White Nights - Ann Cleeves [97]
‘No,’ Fran said. ‘She just came that one week with all sorts of novelty goods. She doesn’t live in Shetland. She was up visiting relatives for a few days. They let her have a stall because she was raising money for a children’s hospice. Her mother-in-law is the lady who knits the sweaters and she’ll give you the phone number if you ask. But she says she’d probably not be able to give you the names of the people who bought from her. Because she’s not from here, she wouldn’t be able to recognize them. One interesting thing though. The daughter-in-law lives in Yorkshire. So that might be where Booth bought it.’
‘How did you find all that out?’
‘I asked,’ Fran said. ‘Now I want a cup of tea. And home-made meringues.’
Chapter Thirty-three
Kenny postponed the clipping of the sheep until Monday. He couldn’t have done it on Saturday, just after he’d found Roddy’s body. He might not have thought much of the boy, but it was a matter of respect. Some things had to be done properly, whatever he made of the personalities involved. In the same way, it had been the right thing for Edith to spend Saturday at the Manse with Bella. She was grieving and couldn’t be left on her own the state she was in. Edith was the only person in Biddista to calm her. Aggie was frail and nervy herself and Dawn, though she was capable enough, came from outside and wouldn’t really understand what was needed.
He would have been able to get more of the boys out on Sunday to help, but he had a kind of superstition about working on Sundays. When he’d been growing up, nothing was done on the Lord’s day. The women wouldn’t have considered hanging washing on the lines and most of the preparation of the dinner was done the day before. Certainly there was no work outside on the croft. Kenny wasn’t religious himself, but he liked to keep the old traditions. If Willy had still lived in his house it would have upset him to see the line of men crossing the hill on a Sunday morning. He’d been a regular at the kirk in Middleton. One of the congregation would collect him each Sunday. Willy would be ready and waiting at the door, dressed in a suit which was quite shiny with wear. Kenny wondered if they still took him to the kirk from the sheltered housing. He hoped they did.
So there would be fewer men available to help on the hill on Monday; they all had their own work to go to. But if they missed a few sheep, he could go back later in the week and fetch them in. Edith had arranged to take the day’s leave from the care centre so she would be there to help. He was grateful for that. He knew she’d been saving as much holiday as possible to go south when their grandchild arrived.
Martin Williamson came along. He’d opened the Herring House on Saturday, because it was always so busy and he’d heard nothing from Bella to the contrary. But when she’d found out she’d been furious and had insisted on closing the gallery and the restaurant for the rest of the week. He said he didn’t mind as long as she continued to pay him and he’d be glad to help with the sheep. Kenny was surprised by his flippancy. He’d thought Martin and Roddy had been friends of a kind. But perhaps that was just the way he was, always making light of things. And there was a group of retired men, all from Unst, who still worked a bit of croft land as a hobby. They turned out for events like this and stood now outside the house, identical in their caps and boiler suits, talking about the old times, their dogs panting at their feet. Kenny could tell the men were happy to be there. It was such fine weather and they were glad to be useful.
Although he knew exactly what he planned to do when he got on to the hill – he had almost as much experience as them – he asked their opinion, and nodded seriously when they told him the best line to take. Edith came out of the house to join them. She was wearing overalls and boots and had her hair tied away from her face. She’d caught the sun in the last few weeks of good weather and there