It had been in his mind ever since she mentioned the rough hands and the bed recess.
‘Do you think they. .’ Murray paused, searching for the right word and failing, ‘. . when you were in your trance?’
‘I do remember fighting and shoving, but no. I would have known if anything more had happened. There are ways of knowing.’ Mrs Dunn put a full-stop at the end of the sentence, as if to make clear that certain things were not to be discussed outside women’s realms. Her voice regained its briskness. ‘So that’s it. Not much to do with Archie Lunan perhaps, except that was the life he was living and the people he was mixing with, when he was here.’
‘And he drowned soon after?’
‘A month later. His uncle had left a wee boat, not much more than a rowing boat with a sail stuck on it. Okay for fishing, but not big enough to risk on open water, even if the weather was fine.’
Murray remembered the scant newspaper accounts he had photocopied in the library.
‘And it was wild, the night he went out.’
Mrs Dunn nodded.
‘A bit like tonight. They reckon he sailed round towards the south-eastern point of the island. There’s a reason they put a lighthouse there. A wrecker’s paradise, John used to call it.’ As if on cue, the rain battered against the window, shaking the loose pane in its frame. ‘Archie won’t be having a very good night out there.’
Murray caught his breath.
Mrs Dunn met his eyes and said, ‘It was my eldest boy that named the cat. I never thought of him as having the same name as poor Lunan before.’
‘Why “poor Lunan”?’
‘Because he died so young.’ She gazed towards the windows and the sound of the storm. ‘And because he was with those people. Even in the state I was in, I could see he was out of his depth.’ She looked him in the eye. ‘Bobby had seemed unhinged to me. And Fergus? Well, Fergus had the kind of recklessness boys usually grow out of, if it doesn’t kill them. But Archie. .’ She paused, looking up at the ceiling as if searching for the right words. ‘Archie was handsome in a way the other two weren’t. He seemed separate from them too. Looking back on it, I’m not sure he knew what was going on. He only had eyes for Christie. I remember he reached across the table and took her hand. She let him, but I don’t think she looked at him once.’
‘Were you here the night he drowned?’
‘Yes, safe in bed like the rest of the island. The alarm wasn’t raised until the next day. By then his body had been taken by the currents.’
‘Who raised the alarm?’
‘I heard that it was the smooth one, Fergus, who came looking for him at the shop. God knows where Christie thought he was, but I suppose that even she didn’t think he’d go sailing on a night like that. There was a search, of course, though I think people knew it was a corpse they were looking for. Two days later Fergus and the other one left the island. I hadn’t realised it, but there had been talk about strange goings-on for a while.’ She gave him a smile. ‘The old islanders were maybe unsophisticated by my standards, but they knew a lot more than they let on, a lot more than me when it came to it. The two men were told to leave if they wanted to stay in one piece.’
‘And Christie?’
‘There were those who would have liked her to go too, but she was a different case. She had ties here, and though there were few that would speak to her at first, that never seemed to bother Christie. I dare say she could have been forced out, but she kept herself to herself, and though there was talk about midnight rambles and the amount of time she spent down by the old limekilns, people grew used to her. There were even a couple that were pleased when she published her first book.’
Murray leaned forward.
‘What did you mean when you said she had ties here?’
‘Christie’s mother came from here. I thought you would have known that? She and Archie Lunan were cousins.’ The surprise must have shown in his face because Mrs Dunn smiled. ‘It seems strange to us, but I doubt that would have bothered the islanders if Archie and Christie had behaved. They travel far and wide, island folk. It wasn’t unusual even back then for men to have crossed the Atlantic and back several times, but there were always some who married not far from their own door.’
‘So the cottage where she lives now. .?’
‘Came to her after Lunan died. I hear she’s done a lot to it. I would hope so. But that visit was my first and last.’
She paused and it seemed as if her story might be at a close. Murray said, ‘Mrs Dunn, you mentioned that there was something that chilled you even more than the rest of your experience. Will you share it with me?’
She nodded and her voice took on the same clear quality he now recognised as the tone she used whenever she had something difficult to relate.
‘It was while I was still in the recess. I was groggy, but I could understand what they were saying. The one with the scar said, “She would do. No fuss, not much blood, a quick stab to the heart, over and out. Painless. All that energy released and the prize of a new dimension in store for her.” Fergus laughed, and told him he was talking something-I-won’t-repeat. Then he said, “Anyway, you can tell she’s not a virgin, and that’s what you’re always going on about isn’t it? Purity?” Christie snapped at them both to shut up. I was grateful to her, but I blamed her too. It might not have been logical, but it was her I had come to see.’
‘But she was right about what she said? You were expecting?’
‘Yes, I was.’ She looked back at the wedding photograph on the table by her side then said, ‘I’m afraid we lost that baby. Things just turn out that way sometimes, but I couldn’t help associating the miscarriage with what had happened and blaming them, even though I suspected it was nonsense.’
They sat in silence for a moment, then there was the sound of a key in the lock. Mrs Dunn said, ‘That’ll be my archaeologists. Will you excuse me a moment, please, Dr Watson? They’ll be famished.’
‘And muddy?’
‘As gravediggers on nightshift.’ She put the bottle of whisky on the table. ‘Help yourself to another dram. You look like you could do with it.’
Murray had no idea of how long he had been asleep. He picked up his phone and checked the time. Seven-fifteen. He must have been out for at least an hour. He shoved the mobile in his pocket. His mouth was dry, the dram where he had left it. He raised the glass to his lips and knocked it back, getting to his feet and banging his leg on the coffee table, almost tumbling it over. Mrs Dunn must have been listening out for him because she opened the sitting-room door.
‘I couldn’t bring myself to wake you. I kept you a bit of dinner back.’
‘That’s kind, but I have to be somewhere.’
‘You’re going to see her, aren’t you?’
‘I think I have to.’ He hesitated. ‘Did you ever talk about it with anyone else? A professional?’
‘Life is for getting on with, Dr Watson.’
‘It’s for looking back on too.’
‘True enough. But if you’re wise, you choose your memories. I don’t plan to think on this again, now that I’ve told you.’ She smiled. ‘You’re my sin-eater come to take it away.’ Mrs Dunn lifted a padded envelope from the hall table. ‘This came for you.’
Murray turned it over and read Professor James’s address on the back.
‘Thanks. It’s a book of poetry someone thought I might enjoy.’