Rachel bristled at ‘love’ but didn’t say anything. Surtsey caught Halima’s eye roll and suppressed a smile. It amazed her that pricks like this still existed in the modern world, but she came across them all the time.
Rachel went over everything, introduced Brendan and Kezia, pointed in the direction of Tom’s body, then the opposite direction where they’d been working.
Yates frowned. ‘And the rest of you haven’t been over there?’
Shaking heads.
Yates pointed at Rachel, Brendan and Kezia. ‘You three show the body to me and the boffins. The rest of you stay here and give statements to my officers.’
Boffins, what an arsehole.
Kezia let out a whimper but went along with the others, leaving the four of them with the two uniforms, a man and a woman about the same age as Surtsey. She wondered what made people sign up for the police force, did they really think they could make a difference? Maybe it was just the salary and pension. She couldn’t imagine having that moral certainty, the presumption of superiority over another person. Upholding the law was such a weird phrase. Did anything else get upheld? Surtsey wondered how stoned she was.
She got the male officer to talk to. His name badge said ‘Ferris’ which made Surtsey think of that 80s movie her mum loved. She glanced towards land but of course she couldn’t see Joppa from here, just the spread of Cockenzie and the Pans.
The interview with Officer Ferris took three minutes, the cop leaning in to hear her better, despite the fact he was recording the conversation with a handheld Sony device. Surtsey tried not to sound stoned. She kept her voice level but that just made it sound like a robotic monotone in her ears. She gave her details and explained she hadn’t seen the body.
‘And when did you last see Mr Lawrie?’ Ferris said.
Surtsey stood for a moment. She heard an insect buzzing somewhere, wondered briefly about pollination, the spread of life.
‘Yesterday,’ she said. ‘At the department, same as everyone else.’
She expected him to ask what she was up to last night. A tremor in her chest as she thought about what she’d told others, whether it had even been consistent. But he didn’t ask. She wasn’t a suspect, no one here was; they were friends and colleagues. Just answer the questions you’re asked, Surtsey.
‘OK, thanks,’ Ferris said.
He switched the recorder off and looked around at the black sand, the grey rock, the bubbles and crenulations of the lava.
‘Some place, this,’ he said.
‘Yeah.’
Surtsey was so used to the Inch that she worried she would take it for granted. But she never did. It was remarkable, a baby island, a part of the world that hadn’t existed twenty-five years ago.
‘Surtsey’s an interesting name,’ Ferris said.
She got asked about it all the time.
‘I’m named after an Icelandic island,’ she said. ‘A volcanic island, like this one, that erupted in the 60s. My mum says it’s her favourite place in the world. She’s a volcanologist, like me. Actually, I was born the day this place erupted.’
‘But she didn’t want to call you Inch.’
Surtsey laughed despite herself. ‘I suppose not.’
‘When you think about it, it’s not using much imagination, calling it the Inch.’
Surtsey touched her hair and smiled. ‘It’s not.’
Was she really flirting with a cop as her dead lover lay on the beach, eyes pecked out by gulls?
‘So you like all this,’ Ferris said, waving his hand. ‘Rocks and stuff.’
Surtsey laughed again. ‘Yeah, I like rocks and stuff.’
He laughed with her and she smiled. It was pathetic but she liked it. It felt normal, chatting as if they were in a café or pub, as if there wasn’t something grotesque lying just out of sight.
There was the scrunch of feet on gravel. DCI Yates appeared puffing up the slope, Rachel, Kezia and Brendan behind.
Ferris and the female cop straightened up. What was it like having to kowtow to authority all the time, Surtsey thought.
‘You got their statements?’ Yates asked.
‘Yes, sir,’ the female cop said. Surtsey noticed that Ferris had deferred to her, let her speak for them both. Not a big deal in the scheme of things, but a noticeable gesture.
‘OK, you can all go,’ Yates said. ‘We’ll be in touch with you individually if we need anything else. The island is off limits until I say so.’
He was the kind of man used to authority, it made him feel important.
Ferris raised his eyebrows at Surtsey, who smiled.
She didn’t speak as they all trudged towards the boat, she was just desperate to get off this rock and find a drink.
11
‘To Tom.’
The three of them thrust shot glasses together with a clunk, then downed the Jägers. Maybe a single malt was more appropriate but fuck it, Tom wouldn’t care. Plus he’d always seemed younger than he was, liked hanging out with students, soaking up their youth and enthusiasm. And screwing them, in Surtsey’s case. He would probably have downed a Jägermeister himself, given the chance.
She thought about the text message. Someone knew something, but she couldn’t work out how much, or who or how. The message was so vague, no specific detail so maybe they were just fishing. She couldn’t fathom how they knew. She and Tom had been cautious about where and when they met, and they had set up his dedicated phone. They occasionally sent emails too, but he set up a new Gmail account for that, not his usual home one, and he never accessed it on his regular phone.
Surtsey looked around. The Espy was dead this time on a Wednesday afternoon. The lunchtime rush was over and the after work crowd hadn’t pitched up yet. Her, Brendan and Halima were sitting at the long table by the window which housed the huge fish tank, hundreds of tropical sparkles darting across her eyeline. It was a strange decision by the pub to block the sea view but Surtsey was glad at the moment because it meant the Inch was out of sight. It haunted her,
