at him, knowing just what he was thinking.
‘Not now,’ she said. ‘You’ll have to wait.’
And of course he would have to wait, because in these things women always got their way. They held all the cards. You couldn’t force them. He supposed that was how it should be but sometimes he thought it a little unfair.
At the table he watched her eat toast. Wholemeal now, always. She bought the bread from a bakery in Scalloway. She put lots of butter on and it had melted. Some had dripped on to her fingers and she licked them. At first she had been quite unselfconscious, then she saw him watching her. She smiled again and licked the fingers on her other hand very slowly. A game. Now he was quite content to wait until later before he took her to bed. She would play the game for him all day and the anticipation would be better than getting what he wanted straight away. The thought of that made him feel a little faint and he didn’t catch immediately what she was saying.
‘It seems wrong keeping that dead man in the hut for a whole day.’
‘The fog kept the police from Inverness from getting in.’ The evening before, he’d gone to the bar in Middleton and everyone was talking about it. He’d only stayed for one pint. The pleasure the people took in having a dead body close by seemed unnatural to him. If it was someone they knew they’d have behaved differently, but some people were even telling jokes.
‘I thought it was suicide. It seems a lot of fuss about a suicide.’
Kenny didn’t know what to say. He thought of the body swinging from the rafter. When he’d told Edith about the dead man she’d been so kind to him and had understood immediately what a shock it had been.
‘Oh my dear, you shouldn’t have had to see that.’
People died occasionally at the care centre. She said she’d never got used to it, but it seemed to him she took everything in her stride.
‘Aggie Watt came here yesterday,’ he said now. ‘She asked if the body could be Lawrence.’
‘It couldn’t be,’ Edith said. Then, ‘Or could it? Surely you’d have recognized your own brother.’
‘I’m pretty sure it’s not Lawrence, but I’d like to see the man again without the mask. I’ve been thinking about it.’ He’d lain awake a long time in the night, worrying about how Lawrence might have changed over the years, whether he might have made a terrible mistake. He’d thought Edith was awake, but he hadn’t told her about his fears, hadn’t felt able to tell her before about Aggie’s visit. He’d needed to sort out in his own mind what he thought before discussing it with her. ‘I wondered if I should ask that Fair Isle man, Jimmy Perez. Would they let me look at him again?’
She thought about it for a moment. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I think you should ask him. I don’t think for a moment it is Lawrence, but it might set your mind at rest.’
Kenny thought he would phone Perez. He wouldn’t wait until the policeman was back at the jetty. He didn’t want to see the dead man again there. Lying out in a mortuary somewhere, the mask taken from his face, that would be different. More dignified.
All morning while he was working in the field he caught glimpses of Edith. She’d done a pile of washing and once the fog lifted she came to hang it out on the line behind the house. He stopped for a moment and watched her, so deft, lifting the sheets from the basket, folding and stretching them and pinning them on the line. He waited for her to turn and wave to him, but she didn’t seem to notice he was there. When he went down for his coffee, she had just finished washing the kitchen floor. She was on her hands and knees on a folded towel, wiping the last corner with a cloth. He stood in the porch in his stockinged feet. Again she must have heard him come in, but she didn’t acknowledge his presence until she’d finished. Then she turned and smiled at him.
‘Just wait for a minute until it dries.’ She was still kneeling at his feet and had to tilt her head to look up at him.
‘Why don’t we walk down to the Herring House?’ he said. ‘Get one of Martin’s posh coffees there. He’ll surely be open now.’
‘I can’t go looking like this.’ But he could tell she was pleased by the suggestion.
‘Why not? You look lovely. You always look lovely.’
They walked down the track together, hand in hand. Kenny felt as if he was on holiday too. He took a quick look towards the jetty. There was a police car there and tape stretched right across the entrance, but nothing much seemed to be happening. He guessed that the police from Inverness hadn’t arrived yet.
The cafe at the Herring House let in all the light whatever time of day it was. Extra windows had been built into the wall facing the water.
There were more people there than you’d usually get on a weekday morning, and Kenny recognized some of them. A couple of elderly ladies from Middleton who’d taken a trip out in case there was anything to see. They turned out for any reported accident or disaster. A journalist from the
Martin Williamson came out from the kitchen to take their order. He had a light, almost dancing, way of walking that made Kenny think of a racehorse just before it went into the stalls. Kenny nodded at the other customers. ‘At least it’s good for business, then, having a dead body next door.’
Martin grinned. ‘Aye. I’ll not be sorry when they take it away though. It seems kind of weird, leaving it there all night. Mother’s in a right state about it. I don’t think she slept.’
‘I know she’s upset. She came to see me yesterday.’
‘You can’t blame her,’ Edith said. ‘When you think what happened to your father. It must bring it all back.’
‘Have you heard when the police from Inverness will get here?’ Kenny asked. He was thinking that Perez hadn’t phoned him back. When the dead man was taken away he’d have a chance to see him, then he’d know for certain that it couldn’t be Lawrence. The more he struggled to conjure his brother’s features in his head, the more they became blurred and slid away from him.
‘First plane out of Aberdeen,’ Martin said. ‘They’ll be in any time.’
Kenny asked for a cappuccino for Edith and a latte for himself. They always had the same when they came here. Because it seemed like a holiday he added a couple of pieces of cake to the order and Martin danced away.
They’d almost finished when Roddy Sinclair made an entrance. He stood at the door and heads turned. Everyone recognized him and there was a brief moment of silence before the conversation continued. He looked as if he’d just got out of his bed. His hair was tousled and he still seemed half asleep. Or maybe, Kenny thought, he’d been up all night. He didn’t find a table and wait for Martin to take his order, but walked towards the kitchen, leaned on the doorframe and shouted in.
‘Double espresso. Strong as you like.’ There were other people at the tables waiting to order, but nobody seemed to mind him jumping the queue. Typical Sinclair, Kenny thought. They’re arrogant, the lot of them. Across the tables, one of the Middleton old ladies smiled at the boy and gave him a little wave. Kenny thought that was typical too. Women would let the Sinclair boy get away with anything.
Roddy tilted his body away from the doorframe so he was standing upright.
‘Fantastic view from here,’ he said. ‘It always surprises me.’ He sauntered towards them. ‘Do you mind if I join you?’
‘We’ll be going soon,’ Kenny said, but the boy seemed not to hear and sat down anyway. Outside now there was strong sunshine. A sailing boat was on the water halfway to the horizon. Kenny tried to work out who might own it and decided it didn’t belong to anyone local.
Roddy leaned forward across the table. ‘I understand you were the one to find the body.’ His accent was just as strong as when he’d been a boy. Kenny wondered if he practised at night in his Glasgow flat, in the hotel rooms in exotic cities. It was his trademark. He nodded.
Martin carried across the coffee. Roddy nodded his thanks, but continued to look at Kenny, and waited till Martin had moved away before continuing the conversation.
‘You’re sure he was a stranger?’ he asked. ‘You’d never seen him before?’
Kenny allowed himself to be distracted a moment by the smell of the espresso. If it tasted as good as it smelled he could be converted too. He didn’t want to make a scene here in front of Edith, but he wanted to tell Roddy Sinclair to mind his own business. What right did he have to interrupt them here? Spoil the time he had with his wife?
