the office. I’m up to my ears in work. I’m sorry I said I was at the Grand, but I thought you and the children didn’t need to know how hard things were at the moment.’
‘Hard?’
Duff gulped. ‘All the work. And I still didn’t get the Organised Crime post.’ He curled his toes. He could hear how pathetic he sounded, as though he were asking her to let him off the hook out of sympathy.
‘Well, you got the Homicide Unit anyway. And a new office, I hear.’
‘What?’
‘On the top floor. I can hear the rain drumming on a window. I’ll ring off then.’
There was a click and she was gone.
Duff shivered. The room was chilly. He should have put on some clothes. Shouldn’t have been so naked.
Lady listened to Macbeth’s breathing and shivered.
It was as though a chill had passed through the room. A ghost. The ghost of a child. She had to get out of the darkness that weighed down on her, force her way out of the mental prison that had imposed itself on her mother and grandmother, up into the light. Fight for her liberation, sacrifice whatever had to be sacrificed to be the sun. To be a star. A shining mother who was consumed in the process and gave life to others. The centre of the universe as she burned up. Yes. Burned. As her breath and skin burned now, forcing the cold from the room. She ran a hand down her body, feeling her skin tingle. It was the same thought, the same decision as then. It had to be done, there was no way round it. The only way was onwards, straight on at whatever lay in their path, like a bullet from a gun.
She laid a hand on Macbeth’s shoulder. He was sleeping like a child. It would be the last time. She shook him.
He turned to her, mumbling, put out his hands. Always ready to serve. She held his hands firmly in hers.
‘Darling,’ she whispered, ‘you have to kill him.’
He opened his eyes; they shone at her in the darkness.
She let go of his hands.
Stroked his cheek. The same decision as then.
‘You have to kill Duncan.’
6
Lady and Macbeth had first met one late summer’s evening four years ago. It had been one of those rare days when the sun shone from a cloudless sky and Lady was sure she had heard a bird singing in the morning. But when the sun had set and the night shift came on an evil moon had risen above Inverness Casino. She had been standing outside the main entrance to the casino, in the moonlight, when he rolled up in a SWAT armoured vehicle.
‘Lady?’ he said, looking straight into her eyes. What did she see? Strength and determination? Maybe. Or perhaps it was because that was what she wanted to see at that moment.