Perez nodded, eased himself from the chair and out into the street
Chapter Twenty-Three
At the time Perez thought Duncan had saved his life. That was what it felt like. He was thirteen. It was September, the start of a new school year, and it was like having to get used to Anderson High all over again.
Classes, and living in the hostel, and only being able to talk to his family on the phone. After a summer of being on the Isle, helping his dad with the sheep and the boat, it was like being in prison.
Worst of all was being back with the two Foula lads who'd made his life a misery during the first year and who hadn't forgotten what fun that was over the holidays. During the week it wasn't so bad. There were other kids who boarded weekly, there was a bit of a buzz about the place. More staff on duty. Weekends were a nightmare.
Other kids looked forward to the weekends. Jimmy Perez hated them. He anticipated them with dread. He imagined himself at the wheel of a small boat and a huge wave rising up on the horizon and bearing down towards him. Inevitable. Unavoidable. And when Friday night did arrive he counted off the minutes until it was Monday morning, doing the schoolboy sums in his head, working out the percentage of misery time passed and the nightmare still to come.
Then Duncan Hunter took a liking to him. How had that happened? Was there one moment of recognition, the realization that they might be friends? Perez couldn't remember. He had one image in his head. A breezy, sunny day. The water in the harbour whipped against the tide into tight little waves. He and Duncan would have been nearly fourteen and there'd been a joke. Perez couldn't remember which of them had told it, but he remembered the pair of them laughing. Duncan had been laughing so hard he'd had to put his arm around Perez's shoulder to stop himself falling over. Perez had tipped back his head and it seemed the sky was wheeling around him, because the clouds were blown so fast. And when he'd straightened up, spent and dizzy, there were the two Foula boys, sullen and resentful, because he had a friend, an ally and they'd have to find someone else to torment.
Then Perez started looking forward to weekends too. On Friday nights he'd go with Duncan in the bus to North Mainland and they'd walk together down the long drive to the Haa. When he'd first seen the house he couldn't take it all in. It was bigger than anything he'd ever seen. 'Which part do you live in?' he asked. Duncan didn't quite understand. 'The rooms near to the shore are so damp. We don't use those much. And there's no staff. Not really. So no one sleeps right at the top: And in those days, at the peak of the oil rush, Duncan's father was too busy or too dazed by the possibilities or too cautious to spend much on the house, and it was still very dark and primitive. Often the generator didn't work and there was no power. Then they ate supper by candlelight at the long table in the dining room. Perez first got drunk in the Haa and touched a girl's breasts for the first time.
That was when Duncan's parents were away in Aberdeen. To celebrate having the place to themselves, they held a party, Duncan's first party. It was mid-summer and light nearly till dawn. Perez took the girl on to the beach.
She was called Alice, an English girl on holiday. They sat watching the sun not quite set, leaning against the whitewashed wall around the house and Perez slipped his hand under her shirt. She let him stroke her for a few minutes, then pushed him away with a laugh.
Once he asked Duncan, 'Don't your parents mind me being here every weekend?'
Duncan had seemed surprised by the idea. 'No, why should they? They know I like it'
Perhaps that was the first time Perez had been aware of the gulf between them. Whatever Duncan liked, he got He considered it his right. The gap was more noticeable when Duncan spent a few days with him on Fair Isle. There was nothing you could put your finger on. Duncan was charming, polite to his parents. There was a dance at the hall and he joined in, swirling the middle-aged women off their feet, so they giggled and said he was a rascal and should come back another time. But occasionally Perez saw that he was bored. Some of the comments were patronizing. He knew the whole of the family, himself included, were relieved when they waved Duncan off on Loganair.
And now? Now, as he'd told Roy Taylor, he couldn't stand Duncan Hunter. He hated the fake shows of friendship when they met, the remembered incidents from their childhood which were always discussed, because in the present they had nothing in common to talk about. That wasn't the only reason for the dislike.
There was something more concrete too. Blackmail. But that was never discussed.
He knocked at the front door of the Haa, not expecting to find Duncan in. These days Duncan spent as much time in Edinburgh as he did in Shetland. Perhaps Celia would be back. Duncan had a way with women. Most of them returned in the end. Perez hoped it would be Celia who opened the door. He'd always liked her and she could fill him in on Catherine Ross and what the girl had been doing there. He wouldn't have to go through that business of pretending to be old mates before he found out anything useful.
He thought at first that the place was empty and he'd have to come back. The blanket of cloud seemed to hold in the smell of salt and rotting seaweed from the beach. The rain was heavier than ever and standing at the front of the house, banging on the door, he got soaked. Water spilled from the gutter and splashed out of the drain. Then there was another sound. The slap of slippers against the flag floor. The turn of a key in a lock. Duncan stood there.
Hangover personified. Unshaven, sour-smelling, blinking against the light. 'For Christ's sake man. What do you want?'
At least, Perez thought, he was spared the usual male hug and reference to the old days.
It’s business: he said quietly. 'Police business. Can I come in?'
Duncan didn't answer. He turned and shuffled back towards the kitchen. By the range there was an Orkney chair, with the high, hooded wicker back to keep out draughts. Perez remembered it had always been there. Duncan sank back into it. Perez thought he'd probably spent all night there, once the bottle of Highland Park by his feet was empty. The policeman filled a kettle and moved it on to the hotplate. 'Tea or coffee?'
Duncan slowly opened his eyes. He gave the smile that made Perez want to hit him. 'Good old James,' he said.
'Always there to save the day!
'This is murder. Nothing I can do to make that go away!
It was as if Duncan hadn't heard him. 'Tea,' he said.
'A good strong cup of tea!
The kitchen looked as if half a dozen students had been camping out in it for a term. Duncan saw Perez looking at the mess. 'You can't get the staff these days, he said.
'No Celia?'
'She left.' The smile and the flippancy disappeared. 'I thought she was besotted!
'So did I!
The kettle boiled. The tea bags were where they'd always been. Perez rinsed two mugs. There was just enough milk in the fridge.
'Catherine Ross,' he said. 'How well did you know her?'
'I didn't!