chance for family and friends to see what the group had been up to. We took over the hall in Sandwick and had a meal together afterwards to celebrate. I invited Bella along to give some feedback. It was a mistake. She wasn’t as tactful as she might have been.’
‘What happened?’
‘She took the pieces one by one and gave a critique of each. I thought she was unnecessarily harsh in her criticism. I’d expected her to give some pointers for improvement, to be encouraging. I didn’t think she’d lay into my students. I felt terrible afterwards.’
‘Did she have a go at anyone in particular?’
‘There was one piece. A watercolour. It wasn’t the sort of thing I’d do myself, but I actually rather liked it. It was a landscape. Delicate and detailed. For some reason Bella took against it. She said it was bland. “Sickly and disgusting”. The artist should just give up. She had no sense of artistic vision. No courage. It was quite an outburst. Terribly embarrassing.’
‘Who was the artist?’
‘A teacher from Middleton. Dawn Williamson.’ Fran saw Perez give a small flicker of interest. He paused for a moment. She thought he was wondering how much to say to her.
‘You know Dawn’s husband is Martin Williamson?’ he said at last.
‘The chef at the Herring House?’
‘Aye, they live in Biddista. Maybe a bit of a coincidence. Bella is Martin’s boss. Do you think there was something personal in her attack on the painting?’
‘There couldn’t have been. The paintings were unnamed. How would she know?’ But again Fran thought this was a place where people did know things. Word got out in a way that was almost like magic.
‘How did Dawn react to the criticism?’
‘She was obviously upset. Who wouldn’t have been in such humiliating circumstances? But she was very dignified. I mean she didn’t shout or threaten revenge. She went very red and thanked Bella for taking the time to look at the piece.’
‘So at that point Bella knew who’d painted it?’
‘Yes. Dawn made a point of standing up and saying it was her work.’
‘Did Bella seem surprised? Embarrassed because she’d been slagging off a neighbour, the wife of an employee?’
‘No. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. You know what Bella’s like. Suddenly she came over all grand-artist. She had another appointment. Her agent was coming up from London. She had to rush off. Perhaps that was to cover her awkwardness.’
‘When did this happen?’
‘About ten days ago.’
‘Have you had a class since?’
‘No, I put off this week’s because of the exhibition.’ Fran drank the wine slowly. Now they were sitting in shadow. She saw everything in soft focus. Like some cheesy photo for a women’s magazine, she thought. No hard edges here. Perhaps it was the drink. ‘I think Dawn’s quite fond of me,’ she said. ‘I mean, she knew how much the exhibition meant to me. More than it did to Bella. All my class did. I don’t think she would have ruined it for me, even if she’d wanted to get back at Bella.’
He didn’t respond and she wondered if he’d fallen asleep, sitting upright just where he was. Then he said abruptly, ‘Shall we go inside?’
‘I’m sorry. Are you cold?’
‘No. But we’re a bit public here. A night like this everyone will be out.’
‘They all know we’re friends.’
‘I thought,’ he said, ‘we were rather more than that.’
He took her glass from her hand and led her into the house.
He was very quiet and almost painfully restrained. It was quite different from the last time. Then they’d had the house to themselves and they’d both acted like irresponsible teenagers. Every now and then he would ask, ‘Is this all right? Are you sure you’re OK with this?’ They stayed in the kitchen, and she drew the curtains, although this time of year nobody drew curtains in a living room. Anyone driving past would see Perez’s car and know just what they were up to. She knew he was thinking about Cassie, but wished he wasn’t quite so thoughtful. He should have been thinking about her, be so caught up in the delight of her that rational thought was impossible. Besides, the sheepskins she threw on to the floor from the sofa and the back of the rocking chair weren’t as soft as they looked. The bed would have been so much more comfortable.
Yet afterwards she thought this was as good as she’d known. How strange that is, she thought. How we play tricks with our minds.
She poured herself more wine and watched him dress. She wanted to tell him what she was feeling but sensed he wouldn’t be one for post-match analysis. Perhaps he was suddenly aware of her looking at him because he stopped, one leg in his trousers, stooped and gave her a grin.
She wished she had a camera, but knew that the image would stay with her for ever.
It was eleven o’clock. She pulled back the curtains. There was still enough light to see colour and she could make out the line of the horizon and the shape of Raven Head. A huge container ship on its way south. She made more coffee, though her mind was already more alert than it had been all day. She felt as if she’d just woken up.
‘Do you think Dawn hired someone to spoil the exhibition for us? It seems so elaborate. Not like her at all. She’s a down-to-earth Yorkshirewoman.’
‘I don’t know.’ Now he seemed reluctant to talk about work.
‘And even if she did, what has that to do with the murder? Are you saying Bella found out what was going on, strangled the man and strung him up to teach him a lesson? It’s ridiculous.’
He said nothing.
‘Of course it could have been me,’ she teased. ‘If I’d found out what he’d done. This was my first major exhibition. I had more to lose than Bella did.’
There was a pause. She didn’t think he was going to reply.
‘Of course I know it wasn’t,’ he said lightly. ‘You’re the one person it couldn’t have been – I was with you all night.’ He went up to her and put his hands on her shoulders, pulled her towards him and kissed her forehead. ‘I’ll always remember that evening. Not for the murder – that was work and in time it’ll be an interesting case, nothing more – but because it was the first night I spent with you.’
He rinsed out his mug under the tap and set it carefully on the draining board. She stood at the door and watched him walk to his car. Soppy git, she thought. Then, So he
Chapter Nineteen
Perez arrived at the school in Middleton at eight-fifteen. He reckoned Dawn should already be there by then, but the kids wouldn’t have arrived. He didn’t want to talk to her in Biddista with Martin in attendance, though he wasn’t sure why. Perhaps because Martin would try to lighten the conversation, would shy away from any serious discussion. Perez knew the teacher by sight but he’d never spoken to her. She hadn’t been a part of the family when Martin’s father drowned.
The school was a low modern building, with a football pitch to one side and a playground to the other. It looked over a narrow inland loch. A bit of a breeze had blown up and the water was whipped into small waves. The children came from the houses scattered over the surrounding hill and from settlements as far as the coast. Like all the Shetland schools Middleton was well maintained and well equipped. The oil had brought problems to some communities but it had its benefits too. Shetland Islands Council had negotiated a good deal with the companies to bring the oil ashore and the income had been channelled into community projects.
There was already a line of cars parked in the yard and the main door was unlocked. No one was in the office and he wandered through to one of the classrooms. A young bearded man was writing on the board.
