Raven Black (33 page)

'You must be joking.' Fran had a nightmare vision of Duncan's Up Helly Aa from a small child's perspective.

She imagined Cassie abandoned on the beach looking up at the towering strangers around her while Duncan was playing with his mates. The flames would throw odd shadows on to their faces. Cassie already dreamt enough about monsters. 'She'd be terrified. And you'd be too drunk to look after her properly.'

His face paled and he blinked violently as if he'd been slapped. She stepped away, expecting an angry outburst, but when he spoke it was almost in a whisper. 'Do you really think that badly of me?'

Then he turned and walked away without a word, not even calling in to Cassie to say goodbye. Fran watched him go with a stab of guilt. Perhaps she'd misjudged him. Should she call him back and tell him Cassie could go with him if he promised to take care of her? But then he'd always found ways to manipulate her. Perhaps guilt was just the response he'd been working for.

He must already have promised Cassie she'd be spending Up Helly Aa with him, because back in the house that was all she could talk about. He'd have talked it up. He had a knack of conjuring magic with his words. When Fran made it clear the trip wasn't going to happen Cassie had a major tantrum. She threw herself on to her bed, sobbing, gasping for breath, scaring Fran into thinking she was having some sort of seizure. There were words too, tangled, pushed out hysterically between the sobs.
[I’ll never be able
to
go
to
school again. Everyone else
is
going
to
Up
Helly Aa. We painted the galley. Jamie's uncle
is
in the Guizer Jarl's squad. What shall I
tell them? What will they
think?

The hair around her face was matted with tears. Fran stroked it from her cheeks and her forehead. 'We'll go into Lerwick,' she said. 'We'll look at the procession and see the boat being burned. That's the real Up Helly Aa. More exciting than a bonfire on the beach at the Haa!

The crying stopped abruptly. There were a couple of dramatic shudders. Fran found herself wondering if a skill to manipulate was carried in the genes, transferred of course through the paternal line.

It seemed Euan Ross had been thinking about Up Helly Aa too. The next day Fran called in on him after she had dropped Cassie at school. He made her coffee and took her into the living room with its huge pointed window looking over the bay.

'According to the police Catherine hadn't finished her film. She'd asked for an extension so she could include the fire festival. It would fit with the theme, wouldn't it?'

Fran saw that he had thought of nothing else since he'd found the notebook and the storyboard. Ideas about his daughter's death were fizzing in his brain, stopping him sleeping or eating, driving him slowly crazy. He'd stuck the plan on the kitchen wall and while he was making the coffee he couldn't take his eyes off it. She was about to ask if he'd seen a doctor, but he started talking again.

'I knew Catherine had been to the library to research the history of Up Helly Aa. She was very scathing about it.

All men, of course, in the squads, which must have seemed impossible today to an independent young woman. The festival started off, it seems, as some sort of game. In the eighteenth century they rolled burning barrels of tar through the streets of Lerwick to celebrate midwinter. It sounds remarkably dangerous. Catherine would have been there tomorrow. We discussed it, though I didn't realize it had anything to do with her film.

She would have been more interested, I suspect, in the ridiculous incidents surrounding the event than in the spectacle itself: He seemed caught up again in his own thoughts, then turned from the window to look at Fran. 'I'll probably go into Lerwick tomorrow night. I told Catherine I'd be there. It was one of the last conversations we had.

It must sound foolish but I feel as if I made some sort of commitment. It wouldn't have mattered to her either way, but I said that I'd be there so I think I should!

'You're welcome to come with us. I've promised Cassie I'll take her. The other kids at school are so excited about it she'd feel left out if she wasn't there!

'No,' he said slowly. 'That's very kind but I don't think I'd be good company!

There was an awkward silence. She thought he was in a mood when he'd prefer to be alone, but she didn't think it would be good for him to be left with his obsession. Besides, she still had half a mug of coffee left and wasn't sure how she could leave without embarrassing them both.

'What are your plans?' she asked at last. 'For the future I mean. Will you stay here? Or will you sell up and move south?'

'I can't think that far ahead! His attention seemed caught by a small boat crossing the bay and she saw he couldn't think of anything else at the moment. He could only focus on prising meanings from his daughter's writings which might explain her death.

'Do you think Inspector Perez is an intelligent man?' he asked suddenly.

She considered for a moment. 'I think I'd trust him to get things right. He seems to have an open mind at least!

'I showed him all the information we discovered about Catherine's film. The receipt and the jotter. The plan. He has everything. I only have copies!

She saw how hard it must have been for him to relinquish the scraps of paper.

'Fire and
Ice,' he went on. 'I hope the detective picked up its full significance. I tried to explain. . !

She didn't know what to say. How could she speak for Perez? Anyway she wasn't sure she understood entirely what Catherine had wanted to achieve with the film. It probably had no significance at all. Ross was constructing an elaborate theory from a poem and a piece of homework.

He continued, almost to himself. 'There was ice the night Catherine was killed of course. Ice. Cold hatred.

Destructive. And tomorrow night is the fire festival. Fire for passion. . ! She waited for him to go on, but he seemed to realize he was rambling. 'Probably nothing: he said. 'Nothing sinister at all. An excuse for men to dress up in silly costumes and show off. And then drink too much!

When she said she would show herself out, she wasn’t sure whether or not he had heard her.

It was Monday morning and Sally woke up in the dark, switched on the bedside light, felt for her alarm clock and looked at the time. From the kitchen she heard her mother, the shutting of a cupboard door, the rattle of a spoon in a mug. Her mother seemed to get up earlier every morning, though there was nothing more for her to do.

Preparation for school was completed every night before bedtime - the pile of orange exercise books marked and neatly arranged. Why couldn't she chill occasionally? Sometimes Sally even felt sorry for her. She had no friends after all. Only the parents who were frightened of her.

In the bathroom Sally looked at herself in the mirror over the sink. Smiled. The zit on the side of her nose had gone. Monday morning and she felt OK. The stomach cramps, the migraine, the panic of the old days had gone.

Now she almost looked forward to going to school and meeting everyone. She stood in the shower and tilted back her head so she could wash her hair.

Over breakfast her mother seemed distracted. She'd allowed the porridge to stick to the pan and there was no bread left in the freezer for toast. Sally poured muesli into a bowl, added milk, dreamed of Up Helly Aa. It would be a great night for Robert, supporting his father as the Guizer Jarl, following him in the procession through the streets of Lerwick and around the community halls. She should be with him.

Of course she'd be in town for the procession and the burning of the galley. That wasn't a problem. Her parents had taken her into Lerwick to see the spectacle since she was a baby. But as soon as the fire died down they would want her to leave town and go home with them. 'Tomorrow night there was no way she'd be back in Ravenswick, tucked up in bed in the school house by ten o'clock. No way.

'I'm babysitting for Mrs Hunter again tonight!

'Oh?' Margaret was at the sink, scrubbing the burnt pan. Her bare elbows looked red and bony like uncooked chicken thighs. Sally wasn't even sure her mother had taken in the words. Radio Shetland was on in the background.

An excited voice, male but high-pitched, was giving the weather forecast for the following night.

'She asked if I could stop in straight from school, give Cassie her tea while she gets ready to go out. She'll leave me something to eat. Is that OK with you?' 'I don't see why not!

It was unexpectedly easy. There were no questions, no sarcastic comments about Fran's parenting skills. It crossed Sally's mind that there might be something wrong with her mother. The menopause maybe. When did that happen? Was her mother the right age? She didn't dwell on the possibility for long. She had other things to think about. Although it was early for the bus she left the house before her mother could change her mind.

First lesson was English with Mr Scott. They were still doing
Macbeth,
reading it out loud in class, everyone taking a different character. Since Catherine's death, Sally had found lessons easier too. Teachers had been more patient, more ready to explain. They'd noticed her. She talked less, thought more carefully about what she had to say. That was because she wasn't so nervous.

They'd had to write an essay for Mr Scott about Lady Macbeth and her relationship with her husband.

Last term she'd have been a wreck waiting for it to be handed back, gabbing away about nothing to whoever would listen to her, just so she wouldn't think about what he would say. Now there was just a sort of curiosity about what the teacher had made of it. It wasn't as if he'd lay into her about it even if it was crap. Scott wasn't so bad, she thought. Not sexy like Robert, but gentle, sensitive. Catherine had been hard on him.

Now he sat on her table, just as he'd used to sit on Catherine's. His hand, rested flat on the wood supporting himself, was very close to hers. He was wearing the old man's jacket and she could smell the wool. 'An excellent piece of writing, Sally. Some very interesting points. You really seem to have found your voice this term. Perhaps I can recommend some extra reading!

Beside her she knew that Lisa was smirking.

They'd all take the piss at break in the house room, but she couldn't help being flattered.

'Thank you, Mr Scott

That'd be great!

All day the school felt different, like they were small kids again in the build-up to Christmas. That slightly manic air. Everyone with too much energy and not being able to concentrate. It was all about Up Helly Aa. The sixth years mocked the whole thing, but even in their house room there was a suppressed excitement, a collective silliness. At lunchtime they had a go at her as she'd expected. 'Scottie really fancies you,' Lisa said. 'You can tell!

Then someone said. 'You want to watch it. He really fancied Catherine and look what happened to her! And the room went quiet for a moment until James Sinclair threw the remains of his sandwich at Simon Fletcher and chaos broke out again.

Sally didn't have a lesson last thing and walked into town, to the hall where they were putting the final touches to the galley. Robert was already there. He looked as if he'd been there all day. He had splashes of varnish in his hair. Although they had arranged to meet, he seemed briefly shocked to see her and she wondered what was the matter with the people she knew at the moment - her mother, Robert, even her father. They all seemed wrapped up in their own dreams or preoccupations so the demands of everyday life seemed to come as a surprise.

She thought the galley looked stunning. It was enormous and the dragon's head at the prow reared up over her, its flared painted nostrils and fiery eyes somehow hypnotic, pulling her attention. Robert grinned. He took a horned helmet from a shelf beside him and put it on, then held the shield across his breast.

'Well? What do you think? My dad gets back later. I want everything perfect for him!

She thought he was like a little boy showing off. A picture of Mr Scott reading Shakespeare to them came into her head and she wondered in a fleeting, disloyal moment if perhaps Robert wasn't the right person for her after all.

Then she saw how magnificent he looked, with his blond beard and blond hair. How could Scott compete with that?

He held the shield high above his head and she thought how strong he was. He'd be able to lift her aloft just as easily, snap her wrist with one of his hands.

'I'm babysitting again tonight. Will you be able to make it? I told you. Remember?'

She saw from the moment of confusion on his face that he'd forgotten all about it.

'I'm not sure: he said, keeping his voice low.

'There's a last-minute meeting of the squad. The official photograph. My dad will need me. He trusted me to look after things while he was away. But we can be together tomorrow. I've got you a ticket for one of the halls. But tonight? You know how it is. I have to be there!

No, she thought. I don't know how it is.

'Please! She reached up and touched his face, then kissed him quickly on the mouth, pushing the point of her tongue between his lips. She saw him look over her shoulder at the two men working on the galley. They were crouched in the hull fitting the base of the mast into its casing and didn't see. What does it matter to him? she thought. I have my parents to worry about, but he's an adult, free. Why does he want to keep this secret?

'I'll try to get there later,' he said. She couldn't tell if he'd really try or if he would have promised anything then to get rid of her.