As she walked down the track that led to Utra, she passed an elderly couple. The old man was pushing a wheelbarrow with a hoe and a fork balanced on the top. The woman carried a plastic carrier bag containing something so heavy that one shoulder was lower than the other. Hattie didn’t recognize them. They stopped; the man smiled and said a few words of greeting. He only had one tooth and Hattie couldn’t understand a word he said.
‘Good-afternoon!’ She grinned, lifted her hand. ‘Good-afternoon!’
The old woman said nothing. Further along the track, Hattie swivelled back to look at them, but they’d disappeared. She told herself that they’d turned off. Perhaps they were working in one of the planticrubs, the old woman with her grey skirt and her wellingtons, the old man with his gummy smile. But she wasn’t entirely sure that they existed at all. Perhaps they were ghosts, like the merchant’s wife at Setter and her powerful husband, conjured up by her own imagination.
Evelyn was real enough. She was standing at the kitchen table cutting meat. The knife was small with a sharp, serrated blade. There was a pile of fat and bone pushed to one side of the wooden chopping board. It made Hattie feel ill.
‘I thought I’d do a casserole,’ Evelyn said. ‘There was some of last year’s mutton left in the freezer. It needs using. Sandy’s taken some leave from work to help with the arrangements for the funeral. I never know what time he’ll be in to eat.’
‘Can I do anything towards the meal? We’re not working this afternoon.’ Hattie hoped the activity might stop the whirling thoughts.
‘You can peel the carrots if you like. I won’t ask you to do the onions. They’re big strong ones and they’ll have you crying like a baby.’
‘I don’t mind.’ Hattie thought you couldn’t make up tears, the stinging of the eyes, the taste of salt in the mouth as they ran down your face. But she sat at the table next to Evelyn and began to peel the carrots, aware of how slow and clumsy she was. She knew the older woman was watching.
‘Would you and Sophie like to come for dinner?’ Evelyn looked up from the growing pile of meat. ‘There’s plenty, and you can’t just go back to the Bod on a night like this.’
‘I don’t know . . .’ Hattie set down her knife.
‘Of course we must celebrate! It’s a dream come true. I wish I’d been there with you when you came across that first coin. This is just what we need before we put together a funding application for a big dig. I’m so thrilled for you. It’s much more exciting than the piece of old skull.’ She tipped the meat into a bowl and, using the same knife, cut an onion in half. A smear of blood was transferred to the white semicircle. She held it face-down on the board and chopped it very fast into translucent slices.
‘Would you mind if I used your computer?’ Hattie asked. ‘There are some museum websites with images. Until Val gets in, I thought I might check the coins out, see if I can identify them. And I’d like to take another look at them.’ Hattie wished she could have the feel of the coins on her fingers again; she wondered what they would smell like and imagined the sharp metallic scent of blood.
‘Why not? Just let me get this in the oven. I’d be interested in what you can find out too.’ Evelyn shook oil into a heavy pan and threw in the vegetables. Hattie saw her eyes were glistening. The onions must have made her cry.
‘Mima would have been so excited,’ Hattie said.
Evelyn stopped stirring; the wooden spoon was still in her hand. ‘We have to make plans,’ she said. ‘When we have the information back about the skull and the coins we’ll call a meeting. Perhaps something grand in the new museum in Lerwick. Or even better we could arrange something on the island. Show the folk from town what great work’s going on here in Whalsay.’ She shut her eyes briefly and Hattie saw that this was a woman with big dreams too. She was imagining a glittering evening, with all the important Lerwick folk in Whalsay, wine and canapés and Evelyn at the heart of it. ‘We can turn Setter into a museum now, a celebration of Whalsay history. Wo uldn’t that be a fine thing? We could name it after Mima.’
‘I’m not sure that would be what she wanted.’ Hattie paused, remembered conversations in the Setter kitchen, drinking tea. ‘She said she wanted a young family to move into the house when she died. She was always teasing Sophie and me. “Find a nice island lad and settle down here. You can rent this place when I’m gone. The boys won’t want it. Bring up your bairns in Lindby.”’
‘Aye well,’ Evelyn said. ‘Mima was a great one for telling other folk how to live their lives.’
She scattered flour over the meat in the bowl and tossed the mutton in it with her fingers until all the pieces were covered, then tipped it all into the pan. There was a smell of searing flesh and the oil hissed and spat. She pushed at the meat with a wooden spoon to stop it sticking.
How competent she is! Hattie thought. I’d never know how to turn a dead animal into a meal. There was a sweetish smell coming from the pan, which made her feel again that she was going to throw up.
‘I’m not sure what plans Sophie has for this evening,’ she said. ‘The boys were going to show her around Artemis. It’s just come back from Lerwick.’
‘She’s a fine boat.’ Evelyn tipped a jug of water over the stew, continued stirring while it thickened and came to the boil. ‘Call Sophie’s mobile and ask her. They won’t feed her on board.’
‘I will.’ Hattie made no move to find her phone though.
‘I wonder how Anna’s getting on with the baby,’ Evelyn said. She’d put the pot in the oven and turned, her hands still in the oven gloves. ‘She wasn’t getting much sleep last time I saw her. Maybe we should take a walk down to the bungalow. Anna was talking about working on her website if she got the chance. It would be good to put something up about the coins. The folk keen on signing up for her workshops would be interested in hearing about the project. And maybe you’d like to see the baby.’
Hattie thought that was the last thing she wanted; she’d much rather go back to the Bod and begin her plans for the project.
‘You could write something about the dig for her site,’ Evelyn went on, ‘It might persuade folks to book up. It’d help put Whalsay on the map.’
‘We can’t do that yet!’ Hattie felt anxious just at the thought of it. She looked up at Evelyn in horror. ‘We should keep the find secret for as long as we can. If word gets out you’ll have a bunch of people trespassing on the site, looking for buried treasure. It could damage the project.’ She had the image of geeky men in grey anoraks with metal detectors marching all over her dig.
Evelyn seemed not to have heard her. ‘Maybe we should take the coins to show Anna. She has a digital camera. I’d love to have a photo of them.’
‘Not yet. Paul Berglund should be coming in tomorrow. I think I should wait and see what he says.’
‘Maybe you’re right. I wouldn’t want you to get into trouble with your boss. And it would be good to keep a bit of mystery about them, before we show them to the public.’ Evelyn put the knives and chopping board in the sink to soak. ‘Come on then. Let’s go and look at your treasure.’
The desk was in the living room and locked with a small brass key, which Evelyn took from her jeans pocket. Hattie had put the coins into a clear plastic box. They were small and dull. They were in the box just to prevent the need for their being handled, but Hattie longed to touch them. ‘Imagine them being in Mima’s garden all the time,’ Evelyn said. ‘All those hundreds of years.’