Red Bones - Ann Cleeves [18]
Now he was grateful that Perez had been so gentle with Ronald. Sandy had always got on well with Ronald, even though they were different. Sandy had never been one for schoolwork. He considered Ronald to be his best friend; when he finally took the plunge and decided to get married, he’d ask Ronald to be his best man. Jackie and Evelyn had never been friends. There’d always been the grit of envy and competition, and while Joseph and Andrew had been more civilized, Sandy had sensed a tension there too. Perhaps he and Ronald had become so close partly because their parents disapproved.
Perez hadn’t said anything after they’d left the Clouston house, except that he’d wished he’d thought to bring his wellies because the grass was so wet. He could go half an hour at a time without saying a word, and that really spooked Sandy. He liked chat, even as background noise, always had the radio or the telly on if he was on his own in his flat.
They were back standing by the car. ‘Where now?’ he asked, thinking if he didn’t move them on they could be here all day with Perez staring out towards the shore.
‘I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Anywhere we could get a decent breakfast?’
‘There are no cafes on the island, but my mother does a good fry-up.’ As soon as he’d spoken, Sandy knew this was probably a mistake. Evelyn was an embarrassment. She’d be telling the inspector stories from his childhood, bringing out the photographs of him with the chickenpox, asking how soon Sandy could think about putting in for promotion, telling him about Michael’s new job in Edinburgh. She could talk for Shetland, mostly about her sons. But it was too late to take back the offer; Perez had already got into the car and started the engine. The inspector leaned forward and wiped the condensation from the windscreen with a dirty handkerchief.
‘Sounds just the thing. Which way are we going?’
They drove down the road past Setter and along the loch where the divers would breed later in the year, then came to the field with the pig arcs and the four russet-coloured pigs. Of all the beasts on the croft Sandy liked the pigs best. His mother must have heard the car coming down the track because she had the door open and was standing there waiting for them. Utra was the biggest croft in Lindby, because it included most of the Setter land now. Sandy’s father had extended the house over the years, bullied by Evelyn, who’d wanted separate rooms for her sons, a decent-sized bathroom. Money had been tight in those days. Joseph Wilson hadn’t worked on the boats, had never made as much money as the fishermen. Evelyn had never said but Sandy thought it must have been hard for her, watching the other women with their smart clothes bought on the trips to Bergen or Aberdeen.
‘Come in,’ she said, as soon as they got out of the car. ‘You’ll need to get warm and you’ll be ready for something to eat. The kettle’s just boiled. What a terrible thing! I couldn’t believe it when Sandy told me. Poor Jackie. I don’t know how she’ll stand the shame of it.’
Sandy hoped Perez hadn’t picked up the unpleasant note of satisfaction in her voice. Sandy knew what Evelyn was thinking. Her son’s fancy education and all that money he’s making will be no use to him now. Standing back to avoid her embrace, he saw that the drizzle had stopped and the sky was lightening a little. Perhaps the weather would clear soon. Then he thought that of course Perez would know just what his mother was thinking. He could pry inside people’s heads like a mind reader or a magician.
Inside the house, he saw his mother through Perez’s eyes: little, round, short hair that she trimmed herself if she couldn’t get into Lerwick, dressed today in her best hand-knitted sweater because she was expecting guests. Enough energy to power Shetland Hydro. She’d already warmed the pot and made the tea and she was still talking. But