Crash Land

  Crash Land

  Doug Johnstone

  For Aidan and Amber

  We never find what we set our hearts on. We ought to be glad of that.

  Beside the Ocean of Time, George Mackay Brown

  Table of Contents

  Epigraph

  Author’s Note

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  41

  42

  43

  Acknowledgements

  The Jump

  The Dead Beat

  Gone Again

  Hit & Run

  Smokeheads

  About the Author

  Also by Doug Johnstone

  Copyright

  Author’s Note

  All events and characters in this book are entirely fictional, but I’ve tried to stick as closely as possible to the real Orkney. There are a few exceptions for the purpose of dramatic licence. First, there is no bar once you get through security at Kirkwall Airport. Second, while the Tomb of the Eagles is real, I have invented a fictional family who discovered it, rather than the admirable real-life Simisons. I have also changed the proximity of the visitor centre and the nearby farmhouse.

  1

  Finn watched her come through security. Kirkwall Airport was so small there was nowhere to hide and he spotted her straight away through the Perspex wall, the swing of her hips as she strode towards the X-ray machine. From his stool at the bar he saw her place a holdall in the plastic tray, remove her boots and belt, shrug her jacket off. There was something sexy about it like the start of a striptease, but also wrong, the dehumanising ritual of airport security, as if passengers were being rounded up for internment camps.

  With her jacket removed he saw the curve of her body beneath a dark green blouse and black jeans. She waited for the OK from the airport staff and glanced at her bag as it slid into the X-ray. She walked through the metal detector, set the red light flashing and stood to the side, where she was frisked by a female officer then waved on. It was a token effort. What terrorist in their right mind would try anything in Orkney? It was the back of beyond with only internal flights. The chances of trouble were next to zero.

  Finn took a sip of his gin and tonic and looked around. He wasn’t the only one in the departure lounge to have noticed the woman. Four workies sprawled across plastic chairs drinking pints of Stella stopped their banter to turn and watch her lift her bag from the tray as it came out of the machine. She grabbed her belt and looped it through her jeans then put her boots on. Finn watched the men watching her. There was something obscene about this too, like they were all spying on her getting dressed. It felt abusive somehow.

  Finn looked out the window at the runway. He hoped the fog didn’t get any worse, he needed to get out of here. Orkney was fine in small doses but he wanted to be back in Dundee for Christmas, where he could clear his head and work on his degree show. Then again, Amy was waiting for him there, and that was a whole other thing.

  He could just make out the Loganair twin-prop fuelling on the runway, fog swirling round its nose. The worst place in the world to put an airport, in the lowest hollow on the Mainland where the haar always gathered. A mile down the coast there were probably clear skies swimming with stars.

  Finn took another hit from his drink and watched as the woman came in, checked the departures screen, then sat down and fiddled with the strap of her bag, her foot tapping on the scratchy carpet. The workies were looking over and clearly talking about her. Finn saw a Talisman logo on one of the guys’ jackets. So they were oil-processing workers from the Flotta terminal, getting the last flight out of Orkney on the Friday before Christmas, heading south to their families.

  The biggest of the four guys stood, hitched his jeans and sauntered over to the woman. She was beautiful. Older than Finn, maybe in her early thirties, but with cheekbones and dark eyes that would still look great at fifty. When she saw Oil Guy she rolled those eyes, shifted her body away from him and took a firmer grip of her bag. Before he even reached her she was shaking her head as she looked out the window.

  Oil Guy began chatting to her, ignoring the body language, moving into her eyeline. His mates laughed and nudged each other like they were in the playground. Oil Guy sat down next to her and she said something sharp, but he kept on talking with a confident smile. He was over six feet tall with solid biceps squeezed into a tight black T-shirt, a real gym monkey. Buzz cut and work boots. He was probably the same height as Finn but they couldn’t have been more different in physique.

  The woman shifted her bag and said something else that looked spiky. Oil Guy laughed. She began to stand up but the guy put a hand on her arm. The woman stumbled back in her seat. Finn looked round. The two security officers were chatting at the X-ray machine, turned the other way. The barmaid had disappeared from behind the bar. The Loganair woman at the departure gate was flicking through some paperwork. There was no one else here except Oil Guy’s mates.

  Finn finished his drink and got up from his bar stool just as the woman yanked her arm from Oil Guy’s grip, stood up and swore at him. He smiled like it was a game. She strode over to the bar clutching her holdall in her fist.

  ‘What are you drinking?’ she said, looking at Finn’s empty glass.

  ‘Gin and tonic.’

  ‘Buy me one. Make it a double.’

  Finn turned and saw the barmaid emerging from through the back. He ordered two doubles then looked over his shoulder while she poured them. Oil Guy was heading back to his mates with a walk like a silverback, glaring at Finn.

  Finn paid for the drinks and handed one to the woman.

  She held up her finger to the barmaid. ‘Just a minute.’ She downed her drink and placed it on the bar. ‘Same again.’ She turned to Finn. ‘Thanks, I needed that.’

  Finn nodded over his shoulder. ‘Was that guy being an arsehole?’

  ‘Nothing I can’t handle.’

  ‘What makes you think I’m any better?’

  The woman raised her eyebrows and scoped him up and down. ‘You look pretty harmless.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  Finn stuck out his hand. ‘I’m Finn, by the way.’

  She shook his hand and put on a mock-serious face, making a joke of the formality.

  ‘I’m Maddie.’

  Two more gins arrived and Maddie paid with a twenty. The barmaid stuck it under the UV light then rang it through and handed back the change.

  ‘Cheers,’ Maddie said.

  Finn clinked glasses and watched as Maddie took a big skelp. The paleness of her neck as she tilted her head back, the way her auburn hair shook when she shivered at the alcohol. Her eyes were very dark brown and she had a sliver of freckles across her nose and cheeks.

  She glanced behind Finn at the oil workers, who were staring at them. ‘Morons.’

  ‘Want me to get one of the security guys?’ Finn said.

  Maddie shook her head and a flick of hair went in her eyes. She pulled a red hair tie off her wrist and whipped her hair into a lo
ose bun at the back, exposing more neck.

  ‘It’s just guys, you know?’

  ‘I’m a guy.’

  ‘I mean macho bullshit. Some guys act like they’re entitled to the world.’

  ‘How do you know I’m not like that?’

  ‘Educated guess.’

  ‘Are your educated guesses always right?’

  She laughed. ‘Christ, no. I have a terrible record of choosing men.’

  ‘Choosing men?’

  ‘Oh, shut up.’

  The buzz from the gin had kicked in and Finn felt a little reckless. He was in an airport drinking and flirting with an attractive woman ten years older than him. It was Friday night and he felt on the edge of something in his mind.

  Amy was back in the flat in Dundee, but so what? Things had cooled there so quickly after them hooking up that they felt like an old married couple going through the motions already. The truth was he dreaded going home and sitting in that living room, the same one he’d shared with his mum growing up. All he’d done was replace her after she died with another mother figure. The woman sitting next to him now felt nothing like his mother.

  He stole glances at her while they drank. Her skin was smooth except for small creases around the eyes. A sharp nose and small mouth gave her a serious look, but those deep eyes balanced it out. His gaze moved down to her silver necklace, typical Orcadian, interlinked leafing with an aquamarine enamel teardrop set in it.

  ‘My face is up here,’ she said, pointing comically at her cheek.

  Blood rushed to his face as he shook his head. ‘I was looking at your pendant.’

  ‘That’s what they all say.’

  ‘From Sheila Fleet, right? Eighteen-inch sterling silver chain, aquamarine stone. I bet you paid seventy-five quid.’

  ‘Are you a salesman?’

  Finn shook his head. ‘I make jewellery. I could’ve done you one half the price. Better design too.’

  Maddie smiled. It was lopsided, higher on the left than the right, almost a smirk. ‘Professionally?’

  ‘Not yet, still studying. Jewellery and metal design. I’m in my final year at Duncan of Jordanstone.’

  ‘Aren’t you just the sweetest,’ Maddie said. ‘What sort of things do you make?’

  Finn lifted his rucksack from the floor and pulled out a notebook, handed it over.

  She put her gin down and undid the elastic binding, flicked it open. She landed on some sketches he’d done at the Ring of Brodgar a couple of days ago, using the worn curves of the standing stones as templates for a series of brooches. She nodded and flicked through the pages to some rough drawings he’d done at Skara Brae, based on the carved objects there.

  ‘These will be grey onyx,’ Finn said. ‘Not sure about the settings yet.’

  Maddie closed the sketchbook and handed it back. ‘So you’re a sensitive artistic type.’

  Finn shoved it back in his bag. ‘I don’t know about that.’

  ‘Don’t knock it, makes a change.’

  Finn nodded at her necklace. ‘From the guy who gave you that?’

  She frowned.

  ‘Sorry,’ Finn said.

  Maddie finished her drink. ‘Don’t be. You’ve nothing to be sorry about.’

  He looked at her left hand. No ring but maybe a mark on the skin where one had been recently. Perhaps she was on the rebound, looking for a little relief after something heavy.

  She reached into his open rucksack and pulled something out. ‘What’s this?’

  It was a George Mackay Brown book. He always brought it with him when he came north. She flipped it over to read the back.

  ‘It’s my mum’s,’ Finn said.

  ‘She’s a reader, then.’

  ‘She’s dead.’

  Maddie looked up. ‘Sorry.’

  She handed the book over and their fingers touched.

  ‘It’s fine,’ Finn said. He riffled the pages, looked at the crinkled spine. ‘She loved this. I’m named after the main character.’

  ‘What’s he like?’

  Finn smiled. ‘A lazy dreamer, kind of.’

  ‘Doesn’t sound too bad.’

  Finn looked at the departures screen. Their flight was the only one left.

  ‘So what’s taking you to Edinburgh?’

  Maddie pursed her lips. ‘Escape.’

  Finn laughed. ‘Dramatic.’

  Maddie fixed him with a stare. ‘Sometimes life is dramatic.’ She forced a smile and waved the barmaid over. ‘Two more, thanks.’ Then to Finn: ‘Sorry, take no notice of me.’

  ‘It’s impossible not to notice you.’ He tried to say it straight, but his bullshit detector made him end in a self-mocking voice.

  Maddie laughed. ‘Please, you’re as bad as those dicks over there.’

  Finn looked at the oil workers. They weren’t laughing any more, just drinking. He swallowed the last of the gin and picked up his new one.

  A voice came over the tannoy.

  ‘We apologise to all passengers on flight BE 6898, but take-off will be delayed by approximately one hour. This is due to inclement weather conditions.’

  It was the Loganair woman at the gate who’d said the words into a microphone. There were so few of them in the departure lounge she could’ve come and told them personally.

  ‘Stupid fog,’ Maddie said.

  She was looking past the security guards, down the corridor.

  ‘You in a hurry?’ Finn said.

  ‘I just need to get away.’

  Her grip was hard on the strap of her holdall. Delicate bones, veins tight across the knuckles. She seemed ready to throw a punch.

  His phone rang. He pulled it out and checked the screen. Amy. He pressed cancel and put it away.

  ‘No one important?’ Maddie said.

  He shook his head.

  ‘Well, it looks like we’ve got an extra hour to burn,’ he said. ‘Tell me about yourself.’

  ‘Buy me another drink first.’

  2

  It was nearly two hours before the fog shifted enough for them to board the plane. By that time Finn wasn’t sure how much he’d drunk, though they’d settled into a slower pace and switched from doubles to singles.

  Maddie went to the toilet before they headed to the gate, taking her bag with her. She hadn’t told Finn much about herself. She was originally from Edinburgh but had lived in Orkney for ten years. She’d been with someone until very recently, maybe the reason she was leaving. She didn’t have family in Edinburgh any more, and wasn’t planning on staying there long. She gave up that personal information with a raised eyebrow and her lopsided smile, so it seemed more like delivering lines than telling the truth.

  Finn had spent most of the last two hours talking about himself, his poor little orphan sob story. He wasn’t stupid, he knew it played well with women. Brought up in a small two-bedroom flat in Dundee by his mum, Sally, who died two years ago, an aneurysm in the night and she just didn’t wake up. His gran, Ingrid, had come down from Orkney to deal with everything and look after Finn. He was just nineteen then, and he and Ingrid struggled, losing a mum and a daughter between them. They were the only family each other had now.

  He’d been up for a week staying with her. It was the anniversary of Sally’s death and they’d decided to spend it together. Sally was buried in the graveyard at St Peter’s Kirk next to her dad, so the trip was a way for Finn to visit her too.

  As a kid he’d spent summers in Orkney, Sally shipping him off during the holidays while she worked a cleaning job and behind the reception desk at the DCA, scraping together enough to pay the mortgage. Finn wondered about that, why Sally never asked Ingrid for help. Sally was artistic, had gone to Dundee to study fine art. When she got pregnant with Finn in her final year, she carried on and passed her degree two days after his due date. Whoever the dad was, he’d never been in the picture, and when Finn got older and asked about him Sally just shrugged and said the two of them didn’t need anyone else.

  She’d
kept on with art for a while, collages and crafty stuff, sculptures of found objects. She did waitressing and cleaning, anything flexible that fitted around childcare. She could’ve gone back to Orkney, to Ingrid, but she never did. Maybe she saw that as defeat, an admission that she couldn’t make it as a grown-up and a parent. Finn would never know. But she was back in Orkney for ever now, and Finn’s trips north kept him connected to her.

  So he knew Orkney pretty well but not like a local, not like Ingrid, who’d rarely left the islands since she was born. These days she worked part-time at the Tomb of the Eagles, the Stone Age tourist attraction at the tip of South Ronaldsay. It was a couple of miles along from her cottage, as far south as you could get on Orkney before you fell into the sea. It was an amazing place, a chambered cairn full of human remains and eagle bones, and the cliff it was built on was just as dramatic. While Ingrid showed tourists around, Finn would spend the summers helping out and exploring. Then when he was older he borrowed her car and drove around the islands, finding the hidden nooks that tourists never did.

  Maddie had said she lived in Stromness, the main town on the West Mainland. Orcadians referred to the main island of Orkney as the Mainland, as opposed to the mainland of Scotland, which they insisted on calling Scotland. Like it was a different country, which of course it was to many of them. Stromness was the second biggest town in Orkney after Kirkwall, which wasn’t saying much, precious little to it except a couple of streets, the harbour and two thousand hardy souls. Finn tried to imagine what Maddie did with her time there, what kept her there for ten years. She hadn’t said if she had a job or not and he hadn’t asked about the man situation, for obvious reasons. But she seemed too big a personality to live in such a sleepy town. She was restless, not someone content to sit around watching daytime television. But then what did he know, he was making assumptions, creating a woman he could fall for in his half-cut mind.

  She came back from the toilet and they headed to the gate. The four oil workers were finishing their pints as Finn and Maddie walked past, and one of them grunted in their direction. The big guy she’d knocked back just eyeballed them.