Cold Earth

Chapter Eight

Jane Hay let herself into the largest of the polytunnels and the familiar smell of compost and vegetation made her feel she was coming home. She’d met Kevin at college in Aberdeen; he’d been doing agriculture, but her subject was horticulture. On their first date he’d taken her hands in his and laughed at the ingrained soil under her thumbnail. Later he’d told her he knew then that she was the girl for him.

Her parents had grown soft fruit, and the plan had always been that she would join the family business once she’d graduated. Her father had been more addicted to drinking than horticulture, even before Jane started at college, and she’d seen herself in the role of saviour. She’d dreamed of returning home with the knowledge and the passion to take on the company and make it profitable again. But her father had died suddenly, when his liver gave up its unequal struggle with the booze, and her mother had sold up immediately without consulting Jane about her plans. That had been the start of Jane’s strange relationship with alcohol. It had covered up her sadness and made her fun to be with. Later it became her secret consolation.

Now she prepared the soil in the polytunnel and thought her father had at least given her this: the ability to work magic with seeds and earth, an understanding of what made things grow. She was planting early potatoes and carrots, for family use. When the rest of Shetland was still dark and grey, in her polythene world spring would have arrived. The boys had preferred frozen chips and baked beans when they were young, but she’d always felt a thrill when she put the first new potatoes on the table. It was warm in the strange plastic bubble and she took off her sweater. Outside, drizzle ran in streaks down the tunnel, clouding the polythene so that she had no sense of the outside world. And all the time she was thinking about the dark-haired woman who’d stayed in Tain.

She hadn’t been entirely honest when she’d spoken to Jimmy Perez that morning. It wasn’t that she’d lied. Lies had come easily to her when she’d been drinking. That was something all alcoholics had in common. They lied to their friends and their families and themselves. They lived in a strange fantasy world of obsession and escape. She tried to be honest these days, though sometimes it was hard with Kevin, who needed more reassurance than her sons did.

Of course I love you. I couldn’t live without you. Of course I’m happy with what we have.

Now she wondered if that was the truth. When the hill had slipped, fracturing their land and cutting it in two, it seemed that her image of herself as wife and mother had shattered too. She began to consider a parallel life away from the islands. How would she have ended up if she hadn’t met Kevin, if he hadn’t fallen wildly in love with a lass from Perth with soil under her thumbnail? She’d known from the beginning that there was no question of him staying in the Scottish mainland with her. He might love her, but not enough to give up the family croft. Would she have become an alcoholic if things had been different? She pushed that thought away quickly. There was nobody to blame for her drinking, not even her father, who’d been as much a victim of the illness as she had been. As she frequently told Rachel, alcoholism was a disease and not a lifestyle choice.

But although she hadn’t lied to Jimmy Perez, she hadn’t told him the whole story. That afternoon, when she’d hurried back from the shore in the dark and seen the woman in Tain, her silhouette against the light, there had been somebody else in the house with the stranger. Jane had seen a shadow on the wall behind the woman. Impossible to make out who was there and, besides, it had only been a glimpse. She could have been mistaken. But later, from her own kitchen window, she’d seen a torch light moving up the path between Tain and their house through the sycamores; and soon afterwards Kevin had come in, his hair damp from the drizzle, looking a little confused and strange.

‘Where have you been?’

‘Just to the shed,’ he’d said. ‘To check on the cows.’

But Tain was in quite the other direction from the cowshed, and who else would be walking up the path with a torch in his hand? The boys had been around, but they weren’t given to wandering about outside in the rain.

Now, straightening to fetch water from the butt outside, she couldn’t believe that she hadn’t demanded an explanation. But you’ve just walked up from Tain. I saw your torch. What were you doing with the dark-haired woman? She’d developed the habit of being passive and apologetic, she decided. Once she’d been passionate about all kind of things – not just her work. About books and music. She still talked about those with her friend Simon. Once she’d been passionate about Kevin. Now perhaps she just didn’t care enough to make a fuss.

When she finished planting she left the polycrub reluctantly. She’d arranged to meet Simon for lunch, and went into the house to shower and change. She had books to return to the library, so she went into town early. Standing at the counter in the converted church that was Lerwick library, she was aware that the talk all around her was of the results of the landslide. She learned that the road to the airport had opened, but there was still chaos because only one lane was clear and a big section was controlled by traffic lights. Flights were coming into Sumburgh again. She waved to people she knew, but didn’t stop to chat.

There was a new cafe right on the shore near the supermarket where she’d been tempted to stop for wine the night before. Simon Agnew was already sitting at a table near the window and she felt happier just seeing him; he could always make her laugh, and somehow he understood her in a way that her Shetland pals didn’t. They were unlikely friends. He was old enough to be her father, white-haired, lanky. Jane had worked out, from the things he’d let drop, that he must be in his late sixties at least, but he didn’t seem at all elderly. A life of sport, adventure and exploration had left him with no spare flesh at all. She thought he was all muscle and sinew and movement.

Even now, reading a book at the table, Simon couldn’t keep still. He stretched his legs into the aisle, ready to trip up any unsuspecting waitress. He didn’t wear specs and she wondered occasionally if his eyes were so blue because he wore contacts. He was vain enough. He looked up, saw Jane, waved and jumped to his feet. He had more energy than anyone else she knew. He’d moved to Shetland and into the old manse in Ravenswick when he’d retired from his work at a university in the south. Looking for peace, he’d said, though from the beginning there had been nothing peaceful about him. He was restless, still looking for excitement and new projects.

He’d blown into Ravenswick like a storm and stirred the settlement into action, bringing them together for meals at the manse, a book group, a community choir. He was into wild swimming and had them all out on the beach early one midsummer’s morning skinny-dipping for charity. Even Jimmy Perez’s Fran. They had found out more about him over time. He’d trained as a psychologist and worked in a busy hospital, before becoming an academic. His holidays were spent trekking to little known corners of the world. He still wrote books and his house was full of them. There’d been a wife, but he’d divorced years ago. ‘Can’t blame her, poor woman, I wasn’t at all what she needed.’ No kids, which was a shame because he was great with Andy and Michael. Even Kevin liked him and didn’t see Simon as any sort of threat. Because although Jane enjoyed Simon’s company immensely, she didn’t fancy him in the slightest and Kevin knew her well enough to see that.

Now Jane waved back and approached him, her face thrust forward and tilted up for the mandatory kiss on the cheek.

When did we all start kissing each other? She tried to remember when this form of greeting had become common. When she’d been young she’d only kissed her grandparents and her father, and him only when he’d been drunk and maudlin and had demanded a show of affection.

‘How’s it going?’ she asked. They had both sat down and were studying the menu. Jane suddenly felt very hungry. ‘The landslide must be a bit of a nightmare, with the manse so close to the slip. Were you OK the day it happened?’

‘I was at Magnus Tait’s funeral.’

‘Of course, Kevin said you were there when the landslide happened. Poor Magnus.’ Jane had never got to know Magnus, who’d always seemed strange and a little scary, but Simon had been a regular visitor and had been the person to call the ambulance the day Magnus had a stroke.

‘I think he would have rather enjoyed it,’ Simon said. ‘He had an odd sense of humour. The sight of us scrambling out of the way of the mud, falling over, would have appealed to him. He was never one to stand on his dignity.’ There was a moment of silence. ‘I need to ask your advice.’

Jane looked up, shocked. Simon sometimes gave advice, even if it hadn’t been asked for. He’d been trained for it, after all. She couldn’t remember him asking for it, though. ‘I’m not sure if I’ll be able to help. What is it?’

‘Did you hear that a woman was killed in the landslide?’

‘Of course,’ Jane said. ‘She was a kind of neighbour, I suppose.’

‘Did you know her?’ He looked at her sideways, waiting for an answer.

‘Not at all. I don’t think she can have been staying in the house for very long.’

‘I met her once,’ Simon said.

‘Where? Have you told the police?’ Jane thought that the dark woman from Tain was taking over her life. She felt almost as if she were being stalked. How ridiculous was that? It was impossible to be stalked by a dead woman.

‘No.’

‘You should,’ Jane said. ‘They haven’t got a name for her yet. I spoke to Jimmy Perez this morning.’ She paused. ‘How did you know her?’

There was another silence, which stretched. The young waiter came with their bill.

‘I didn’t know her. Not really.’ Simon looked out over the water. ‘But it was a very bizarre encounter.’

She could tell he was about to launch into one of his stories. ‘What do you mean? Did you visit her at Tain?’

‘No, nothing like that. I met her in Lerwick. And I’m not even sure that I should be talking about it.’

‘But of course you should!’ And Jane knew he wanted to talk about it. Simon loved gossip of all kinds. He said that he’d become a psychologist because it gave him a way of prying into other people’s lives.

‘You know we set up a counselling service for Shetlanders? A small charitable trust. Something outside the health service, which doesn’t always have the time or experience to do intensive work. Most of our focus is on families, but we do see individuals too, if that’s needed. Individuals in trouble.’

Jane nodded. ‘Befriending Shetland’ was one of Simon’s projects. A good cause, but sometimes she thought he’d only set it up out of boredom – that restlessness that always needed a challenge. He was still involved, though, still made the trek into Lerwick three times a week to run sessions.

‘We run a drop-in service one evening a week,’ Simon went on. ‘It’s usually me and a volunteer. Often nobody turns up and we just have a good gossip and drink tea.’ Another pause. ‘But that night I was on my own.’

‘And the dead woman came along?’

Simon nodded.

‘When was it?’ Jane was fascinated now.

‘Ten days ago.’

‘What did she want?’

‘I’m not sure I can tell you.’ He suddenly seemed serious. ‘It’s confidential. That’s the big promise we make to everyone who comes to us.’

‘But she’s dead!’ Jane must have spoken more loudly than she intended, because a woman at a far table stared at her. She lowered her voice. ‘Even if you don’t talk to me, you’ll have to tell the police.’

‘That’s why I wanted your advice. I suppose I knew what you’d say.’ Simon was staring out of the window. For the first time since she’d joined him in the cafe he was sitting quite still.

‘You need to talk to Jimmy Perez. He lives in Ravenswick with Fran Hunter’s daughter. You must know him.’

‘I’ve seen him outside the house, but I’ve never really talked to him. I called once after Fran died, but he made it clear he didn’t want my company or my help. Perhaps it was just too soon, but I didn’t want to go back after that.’

‘I’ll come with you, if you like,’ Jane said. ‘I know him and I haven’t got anything special on this afternoon.’ She looked at Simon, waiting for his response, and realized that she was holding her breath. She was desperate to go with him to the police station. She wanted to find out everything she could about the dark woman. If Kevin had been visiting her at Tain, this was more than simple curiosity about a dead stranger. She stood up. ‘Well, are you coming?’

Simon hesitated for just a moment longer and then stood up too. ‘I suppose,’ he said, ‘I haven’t really got any choice.’

Jane hadn’t expected to see Jimmy Perez, even though she’d mentioned his name to Simon. She’d thought there would be a junior officer to take statements. But when she explained to the constable on the desk why they were there, Jimmy himself came down to greet them and took them up to his office. He offered them coffee.

‘It was good to see you at Magnus’s funeral, Simon. I know he enjoyed your visits.’

‘A pity the burial itself was quite so dramatic.’

‘Magnus was always saying that folk were keeping too many sheep on the hill these days,’ Perez said. ‘I can imagine him chuckling and saying: You see, boys, I told you so.’

Simon smiled. ‘I was telling Jane that he had an odd sense of humour.’

Jane had wondered if she might be excluded from the conversation, asked to wait in a different room perhaps, but both Simon and Perez seemed to take it for granted that she would be there. Outside the sky was brightening a little and the gulls seemed very white against the grey sky.

‘So,’ Perez said, ‘tell me about your contact with the woman.’ He leaned back in his chair.

‘It was by phone first. The organization has an emergency number. We can’t man the line twenty-four hours – we’re not the Samaritans and we don’t have enough volunteers. If no one’s around there’s a recorded message, giving our opening hours, but if I’m there I answer the phone.’

‘What impression did you get from that first call?’ Perez paused. ‘I’m guessing you learn to assess people quickly in your business.’

‘She sounded quite calm,’ Simon said. ‘Not inebriated at all. Not manic. But there was a kind of quiet desperation in her voice. I suppose I felt that if she talked about taking her life, she might mean it.’

‘And did she talk about taking her life?’

‘I think her words were: I’ve come to the end. I can’t take any more.’

Jane remembered the woman she’d seen in the shop in Brae. She’d seemed calm, cheerful even. What had happened to change her life in the week since her contact with Simon? Had it been the man who’d collected her in the car? Had he made the difference to her? A voice in her head was screaming: At least it wasn’t Kevin. If it had been Kevin, you’d have recognized the car even in that weather.

‘And did she give you her name during that initial phone call?’ It was Perez again, as quiet and probing as a psychologist himself. ‘You said you told her yours.’

Simon didn’t answer at once. ‘She said her name was Alissandra. But I can’t remember when she told me. It could have been over the phone or when she came in later that evening.’

‘Alissandra? You’re sure.’ Perez seemed especially interested in that.

‘It was an unusual name,’ Simon said. ‘I thought it might be Greek. Of course it stuck in my memory.’

Perez gave a little nod. ‘So she asked if she could come in and talk to you. What did you say?’

‘That she was welcome to do that, but that I’d only be there until nine-thirty.’

‘What was the time of the first call?’ Perez looked up from his coffee.

‘Eight-fifteen. I don’t know why, but I always make a note. I told her where to find us, but I had the impression that she’d already checked out our address. It’s on the website.’

‘And what time did she arrive?’

‘Twenty minutes later.’ Simon shut his eyes briefly as if he was remembering the encounter. ‘We have a waiting area where we can meet people. A couple of easy chairs and a coffee table. On the drop-in evenings we take in a kettle to make tea and coffee. It’s less formal than using the offices, where we see people during the day.

Perez broke in with a question. ‘Is that usual? Someone phoning first on a drop-in night?’

‘It’s not unusual.’

‘I’m trying to picture it.’ Now it was Perez’s turn to close his eyes for a moment. ‘Do clients walk straight in from the pavement?’

‘There’s a buzzer on the door, after hours. I wasn’t expecting Alissandra to arrive so quickly and it made me jump rather. I hurried to let her in. Of course it was dark and raining and I didn’t want her to stand outside getting wetter than she already was.’

‘Once again, first impressions, please. If you wouldn’t mind.’

‘Honestly?’ Simon said. ‘That she was a very beautiful woman. When I let her in she was wearing a long coat. She took the coat off and shook it, and I saw her long dark hair and almost black eyes. When I saw the drawing you’ve been circulating I recognized her immediately. There was no doubt in my mind.’ There was a pause and he resumed his story of that night. ‘At first I didn’t think the person who walked in was the same woman who’d phoned. She seemed too confident and too controlled. Not in need of our help. But as she came further into the room she began to cry. Almost silently, you know, and then she gave a sob and held a handkerchief to her mouth as if the sound had been obscene and she needed to stop it happening again.’

‘What age would you say?’ Perez’s voice was very quiet and Jane, furthest away from him, struggled to make out the words.

‘Early forties. It was hard to tell.’

‘What did you do?’

‘Nothing at first. We both sat down and I waited for her to compose herself. There was a box of tissues on the table and I pushed it towards her. Eventually she started to speak.’ There was a silence in Jimmy Perez’s room. Jane supposed it was similar to the silence in the charity’s office as Simon waited for the woman to explain why she was so desperate. She thought Simon in work mode must be very different from the man she knew. That Simon was impatient and never waited for anyone. Now the psychologist continued, ‘First she apologized for being so emotional. She said she’d got into a mess and she could see no way out, apart from killing herself.’

‘What sort of mess?’

Simon shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, Jimmy, but she wasn’t very specific. There seemed to be a lot of guilt. She talked about being trapped and about being worried about her family. She kept saying it was all her fault. Then suddenly she was quite calm again, as she’d appeared to be on the phone and when I’d first opened the door to her. She stood up and put on her coat. She’d put it over a chair close to the radiator, and I remember seeing it steaming while we were talking. She said of course she wouldn’t kill herself. There were people who depended on her, people who loved her. She’d panicked for a while, that was all. Now she felt rather foolish for taking up my time. She shook my hand as if we’d been having a professional meeting and she left. I called after her that she should ring back if ever she wanted to talk again, if ever she felt that she couldn’t cope on her own, but she didn’t reply.’

There was silence and once more Jane could picture the scene in the charity’s office, the rain on the windowpane, the steam rising from the stylish coat, the box of tissues on the low table. Then the woman suddenly becoming quite controlled, almost dignified, and walking away into the night.

‘Is that how the woman appeared to you?’ Perez asked. ‘Like a professional woman? If you were to guess what work she did, what would you say?’

‘I suppose I assumed she was in the oil or gas business.’ Simon seemed surprised by the question. ‘Because of the way she spoke – her confidence once the tears were over. I imagined her heading up a team, having a certain responsibility.’

‘Alissandra’s a foreign name, as you say. Southern Mediterranean. Did she have an accent?’

Simon paused for a moment. His voice was upper-class English. Sometimes Jane teased him about it.

‘Perhaps there was a trace of an accent, but if she came from overseas, her English was very good.’

‘Did you arrange to meet again?’

There was a moment of silence.

‘No,’ Simon said. ‘I never expected to see her again.’