‘Did you hear they’d found some more old bones after Mother dug up the skull?’ Sandy thought his father would surely know. He never seemed to be listening to gossip, but he had Mima’s genius for sniffing out what was going on in the island. ‘They could belong to an ancestor of ours. What do you think?’
‘I think they should stop digging up the Setter land.’ The voice was hard, quite unlike Joseph’s. Sandy looked up, shocked. He’d never heard his father talk like that before, even when he was a boy and he’d misbehaved. Joseph continued: ‘I think if they hadn’t been mucking around here my mother would still be alive.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Two deaths in a week,’ Joseph said. ‘When was the last time anyone died from anything other than natural causes on Whalsay?’
Sandy wasn’t sure his father was expecting a reply, said nothing.
‘Well?’ Joseph demanded.
‘I don’t know.’
‘I’ve been trying to think,’ Joseph said. ‘My father was lost at sea. That was more than fifty years ago. I can’t mind any accidents since then. And now two people dead in a week. I never liked the idea of strangers rooting around in the ground and I wasn’t the only person in the island to feel that way. Mima was an old woman but she wasn’t ready to die. The English lass was a child. Now you say they’ve dug up a pile of bones.’
‘Not a pile,’ Sandy said. ‘And old bones. Likely hundreds of years old.’
‘I don’t care. I’ll go and see that Paul Berglund tomorrow morning before the funeral. I’ll tell him I want them to leave. I don’t care what arrangement he made with Mima. This is my land now. It shouldn’t be disturbed.’
Sandy sat, feeling the heat come off the Rayburn and the whisky in his throat, wondering what he could say to make his father less miserable. It wasn’t like him to be superstitious. Why hadn’t he realized his father was so upset? Joseph would never let on what he was feeling, but Sandy should have known Mima’s death would have hurt him more than he was showing.
‘I’ll speak to Berglund,’ he said at last. ‘You’ll have enough to do tomorrow.’
‘Your mother won’t like it.’ Sandy expected another sly conspiratorial smile, but Joseph was quite serious. ‘You know she has plans for this place.’
‘A fancy museum, with her in charge,’ Sandy said. ‘Aye well, she’ll have to find herself another project, something else to fill her time.’
‘It hasn’t been easy for her, living with me. I was a poor sort of catch as a husband. We never had as much money as the other families in Lindby.’ Joseph reached out and poured himself another dram. Michael and the Edinburgh wife were forgotten. ‘You should be easier on her. She hated it when we couldn’t give you things the bairns from the fishing families had.’
‘You’ve always looked after her well enough,’ Sandy said. ‘We never went short.’ Outside it was already starting to get dark; it was still early in the year and the sun was low in the sky.
‘That was down to her more than me. She was a magician with money, always had a way to make it stretch.’ Despite the warmth still left in the day, Joseph reached his hands out towards the range. His face was a shadow.
‘What do you plan to do with Setter?’ Sandy asked. As he did with Perez, he felt his relationship with his father was different from how it had been in the past, more equal. He was being taken more seriously. And he thought if he could bring his father back to practical matters the man might be more his old self. ‘I wondered if you’d consider moving back here.’
‘Oh I don’t think I could do that!’
‘Why not?’
‘You can never go back. Never relive your life.’ Joseph drained his glass, paused. ‘I wondered if you’d want Setter. I always thought I’d make a good crofter out of you. You’ve got a way with the beasts.’
‘No!’ Sandy realized he sounded horrified and that his father would be offended, but he could think of nothing worse. To live where his mother could always find him, to have his life the subject of island speculation, his girlfriends scrutinized. To have his skills always measured against those of his father. ‘I have thought about it,’ he said. ‘But it wouldn’t work. I’ve got my job. I love it.’ As soon as the words were spoken he knew they were true.
‘Of course,’ Joseph said. ‘It was a stupid thought.’
‘I’ll see Berglund in the morning, tell him we want the place to ourselves for a while.’
‘Aye, you do that.’ Joseph got up. He walked towards the sink to rinse his glass under the tap.
‘Leave it,’ Sandy said. ‘I’ll see to it later.’ He stood too. They faced each other. There was a moment of silence.
‘We’d best get back,’ Joseph said at last. ‘Your brother should be here soon. Evelyn will be sending out a search party.’
They walked together through the dusk to Utra and arrived just as Michael’s hire car appeared at the end of the track. The stars were coming out.
Chapter Twenty-eight
The day before Mima’s funeral, Anna took the afternoon ferry to Lerwick to pick up her dress from the dry-cleaner’s. It had been loose round the waist before she became pregnant and it still fitted now. This was her first trip there with the baby. She felt self-conscious pushing the pram down the street in Lerwick, like she was an impostor, a little girl playing at mummies and daddies. She still didn’t quite believe in her role as mother.
She was pleased to get out of the house. You’d have thought Ronald would be happy that he wasn’t going to get charged with Mima’s killing, but he seemed more moody than ever. Anna always enjoyed a trip into town and today she decided she’d turn it into a treat, with good coffee and a scone in the Peerie Cafe and a browse around the Shetland Times Bookshop. She was almost feeling like her old self again and the baby had stopped squawking, for this afternoon at least.
On her way into the cafe she bumped into a woman she’d met at a seminar the year before. Organized by the Shetland Islands Council, it had been for first-time entrepreneurs. Jane was setting up her own computing business. They had coffee together and time passed quickly as they chatted, first about the baby of course, but soon after about plans for their respective businesses. Jane was a southerner too, a little older than Anna, and she’d never had children. She said she found being self-employed very lonely. She was thinking of looking for a partner.
When Anna had first come up with the idea of the Fibre Workshops she’d considered asking Evelyn to come into partnership with her. She’d thought it would be good to have one of the Whalsay women on her side and Evelyn’s background, her voice and her stories would bring an authentic flavour to the enterprise. But in the end Anna hadn’t wanted to share control of the project with anyone. Evelyn had been disappointed, Anna had been able to tell that, but she’d still been generous in her support. She’d let Anna use her knitting patterns and copy her recipes for the dye. Evelyn had even tried to raise some funds for the business from the Shetland Islands Council. That hadn’t worked out in the end – money was a lot tighter than it used to be, Evelyn said – but it had been kind of her to try.
Anna didn’t discuss any of this with Jane: she didn’t think the woman would understand that she preferred to work on her own. But at the end of the afternoon they exchanged email addresses and promised to keep in touch.
When she got home Anna felt almost elated and over supper she talked about the meeting to Ronald.
‘That’s good,’ he said. ‘I’m glad you had a fine afternoon.’ But she sensed he was preoccupied with his own thoughts. He wasn’t listening to her at all.
‘What is it?’ she asked. ‘Something I can help with?’
He shook his head without speaking.