Ann Cleeves: Thin Air

‘She spent some time in hospital?’

‘Just to please me,’ he said. ‘I felt so helpless. I wanted my wife back. I’m an engineer and I’m used to fixing things if they’re not working properly. I got her into a private place.’

‘But she refused to stay there?’ Perez wondered what that must do to a relationship, a husband sending his wife to an institution because she was sad.

‘She said she wasn’t ill and it would only take time. She said that I should trust her.’ Ian paused. ‘She was right. On this trip she was much more herself again. Focused on a new project at work. Excited about the trip and about the wedding.’

‘And ghosts,’ Perez said.

‘That was work. A project about contemporary hauntings. We teased her. She teased us back.’

‘So after lunch your wife had a snooze,’ Perez said. ‘What about the rest of you?’

‘We went for a walk to get the lie of the land. There’s a footpath that goes south along the cliffs. The weather was lovely and the views were spectacular. There were puffins so close that you could reach out and touch them. Eleanor would have loved that. At one point I wondered if I should go back for her. It seemed a shame that she was missing it.’ Ian frowned.

‘But you didn’t go back?’

‘No. I decided to let her rest. We knew it would be a late night and we’re booked into the house for a week. Plenty of time for her to explore.’ He started walking again and his words came in breathy bursts. ‘When we got up she was awake and sitting on the deck. Later, after the party, she claimed that was when she’d seen a ghost.’

‘Peerie Lizzie?’ Perez kept his voice even. This man wouldn’t like to be mocked. Underneath the steel Perez sensed a fragile ego.

‘Yes, a child. A girl in an old-fashioned white dress with ribbons in her hair. Eleanor said that she watched her for a while, then she was worried that there were no parents around and that the girl was getting very close to the water. But when she approached her, the child vanished. That was the story, at least.’

‘You didn’t believe it?’ Perez wasn’t sure how this could be relevant. He remembered the kids in fancy dress at the ferry – perhaps Eleanor had seen one of those.

‘Eleanor loved practical jokes, taking the piss. I wondered if she was winding us up. But Polly and Marcus took it seriously and started coming up with practical explanations. Polly’s always been a tad earnest – I could never quite see how Eleanor and she were such good friends. Though Nell has always collected admirers – she makes people feel as if they’re special. I just let the whole ghost thing go.’

‘You didn’t consider that it might be a sign that Eleanor’s depression had returned?’ Perez had been depressed after Fran’s death and he’d imagined all sorts.

‘Hearing voices and seeing things, you mean? Nah, I didn’t think that, though she accused me of believing she was mad, when we were discussing it after the party.’

‘And after you returned from the walk you prepared for the dance?’

‘Yes, we got there a bit early to help out.’

‘Of course,’ Perez said. ‘As friends of the bride and the groom, that would be your role. Tradition.’

‘So we were told.’ Ian didn’t sound as if he was much impressed by tradition.

Perez could picture just how it would have been. They’d be there to set out the bar and greet older friends and family as they arrived, to organize the food. Later there’d be huge pots of tea, the milk already added, trays of home-bakes, and the young people would wait on the other guests. ‘How did Eleanor seem during the party?’

‘Well! Lively. She was dancing. The girls had gone to classes in London to learn the steps so they wouldn’t be left out. It was great to see her so happy.’

‘And afterwards?’

‘Afterwards we came back to the house,’ Ian said. ‘It was gone midnight, but we were still buzzing and nobody was ready to go to bed. We opened a couple of bottles of wine, wrapped up well and sat out on the deck.’ There was a silence. Perez waited for him to continue. ‘Eleanor talked about some cousin of Lowrie’s who’d just had a baby. A tiny girl. She’d been there at the party, passed around for all the relatives to admire – her mother the centre of attention.’ Another pause, then a sort of confession. ‘I don’t know if it was the baby Eleanor was jealous of or all the admiration, the fuss.’ Again Perez said nothing.

Ian seemed to be concentrating, replaying the evening’s events in his head. ‘Then Polly said that she’d seen a child in a white dress on the beach outside the hall. It’s the same beach as here, of course, just further north. And suddenly Eleanor seemed to go weird on us. All theatrical and melodramatic. She accused me of not taking her seriously, of thinking she was mad. Maybe she’d just had too much to drink. The rest of us went to bed and she waited outside. I thought she was making a point. Perhaps she expected me to go out again and apologize, fetch her in.’ He stopped again. ‘But I’m a stubborn bugger. I went to bed. And I’ve never had any trouble sleeping, so I went out like a light. When I got up this morning there was no sign of her.’ For the first time he seemed to lose control. He stopped walking and put his head in his hands.

Perez waited for a moment. ‘She definitely didn’t sleep with you? Even for a while?’

He shook his head. ‘She must still have been wearing the clothes she wore to the party. Nothing else is missing. Not even her trainers. She hadn’t taken off her make-up, because her cream and wipes were still packed, and she’d do that even if she was too drunk to stand.’ He gave a little laugh. ‘She’d love this: playing the lead in her own ghost story. Disappearing into nothing.’

By now they were halfway along the beach and Perez could see the Meoness community hall, where the night before there would have been music and dancing, bunting and flowers, and a big glittering sign with the newly married couple’s name on it. They turned and had almost reached the house when they saw Sandy Wilson, standing on the deck and waving. The sun was so bright behind him that Perez couldn’t make out the expression on his face. It was impossible to tell if this was a wave of celebration or an urgent call for Perez’s presence. Perhaps Eleanor had been found by the search party, with nothing more serious than a broken ankle. Perez hoped so. He would like to meet her. Ian broke into a run.

On the deck Sandy had been joined by Polly.

Now Ian was close enough to shout. ‘Where is she? Have you found her?’ Perez sensed the desperation in his voice.

Sandy didn’t reply.

The women had left Eleanor’s phone in the planticrub, with Caroline to keep guard of it. At least the spate of US crime shows had made people aware that a possible crime scene shouldn’t be disturbed. Walking along the sheep track on the top of the cliff, Perez tried to work out what the discovery of the phone might mean. Ian had told him that he’d tried to call Eleanor as soon as he’d realized she was missing: ‘Of course I tried to get in touch with her. It was the first thing I thought of. And I’ve been trying ever since. But there was no answer.’

Why did the woman no longer have her phone? And did this mean that someone other than Eleanor had composed the email to Polly Gilmour? Perez repeated the words in his head. Don’t bother looking for me. You won’t find me alive. He ran through explanations for the message, which grew wilder and more improbable: a killer setting up the scenario that Eleanor had committed suicide; someone playing a tasteless and elaborate joke. One thing was certain. Eleanor was still in Unst, whether she was alive or dead. The ferry boys had already told Sandy that nobody matching her description had left the island that morning.