Palmer-Jones 03 - Murder in Paradise

by Ann Cleeves

  “What brings you to the islands?” he had asked. She had been waiting on the quay, looking lost and unhappy. Her smallness and vulnerability had attracted him. The women on the island were strong and big-boned.

  “I was expecting a friend,” she had said. “ He said that he’d meet me from the boat.”

  “Who would that be, then? I know most of the folk here. I used to anyway.”

  She had given the name of the owner of the only big hotel on Baltasay, an Englishman, who had appeared mysteriously after the war.

  “That’s no problem then,” he said. “You can leave your bags with Jean in the harbour office and we’ll walk. It isn’t far.”

  The Englishman had been surprised to see her but had put on a good enough show of being pleased that she was there.

  James had not been able to forget her. He had used every excuse to get to Baltasay to see her. He had dressed up in the suit which was too big for him and sat in the hotel bar waiting to catch a glimpse of her. Very often she was there before him. Sometimes the Englishman was with her, loud and showing her off to his friends. Usually she was on her own. She looked around her with big black eyes, made up in a way he had never seen before, staring out of her tiny white face. Then one night he had arrived at the hotel and she had been different. She was in her place at the bar but the smudges under her eyes were caused not by make-up but by tears.

  “I’ve got to leave tomorrow,” she said. “He’s told me that I’ve got to go. He’s found some other fancy woman.” She never spoke of the Englishman by name.

  “What will you do?”

  “I don’t know.” She had never spoken of her past. She seemed to belong nowhere.

  “Have you friends to go to? Family?”

  “No.”

  “Come home with me. You know I would have asked you anyway if you’d been free. We’ll be married.” Then, as she hesitated: “Or I’ll come with you. Wherever you like.”

  She had been his obsession. He had dreamed of touching her, of knowing her. While he waited for her to give her reply he thought that the whole thing was impossible. He had frightened her away.

  “No,” she had said at last. “I’ll come with you. To Kinness.”

  At that time he had never kissed her. He had only touched her to take her arm on that first day, by the harbour, to take her to the hotel.

  “And we will be married?”

  “If that’s what you want.” It really had not mattered to her one way or the other.

  They were married quietly on the island. There had been none of the fuss of balloons and flowers. They had been happy, intensely happy until, he thought, she began to crave for a child, in the same way as he craved for her.

  She was still lovely. She still had the fine features and big, dark eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve let you down again.”

  “Don’t be silly,” he said.

  She was sitting on a stool in the bedroom, in front of the dressing table mirror. He knelt behind her and put his arms around her, so that he was holding her tight against him. She let herself melt back into his body until he touched her breast. Then he felt her shrink away from him, though she tried not to do it. He stood up and started to get ready to go out alone, to the party.

  Jim was woken by the sound of Alec’s generator. Sarah was still asleep. He could hear her breathing and feel her hair on his cheek. She thought it would all be so easy. He had never meant to come back. He had always thought that the island men who went to the mainland for a spell to find themselves a wife were no better than Viking raiders. But she had tempted him with her enthusiasm. Perhaps he should never have listened to her. He looked at his watch and shook her gently.

  “Hey. We’ll have to get ready. Dad will be here in half an hour.”

  There were thin blue curtains at the window. She had drawn them before they went to bed. She wrapped herself in a blanket, went to the window, and looked out. It was dusk. The sun had gone but there was light enough to see the beach and the silhouettes of the upturned boats pulled up there.

  Jim was pulling clothes from suitcases. She could not understand the urgency. She went up to him and kissed him.

  “You can switch on the light,” Jim said. “Alec’s put on the generator. The light will work now.”

  She switched on the light and the magic of the beach and the grey sky disappeared.

  “I’ll heat some water for washing,” Jim said. “Maggie said that your dress is in the wardrobe. They cleaned it for you. Apparently one of the seams had split. She got someone to mend it for you.” He went into the kitchen.

  It was the tradition to wear the wedding dress at the party. Sarah was so used to being married now, that it seemed odd to be dressing up again. But she wanted it to be right for everyone on the island. She wanted to be a beautiful bride for Jim. It was a white dress in a heavy cotton, with a square neck and a tight bodice. The skirt was long and full. There was broderie anglaise around the bottom of the skirt and at the cuffs of the tight sleeves. It had been beautifully laundered. All the pin tucks in the bodice had been carefully ironed.

  She took the dress out of the wardrobe and laid it on the bed. As she did so she saw that there was a pin still in the hem. She lifted the skirt to take it out. It had not been used in mending the dress. It pinned a white square of paper to the cloth. She pulled it out, and read the words which had been written on it. The words said: He should have been mine.

  She took no notice and threw the paper on to the bed. It meant nothing to her then.

  Chapter Three

  The hall had been decorated with streamers and more of the heart-shaped balloons. Maggie and Agnes had been there all morning, laying the tables, preparing food. Sandy arrived at the hall first. In Sandwick Agnes was still trying to calm Mary and herself, and he welcomed the peace of the empty hall. He helped himself to a glass of whisky. The women had made a fine job of preparing the hall. He would not let Jim down in front of his smart English bride. The room was arranged like a second wedding reception, with the tables set out in a traditional horseshoe shape. The bride and groom and immediate family would sit at the top table. There was another wedding cake. Everything would be done in the proper way.

  Agnes arrived then with Mary and Will, and soon the other guests came in, stamping the mud from their shoes, calling out to each other as if they had not met for months. Sandy and Agnes greeted them as they arrived, handing out small glasses of whisky. Everyone was dressed up. The men wore dark, old-fashioned suits, the women their smartest dresses. Mary stood behind her parents. She, too, was neatly dressed but she still wore the green silk scarf which George had admired in the afternoon.

  George Palmer-Jones followed the Drysdales into the hall. He had been put to sit with them at the end of one of the tables—a small group of outsiders. As they waited for Sarah and Jim, Sylvia gave him her full attention. Jonathan might not have been there. He felt flattered by her interest and found that he was putting into words ideas which he had discussed with no one else, not even his wife.

  “How are you enjoying retirement?” Sylvia asked. “ You seem to be busy.”

  “Yes. I’m always very busy, but not in a particularly satisfying way.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He considered. “I think that I miss the structure, the discipline of work.”

  “Are you thinking of going back to work, then?” She smiled at him in a sympathetic, encouraging way. She was leaning over the table towards him, and the copper hair fell over her shoulders, so that he could see the bare, creamy skin at the back of her neck. He remembered his work as a civil servant in the Home Office, part administrator, part policeman.

  “Not exactly. I was thinking of setting up on my own.”

  He was distracted by the smooth neck, the touch of her ankle against his leg. He would not otherwise have confided in her.

  “How exciting! What as?”

  “Oh,” he said vaguely, “as a consultant. To provide
an advisory service in my own field.” Then, perhaps to impress her, he said: “ It would make me a private detective, I suppose.”

  He had never used the words before and he thought how sleazy and squalid they sounded.

  “How exciting!” she repeated, but she did not sound impressed and he thought she was thinking of something else. He turned away from her and watched Sandy and Agnes greet their guests by the door.

  James came in alone. George had met Melissa once, quite by chance when she was out walking on the hill. He had hoped to see her again and was disappointed that James was alone. Poor Melissa, George thought. So she couldn’t face it. James took a glass of whisky and drank it very fast. George was surprised. He was a lay preacher. He did not usually drink at all.

  The guests all began to take their seats. The two families were separated as usual. The Dances sat on one side of the horseshoe and the Stennets on the other. Nothing was meant by the separation, but everyone felt more comfortable that way.

  Sandy went out to tell the young couple that their guests were ready for them. It only took him five minutes to get from the hall to Unsta. As he went out of the door he put on the old cap which he always wore. He was happy. He had all his children home now. He had never lived off the island and could not understand the attraction of life away. There had been a real contentment in seeing everyone together in the hall to welcome Jim and his English wife. She would settle soon. The women would make her feel at home. Maggie was a good woman and would help her.

  It was dark and there was only an occasional moon but he knew the road to Unsta well enough. It had been his father’s house. He had been born there. He had built Sandwick after he had married Agnes. He had wanted his own place, his own land. I was ambitious too, he thought, when I was young. Alec is like me. But he is impatient. He has too many new ideas all at once. I have Mary to think about. She must come first. The others can look after themselves. Maggie is a good woman but she pushes Alec. He has ambition enough without her pushing him. I was lucky. Agnes was happy to leave the planning to me.

  He arrived at Unsta. The curtains were drawn and he could not see in. He opened the porch door, and was just about to go into the house when he stopped and knocked. I have never had to knock on this door, he thought. Well, everything has to change.

  Because he had knocked on the door for the first time, he saw and heard everything as if for the first time. An old oilskin was hanging in the porch and reminded him of fishing trips with his father. He heard the background sound of waves on shingle, and the chug of the generator from its shed at Buness over the lane.

  The door opened and Jim stood there, scrubbed and spruce, with the light behind him.

  “You didn’t have to knock,” Jim said. “ Will you come in?”

  “Better not,” said his father. “They’re all there now and waiting for you both. You know what they’re like.”

  “Waiting to get at the food and the dancing.”

  Sandy nodded.

  Sarah heard them talking.

  “I’m just coming,” she shouted. “ I’m nearly ready.”

  She came out through the bedroom door and stood in the hall. Jim moved out of the doorway and into the darkness of the porch, so that both men could see her framed by the light. Her long hair was loose and she wore not a veil, but a white shawl of local lace pinned to her hair, which fell around her shoulders.

  “Do I look all right?” she asked. “Will I do?”

  “You’ll do fine,” Sandy said. “You’ll do just fine.”

  He stepped into the house to take her hand, and she could see then that he was beaming. He looks like a furry animal, she thought, with his round face and round nose and big front teeth. She realized that he looked just like an illustration of Ratty in an edition of Wind in the Willows which she had loved as a child.

  She took his arm and the three of them walked together up the road to the hall. It was on some high ground in the middle of the southern bulge of the island. Sarah could see it almost as soon as they left Unsta because of the long lit windows and the light outside its door. As they approached she could hear the talking and the laughing.

  “I’m nervous,” she said. “ I never thought that I would be.”

  She had been talking to Jim, but Sandy replied.

  “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” he said. “ Not here on Kinness. You’re home now. Besides, you don’t have to do anything except look pretty.”

  They had arrived at the door of the hall. Although it had been a warm day, it was colder now, with the sharp clarity of autumn. They hesitated.

  “What do we do now?” Sarah asked. She shivered. She was standing underneath the light fixed on the wall, and the shadow at her feet was strange and witchlike, because of the long dress and the shawl.

  “Just give me a minute,” Sandy said. “Then Jim knows what to do.”

  He took half a bottle of whisky from his pocket and took a swig, then pushed open the door into the hall. It swung back on a heavy spring almost immediately, before Sarah could see what was happening inside, but she felt a rush of warm air and she shivered again.

  Inside, they must have been waiting for Sandy to come back, because they were quiet at once, and expectant. He must have been standing just inside the door, because when he spoke his voice was very loud.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “ can we welcome Sarah and Jim.”

  There was a sound of chairs scraping against a wooden floor as they all stood up, then the door was open and she was in there with them. Jim took her hand and they walked together around the room. The guests were clapping. After waiting outside in the darkness, the lights seemed very bright. The room was very warm. Sarah wished that it was all over. She had expected to enjoy the attention, but she was overawed by the strange faces and the noise and the staring eyes. She supposed that they were looking at Jim, too, but it seemed that everyone was staring at her critically and with interest. Eventually she reached her place at the table, but there were more cheers before Jim took his hand from her arm, and she was allowed to sit down.

  Then the guests sat, too, and began talking to each other, so that they were no longer looking at her, and she began to relax a little. She looked down the table, avoiding curious eyes. There were plates of cold meat and dishes of vegetables for people to help themselves, thick cups and saucers and enormous institutional teapots. It was very different from the first wedding reception in the smart hotel in Chester, where the toasts were drunk in champagne, there was a professional photographer, and the waitresses were dressed in black.

  Jim interrupted her thoughts. “ You must start to eat,” he whispered. “ They’re all desperate to get at the food, but they won’t like to until you do.”

  She helped herself and immediately there was a clatter of spoons against china, plates and dishes were passed along the table, and the party began. As they ate she could look at the people more closely. They concentrated so hard on their plates and the conversation that there was no danger that they would see her watching, return her stare. There were perhaps forty people, of all ages, in the room.

  “Is everyone here?” she asked. “Everyone who lives on Kinness?”

  “Everyone except Melissa.”

  “Melissa?”

  “My uncle James’ wife. She’s not very strong. She doesn’t get out much.”

  “That’s sad. It would have been nice to have everyone here.”

  “Yes. It would have been nice.”

  “We’ll save her some cake.”

  But he had begun to talk to Agnes who was sitting on the other side of him. He was teasing his mother, and his voice had slipped into the accent which Sarah could not understand. Throughout the meal and the speeches she felt isolated because of her imprecise understanding of the dialect. Usually she could guess at the meaning but then a word was used which was unclear and she was left feeling that she had gained the wrong impression of the whole thing, and so had reacted inappropriately. Will I
speak like that one day? she thought, and she found the idea frightening. When I speak like that I won’t be me any more. I’ll be one of them, just another of the Kinness folk. Then she thought: my children will definitely speak like that, and unaccountably she found that idea reassuring.

  After the meal, and the cups of tea, they drank toasts in whisky to the bride and the groom. She cut her second wedding cake. The plates were cleared and taken to the kitchen and they prepared for the speeches.

  Sandy spoke first, simply and briefly.

  “I have one beautiful daughter,” he said, patting Mary’s head. “Now I have two.”

  Alec had been Jim’s best man. At the first reception his speech had been short and restrained. He had been ill at ease. Now be enjoyed himself with a raucous, bawdy performance which had his audience yelling and laughing at him. At first Sarah thought that she was not understanding properly, but there was no mistaking the suggestive gestures, the obvious crudeness of the jokes. Then she was angry as she watched him leaning against the table, his black hair greased away from his face in a conceited imitation of an ageing rock star. Why should I laugh? she thought. I wouldn’t laugh at jokes like this at home. Why is he spoiling the evening for me?

  Then he began to do an impersonation of Jim which was so real and so funny that she laughed too, despite herself, and found that she was clapping and cheering with the rest.

  When Alec finished speaking they moved the tables and chairs to one side of the room. James played the fiddle, Kenneth Dance the accordion and Will the guitar.

  “We’ll have to dance first,” Jim said.

  “But I can’t. Not this sort of dancing.” She liked the idea of it but she did not want to make a fool of herself.

  “It doesn’t matter. They won’t expect you to be able to.”

  They watched sympathetically as she muddled her way through the dance, then she sat down to watch. She had been taught Scottish dancing at school but this was quite different. The music was as crude and alive as Alec’s voice had been, and the dancers moved with a supple, contained energy. The next dance was announced as an Eightsome Reel and Jim led Agnes on to the floor. He moved with the same tight-bottomed, flat-footed step as the other men. They danced in a square with three other couples. One of the sequences of moves involved the women dancing alone in the middle of the set while the others clapped. At first it was Agnes’ turn, then a young woman, a little older than Sarah, took her place. She caught Sarah’s attention because she was so self-conscious. She danced very well, but without the others’ spontaneity.