I looked down at Spear. Sweat was blistering on his forehead. I held his hand and felt him weakly squeeze my fingers.
‘It’s OK. Just don’t move,’ I whispered.
Spear coughed and the sound rattled in his throat. He looked at the knife sticking from the side of his chest and closed his eyes. ‘We can’t take that out.’ He raised his hand to the knife, his fingers circling the area where it had punctured his clothes and skin. The cough bubbled up again. ‘You met with Nell?’ he said quietly but Kemp heard him. He squeezed his lips together and his face gathered as if he was in some way conflicted. His head dropped over to the side and he looked straight at Kemp.
Pain was etched deep in Spear’s eyes now. The breath ruckled in his throat as if his chest was filling with the sea.
‘Mate, mate, she only told me the night before you sailed.’ There was a strange desperation in Kemp’s voice now, a guilt. ‘She said she knew this was her last trip. She wouldn’t be coming back here again so she had something she wanted to tell me.’
Spear coughed again. His breathing was becoming more difficult.
‘Spear, when she left here, eighteen years ago, when she left me for you, she was . . .’ He paused and a conflicted look came over him. ‘Spear, all those years ago, when she left here . . . Mate, Nell was pregnant.’
The space between Spear’s eyebrows bunched tight.
‘I didn’t know. I swear,’ Kemp said. ‘It’s why she didn’t come to find you for nine months after she left. When we met in the Anchorage the other night, she told me that she had had the child quietly, with relatives and left him there in their care on a small island.’
‘Grimsay.’
Slowly, we all looked at the boy. He’d stopped laughing and was lying very still, Kemp holding his shoulders, Aunt Charlotte still with her knee to him. His black hair was plastered against his head.
‘Quite a fitting name for that place. There was nowhere more grim.’ The boy’s face twisted into a sneer. His low, soft voice had a strong Scottish accent. But there was menace in it. A deep bitterness.
‘You knew.’ Spear mouthed.
‘What?’ Kemp’s mouth fell open. ‘I . . . I knew nothing about him — this lad. Nell said nothing else, I swear. I’ve never seen him in my life before.’
‘Oh,’ Nate smirked, ‘but that’s not true, is it?’
Kemp paused for a moment and then realization seemed to spread across his face. ‘Oh God, I remember you.’
Kemp turned to look at Spear and then round all of us. He sighed. ‘I only know that this lad came up to me that night after I’d finished talking to Nell in the Anchorage. He asked if I sailed with Nell and I told him no. He seemed quite friendly. A little nervy but nothing else.’ Kemp’s head dropped. ‘I told him The Terror was the boat he wanted and to go see Bottlenose and you, Spear. I had no idea he’d overheard our conversation.’
Nate laughed. ‘I heard more than enough, you foolish man. So had Bottlenose, which was sad for him.’ He laughed again. ‘He was in that night and I went back in the bar and asked him if I could come aboard. The drunk old bastard, he’d heard your conversation, I’m sure of it. When he told the coffin boy story, I knew he was onto me and then when he put the bloody coin on me . . . well. It wouldn’t have taken him long to work it all out. Should have kept his mouth shut. The pissed old bastard deserved to die.
‘And so do you—’ He nodded towards Spear — ‘I tried in the house but the birds got in the way. Mummy dearest had been easy to kill. I thought I’d need your knife, stole it on the ship but it dropped out of my pocket on the beach and Crazy Woman over there picked it up.’
Nate’s tongue passed over his teeth. ‘I couldn’t believe it! Mummy was so easy to push under, gasping and flailing.’ He smiled. Mother glanced at me. ‘But then I realized I could kill two parents with one stone if I was a dead man. I would have the freedom of a ghost to roam around, in and out of the house, through the windows. I used the bothy as a base then haunted you bastards whenever I could.’ The lad squirmed, trying to escape.
‘You’re the witch lights aren’t you?’ I said slowly.
He sneered at me.
‘You’re the whistling man too?’
He nodded once and began whistling the sea shanty I’d heard so many times. Then he stopped. ‘It was quite fun watching you clowns stumbling around, imagining witches and ghosts jumping out every minute. I’d gone to the house first but then you lot turned up. I had to make a run for it, but Spear came in the room disturbing all them birds. I enjoyed smacking you one over the head. After all, if it weren’t for you I’d have had a chance at a decent life.’
‘I heard you,’ I said softly. ‘Whistling.’
He laughed. ‘I had to think fast if I was going to kill Daddy-o as well as Mummy. I tied my belt really tight around my wrist and rolled around, dead like in the sea. I almost froze to death! I slipped off the belt before you got to me but there’d been no need, you didn’t even check properly that I was dead!’
Aunt Charlotte pushed her knee harder into him. ‘You little bastard.’
‘Then I was truly free! I could come and go as I pleased, getting rid of the people who stood in my way.’ His face turned bitter. ‘Angel knew I was alive, I could tell. He looked at me so strangely. I even heard him saying my boots were warm. So he had to go. And it felt good to kill some dick who’d been banging my mother. Silly Mummy had even told me just how to do it with one of her own so-called love tokens. She didn’t know anything about love. I heard them cooing over each other on the boat talking about the bracelet. I just had to drop a few of those beads into his mouth and—’ he clicked his fingers — ‘dead,’ he said.
Aunt Charlotte frowned. ‘Mr Spear, I don’t—’
Spear coughed again. ‘Let him speak.’
Nate continued, slowly, savouring every word. ‘I want you to know it all before you die, Spear, you bastard.
‘Not a chance!’ Aunt Charlotte pushed down.
‘It’s OK. Let him,’ Spear spluttered. ‘I need to know who she was.’
‘Bottlenose was easier . . .’ Nate said it wistfully as if he was enjoying the memory. ‘I knew Crazy over there—’ he glanced towards Jess — ‘had the knife. I’d heard all that little display about the boots, which caused Angel’s death. I climbed in through a window, stole into Jess’s room and got the knife. Bottlenose was pissed and so in goes my sweet knife without any trouble or struggling. Even got my own boots back on the way out! I could chuck that sad man’s massively uncomfortable ones back into the chapel and no one would be any the wiser.’
Spear groaned again and gripped my hand.
‘And now you’re on your way too. I’m done. So, there you are. She dumped me in hell, abandoned me so she could go round the world having fun — with him. They got what they deserved.’
‘You’re evil,’ Bridget said firmly and pulled Mr Bojingles closer.
‘Oh, am I? Have you any idea what it’s like to live in these islands in the middle of nowhere, with no one but a pair of old bastards who don’t even want you? Minute they were gone . . .’ He paused to smile again. ‘I went through their stuff. Searching their dirty little house. I knew what I needed. And I found it — a birth certificate, my birth certificate. And her name glaring back at me was right there, under the roof I’d slept beneath all of my life.
‘She was easy to find online — a woman like that — all Insta-pretty and social-media-obsessed. “Here’s me looking wistfully into a sunset while my baby rots.” “This one is me being beautiful and ignorant of the life I abandoned.” And then I saw it. “Here’s me about to revisit the town of my past.” Coming home, she posted. I didn’t comment “for some home truths”. I just set off. Back to Leverburgh. It was the only place I knew to go. Imagine my thrill when I heard that woman from Instagram, slightly older, slightly less filtered, telling her tale of dumping a baby on Grimsay eighteen years ago. There I was staring at Mummy and she didn’t even know me.
&
nbsp; ‘She was a cold beast flirting with Angel on that boat. She disgusted me.’ He flicked his head to the side and looked straight at Spear. ‘And now, Daddy, your death completes it.’
‘You’re not mine. You can’t be. I . . .’
‘What are you talking about?’ Kemp cut in. He looked down into Nate’s face. ‘You’re not his son. You’re mine!’
We all watched Kemp in silence. ‘Why else would she want to see me in the Anchorage?’
The boy lifted his head and stared into Kemp’s eyes. ‘What the hell— are you? I . . . couldn’t hear all of it . . . but . . . but you can’t be.’ His face tightened resolutely. ‘Well, that bitch left me, to grow up with old bastards who didn’t care if I lived or died. It was her who died for what she’d done. Though you will too.’ He stared at Kemp. ‘I swear it.’
Kemp shook his head slowly. ‘I didn’t know. I had no idea you even existed until she told me the night before you sailed when we met in the pub.’
The boy laughed. ‘Well, she’s at the bottom of the briny now. You should have seen her face. Last thing she heard was “Hello, Mum.”’ He shook with excitement.
‘You bastard,’ Spear breathed. His voice was so weak and he was losing consciousness.
‘Spear, mate.’ Kemp looked over earnestly at him. ‘It was eighteen years ago, Spear. I promise you, I had no idea. It was just before she came after you.’ Kemp leaned closer. ‘She met you and everything changed. She told me that night she’d wanted nothing more than to sail off into the sunset. She loved you, not me.’ He paused. ‘But she couldn’t sail away with her pirate captain and go on all these adventures if she was pregnant with another man’s child. My child.’
‘I’ll kill you too!’ Nate shouted, rearing up into Kemp’s face.
Aunt Charlotte pushed him back down.
‘I didn’t know.’ Kemp shook his head. ‘She just left one night. I didn’t hear from her for months. Next I heard, she was sailing on adventure tours with you and I was left here. I had no idea she’d even been pregnant. She’d just gone.’
Spear closed his eyes. ‘She came to find me, nine months after I left Leverburgh. Said she couldn’t stop thinking about me and that we were meant to be. I had no idea she’d . . .’
‘It was all because of you!’ Nate shouted. ‘You bastard. Die!’
A white light was growing in the dark sky. The rain still thundered into our faces but a steady thudding beat was rising above the sound of the wind. The beam of light drew closer and the noise filled the air. It was the rhythmic pulse of rotor blades. As the helicopter drew into view, a voice shouted from the skies.
‘This is Hebrides Mountain Rescue — we are about to land.’
CHAPTER 33: WE ALL NEED SAVING
Mother was wrong, I did need saving. We all did. There are moments, such as being marooned on an Outer Hebridean island with a killer, when we do need to be saved. And, thankfully, the Hebrides Mountain Rescue people proved to be very good at this. The local harbour master had noticed Kemp hadn’t come back. He couldn’t get in touch with him, Nate having smashed the radio to pieces, so he’d alerted the rescue team. Their drone had picked up the sign of fires and a broken boat on Orlon. It was pretty hard to explain why Aunt Charlotte was sitting on someone, but Nate didn’t put up any fight with the rescue team. He just kept smiling and laughing and whistling.
* * *
We landed in Stornoway into a sea of flashing blue lights. The pilot had radioed ahead that not only did we have a critically ill man, but his attacker as well. Nate was escorted into a waiting police car, his strange, cruel smile still firmly in place. There were no relatives to inform of his arrest. Only Kemp.
Nate nodded to him as he was loaded into the waiting car. ‘See you again someday, Daddy.’
Kemp made no response.
And did Spear survive?
Of course he did. He’s a survivalist, after all, as he reminded us when the danger had passed. The wound was deep and he’d lost a lot of blood but he was rushed straight into the Western Isles Hospital in Stornoway, where they operated immediately.
The rest of us were taken into a private room to be checked over by doctors. Jess was treated for shock and dehydration. We waited eagerly for news of Spear’s operation. Various police officers took our statements, their eyes widening and eyebrows rising with each new revelation and death.
When the full story emerged, the small community was swamped with media. Some of the locals relished it and gave interviews about survival courses and people coming in from out of town. But when the first member of the press realized just who the people on the island were, the Smart Women from the Slaughter House, our world was thrown under the intense glare of the spotlight again. How had we managed to find ourselves in another murderous situation? How did it feel to be stalked by death? I was tempted to say, ‘No different to usual.’ But I didn’t.
There didn’t seem to be a minute to talk to the others, especially not Mother. It was days before Mother and I were alone, sitting in the small hotel room. The grey net curtains only let in a weak light. And we talked.
We faced each other as if it was an interview. ‘He was a good father to you,’ Mother began with, ‘and I could not shatter your illusions. He liked a drink though.’
I nodded, thinking of the only thing I took away from that island — Dad’s hollowed-out Bible.
Mother said she didn’t know the other woman’s name but she’d heard her on the phone when she rang the house. ‘Your dad always denied it, but I saw her at the funeral. She smiled at me, but she never spoke. Mirabelle took her away.’
We talked all afternoon. Mother said the things I knew she would, and I didn’t even care if they were true. She just wanted to protect me, she didn’t want me to get hurt — the predictable phrases. But all it really came down to was that Mother had never really found a way to forgive Dad. The question was, could I?
Dad didn’t appear for a few weeks. Not until we were back in London —only then did I see his dark shape in corners, his head bent in shame. It’s still like that now. I don’t know if it will ever go back to normal. Bob the Therapist says it’s a good thing to let go of Dad’s ghost but then he also advised that I should continue to live with Mother for my recovery. So he doesn’t get everything right. I suppose it’s familiar at least.
We went to Ryan’s funeral first. Jess didn’t speak to us. She didn’t speak to anyone. Her recovery looked like it hadn’t really started and wouldn’t do for some time.
Angel’s was next and his mother was there, as were a number of other women wearing the silver charms he’d given them.
And finally there was Nell’s funeral back on Harris, where she grew up. It was a small affair in Scarista with a wake at the Anchorage in Leverburgh. It was a joint send-off for her and Bottlenose as he had nobody else. Nell’s body hadn’t been found. It’s still out there somewhere.
It seemed strange to go back. The town was exactly the same, the air still fresh with the smell of seawater. Kemp was right where we’d first met him. He’d not been to see Nate yet, but he said he would one day, when everything settled. Nate had been transferred to the State Hospital in Carstairs, for high-security psychiatric patients. Kemp wanted to stay here in Leverburgh and try and salvage his survival business, which, although quite infamous, wasn’t attracting many bookings now.
And then there was Spear. He’d recovered enough to organize the funerals for Nell and Bottlenose. I hadn’t seen him since we’d left Scotland although we’d texted a couple of times, but it had been awkward. The nature of his relationship with Nell had been dragged through the press along with his wife’s character.
When I saw him, standing there by the harbour, he looked like a man hollowed-out by life. He stood outside the Anchorage looking towards the sea, staring out into the waves as if he was still searching them for her.
‘All right?’ He gave me a weak smile and pulled at his tie until it loosened.
I walked towards hi
m and held the glass of warm white wine close to my chest. ‘It was a nice service. I mean, this is all nice too. You know. You did a good job.’
‘Thanks. I didn’t know what else she’d want.’ He looked down at his feet. ‘Turns out I didn’t know her very well at all.’
Anything I said would sound fake and contrived. ‘Well, I thought I’d come and say hi.’ I started to walk back inside.
‘Listen,’ he said hurriedly, ‘I’m thinking of going on a bit of a trip, down to the West Country. Get far away from all this. I’ve got a mate down there and I’m going to get a boat and—’
‘Mr Spear, you wouldn’t be trying to take my daughter back out on the water, would you?’ Mother stood at the door to the bar.
He took a deep breath. ‘Not at all, Mrs Smart. It was just an idea.’
‘Well, I’d be grateful if you didn’t have any more of those around my daughter, thank you.’ She stared at him then flicked her eyes towards me. ‘Ursula, come inside soon. Bridget’s fed all the cocktail sausages to Mr Bojingles and he’s been ill in Mirabelle’s bag. Your aunt’s found the rum and an old sailor. I’ll need your help.’ She gave me a knowing look. ‘After you’ve said goodbye to Mr Spear.’ She made it have an air of finality.
I started to walk back towards the door but paused and turned to Spear. ‘Listen, when this is all over, when it all dies down, call me. I think I can talk her round. We’d all love a little holiday, I’m sure.’ I walked back inside.
‘We?’ I heard him say.
I smiled to myself.
THE END
ALSO BY VICTORIA DOWD
SMART WOMAN’S MYSTERY SERIES
Book 1: THE SMART WOMAN’S GUIDE TO MURDER
Book 2: MURDER ON THE ISLAND
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BODY ON THE ISLAND a gripping murder mystery packed with twists (Smart Woman's Mystery Book 2) Page 27
