Red Bones - Ann Cleeves [100]
‘They were young,’ Andrew said. ‘Reckless. They thought they’d live for ever. And they were all pals together.’ He stumbled occasionally over a word, but he knew what he wanted to say.
‘Jerry was with them too. Mima’s Jerry.’
‘He was just a boy. More reckless than anyone, my father said.’
‘You’ve heard they found some old bones at Setter?’
This time the silence lasted so long that Sandy thought Andrew hadn’t heard him.
‘They don’t tell me things any more.’
‘The lass from the university found them.’
‘The one that died?’ This time the response was immediate and so sharp that Sandy was surprised. He hadn’t thought Hattie’s death had registered at all with his uncle.
‘She found a skull,’ he said. ‘At least my mother found it while she was working there as a volunteer. Then I believe it was the other one, Sophie, who found some bones.’
There was a pause. Andrew raised a mug of cold coffee to his mouth and slurped it.
‘My boss seems to think the bones could come from that time,’ Sandy said. ‘That they might belong to a Norwegian man. Did your father ever talk about that?’
Now Andrew turned towards Perez. ‘Why do you want to know? Why are you still here if the woman killed herself?’
‘Oh, you understand how it is,’ Perez said. ‘There are forms to fill in, boxes to tick.’
Andrew nodded, apparently reassured. ‘Fishing got that way too in the end.’
‘So did your father talk about the dead Norwegian?’
Another pause. Andrew seemed deep in thought. ‘He mentioned it.’ There was a brief grin, which reminded Sandy of how his uncle had been before the illness. The life and soul of any gathering, a teller of jokes, a dancer. He could fill a room with his laughter. He could drink more than any man on the island and still stay standing. ‘After a few drinks he’d talk about the war.’
‘What did he say?’
‘That he was shit-scared every time he went out to test a yoal. That maybe he owed his life to Jerry Wilson.’
Sandy had a sudden flash of intuition. It was something in Andrew’s voice. ‘Is that why he kept quiet about the dead Norwegian?’
Andrew looked up at him. ‘Has someone been talking?’ Again a reminder of the old Andrew, who had a fearsome temper when he was roused.
‘No.’ I’ve just learned a few skills from Perez. ‘Will you tell me what happened?’
‘How would I know? I wasn’t there.’
‘You’ll remember your father’s stories.’
‘Maybe they shouldn’t be told.’
‘Two people have died,’ Sandy said. ‘It has to stop. And folks will go on thinking Ronald shot Mima if we don’t find out what happened.’
‘They’ll soon forget.’
‘Will they?’ Sandy demanded. ‘Will his wife?’
Andrew sat in silence again for so long that Sandy thought Jackie would soon be back from the shop.
‘I only know what my father told me,’ Andrew said at last. ‘I can’t say if it’s true. I think it’s true but I can’t be sure.’
‘I understand that. Old stories. Who knows what to believe?’
‘They say that Jerry Wilson shot a Norwegian lad.’
‘I heard that. It was because he’d betrayed some Shetland boys to the Germans.
‘No,’ Andrew said. ‘That was the story they put about on the island when folks started asking questions. But that wasn’t what happened. Not according to my father.’ Throughout the conversation Andrew’s speech had become more fluent, but now he stopped.
‘So why was the Norwegian shot?’
‘Because he was Mima’s lover.’ There was a sudden pause. Andrew seemed surprised that he’d spoken the words. He continued in a rush. ‘And one day Jerry found them together. The Norwegian had come into Whalsay to try out one of the new yoals. He was stranded there because of the weather, or because there was a problem with a boat. I don’t know. My father never said that part. Just that Mima had been flirting with him all day and they ended up in bed in the Pier House. Jerry was out in the Lunna House to talk about future operations and he wasn’t expected back. Then he came back and he found them in bed together.’
‘But Jerry went on to marry her.’
‘He didn’t blame her. Not so much at least, though the marriage was never as fantastic as everyone