She was sitting inside the bothy at the Formica table, seemed to be filling in some sort of form. He could see her through the grimy window. Remembering the time she’d found him there uninvited, he was careful to knock and wait outside until she called him in. She seemed disappointed. ‘Oh, it’s you.’
‘Who were you expecting?’
She hesitated. ‘I thought Paul might call in before he left.’
‘No,’ Perez said. ‘He’s already gone. I saw him go off on the ferry.’
‘I’m tidying up the paperwork for the project before I leave.’ Sophie turned round in her seat. ‘There’s no point my hanging around here. I might as well go back to London. It was what I planned anyway.’
‘So you’ll be running a cafe bar in Richmond?’
She grinned up at him. ‘Maybe. That’s one of the options. I’m not going to rush into anything. Maybe I’ll just take some time out.’
Perez was going to ask what she would do for money, but he saw that was no real concern for her. He didn’t think he’d met anyone before who didn’t have to work for a living. Duncan Hunter was probably the richest person he knew, but he still worked.
‘Will you stay with your parents?’
‘In their house. Daddy’s just gone off to Hong Kong for six months. Something about one of the businesses. So they’re not there.’
‘You don’t want to be with them?’ He thought despite the confidence and the loud voice she could use some support.
‘Why would I want that?’ Her voice was scathing. ‘I’m a grown-up. I’m not going to run away to Mummy every time I feel a bit miserable. Besides, all my friends are in London.’
‘Why are you miserable?’
She stared at him as if he were completely mad. ‘Why do you think? The person I’ve been sharing my life with for two months just killed herself. But don’t worry. A couple of decent nights out and I’ll be fine.’
‘Is that what you believe? That Hattie killed herself?’
‘Of course. What other explanation is there?’
He didn’t answer directly. ‘I’ve got a picnic,’ he said. ‘Let’s go up the island and have a bit of a walk.’
Again she stared at him as if he was a madman.
‘It’s all right,’ he said, though he wasn’t quite sure why she might need reassuring. ‘I just want to go somewhere we won’t be disturbed or overheard.’
They parked near the golf clubhouse. Again the weather was unusually mild: a gusty breeze blew startling white clouds and there were moments of bright sunlight. There were no other cars there and the golf course seemed deserted. They walked right to the end of the island and sat on rocks looking out to the Skerries, the inhabited island which stood very clear on the horizon.
‘I’ve lived all my life in Shetland and I’ve never been there,’ Perez said. He handed her one of the cans of beer and spread the food on a flat rock. A red-throated diver flew over their heads calling. Last time I heard that sound, Perez thought, was just before Hattie’s body was found. Although he knew it was superstition, he felt uneasy. What terrible thing would happen now? He turned his attention back to the Skerries. ‘Maybe I should pay a visit one day.’
Sophie tugged on the ring pull of the can. ‘What is all this about?’ she said. ‘What do you want from me?’ She was wearing shorts again and the big boots, a loose sweater with holes in the elbows. No bra, he thought. She leaned forward with her arms on her knees.
‘What do you think of Paul Berglund?’ Perez asked.
He pulled apart a crusty roll and cut a piece of cheese off the block of Orkney cheddar with his penknife, handed the makeshift sandwich to her.
‘I’ve always found Paul OK,’ she said. ‘He’s been all right to me.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah. You could have a worse boss. He can be a good laugh.’
‘What about Hattie?’ He broke off a piece of chocolate and put it in his mouth. He thought she sounded defensive. ‘Was he all right to her?’
Sophie didn’t reply. A gull swooped down, scavenging for bits of food. A curlew shouted in the distance.
He went on. ‘Did Hattie tell you about Paul? Maybe warn you about him? Did she think the two of you were getting close and want you to know how he’d treated her?’
She stared out to the islands on the horizon. ‘Paul hasn’t done anything wrong,’ she said. ‘He wouldn’t have.’
‘Did he tell you that?’
She didn’t answer.
‘Something made Hattie kill herself,’ Perez said. ‘If that’s what happened, she used his knife to do it.’
She turned away from him. ‘I hate it here,’ she said. ‘Everyone knowing each other’s business. At first it was OK. Different from anywhere else I’ve ever lived. The boys from the boats were good fun, they know how to party. Now I can’t stand it. Once the fog rolls in you feel as if the world outside doesn’t matter at all. People here lose any sense of proportion. Tiny incidents that happened years ago fester and take over their lives.’
‘What incidents?’
She shook her head in frustration that he didn’t immediately understand.
‘There’s nothing specific. Just a feeling that the islanders can never break free from their history. That they have no free will. Or that they won’t allow themselves any.’
‘Go home then,’ he said. ‘There’s nothing to stop you. Just leave me your address.’
She’d pulled out a piece of heather and was tearing the tiny dead flowers off the stalk one by one. Perez thought it might take more than a night of clubbing and drinking to make her feel happy again.
‘Did Hattie talk to you before she died?’ he asked.
She turned, startled. ‘Of course she talked to me.’
‘So you got on OK?’
A brief hesitation. ‘Boarding school’s great practice for this sort of work,’ she said. ‘You have to muck in together.’
He wasn’t sure that was a real answer. I went to boarding school, he thought. If you can call the hostel at the Anderson High School a boarding school. I’m not sure it taught me much.
‘Did she talk about Paul Berglund?’ he asked. ‘About what happened when they worked together before?’
‘Paul says it’s all rubbish. She just had a teenage crush.’
‘What did she say?’
‘Was it true then, all that stuff about Paul?’ Sophie looked at him; her eyes seemed huge. ‘You could never tell with Hattie. Sometimes I thought she was mad. She came up with such odd ideas.’
‘Like what?’
Sophie shook her head, unwilling to be specific. ‘I don’t know. She just let her imagination run away with her .’
‘But she did talk to you about Paul?’
‘Yes, she thought he was hitting on me. She was warning me off. I told her I was a big girl and I could look after myself.’
‘I think she was telling the truth about Paul,’ Perez said. ‘But there’s no evidence and he’ll never be charged, if that’s what’s concerning you. I just need to hear what she told you.’
Sophie finished the beer and crushed the can with her fist. She told her story looking out to sea in a flat, unemotional voice. Throughout, there was no eye contact.
‘It was at the end of her first year at university. She’d already had some sort of stress-related illness after A levels. I guess she was that sort of person. An obsessive. Then in the summer vacation she worked as a volunteer on a dig in the south.’