you saw her yesterday?'
'I don't think so.' Then he wondered if he should have given a different answer, if the question had been a trick. 'I remember the red scarf.'
'Did she tell you where the party was?'
'She didn't say. She didn't notice me then. Only later when we both got off the bus together.'
'How did she seem?' Perez asked.
'Tired, I said.'
'But sad tired or happy tired?'
'She came into the house,' Magnus said suddenly.
'For tea.'
There was a silence. Magnus knew he'd made a mistake. He continued quickly, 'She wanted to take my photo. For a project. She wanted to come.'
'Did she take the photo?'
'She took several.'
'Had she been in the house before?' Perez asked.
He didn't seem troubled by what Magnus had told him. There was no fuss, no threat, no outrage.
'New Year's Eve. Catherine and Sally. They were on their way home. They saw the light and called in to wish me happy new year!
'Sally?'
'Sally Henry, the teacher's lass!
'But yesterday Catherine was on her own?'
'On her own. Yes!
'Did she stay long?'
'She took some cake,' Magnus said. 'A cup of tea! 'So she wasn't here all afternoon?'
'No. Not long!
'What time was it, when she left?'
'I can't say for sure!
Perez looked around the room. 'That's a fine clock' 'It belonged to my mother!
'It keeps good time?'
'I check it with the wireless every night!
'You'd have noticed what time the girl left, surely.
The clock, sitting there on the shelf. You'd have glanced at it when she went out. It would be automatic!
Magnus opened his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn't come out. His thoughts seemed frozen, sluggish.
'I don't remember,' he said at last. 'Was it light when she left you?' 'Oh yes, it was still light!
'Because this time of the year, it gets dark so early..! Perez paused,' looked towards Magnus as if expecting him to change his mind. When there was no response he continued, 'Where was she going?'
'Home!
'Did she say that was where she was going?'
'No, but that was the direction she was headed in. 'To that house halfway down the bank where the building work was done. The one with all the glass at the front. She lives there!
'Did you see her go in?'
Was that another trick? Magnus looked at the policeman. He became aware that his mouth was open and he shut it.
'It'd only be natural,' Perez said. 'You'd watch her go down the hill, wouldn't you? Nothing wrong with watching a pretty young girl anyway. But you must spend a lot of time sitting here looking at the view.
This weather, there's not much else to do!
'Yes,' Magnus said. 'I saw her go in!
They sat. The silence lasted for such a long time that Magnus wondered if that was it, if the policeman would go now and leave him alone. Suddenly he wasn't even sure that was what he wanted. 'Would you like some tea?' he asked. He frowned, imagining how it would be in the house, with the policeman gone, and only the noise of the ravens calling from the hill outside.
'Yes,' Perez said. 'Tea would be fine!
Neither of them spoke until the tea was made and they were sitting together back at the table.
'Eight years ago,' Perez said, 'a girl went missing. She was younger than Catherine, but not that much younger.
Catriona, she was called. Did you know her, Magnus?'
Magnus wanted to shut his eyes to shut out the question, but knew that if he did, he'd imagine himself back in the police station with the fist pulling back from his face, the taste of blood in his mouth.
He stared into space.
'You did know her, didn't you Magnus? She came to visit you for tea too. Like Catherine. She was very bonny, I hear!
'She was never found,' Magnus said. He tried to compose the muscles in his jaw to stop the dreadful smile. He fixed his lips tight shut and remembered his mother's words.
Chapter Eight
Perez drove back to Lerwick after leaving Magnus Tait's house. He wanted to talk to Catherine's father and knew that the man was still at the high school. There might not be much he could do at this stage the man would be in shock – but it seemed respectful to introduce himself and explain the procedures. He couldn't imagine what it must be like to lose a child.
Not really. Sarah, his wife, had had a miscarriage, and that for a while had seemed like the end of the world. He'd tried not to show how much it hurt him. He hadn't wanted Sarah to feel that he loved her any less, or blamed her for the loss of the baby. Of course it had been himself he'd blamed. Himself and the weight of his family's expectations. He'd felt that almost physically, pictured it as a crushing pressure, which made it impossible for the baby to survive. It would have been a boy. The pregnancy had been sufficiently advanced for them to know that. There would have been another Perez to carry on the family line.
Perhaps he'd played the role too skilfully. Perhaps Sarah had thought he really didn't care. Though surely she must have known him well enough to realize it was an act for her benefit. It was from the miscarriage that he charted the breakdown of his marriage. Sarah grew grey and distant. He spent more time at work. When she told him she was leaving, it was almost a relief. He couldn't bear to see her looking so miserable.
Now she was married to a GP and living somewhere in the Borders. It seemed she'd had no problems conceiving with her new partner. There were already three children and the Christmas card – it had been a very civilized divorce and they still kept in touch informed him that there was another baby on the way. He imagined her sometimes living in one of those solid country houses he'd glimpsed from the train south. He'd see her in a kitchen which looked out over woods and a meadow.
She'd be giving the kids their tea, a baby on her hip, laughing. Not being part of that seemed a sort of bereavement.
Bad enough. What must it be like for Catherine's father to lose a real child?
Euan Ross was sitting in the head teacher's office, on an easy chair, next to a round coffee table. This would be where the head would sit when he came out from behind his desk to put anxious parents or nervous students at ease. The female uniformed officer beside him looked as if she longed to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. Ross was an angular man in his mid-forties, greying. When he saw Perez, he reached into his pocket for a pair of spectacles. He wore dark trousers, a jacket and tie, everything smart, too smart for most of the teachers Perez had come across.
If he hadn't known, Perez would have put him down as a lawyer or accountant. There was a tea tray on the table. It was untouched and looked as if it had been there some time.
