Death on Site
Page 27
Francesca, looking worried, said that perhaps it was just that everything Alan knew how to do, everything he was, depended on his being in top physical health. If he was injured or sick he had nothing to fall back on; perhaps that was why he had stolen – to build up a nest-egg?
‘It’s the Highers he didn’t have all over again,’ Perry said affectionately.
‘They might have changed his life,’ his sister pointed out. ‘Might have made it unnecessary for him to go in for casual theft.’
‘You didn’t like him,’ Tristram said, with interest.
‘It’s not that.’
She looked to McLeish for help, but it was Perry who spoke. ‘You’re frightened by people who only want one thing and want it that much,’ he said, as if they were alone in the echoing lounge, and Francesca looked away to think.
‘I’m frightened for people who are like that,’ she said, turning back to him abruptly.
‘It’s all right, Frannie, I’m not like that.’
‘You’ve always had everything you wanted,’ Tristram observed.
‘Now that is perfectly true,’ Francesca said, with some spirit, as Perry protested and McLeish told her in exasperation that if they missed the last shuttle up tonight it would mean the seven o’clock one the following morning and towed her towards the boarding-gate. She followed him on to the plane, clutching his hand and turning back to wave to the boys.
They settled into their seats with Davidson, tactfully, two rows behind them.
‘You’re not looking forward to Scotland, are you, darling? Not your fault – Alan was killed before you could even warn him. Mr Hamilton was jolly quick.’
‘Yes, he was. He was a great deal more competent and decisive than I would have believed. He bought a thermos exactly like Fraser’s at lunch-time that day, and lots of antihistamine at the same time in the same chemist, near the site. It’s a very busy branch of Boots, and we were bloody lucky to find a manageress who remembered him. He switched the thermoses at tea, as we finally realized, and threw Alan’s own one away. Young Woolner found it – that was a good piece of work.’
He looked away out over the wing of the aeroplane and Francesca put her hand over his.
‘We could try and do the Coire Dubh walk this weekend? I love you.’
He looked sideways at her and leant over to kiss her. ‘We ought to decide what we’re doing on a longer-term basis.’
‘I know. If you can’t get what you want you’ll go away. I do know. I’m getting there.’
She kissed him back and they sat, holding hands and watching the sun set over the wing, as the plane flew steadily north.