Cold Earth

Chapter Thirty-Two

It hadn’t been the best fellowship meeting. Rachel had turned up drunk and Jane had sat with her while the others spoke, and afterwards Jane had checked that Rachel wasn’t driving and had seen her home. She knew better than to think of the woman’s lapse as her own failure, but she was sad for her. More selfishly, she knew there would be more late-night phone calls, more self-pity and floods of remorse. Jane’s sponsor had seen her through her own recovery, but there was so much stress at home now that she wasn’t sure she could stand more disruption within the family. When she got into the house she turned her phone to silent. Rachel would probably sleep tonight anyway.

Kevin was waiting for her. ‘You’re late. I was starting to get worried.’

‘I had to give someone a lift home.’ She switched on the kettle. ‘Would you like tea? Coffee?’ She hated these brittle conversations when nothing was really said.

‘Jimmy Perez was here earlier.’

‘What did he want?’ She hovered with her hand reaching for her mug. Frozen with a kind of fear. She knew Kevin was involved in some way with the dead woman. The certainty came almost as a relief. She wasn’t making things up or going mad. But even if Kevin was a killer, she didn’t want him caught. She wanted the whole affair to be over and for Jimmy Perez to leave them on their own to work out their marriage.

‘Just some questions about Tom Rogerson. They’d found a couple of payments I’d made to him. I’ve been through the files. They must have been when he bought that piece of land out towards the school for us.’

She felt a moment of relief. Kevin was always buying parcels of land. Andy sometimes joked that he wouldn’t stop until he’d bought up the whole of Shetland mainland. It was the woman from Tain, the actress from London, who most risked their stability, even now she was dead; not business deals with Tom Rogerson. It occurred to her suddenly that she would have killed the woman herself to save Kevin and the boys.

‘Jimmy told me it was nothing official,’ Kevin said. ‘He was just tying up loose ends.’ But he didn’t look at her and she wasn’t reassured by the words.

She put a camomile teabag into a mug and poured on the water. The last thing she needed tonight was caffeine. ‘How are the boys?’

‘Michael’s up in his room. He came down a while ago for something to eat. He’s doing school work, he says. More likely sitting in front of that computer of his and watching rubbish.’

‘He spends too long in front of the screen. I wonder what he’s looking at. You hear such dreadful stories. Maybe we should keep a closer eye.’ It was a conversation they’d had before. Kevin thought she was fussing about nothing. Michael was almost a man. Settled and almost married. What did it matter what he accessed on the computer? Occasionally Jane had wandered into the office and Kevin had quickly switched off the screen, so she wondered if her husband was watching the same sort of material. Now he didn’t bother answering.

‘What about Andy?’ She’d seen his car in the yard and had thought with relief that he must be home. One less thing to worry about. The last few days all I’ve done is worry.

‘He hasn’t been here all day. I thought he must still be at work.’

‘His shift finished at five and his car’s here.’ The worm of anxiety, so familiar, was already burrowing into her brain. ‘Did you see him come back?’

Kevin shrugged as if he had more important things to worry about. ‘Maybe he didn’t take the car this morning. If he was meeting up with friends for a couple of pints after work, perhaps he decided to go up on the bus.’

She thought Kevin was right. She couldn’t remember if the car had been in the yard all day or not. It wasn’t late yet and Andy was probably in town. She phoned him all the same, though she wasn’t surprised when there was no reply. When she went to bed he still wasn’t home, but it was as if she’d lost her capacity to continue worrying. There’d been so much anxiety that her brain couldn’t take any more. She fell immediately into a deep sleep.

She woke suddenly when it was still quite dark. There was no moonlight and she knew immediately that the weather had changed again. It was as if a switch had been flicked and they were back in winter. Wind rattled through the house, battering at the windows and howling down the chimneys. No rain yet, but she could tell by the sound that the gale was north-westerly, and she knew that it would soon come. Kevin was lying beside her, still fast asleep. She looked at the radio by her bed. Nearly six o’clock. Not too early to get up and make tea.

This was a solid and well-built house, but the wind must have found its way through small cracks because she could feel the draught eddying around her ankles as she made her way downstairs. She refused to wonder if Andy was home. Much better to believe that he was still in Lerwick, having crashed at a friend’s flat. That way she wouldn’t be disappointed. Much better to make a cup of tea, sit in the warmth of the Aga and plan the small routines of the day. That way she could keep the panic at bay.

When she reached the ground floor there was a chill and the breeze was even fiercer. Sometimes a north-westerly wind blew out the Aga and she thought that must have happened again. It would be a nuisance to relight it and she thought she could do without the bother. Then she realized that the door to the yard was open. They never locked it, but the catch was strong and it had never blown open before. She shut it firmly and went into the kitchen. Andy was sitting at the table. His arms were crossed in front of him and his head was resting on them. She couldn’t tell if he was dead or just sleeping and for a moment she couldn’t move. Then he lifted his head and with unfocused eyes stared towards her.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m so sorry.’