Hattie shut her eyes for a moment and resisted the temptation to lift the lid of the box and put in her nose to sniff the coins. ‘I can’t do any more until Paul comes in tomorrow,’ she said. She replaced the coins in the desk on top of a file containing the Amenity Trust documents and a chequebook.
‘I’ll need someone else to countersign the cheques for the project,’ Evelyn said. ‘Mima used to do it. If we’re going to expand the project it might make sense for you to be a signatory.’
Hattie wondered how the woman could discuss Mima’s death so dispassionately. She still felt herself falling apart whenever she thought about it. What would it feel like to know that you were dying? To be lying in the grass in the rain knowing there was no one to help you or hold you? But perhaps a farmer’s wife who helped slaughter animals took death in her stride. It was all part of her competence.
Later, after they had looked at the British Museum website, they walked to the Cloustons’ bungalow. Evelyn insisted and Hattie didn’t know how to stand up to her without appearing rude or stand-offish. They found Anna in the workshop, not in front of her computer. She had switched on the light and for a moment they stood outside and looked in through the long window, watching what she was doing. She had no sense that they were there. There was no sign of Ronald.
It seemed to Hattie a terrible intrusion, to be staring in at her. The baby was in his basket on one of the big trestle tables. Next to him, some cloth was soaking in an old tin bath. Anna was carding some fleece, preparing it for spinning, combing it between the carders with strong easy movements. The process seemed very complicated to Hattie; she could work out the theory but knew she’d be useless in practice. The fleece was combed between flat hardboard sheets pierced with thin nails. Anna moved the untangled fleece from board to board, then pulled it free of the nails and curled it into a loose roll. Now it was ready for the spinning wheel. Another competent woman, Hattie thought. I can’t even peel a carrot with any sort of skill.
Then Anna noticed them through the window. Their presence had obviously startled her. She stared at them sharply before waving them to come in. She met them at the workshop door and there was a moment of awkward silence. Hattie almost expected her to send them away.
‘You’ve heard about Ronald?’ She kept her voice low, though there was no one to hear except the baby. ‘The police have decided to take no further action. They’ve accepted Mima’s death was an accident.’
‘He’s a lucky man,’ Evelyn said.
‘I know that, and so does he. He’s going out fishing with Davy for the night. I told him it would do him good to get away for a while.’
Hattie found the atmosphere in the bungalow almost unbearable. I’m going to faint, she thought.
‘At least we can go ahead and organize the funeral now.’ Evelyn walked ahead of Anna into the workshop. ‘The Fiscal has agreed to release the body.’
‘Ronald wants to be there,’ Anna said, ‘but he’s not sure what Joseph would feel about that.’
‘Joseph’s an easygoing sort of man. He’s not one to bear a grudge.’
‘Thank you.’ Anna reached out and touched Evelyn’s shoulder. ‘I hope this doesn’t change things between us.’
There was a brief pause before Evelyn said, ‘Of course not. Why should it?’
Hattie had the impression that suddenly Evelyn was very pleased with herself, but she couldn’t work out why. She’d never been any good at picking up unspoken communication. Sometimes she felt lost, a stranger in a foreign country, only half understanding the language. I shouldn’t be here, she thought. She had to control an impulse to turn and run away.
‘Have you heard about the find at Setter?’ Evelyn took a seat at the table where Anna had been sitting.
No chance of keeping it secret then! Hattie didn’t know what to say. She thought Evelyn had used her as an excuse to be there. She wanted to make her own excuse and leave, but couldn’t think of a way of doing it with any sort of dignity.
‘Tell me all about it.’ Anna leaned against the trestle and Hattie could see the swelling around her belly where the baby had been. Hattie mumbled an explanation of the significance of the coins. The baby started crying, a griping grizzle as if he was in pain. Anna lifted him out of his basket, rocked him in her arms. Suddenly she held him out to Hattie, a kind of challenge. ‘Would you mind taking him while I tidy this away? He’s got colic and he’ll scream the place down if I put him back in his basket.’ She gave a tight little smile. ‘Actually he’s been driving me mad today.’
Hattie found the baby in her arms before she could object. She held him gingerly, slightly away from her body. He seemed very light and fragile. She had a moment of panic when she imagined herself dropping him; in her imagination she deliberately opened her arms wide and he slipped from her grasp and his head cracked on the floor like one of Mima’s big white eggs. There’d be a puddle of blood. The picture was so vivid that she was surprised that there was no sound, no crying and shouting, but the two island women were chatting about the next forum meeting and seemed to take no notice of her. The baby smelled very sweet. When the time came to hand him back, Hattie wanted to protest and to hold on to him. Perhaps after all it wouldn’t be so terrible to be a mother.
Evelyn seemed to have forgotten her decision to invite the archaeologists to supper, and Hattie was pleased. She couldn’t bear the thought of another meal in the Utra kitchen, forcing herself to eat to keep Evelyn happy. She knew Sophie wouldn’t be back for hours. She’d be in Artemis with the boys, drinking and flirting, the nearest she’d get to her wild London social life here in Whalsay. Hattie wondered what else she’d be getting up to.
She started walking down the road towards the Bod. It was the beginning of dusk, what Shetlanders called ‘the darkenin’’, but there was still light enough to make out the colours of the stone in the wall and the peat on the hill. She began to think of Mima again, recalled their conversation sitting outside the house of Setter, Mima’s anger and her loud words shouted into the telephone.
Chapter Nineteen
Perez woke early. He’d been dreaming about Fran, turned and panicked when he found the bed next to him was empty. He lost the details of the dream on waking but was left with a sense of unease, a premonition of danger that he knew was ridiculous. He had to lose the notion that life away from the islands was risky. He’d seen too many parents reluctant to give their children the freedom to move away. Another week and Fran and Cassie would be home.
But he couldn’t return to sleep. He found himself running over the details surrounding Mima’s death. It was absurd to let the incident haunt him. Ronald must have killed the old woman in a freak accident. Any other explanation seemed so melodramatic that it was ludicrous. The Fiscal had been right. He didn’t really believe Sandy’s stay in Whalsay would result in fresh information. He thought they would be left with the worst possible outcome: not really knowing what had happened. He would have to live with that, but knew he would find it hard to stomach.
He’d heard Sandy talk about Mima so much that he felt he knew her well. In fact he’d only met her once, at Sandy’s birthday party on Whalsay. He remembered a tiny, bird-like woman with a surprising belly laugh. She’d matched the men drink for drink but apart from flushed cheeks hadn’t shown any sign of inebriation. It hadn’t affected her ability to dance the most intricate of steps.