White Nights - Ann Cleeves [106]
‘Do you think it is? He’s put on a little weight, if it’s him. I suppose it could be. The shape of the nose is the same.’
‘Are you sure you didn’t recognize him when he turned up to rent the house from you? He hasn’t changed that much.’
‘Don’t you think so? I certainly didn’t know him. I’ve already explained, I had no reason to want to remember that summer. Besides, there was no need to go back to the past. I had a future through Roddy.’
Fran thought that Bella had put too much on to the boy – the responsibility for all her happiness. ‘Is Jeremy Booth there?’
Bella swung the picture back. ‘It’s difficult to tell, isn’t it? I only saw him briefly at the Herring House the other night. Where is it? I wondered if this could be him.’
‘Where?’
‘Here. I thought the long face, rather narrow nose. He has more hair here, of course. It’s unfashionably long, even for the time. And he has a beard. Very much the bohemian.’
‘And you really don’t remember anything about him? Not even the name?’
‘I don’t think he can have been here for very long. Perhaps not more than a few days. That happened. People came for a while and then moved on. I spent quite a lot of my time in Glasgow, visiting lecturer at the art school. I’d get pissed at parties and invite people to stay.’
She leaned back in her chair with her eyes half closed. Fran thought she was reliving that summer in her mind.
‘I think perhaps he was the magician,’ she said. ‘He put on a magic show for Roddy, who was completely entranced. It seemed such a kind thing to do. I rather fancy he was my actor. He told me he was in love with me.’ As if this was of no consequence at all, a common occurrence. She paused. ‘He was given to practical jokes, I remember, and not always in good taste. The flyers cancelling the party would have been just his style. A way of getting his own back. But why wait all this time? Surely he didn’t come to Shetland just to upset me.’ There was a note of satisfaction in her voice. She liked the idea that she had haunted him for years.
‘Did anything happen that time they were all here at the Manse?’ Fran asked. ‘Something that could have triggered this violence so many years later?’
‘No,’ Bella said. ‘The night that photograph was taken was an anticlimax. We dressed up and ate dinner. The next morning I was left with a hangover and a pile of dirty dishes. No drama. Nothing.’
‘Can I have the photo to show Jimmy?’
‘Why not?’
She sounded very tired, as if nothing really mattered any more.
Chapter Thirty-six
Taylor had been at his desk since eight and was finding it impossible to concentrate. He’d been restless even as a child, could see now that he must have driven his father to distraction with his fidgeting and his demands for attention. His father had been a foreman in the docks and used to a bit of respect. Taylor hadn’t been prepared to make the effort.
Since the trip to the Wirral, he’d been thinking more about his family. He should have been in touch with them, at least let them know he was safe and well. Everyone thought Jeremy Booth had been a selfish bastard, walking out on his wife and baby. Maybe they were saying the same things about Roy Taylor. You’d have thought he could pick up the phone and let his mother know he wasn’t dead. This case had too many resonances with his own life. It seemed Lawrence Thomson had just walked out too. Because he was bored, or being pressured to take on the commitment of a wife and family. Perhaps he just needed the space to make his own decisions and live his own life.
Taylor left the building and went out into the street. He needed exercise and fresh air and a decent cup of coffee. Another huge cruise ship was sliding into the mouth of the harbour, blocking out the view of Bressay, dominating the town. Taylor thought cruising was like his idea of hell. Being shut up on a boat with a load of people whose company you hadn’t chosen, having to be pleasant to them, never