White Nights - Ann Cleeves [92]
It was late afternoon on a Saturday. In Inverness Taylor hated the weekends when he wasn’t working. He didn’t know what to do with himself. He hadn’t made friends there; somehow he’d always known he wouldn’t be staying and that had made him keep people at arm’s length. Suddenly the exile in the highlands seemed pointless. What was the point of spiting his father, even though he was no longer alive?
He was so wrapped up in these thoughts that he arrived at the Manse without realizing. He rang the bell and heard the tinny ring inside. The door was opened by a woman he didn’t recognize. She was wiry, smartly dressed. His first thought was that she might be a housekeeper or cleaner, but that was dispelled by the calm air of authority when she spoke.
‘If you’re a reporter, Miss Sinclair isn’t speaking to anyone.’
Taylor thought the woman could be a member of Perez’s team, an officer he hadn’t yet met. He introduced himself and she invited him in. As if she were doing him a favour, not that he was there by right.
‘We haven’t met,’ she said. ‘I’m Edith Thomson. I thought Bella needed someone with her.’
‘Of course. A time like this she’ll need her friends.’
Edith looked at him thoughtfully. ‘We’re not exactly friends. But I couldn’t leave her alone at a time like this. I was imagining how I’d feel if I’d lost one of my children.’
‘He was her nephew,’ Taylor said. ‘Not quite the same.’
‘It felt the same to her.’
‘Your husband found the body. Both bodies.’
She looked at him. Through him. Decided to ignore the challenge under the words. ‘I know. It’ll haunt him for ever. He’s already having nightmares.’
‘Can I speak to Miss Sinclair?’
She shrugged. ‘You can try. She’s been drinking.’
They went into a room Taylor hadn’t seen before. A rather grand living room at the front of the house with a view over the water. The windows were long, with folded shutters in the French style. The furniture was old and a little shabby. Bella was half sitting, half lying on a chaise-longue. There was a small table with a glass and a bottle beside her. She was drinking whisky.
When she saw Taylor, she half stood, an attempt at the old charm, then fell back on to the seat.
‘Inspector.’
‘Would you like me to leave you alone?’ Edith asked.
‘No, stay.’ Bella made an extravagant gesture with her arm. ‘Please stay. Edith and I have known each other for years, haven’t we? Do you remember when you first came to Biddista? Weren’t we all pals, the six of us?’
‘Six of you?’ Taylor was still finding it hard to come to grips with the relationships within the place. I should write it all down, he thought. Make a chart. The sort of list Wilding had on his desk for all his characters.
‘My brother Alec, Aggie Watt, Kenny and Edith and Lawrence and me.’
Taylor turned to Edith. ‘Who’s Lawrence?’ The name was familiar but he couldn’t place it.
‘He’s Kenny’s brother. He left Shetland years ago. We’ve lost touch.’
‘Of course. I should have remembered. Your husband thought he might be the man who was hanged. Why did he leave Shetland? Some sort of family feud?’
‘No,’ she said awkwardly. ‘Nothing like that.’
‘They think it was my fault that Lawrence left.’ It was Bella, talking too loudly, as if she were giving a performance. ‘They think he was madly in love with me and I spurned him and he was so heartbroken that he ran away.’
‘Well?’ Edith asked. ‘Wasn’t it a little like that? Kenny could never understand why Lawrence left like that, so suddenly. He still misses him. When the phone rings he thinks it could be his brother. He doesn’t say anything, but I can tell what he’s thinking.’
Taylor had a picture of Kenny Thomson standing in the mortuary, his relief when he discovered the body looked nothing like his brother.
‘No,’ Bella said. ‘It wasn’t like that at all.’
‘So tell us,’ Taylor said. ‘What was it like?’
‘I loved Lawrence. If he’d asked me to marry him, I’d have accepted. I had my wedding