Crash Land Page 10

  ‘Hey, Ingrid.’

  ‘Just checking in with my favourite grandson. Making sure you’re OK.’

  Her voice was too light, forced.

  The sleet was getting heavier. Finn raised his face skywards, felt the wetness on his skin. ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘You can do whatever you want, Finn, you’re a grown-up. But if you’re going to take the car at least check with me first. I might’ve needed it.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘I’ve had someone round to speak to you. The young reporter from the Orcadian, the one who was at the hospital. Her name is Freya.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Sent her away with a flea in her ear. Told her she should get a job that didn’t involve harassing people.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Finn heard a bird call and looked left. A lone curlew stalked through the heather, jabbing its sharp curved beak into the undergrowth.

  ‘I’m just heading home,’ he said.

  He heard the beep for another call on his phone.

  ‘Hang on a minute, Gran.’

  It was Amy.

  The curlew sensed something and took off, away from the incoming weather.

  ‘It’s Amy, Gran, I’d better get it.’

  He took the call. ‘Hey.’

  ‘Hi, honey, how’s it going?’

  The sleet was harder now, almost hail, stinging Finn’s face and the hand holding the phone. He huddled behind a standing stone and sheltered from the wind.

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘How are you feeling?’

  She meant physically, he presumed, or maybe more than that. Where to start?

  ‘I’m OK, a few aches and pains but nothing some painkillers can’t sort out.’

  ‘Go easy,’ Amy said. ‘You know.’

  Those last two words, freighted with meaning. A while after his mum had died, when he was already together with Amy, Finn had begun taking some prescription opiates he found at the back of the bathroom cabinet. Just to smooth the edge off the sadness to begin with. But he soon got used to life with no edges and kept taking them. His doctor was a dowdy middle-aged woman who’d known Sally. She had two teenage sons of her own and was overflowing with empathy, so Finn played little orphan boy for all he was worth, got repeat prescriptions without any hassle. Before long he was smothering himself in the fog of it, to the point where it affected his life, his ability to communicate. It turned out that life with no edges wasn’t much of a life at all, but Finn didn’t care enough to change by himself. Amy stepped in and sorted it. Nothing dramatic, no big intervention, just a quiet word, a promise of help, careful monitoring, a gradual reduction in the amount he was taking over weeks until he was free of it and able to go to the shops and come back with the correct groceries. That was his girlfriend, quiet and efficient, good and decent, honest and caring. He tried to remind himself of that.

  ‘It’s nothing like before,’ Finn said. ‘Just helps with the pain.’

  ‘Where are you? Sounds windy.’

  ‘Brodgar.’

  ‘Remember last time?’

  Finn smiled. ‘It’s not exactly the weather for that.’

  They’d come up here in the summer, stayed with Ingrid for a week, did all the tourist stuff that Finn knew back-to-front from childhood visits. It was refreshing seeing it all through Amy’s eyes, discovering the spirit of the place all over again. They drove out here at night, midsummer sky still light, and lay down in the heather inside the stone circle, looking at the stars. They made love in the middle of the circle, joking about it afterwards, giving themselves up to ancient spirits. Only five months ago, but it felt like forever.

  ‘What are you doing there?’ Amy said.

  ‘Getting wet.’

  ‘Apart from that.’

  ‘Clearing my head.’

  Amy coughed and Finn sensed a change of gear. ‘I’m coming to see you.’

  ‘There’s no need, I’m fine.’

  ‘That’s not the point,’ Amy said. ‘I want to be there for you.’

  ‘There’s nothing you can do here.’

  ‘There’s no point trying to talk me out of it,’ Amy said. ‘What am I going to do here, sit on my arse and twiddle my thumbs? What if you’re not allowed off the island before Christmas? I’m coming tomorrow.’

  ‘Amy, there’s no point.’ His voice was feeble.

  ‘It’s already sorted,’ Amy said. ‘They’ve opened the airport so I’m flying up. I couldn’t get on today’s flight, the girl on the phone said half the world’s media is on it. Even more reason for me to be there.’

  ‘Amy, I need to get out of here, the weather’s closing in.’

  ‘I love you, babe.’

  ‘Love you, too.’

  Finn put his phone away and wiped the wetness from his face. He pictured Amy lying naked underneath him in the middle of the circle. He felt ashamed. He placed his forehead against the standing stone, communing with the gods, then turned towards the car. As he walked, he scanned the sky for oystercatchers but they’d flown east, escaping the incoming storm.

  21

  He parked at the visitor centre and got out. He’d outrun the weather for now and the sky over the firth was grey but dry, the clouds just a high smear. The wind was still a force, it would drag the rain this way soon enough.

  Before he reached the front door he heard the sound of a car engine. He turned and saw a blue Ford pull up next to Ingrid’s car. A young woman unfolded herself from the driver’s seat like a waking insect. She was six foot tall and gangly, big eyes and a sharp nose framed by a severe black bob. She was dressed like a kid playing office dress-up, mismatched jacket and skirt, huge canvas tote bag slung over her shoulder. Finn thought of Maddie inside with the holdall.

  ‘Mr Sullivan?’ the woman said.

  She saw the face Finn made. ‘I know, you don’t want to talk to me, blah blah blah. I get it. I’ve already had a run-in with your lovely grandmother so I know the Sullivan script off pat.’

  ‘Then you know I have nothing to say.’

  Finn couldn’t work out what to do with his body. He’d been reaching for the door handle when she arrived. Now he shifted away from the house, aware of who was inside. He wanted to lead the reporter away from the building, but that would seem weird. He should get back in the car and go to Ingrid’s, but then the reporter would wonder why he’d come here.

  ‘You have a story whether you like it or not,’ she said. ‘You are the story, you and this missing woman. You’re at the centre of a media storm.’

  Finn looked around at the view beyond the cliff. ‘I thought the centre of a storm was supposed to be calm.’

  ‘You know what I mean. Hey, I didn’t introduce myself, I’m Freya Magnusson, reporter with the Orcadian.’

  She rifled through her bag and produced a card, handed it to him. He looked at it but didn’t take it.

  ‘Go on,’ Freya said. ‘It might come in handy.’

  ‘I doubt it.’

  ‘Roach material, if nothing else.’ She raised her eyebrows as if sharing a joke and prodded the card at him. He took it and put it in his pocket.

  ‘You’re in quite a situation,’ she said.

  Finn wondered how much she knew. ‘Am I?’

  Freya tilted her head. ‘It’s not every day we have a plane crash in Orkney with multiple deaths. This is the biggest thing that’s happened here since someone spotted the longships on the horizon twelve hundred years ago. And I’m here to report on it.’

  So she didn’t know about Kevin yet.

  ‘Go away,’ Finn said.

  He had his back to the building and imagined curtains twitching.

  ‘I could go away,’ Freya said. ‘I already have an eyewitness account of the crash. Spoke to Charlotte the stewardess this morning. She had a lot to say about the behaviour of some of the passengers, if you know what I mean.’

  A gust of wind made them both steady themselves. Freya nodded at the door. ‘Maybe we could discuss
it inside?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why are you here, anyway? It’s not open this time of year.’

  ‘We look after the place while the owners are away. Just keeping an eye on it.’

  ‘So we can’t go into the warm, non-windy building to talk?’

  ‘No.’

  She moved closer. She was wearing chunky heels that made her taller than him. She dropped her voice. ‘Mr Sullivan, Finn. I’m going to write this article whether you speak to me or not. This is a great opportunity for me. We’re even printing a special edition. There isn’t a paper due for four days but this fell into our laps and we need to move fast. I can run the story with what I have, quotes from Charlotte, rescue workers, air traffic control and the police.’

  She paused.

  ‘You can imagine that scenario doesn’t make you look good. Or I could use your side of it as well, balance it out. I’m sure you have good reasons for what happened up there.’

  ‘It wasn’t my fault.’

  ‘That’s exactly what our readers need to hear. If they can see the real you, so much the better.’

  ‘I’m not speaking to you, end of discussion.’

  Freya stuck out her bottom lip. ‘Have you any idea where Mrs Pierce is?’

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘How long have you known her?’

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘Did she tell you she was married?’

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘Do you think she’s alive or dead?’

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘Did she tell you why she was leaving her husband?’

  ‘What makes you think she was leaving her husband?’

  Freya smiled. ‘It works both ways. You tell me something, I tell you something.’

  ‘No deal.’

  Freya sighed. ‘Have it your way, but you know they’ve opened the airport.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘The muckrakers from the Sun, Record, Mail and the rest of the gutter will be here soon. You think they’ll be sympathetic to your side?’

  ‘I couldn’t give a shit.’

  ‘That’s good,’ Freya said, smiling. ‘You keep that up. I hope it works out for you, I really do.’

  ‘You talk a lot for a reporter. I thought you were supposed to listen to people for a living.’

  Freya cupped her hands to the sides of her head. ‘I’m all ears.’

  Finn felt a buzz in his pocket and pulled his phone out. A text from Maddie:

  Get rid of her.

  He put his phone away, trying not to look at the building behind him.

  ‘Bad news?’ Freya said.

  ‘Just Ingrid wondering where I am.’ Finn moved towards his car.

  ‘I like Ingrid,’ Freya said. ‘We have a lot in common.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  She touched his arm as he unlocked the car with a beep.

  ‘We both have your best interests at heart.’ Her voice was serious.

  Finn opened the car door and Freya took a step back.

  ‘I thought you were going to check on that place,’ she said, nodding at the visitor centre.

  ‘I’ll do it later. Better see Ingrid.’

  Freya looked at the windows of the building, then back at Finn. ‘I might stay and have a look around.’

  ‘Please leave.’

  Freya weighed that up and glanced out to sea. ‘Amazing views from here. Lovely day for a clifftop walk.’

  ‘Just go.’

  ‘I’m only messing, I’m on a deadline. The story of the century won’t write itself.’ She bounded towards her car and turned as she reached it. ‘You’ve got my contact info, do yourself a favour and use it. Sooner rather than later.’

  Finn shook his head and watched as she spun the Ford around and out the gate. He kept his eyes on the car as it bumped along the track through the fields, up the hill and out of sight. He rested his head on the roof of Ingrid’s car and felt the shock of cold metal against his skin. He listened to his own breathing, felt his body ache and counted to ten.

  22

  The door was locked and he’d left her the key, so he knocked. He remembered a little pretend gang he’d had at primary school with two girls, Emily and Nina. He’d always been more friendly with girls when he was younger, only starting to hang out with boys when puberty hit, no real clue about how boys interacted with each other. The gang had a secret knock that he could still remember now. He imagined using it on the visitor centre door and being transported back to a time before all this.

  The door clicked open and he slid inside. He smelt alcohol on her breath as she closed the door behind him.

  ‘You’ve been drinking,’ he said.

  ‘I needed to relax.’

  There was a sway to her body and she blinked slowly as she spoke.

  ‘Where did you get booze?’ Finn said.

  Maddie waved at the connecting door to the Lewises’ home. It was open with the key in the lock. ‘They have a decent drinks cabinet. Care to join me?’

  Finn took the key out of the lock. He’d meant for her to have a wash and a rest, not this. ‘You shouldn’t be going through their stuff.’

  Maddie frowned at him.

  ‘Make a note of everything you take or touch,’ he said. ‘I’ll need to put it back the way it was.’

  She walked past him into the Lewis house. He followed. He’d been in here before when the Lewises were around, of course, but he’d also sneaked through on his own in the past, on previous stays with Ingrid. He would offer to check the centre, then once inside he would turn the key in the adjoining door and wander around their private space, lifting a picture off the mantelpiece, looking through a drawer or two, imagining their lives. Nothing sinister, just the inquisitive instinct of a child, the urge to spy on someone else’s world.

  So he knew where everything was, the TV remote control and the steak knives, the shampoo and the old-people underwear drawer. Mr and Mrs Lewis never had kids so they’d thrown all their energy into the tomb, building it up from a hole in the ground to a thriving business. They had plenty of money in the bank but hadn’t decorated their chintzy house in thirty years, all floral curtains and shagpile carpet.

  ‘We shouldn’t be through here,’ Finn said.

  Maddie headed for the sideboard where a bottle of Bombay Sapphire sat on top. ‘I’ll make you one.’

  She glugged gin into two glasses then went to the kitchen. Finn heard the fridge open and close, then the freezer, then she came back in and handed him a drink.

  ‘There’s no lime, but I found ice.’

  The cubes chimed in the glasses as they clinked and sipped. The taste made Finn flash back to the airport lounge.

  ‘What did she want?’ Maddie said.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The girl with the goofy face.’

  ‘She writes for the Orcadian. Wants my story, about the crash.’

  ‘Does she know about Kev?’

  ‘No, but she will soon.’

  ‘Then what?’

  Finn had intended to sip his gin but he looked at the glass and it was almost finished.

  ‘What did Claire say?’ Maddie said.

  ‘She denied everything, said she didn’t know Kevin was dead.’

  ‘You believed her?’

  ‘She seemed genuine.’

  ‘She’s a good liar when she needs to be, I found that out the hard way.’

  Finn wondered if the same applied to Maddie. He narrowed his eyes. ‘How did you two become friends?’

  Maddie drank. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You don’t seem very alike, that’s all.’

  She looked at him. ‘You don’t know me and you don’t know her.’

  ‘So tell me.’

  Maddie waved a hand at nothing. ‘I don’t know, proximity, I guess. There’s not exactly a lot going on in Stromness most nights. We met at the bar in the Royal one night. Kev and Lenny already knew each other, so we all just fell together.’

 
; ‘Wait,’ Finn said. ‘Lenny is Claire’s husband?’

  ‘Didn’t I say that already?’

  ‘The same Lenny that Kev was running the salvage thing with?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘And you never thought to tell me?’

  Maddie frowned. ‘I thought I did.’

  ‘I met him, at their house.’

  Maddie finished her drink. ‘How was he?’

  ‘Aggressive.’

  ‘Sounds right.’

  Finn shook his head. ‘This is a mess. I still think you should go to the police.’

  ‘And tell them what?’

  ‘The truth.’

  Maddie went to pour another drink. She was standing at the window now, the sea view behind her. If Ingrid or Freya or anyone walked round this side of the house, she’d be visible. A crow glided past, riding the wind over the water.

  ‘They won’t believe me,’ Maddie said. ‘We’ve been through this.’

  Finn handed her his empty glass and watched as she poured him another. Her hand was unsteady. How many had she had?

  He went to the kitchen and came back with the tonic and ice. He finished the drinks off and they picked them up but didn’t clink this time. The rush of the wind outside was a faint tremble in here, clouds racing east out the window. The hail he’d outrun at Brodgar would be here any minute.

  ‘What are we doing, Maddie?’ he said.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Finn waved around at the ceramic dolphins on a shelf, the frilly lamp, the matching easy chairs.

  ‘What’s the plan? We can’t go on like this.’

  He realised that she didn’t have the bag of money with her for the first time since they met. She must’ve hidden it somewhere in the house.

  ‘You have to get me off Orkney,’ she said.

  Finn breathed through his nose. ‘How? You can’t get on a plane.’

  ‘Boat.’ She put her glass down and touched her hand to his arm.

  ‘They’ll be watching the ferries,’ Finn said. ‘And I can’t leave the island so I can’t smuggle you in the car boot.’

  ‘Not like that,’ she said, stroking his arm.

  Finn looked at her hand then her eyes, misty with alcohol.