Peter May - The Blackhouse

‘What a bastard.’

Fin turned to find Fionnlagh looking at him, half serious, whole in earnest. ‘Yes, I suppose I was. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I can’t deny it. And I can’t go back and change it, or do anything different. It’s just how it was. Poor Marsaili. She must really have been in love with me, that wee girl.’ Unaccountably, and to his acute embarrassment, the world became suddenly blurred. He turned away quickly to look out over the bay, furiously blinking away the beginnings of tears.

‘It’s a sad story.’

Fin took a moment or two to recover himself. ‘I spent the next four years more or less ignoring her.’ He was lost now in a childhood world he had all but buried. ‘To the point where I’d almost forgotten that there had ever been anything between us. Then there was a dance at the end of our last year of primary, and I asked a girl from the lighthouse called Irene Davis to go. I was at an age when I wasn’t that interested in girls, but I had to ask someone, so I asked Irene. It never even occurred to me to ask your mum, until I got a letter from her. It arrived in the post a couple of days before the dance.’ He could still see the big, sad scrawl, dark blue pen on pale blue paper. ‘She couldn’t understand why I had asked Irene instead of her. She suggested it wasn’t too late to change my mind and ask her instead. Her solution to the problem of Irene was that your dad could take her. She signed it, The Girl from the Farm . But, of course, it was too late. I couldn’t unask Irene, even if I’d wanted to. In the final event it was your dad who took your mum.’

They had reached the end of the beach, standing almost in the shadow of the boatshed where Angel had been murdered.

‘Which only goes to show how much you know when you’re eleven years old. Just five years later your mum and I were madly in love and going to spend the rest of our lives together.’

‘So what happened that time?’

Fin smiled and shook his head. ‘Enough. You’ve got to leave us a few secrets.’

‘Aw, come on. You can’t let it go at that.’

‘Yes, I can.’ Fin turned around and started heading back along the sand towards the rocks. Fionnlagh hurried to catch him up, falling in step beside him, following the footsteps they had left on the way out. Fin said, ‘So what are your plans, Fionnlagh? Are you finished with school?’

Fionnlagh nodded glumly, kicking a shell along the compacted sand. ‘My dad’s trying to get me a job at the yard.’

‘You don’t sound very enthusiastic.’

‘I’m not.’

‘So what do you want to do?’

‘I want to get off this bloody island.’

‘Then why don’t you?’

‘Where would I go? What would I do? I don’t know anyone on the mainland.’

‘You know me.’

Fionnlagh glanced at him. ‘Aye, for five minutes.’

‘Listen, Fionnlagh. You might not think so now, but this is a magical place.’ And when Fionnlagh gave Fin a look, he said, ‘The thing is, you don’t appreciate that until you’ve been away.’ It was something he was only just beginning to realize himself. ‘And if you don’t go, if you stay here all your life, sometimes your view of the world gets skewed. I’ve seen it in a lot of people here.’

‘Like my dad?’

Fin glanced at the boy, but Fionnlagh was keeping his eyes facing front. ‘Some people just never get the chance to go, or don’t take it if it comes.’

‘You did.’

‘I couldn’t wait to get away.’ Fin chuckled. ‘I won’t deny it, it’s a great place to get away from. But it’s good to come back to.’

Fionnlagh turned to examine him closely. ‘So you’re coming back, are you?’

Fin smiled and shook his head. ‘Probably not. But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t want to.’

‘So, if I went to the mainland, what would I do?’

‘You could go to college. If you get the qualifications you could go to university.’

‘What about the police?’

Fin hesitated. ‘It’s a good job, Fionnlagh. But it’s not for everyone. You get to see things you would never choose to. The very worst side of human nature. And its consequences. Things you can’t really do anything to change, but still have to deal with.’

‘Is that a recommendation?’

Fin laughed. ‘Maybe not. But someone’s got to do it. And there are some good people in the force.’

‘Is that why you’re leaving it?’

‘What makes you think I’m leaving?’

‘You said you were doing an OU course in computing.’

‘You don’t miss much, do you?’ Fin smiled pensively. ‘Let’s say I’m looking at alternatives.’

They were nearly back at the rocks now. Fionnlagh said, ‘Are you married?’ Fin nodded. ‘Kids?’

Fin took a long time to reply. Too long. But a denial would not roll off his tongue as glibly as it had with Artair. Finally he said, ‘No.’

Fionnlagh clambered up over the rocks and turned back to give Fin a hand up. Fin grasped the proffered hand and pulled himself up alongside the teenager. ‘Why would you not tell me the truth about something like that?’ Fionnlagh said.

And, again, Fin was taken aback by his directness. A characteristic he had inherited from his mother. ‘What makes you think I didn’t?’

‘Did you?’

Fin looked at him squarely. ‘Sometimes there are things about yourself that you just don’t want to talk about.’

‘Why?’

‘Because talking about them makes you think about them, and thinking about them hurts.’ There was an edge to Fin’s voice. He saw the boy reacting to it and relented. He sighed. ‘I had a son. He was eight years old. But he’s dead now.’

‘What happened?’

Fin’s will to keep it pent up inside was cracking under the boy’s relentless questions. He squatted down at the edge of a pool in the rocks, sunlight flashing on its glassy surface, and trailed his fingers through the tepid salt water sending ripples of light off to its miniature shores. ‘It was a hit and run. My wife and Robbie were just crossing the road. It wasn’t even a busy street. This car came round the corner and, bang. Hit the two of them. She went up in the air and landed on the bonnet. That’s probably what saved her life. Robbie went right under the wheels. The driver stopped just for a second. We figure he’d probably been drinking, because the next thing, he put his foot down and was gone. No witnesses. No number. We never did get him.’

‘Jesus,’ Fionnlagh said softly. ‘When did that happen?’

‘Just over a month ago.’

Fionnlagh squatted down beside him. ‘Fin, I’m so sorry. And I’m sorry I put you through the pain of it all over again.’

Fin waved aside the apology. ‘Don’t be daft, son. How could you have known?’ And at his own use of the word, son , he felt his heart miss a beat. He glanced at Fionnlagh, but the boy seemed lost in thought. Fin let his gaze fall back on the water, and he saw, beneath the reflection of the sky, just a hint of movement. ‘There’s a crab in there. Your dad and I used to catch dozens of them down here.’

‘Yeh, he used to bring me here a lot when I was wee.’ Fionnlagh pulled up his sleeves in preparation for thrusting his hands into the water to catch the crab. Fin was shocked to see that both forearms had nasty purple-yellow bruising along the line of the bone. He grabbed Fionnlagh’s wrist.

‘Where on earth did you get bruises like that?’

The boy winced, pulling his arm away from him. ‘That was sore.’ He pulled his sleeves down to cover the bruises and stood up.

‘I’m sorry.’ Fin was distressed. ‘It looks nasty. What happened?’

Fionnlagh shrugged. ‘It was nothing. Did myself a bit of damage when I was putting the new engine in the Mini. Shouldn’t have been trying to do it on my own.’