by Manda Scott
‘I think it’s time you and me got some fresh air, dog.’
An ear twitched hopefully.
I found Bridget’s cream dressing gown on the back of the bathroom door and dug a pair of shoes out from under the foot of the bed, then the pair of us took the stairs, slowly, one at a time, to the bottom.
No problem.
There was no one in the kitchen and the back door hung invitingly open. I waited for a moment on the porch while the dog emptied a pint or three of urine into the gravel by the corner of the house, then I spotted Midnight hanging round the field gate, just asking for a visit.
The rest of the ponies were not particularly enthusiastic at my appearance, but they came over for a look and when it suddenly seemed sensible to sit down on the grass inside the gate, they managed not to tread on my feet as they wandered past.
Someone crunched up the gravel behind me.
The problem with a bullet hole in the shoulder is that it’s difficult to turn your head quickly when folk sneak up on you like that.
‘Kellen? What the hell are you doing here?’
Caroline. Sweetness and light. She’s always somewhere, just round the corner.
‘The dog needed a walk.’
‘Bugger that. You’re not supposed to be out of bed for weeks yet. Get up, woman.’
‘Mmm. Good idea.’
‘Can you get up?’
‘I expect so, just give me a minute . . .’
‘Oh, hell, Kells. Don’t do this to me . . . Can you walk?’
‘Sure.’
‘Liar . . . You’re a mess, Kellen Stewart, I should have let them take you to the hospital. At least they could keep you in bed.’
‘I don’t need to be in bed. I’m fine.’
‘Just shut up and keep walking.’
‘Thanks. I love you too.’
The kitchen, on the whole, was warmer than the field. I sat in the big chair by the fire and watched Caroline make a pot of cat’s-piss tea.
‘Here. It’s good for you. And don’t ask for coffee. You’re not getting any.’
‘Sadist.’
‘Be grateful I haven’t spiked it with anything. They’ve left me with enough tranquillizers to keep you in bed for the next month.’
‘You wouldn’t do that.’
‘No. But I might if you don’t behave.’
‘You sound just like Mother.’
‘Get lost. Do you want something to eat?’
‘Mmm. Why not?’
I watched her embark on another culinary adventure and then edged myself down to sit on the floor and scooped a passing cat on to my knee for something to talk to.
‘Why didn’t they take me to hospital, cat?’ I asked, running a finger along its back.
‘Because one of your oldest and dearest friends put her foot down and wouldn’t let them,’ said Caroline’s voice from the far side of the breakfast bar. The cat flopped on its side, kneading my good arm with sheathed claws.
‘That’s nice. Why did she do that?’
‘Because you told me once that if you ever woke up and found yourself in hospital, you’d throw yourself out of a window. I didn’t want to find out the hard way that you weren’t joking.’ She left a pan simmering on the Rayburn and came to sit in the chair opposite. ‘Mary Brower was going completely berserk and Elspeth was threatening to have me on a murder charge if you died, but Janine backed me up. Between us we’re the nearest thing you’ve got to a next of kin, so they couldn’t do much about it. It seemed the right thing to do at the time.’
I looked up into a pair of wide green-grey eyes.
‘It was. Thank you.’ I felt the dog slide into the space between me and the fire and I let go of the cat. ‘What about Lee?’
‘Mad Mhaire’s in there, sitting by the bed with a pack of twenty Marlboro, fending off all-comers. She’s pretty protective. I don’t think she’d let her chuck herself off a window-ledge.’
No. She wouldn’t.
‘Is she awake?’
‘Sort of. She had a word with Elspeth and Inspector MacDonald this morning before they took her to surgery. I think it was fairly coherent.’ The pan on the Rayburn rattled its lid and she went over to investigate. ‘Soup?’
‘Mmm. Thank you.’ I waited while she loaded a tray with bowls and bread and came back to sit on the floor opposite.
My stomach registered the smell of food with an ambivalent lurch. I toyed with the bread, dunking bits of it in the soup to soften the crust. Just as I was about to test the first bite, Elspeth Philips turned up in the doorway. Her uniform looked as if she had slept in it. Her eyes didn’t look as if she had slept much at all.
She looked me up and down, amused and appraising in one. ‘The walking wounded, alive and well. I wasn’t expecting to see you up yet.’
‘That makes two of us,’ said Caroline. ‘She’s on her way upstairs.’
‘Is she really?’
‘In a bit. I’d rather hear what’s happening in the outside world first.’
‘I thought you might.’ Her eyes were warm and not at all unfriendly.
She looked at Caroline, who gave a resigned shrug and vacated the chair by the fire.
‘Go ahead.’
‘Thanks.’ She sat down and kicked off her shoes. ‘How much do you know?’
‘Not much. Andersen’s dead. Gemmell isn’t. Jan’s told you who said what in the clearing.’
‘More or less. They tried to wipe the computer system at the lab but most of the stuff’s still on the hard disks. Jan’s been helping to recover it in return for an exclusive on the story when it breaks. The chickens at Andrews’ farm were all alive and are laying nicely for the lab. We found the stocks of Hen’s Teeth at Gemmell’s house and turned them over to the lads in the vice squad. They should have gone up in smoke by now. If your Professor ever comes round, he’s all lined up for several life sentences.’
‘Who else was in it?’
‘Besides Andersen? There were half a dozen distributors, most of them on a similar scale to Cash Andrews and all of them already known for dealing crack. On the scientific side, Gemmell used his daughter’s research project as a cover. She was supposed to be finding out ways to protect the insulin from oral uptake. Her father passed on the genes she was making to Malcolm and he slotted them into the eggs at Medi-Gen. Neither of them queried whether the genes Malcolm got were the ones she had sent.’
‘They wouldn’t.’ You don’t question the given truth passed down from the professorial Ivory Tower. Especially not if it’s inhabited by your father or your friend. ‘What does the daughter say now?’
‘She’s devastated. Apparently she had no idea what was going on.’
‘Do you believe her?’
‘I think so.’
‘And the son-in-law?’
‘Your friend Dr Kemp?’ She leant back in her chair and smiled, a proper smile that lit up her face and shone through her eyes. Green eyes. Like a cat. Still riveting.
I tried to focus on what she was saying.
‘. . . he’s being extraordinarily apologetic. We had to physically restrain him from coming in to visit you.’
‘Bloody hell. I’d rather be dead.’
‘Quite. We didn’t think you’d appreciate it much. But you’re going to have to see him some time. If he hadn’t talked to the Inspector at the golf-club dinner, you’d probably be dead and Gemmell would be in the Bahamas enjoying the sunshine.’
‘Are you telling me I’m expected to thank the man?’
‘Something like that. You have to acknowledge that he worked out what was going on before the rest of us, he just didn’t realize it was coming to a head quite so quickly.’
‘Why? I mean, how?’
‘He didn’t like it when Bridget died without any reasonable signs. He called his father-in-law to try to get him to do the post-mortem and found Lee had already done it . . .’
‘Didn’t it cheer him up when Lee asked the Prof to sign it after all?’
‘Mmm.’ Brighter than he looks.
‘That stuck you and Lee right at the top of the list of suspects. He had his wife give him the keys so he could go through Lee’s room and found the eggs, but it took him a while to work out what was in them. He was planning on taking it all in as soon as Chief Inspector Laidlaw was back in the office.’
‘So what made him change his mind?’
‘He didn’t. But he was trying to tell Stewart . . . the Inspector . . . at the dinner when the call came through about the fire at the farm and then Caroline and I called in to tell the boss that Janine had never made it back to Rae’s.’ She paused for effect. ‘I told him there was no way you could have lit the fire because you were with me all evening.’
‘Lee wasn’t.’
‘No.’
‘Did you tell him that?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because you might have let her light fires, but I knew you wouldn’t have let her do anything to hurt Jan.’
Observant as well as resourceful. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome. Anyway, you had set everything up to draw them here.’
‘Was it that obvious?’
‘Of course. Why didn’t you ask for help?’
I shrugged. ‘I didn’t think about it. I suppose there’s a tendency to think we should be able to sort things out ourselves.’
‘I noticed.’ She accepted a mug of tea from Caroline and they exchanged a look that spoke volumes about friends who think they can sort things out on their own.
The need for sleep began to drag at the edges of my mind. The soup was cold and the bread had turned to the consistency of sodden blotting paper. I put the bowl on the floor and began to think of the climb back up the stairs. ‘No loose ends?’ I asked.
‘None that matter.’
Only one last question before I sleep. ‘How did you know about the car?’
She observed me peacefully from beneath lowered lids. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she said.
‘Fine.’
They steered me upstairs and somewhere along the line, someone mentioned a bath.
Sheer heaven. Like floating on the sea in the sunshine, listening to the water washing round in the rock pools.
Bed was the same. Someone else had changed the sheets for something in cool green without the bloodstains and there was a towel for the dog to lie on so she wouldn’t shed hairs all over the place.
Thoughtful, on top of everything else. She didn’t learn that in the police.
Sleep was a deep, dark space and the dreams were inhabited only by the dead.
The scent of fresh coffee drifted through the dreams, enticing. It overlaid the medical smells of bandages and wound ointment and fulminant pus that were beginning to overtake the room.
‘Ready for some fresh air?’ A voice near my feet.
Lee.
It can’t be. Lee is in hospital with a tube in her throat and drips in her arms and the surgeons have played with her finger bones. I opened my eyes.
Lee sat on the end of the bed balancing a tray across her forearms. Her left hand was fixed in an orthopaedic splint and it was impossible to see the fingers. Plasters criss-crossed the radial veins where the drips had gone in. As she turned her head towards me, I saw the suture lines along both jugulars. Neat, cosmetic, subcutaneous stitches closing a pair of parallel incisions, one longer than the other. Both looked half-healed: pink, rather than bright red at the edges, the way wounds do after a week or so.
There were two mugs on the tray. She blew gently across the tops and the mixed smell of coffee and cat’s-piss tea floated confusingly between us.
She smiled and nodded as I reached for a mug. Nothing was really different.
‘Good morning.’
‘Is it?’ The coffee sang through my brain.
‘It’s not bad. The rain’s stopped and the sun’s up. Caroline’s taken the assembled guardians, which is to say herself, Janine and Elspeth Philips, on a ride. I thought perhaps we could make the most of the freedom. Your dog would appreciate a walk if nothing else.’
‘Sounds fine by me.’
‘Good woman. I knew you weren’t dying really.’ She looked at me rather more intently than usual. ‘There’s a thermometer on the bedside table. It might be worth having a quick suck just to check you’re not about to fall over unexpectedly.’
‘Is that likely?’
‘I don’t know. According to Mary Brower, they took a swab from your shoulder and you’re growing every species of Proteus known to medical science. The bacteriologists are ecstatic but from a physician’s point of view, it’s less amusing. I gather it’s not being entirely amenable to antibiotics. Possibly if you’re much over the lethal limit, we ought to switch to Plan B.’
‘Which is?’
‘I bring Mhaire up for a chat.’
‘Oh, give me a break.’
I found the thermometer, cleaned it carefully on the edge of the duvet cover and sucked on it for the required sixty seconds, wondering why I had no memory of my temperature having been taken at all in the recent past and not particularly wanting to know the answer.
It came out at 103, which is reasonably far below the lethal limit. I held it out for Lee to see, angling the glass in the light from the window so she could read the height of the column.
‘It’s not too bad. Can we stick to Plan A?’
‘Yup.’
‘Are you going to tell me what it is?’
‘Uhuh. I was thinking we could walk up to the waterfall, it’s not too far. You need something more sensible to wash your shoulder. Mhaire says it will work.’
‘Great.’
She smiled cheerfully. ‘I knew you’d appreciate it. There are clothes in the cupboard. I’d wrap up warm if I was you, it’s fairly brisk outside.’
It was, unquestionably, brisk. But it was glorious to be outside in the sun again, to watch the dog exploring the far reaches of the field and to talk to the ponies as they followed us across the grass in a loose-knit huddle. Midnight had gone and Balder and the leggy dun Highland pony that had kicked Bridget on the first day we bought it and then turned to be the steadiest schoolmaster of them all. Perfect for a beginner and just about the right size for Janine.
Rain’s filly followed us for a couple of hundred yards, walking almost sound and with a neat new bandage showing white on her foot.
Beyond the fence at the end of the field, sheep tracks push out through the bracken, then the gorse, then the heather, winding round solitary rowan and hawthorns in a random quest from here to anywhere higher up. One or two of them are wider than the others and have bootprints and hoofprints moulded into the springing peat between the heather roots.
The widest path follows the line of the river, back up towards its source in the high granite of the peaks, and I knelt to check the prints as I followed Lee away from the field. None of them looked particularly fresh.
‘Do you know where the others went?’ I asked.
‘They’re doing the circuit round the western edge of the Ben. They’ll be away till dusk. We’ll be back by then, don’t worry.’
‘Should I be worried?’
‘No. But if I don’t have you home in time, Janine will probably send me back to the ICU for life.’
‘She wouldn’t do that.’
‘You haven’t seen her when she thinks I’m responsible for killing you.’
‘Is it bad?’
‘She’s a lot more frightening than you are when she’s angry.’
‘Oh.’ That’s bad.
The river ran lower than it had done when I last saw it, less savage, less desperate to make it to the sea. Instead it ran as a bright, living thread, weaving a way round the solid chunks of silver-grey schist that litter the higher land. Two-thirds of the way up, the edge of a basalt cliff stands out starkl
y against the heather and the path follows the stream as it cuts through the western side into a small hidden corrie.
This is the second secret of the farm. Unlike the clearing, there is no cairn or burial mound to render it sacred, but the beauty is completely breathtaking. Even with a temperature of 103 and a hazy grasp of reality, it hit me, as it always does, as I squeezed through the gap between the rock and the hawthorn that guards the entrance.
Sixty feet away, at the back of the corrie, the river launches itself off the polished stone of a cliff edge and tumbles crazily down in a rushing, spuming waterfall to plunge deep into a wide basin carved out in the rock below.
The corrie faces south and, in all but the shortest days of winter, the sun reaches over the southern wall to light the water as it falls and fills the pool. Fish flash silver across the warmed rock of the shallows and the kingfishers stare for hours at the water’s edge. It’s the kind of place you might expect to see otters if you were feeling particularly romantic.
I was feeling decidedly unromantic by the time we reached the pool. My shoulder burned and I could hear unnerving liquid gurgles from beneath the bandage, as if the flesh had melted and been replaced by a pint or two of pus.
Mary Brower’s comment about the Proteus infection ate at the back of my mind. The bits I remembered from my bacteriology classes were not altogether reassuring, particularly not the paragraph relating to systemic infection from a single-point source. I’ve watched people die of blood poisoning before and there are better ways to go.
The sight of the waterfall worked as it always did and, for a moment, I forgot the pain and the ugly images and lost myself in the magic of sunlight and green grass and the music of the water as it sang its way down the cliff face. Lee eased her way out of a rucksack and unbuckled it single-handed, taking care not to stub the fingers of her left hand on any of the straps. She tipped it up, dropping out a pair of bath towels and an industrial-sized plastic lunch-box that proved to contain a selection of sandwiches and a couple of apples. A flask of coffee emerged from one of the side compartments of the sack. There are times when it is really useful to have entirely predictable tastes.
We laid the towels on the dark rock at the edge of the pool and began, very carefully, to undress. It took a long time and a lot of swearing and the air, when we were done, was not nearly as warm as it had seemed. I pulled the towel up round my good shoulder while Lee exercised her clinical discretion and began to remove the bandage from the other one.
