Ann Cleeves - Cold Earth

‘Don’t I know you?’ She looked at him over her glasses.

‘Sandy Wilson.’ He was fourteen again, late for some class. Sheepish and defiant, all at the same time.

‘Of course, one of the wild Whalsay boys!’ She smiled, much as she had done then. ‘And what can I do for you, Sandy Wilson? I hear you’re respectable now. Keeping law and order in our beautiful islands. Who’d have thought it, eh?’

Sandy wasn’t sure how to respond to that and in the end he just gave her a quick smile. ‘I’d like to talk to someone about the Hay brothers. Andy and Michael.’

‘Well, Andy’s left now of course, but most of his teachers are still around. You’re probably best talking to Sally Martin. She taught him English and he was always one of her stars. Michael’s home teacher is Phil Jamieson. I know he’s in the staffroom now. Why don’t you chat to him first and I’ll ask Sally to come in when she’s finished teaching?’

Standing outside the staffroom, he still felt like an impostor, but he’d been here before as an adult. That time there’d been another murder in Ravenswick. It had been winter and Fran Hunter had found the body of a young schoolgirl lying in the snow. Sandy had come to the Anderson High to talk to her friends. After the interview he’d been taken into the staffroom and there’d been the same feeling of unease, of wandering into enemy territory. He tapped at the door. A male voice shouted for him to come in. There was a smell of old coffee and old building.

A middle-aged man was seated in a corner reading a newspaper. Otherwise the room was empty.

‘Mr Jamieson?’

‘Who wants to know?’ He might have been from Shetland originally, but his voice had been weathered by other places and the trace of accent had almost disappeared.

Sandy introduced himself.

‘And how can I help?’

‘I’m part of the team investigating the murders out at Tain. We’re making routine enquiries about all the people who live close to the crime scene. The Hays’ farm is one of the properties nearby.’

‘So you want to know all about Michael?’

Sandy nodded.

‘I can offer you a dreadful cup of coffee before the hordes arrive.’ Jamieson nodded towards a filter machine. ‘I warn you, it’s probably been standing there since break time.’

‘No, thanks.’

‘Wise choice.’ He nodded for Sandy to take a seat next to him. ‘I don’t know what to tell you about Michael. He’s one of those kids who never stand out. Well enough behaved so that he doesn’t irritate. Not particularly bright, but not so stupid that he needs extra help. Steady. Stable. Maybe a little bit boring, but in a school like this there are so many divas that that ’s quite refreshing. His future is mapped out for him. He wants to join his father on the farm. His mother would like him to go away to Agricultural College first, to widen his horizons a bit, but Michael doesn’t see the point and neither does his father. He’s got a stubborn streak, so I think he’ll probably get his own way.’

‘He’s got a girlfriend,’ Sandy said.

‘Gemma.’ The teacher smiled. ‘Cast in the same mould. But a little bit more chatty. She did get her way, and left before Highers.’

‘So there were never any concerns about Michael? No sudden outbursts of temper?’

‘Nothing at all like that. What you see is what you get. I suppose the only time I ever saw him lose it was with Andy.’ He looked at Sandy to check the name meant something.

Sandy nodded. ‘The older brother.’

‘Hard to imagine two siblings so unalike. Andy was bright and so full of charm that you couldn’t help like him, even when he was back-chatting big-style.’

‘He must have been a hard act to follow.’

‘Maybe. But Michael never tried to. If anything, I think he found Andy embarrassing. A bit of a show-off. I never felt that Michael wanted to be like him.’

Sandy was startled by the electric bell that shrieked from the corner of the room and marked the end of the school day. He asked his next question quickly. Soon all the other teachers would arrive and he might lose the chance. ‘So what happened when Michael lost his rag with Andy?’

‘I’m not entirely sure what provoked it. Apparently Andy had been goading Michael all day. Something about Gemma and about how they were old and settled before their time. Why don’t you just get married and have done with it? And finally Michael hit back, said at least he had a girlfriend. Andy was all talk and no action. All he did was dream about it. His love life was one big fantasy. And suddenly they were scrapping in the yard like twelve-year-olds, everyone gathered round, watching and cheering them on. You know what it’s like.’

Sandy nodded. He knew. The girls with their high-pitched screaming and the boys yelling, ‘Fight! Fight!’ until a teacher came along to pull the brawlers apart.

‘That’s it, really. Nothing very major, in the scheme of things.’ Jamieson folded his newspaper.

There were footsteps in the corridor. Outside crowds of children ran through the rain towards the gate. Some of them didn’t have coats. Sandy remembered that. How somehow it was uncool to come to school with a big coat.

The staffroom door opened and a group of teachers walked in, chatting and laughing. A young woman in a tiny skirt, thick black tights and long boots approached him, arm outstretched. ‘You must be Sandy. Maggie said you wanted to chat about Andy.’

Sally Martin made him fresh coffee and, once the machine had started to work, the room was nearly empty again. The teachers who had any sort of commute home wanted to be on their way. Sandy could hear them talking about the possibility of another landslide as they left.

‘What about you?’ Sandy took the mug of coffee from her. She looked so young that she could have been a student herself. ‘Do you need to get off?’

‘Oh, I’ve got a flat in Lerwick. I can walk home. Not much fun in this weather, but I’m so new to it that I still enjoy the drama of being out in the storm.’ Her voice was English, quite deep and classy.

‘Is this your first job?’ Sandy thought it must be. It wasn’t just that she looked so young; it was something about the starry-eyed enthusiasm.

‘Yeah. My parents are island freaks and brought me and my brother here when we were children. I’d just finished my postgrad teacher training and saw the post advertised. I didn’t think I had a chance of getting it, but here I am, already in my third year and loving it.’ She looked up at him. ‘Maggie said you were investigating the murders out at Ravenswick.’ She paused and gave a little frown. Something about it made Sandy think she was like an actress, always conscious of her audience. Perhaps because she was so bonny that she was used to people staring at her. ‘I’m sure Andy wouldn’t be involved in anything like that.’

‘It’s just routine enquiries,’ Sandy said. ‘We’re checking all the people who live close to the crime scene. I’m sure you understand.’

‘Of course.’

‘And Maggie said you were the best person to talk to about Andy Hay.’

‘He was the first student I met when I arrived here,’ Sally said. ‘The head got him to show me around. He’d just started the sixth form and had that swagger that kids get because they suddenly feel grown-up. And Andy was funny. He described the other teachers as we walked past their classrooms, summing them up in a couple of lines. The comments weren’t always complimentary, and I knew I shouldn’t be encouraging him, but I couldn’t help laughing.’

‘You taught him?’ Sandy wondered why he’d never had a teacher like Sally Martin.

‘English and theatre studies. He was really very good at both. He had the confidence to be creative, to take risks, if you know what I mean.’