arrangements to come to you just before he disappeared!’
Bannerman tensed himself, preparing to intervene between the two women should it become necessary.
‘He did phone,’ said Shona, ‘and he did come to the island, but it was because he wanted a place to hide! Lawrence didn’t leave you Vera. He ran away because he was frightened. He was in great danger.’
‘Frightened? Danger?’ scoffed Vera Gill. ‘What rubbish!’
‘It’s true,’ said Bannerman. ‘Your husband thought someone was trying to kill him.’
Vera Gill’s initial anger subsided and was replaced by confusion. ‘I don’t understand,’ she said. ‘Lawrence was a doctor, why would anyone want to kill him?’
‘You had better come in Mrs Gill,’ said Bannerman, putting an arm round Vera Gill’s shoulders and guiding her gently inside. Shona went to the kitchen to make tea.
‘When your husband disappeared, Mrs Gill, he was looking into the deaths of three farm workers. We think that he found out something about their deaths that someone else was prepared to kill to keep secret. Somehow Lawrence knew that his life was in danger, so he contacted Shona and asked for her help in providing him with a place to hide out for a while.’
Vera Gill took a moment or two to digest what she’d heard and to consider the implications. Making an obvious effort to control her emotions, she said, ‘Are you saying that my husband’s death was not an accident?’
‘Lawrence fell to his death from the cliffs on Barasay Mrs GUI. That’s what we know for sure, but we have reason to think that he may have been pushed. We have no proof of this but the authorities are aware of our suspicions and will investigate.’
Shona came back into the room carrying tea on a tray. Vera Gill accepted a cup with a look that signalled peace between the two women. She sipped it slowly and deliberately, her eyes betraying that her mind was still reeling. ‘I don’t know whether to laugh or cry,’ she said, half apologetically. ‘Lawrence didn’t leave me after all.’
‘No he didn’t,’ said Shona.
‘Who told you about your husband’s call to Shona?’ asked Bannerman. ‘Morag Napier.’ Bannerman nodded.
By the time she had finished her tea Vera Gill had regained her composure and was ready to leave. She thanked Bannerman and Shona and even shook hands with them both, although she diverted her eyes when taking Shona’s hand.
Shona let out a long sigh when Bannerman returned from seeing Vera Gill to the door. ‘I didn’t reckon on that,’ she said.
‘Me neither,’ agreed Bannerman. ‘I thought you said that it was you who broke up the affair with Gill?’
‘It was,’ said Shona.
‘You’re a nice person.’
‘Can we eat?’
The confrontation with Vera Gill put a bit of a damper on the evening for Bannerman and Shona. Up until Vera’s arrival it had seemed that the pair of them might be able to forget the deaths for a while to relax and enjoy each other’s company, but now the subject of Gill’s death and those of the men of Inverladdie was again uppermost in their minds.
‘Have you still no idea at all why Lawrence was murdered?’ asked Shona.
‘I’ve thought about it a lot,’ said Bannerman. ‘But I end up going round in the same circles. Gill was desperate to send off the package which we presume contained the missing, infected brains. From what he told you, he thought he would be safe as soon as that happened. That must mean that whoever received the package would know all there was to know about the deaths. It was addressed to the MRC, so presumably he meant the MRC to analyse them. But he’d already sent samples of the brains to the MRC! And they had already been analysed! We knew about the
‘And he knew that you knew,’ added Shona.
‘Exactly,’ said Bannerman.
‘So there must have been something else in the brains that wouldn’t have appeared on the slides,’ suggested Shona. ‘Something else that he wanted you to know about.’
‘Like what?’ said Bannerman slowly. He was addressing the question to himself.
‘If radiation had caused the virus to change, would that show up in the brain samples?’ asked Shona.
‘No,’ replied Bannerman, shaking his head. ‘No it wouldn’t.’ Did that mean that any connection between the nuclear industry and Gill’s death could be discounted? he wondered.
‘So the people at the power station would have nothing to gain by stopping any further analysis on the brains?’ said Shona as if she had read Bannerman’s mind.
‘Agreed,’ said Bannerman.
‘I think you’re up against something much bigger than a few bully-boy workers afraid for their jobs,’ said Shona.
Bannerman who suddenly felt afraid said, ‘I think you’re right.’
Shona put her hand on top of Bannerman’s and said, ‘It’ll be out of your hands after tomorrow. You can go back to your hospital and this will all be just a bad dream.’
Bannerman looked at her and gave a little nod. ‘It’s not all been such a bad dream,’ he said. ‘Some of it has been very nice.’ He took Shona’s hand and held it to his lips.
‘Come on,’ said Shona softly, ‘drink up, andlet’s go home.’
In the morning Bannerman drove Shona to the station where she would catch the train to Inverness, on the first leg of her journey home. He found himself very reluctant to say goodbye and insisted on seeing her on to the platform where they stopped by an open carriage door.
‘I can’t thank you enough for driving me down,’ said Bannerman.
‘It was nothing,’ said Shona. ‘It’s been ages since I’ve been in Edinburgh and it was nice to see how my friends were getting on.’
‘I’ve enjoyed being with you,’ said Bannerman, his eyes saying more than the awkward words.
‘I’ve enjoyed it too,’ said Shona. ‘I wish you luck.’
‘You too,’ said Bannerman. ‘Safe journey.’ Shona climbed on board as the guard blew his whistle and doors began to slam along the line. ‘Keep in touch. Let me know what happens.’
I will,’ said Bannerman. He waved as the train slid away from the platform and waited until it was out of sight. Feeling strangely vulnerable, he turned and walked to his car. The last time he had felt like this was, he recalled, when he had been fourteen years old and a holiday romance in the Lake District had come to an end.
As he walked up the hill out of the station he felt full of impotent anger; it was directed at himself. Why hadn’t he said what he felt to Shona instead of coming out with guarded little phrases that were designed not to leave him exposed. Fear of rejection? Reluctance to make a fool of himself? He had wanted to tell Shona that for whatever reason — and he didn’t understand it himself- he felt hopelessly attracted to her and wanted to see her again. But he couldn’t do that could he? That would be totally out of keeping with his job, his circumstances and his age.
Bannerman got into the car and drove away without looking behind him. A red saloon announced its presence with a long blast on its horn. ‘Shit!’ said Bannerman, thumping down on both feet on brake and clutch and getting an agonizing reminder from his left knee that it would rather he didn’t do that too often. He raised his hand in apology to the driver of the red car and shrugged off the tirade of abuse he saw being mouthed.
As he neared the medical school, the traffic came to a halt in a long queue. The road up ahead for some reason had been reduced to a single carriageway and police were controlling the traffic flow. After a wait of three or four minutes the line started to move and Bannerman could see that several fire engines and police cars were parked outside the medical school quadrangle. Hoses snaked across the ground and firemen in yellow waterproof trousers were reeling them in. He signalled his intention to turn into the car-park but a policeman waved him past. He had to park nearly a quarter of a mile away and walk back.
Bannerman showed his ID to the policeman at the entrance who requested it. ‘What happened?’ he asked.
‘Nasty fire, sir,’ replied the officer. ‘Bloody lunatics.’ The policeman moved away to stop a car that looked as
