Simon Beckett - Written in Bone

We pulled up outside. The rain had eased as I climbed out of the car. Shredded clouds streamed across an ink-black sky, giving glimpses of bright stars and a sickle moon that shone like a broken opal. The night was cold, but the rain-washed air carried a salty freshness. Even here it was so quiet I could hear the sound of the waves crashing on the seafront, invisible in the darkness.

I followed Fraser up the steps and through the double doors. An appealing scent of beeswax and freshly baked bread engulfed me as I found myself in a long, warmly lit hallway. The bare floorboards had been polished to the colour of cinnamon by generations of feet, and the walls and ceiling were clad in old pine panels, so that it was like walking into an old ship. An ancient grandfather clock tocked away steadily against one wall, next to a mahogany-framed mirror whose silver was mottled with age.

A young woman emerged through a swing door at the far end. She looked in her late twenties, tall and slim in jeans and a blue sweater that complemented her dark-red hair. A constellation of freckles dappled her nose and cheekbones, above which were striking sea-green eyes.

‘Feasgar Math. Good evening,’ she added for my benefit. I knew Gaelic was still spoken on some Hebridean islands, but I’d only ever heard it used in toasts before. ‘I presume you must be Sergeant Fraser and Dr Hunter?’

‘Aye,’ Fraser answered, but his attention was on the bar visible through an open doorway. An inviting murmur of voices and laughter filtered from inside.

‘I’m Ellen McLeod. I wasn’t sure what time you’d be here, but your rooms are ready. Have you eaten?’

Fraser reluctantly tore his eyes away from the bar. ‘Not yet. Something hot would be welcome when we’ve dumped our bags.’

‘What about Duncan?’ I reminded him.

‘Oh. Right,’ Fraser said, without enthusiasm. ‘I’ve got a PC out on duty going to need feeding as well. Could you sort out a plate of something I can take out to him?’

‘Of course.’

Fraser was eyeing the bar again, hungrily. ‘Look, you might as well see to Dr Hunter. I’ll, er…I’ll be waiting in here.’

He was already heading for the bar. The broken capillaries in his cheeks and nose hadn’t lied, I thought.

‘He’ll be disappointed if he’s wanting a drink. There’s only me here,’ Ellen said. She gave me a conspiratorial smile. ‘I’ll show you to your room.’

The stairs creaked as they took our weight, but there was a reassuring solidity to them. The dark-red carpet was worn and faded, but as scrupulously clean as the rest of the house.

A flash of something white caught my eye as I followed Ellen along the first-floor landing. It came from the unlit floor above. I looked up the next flight of stairs and saw the pale face of a little girl watching me through the railings.

I felt my heart stutter.

‘Anna, I’ve told you it’s past your bedtime,’ Ellen said, sternly. ‘Go back to bed.’

The little girl took this as an invitation to come down the stairs. As she emerged from the shadows in her nightgown the shock I’d felt at seeing her was already fading. I could see now that the resemblance to my own daughter was only superficial. Alice had been older, and her hair had been blonde. Like her mother’s. This little girl was only four or five, her hair the same dark red as the young woman’s.

‘I can’t sleep,’ the little girl said, staring at me with open curiosity. ‘I’m scared of the wind.’

‘Funny, you’ve never been bothered by it before,’ Ellen said, dryly. ‘Go on, off to bed, young lady. I’ll call in to see you after I’ve shown Dr Hunter his room.’

With a final look at me, the little girl did as she was told.

‘Sorry about that,’ Ellen said, continuing down the hallway. ‘My daughter’s got what I think’s called a healthy curiosity.’

I managed a smile. ‘Glad to hear it. And the name’s David. How old is she? Five?’

‘Four. She’s big for her age.’ There was a quiet note of pride in her voice. ‘Do you have children?’

I felt my face stiffen. ‘No.’

‘Are you married?’

‘I used to be.’

She pulled a face. ‘Serves me right for asking. Divorced?’

‘No. She died.’

Ellen’s hand went to her mouth. ‘Oh, I’m sorry…’

‘It’s all right.’

But she was looking at me now with realization. ‘It wasn’t just your wife, was it? That’s why you looked so shocked when you saw Anna.’

‘They were about the same age, that’s all,’ I said, as neutrally as I could. I knew she meant well, but seeing her daughter had touched on a rawness that was usually covered over. I smiled. ‘Anna looks a lovely little girl.’

Ellen took the hint. ‘You wouldn’t say that if you saw her when she can’t get her own way. She might be only young, but she can be a madam when the mood takes her.’

‘And you’ve still got the teenage years to look forward to.’

She laughed, a good clear sound that made her look not much more than a girl herself. ‘I don’t even want to think about that.’

I wondered where the little girl’s father was. Ellen didn’t wear a wedding ring, and from the way she’d spoken earlier it sounded as if she was alone here with her daughter. Not that it was any of my business.

She opened a door at the far end of the hall. ‘Here we are. Not very grand, I’m afraid.’

‘It’s fine,’ I told her. And it was. The room was spartan, but clean and comfortable. A single brass bedstead was flanked by an old pine dresser on one side and a wardrobe on the other, its tartan counter-pane neatly turned down to reveal crisp white sheets.

‘The bathroom is at the end of the hall. Shared, but only between yourself and Sergeant Fraser. We don’t get many guests at this time of year.’ There was resignation in the way she said it. ‘Well, I’ll leave you to sort yourself out. Just come down to the bar when you’re ready for supper.’

There was a telephone on the dresser, so at least I’d be able to call Jenny. ‘Is there anywhere I can log on to the Internet? I’d like to check my emails.’

‘If you’ve got a laptop you can use the phone line in here. We’re not wireless yet, but there’s a broadband connection.’

‘You’ve got broadband?’ I asked, surprised.

‘Did you think we’d still be using smoke signals?’

‘No, I just…’

She smiled at my discomfort. ‘It’s all right, I don’t blame you. We can still lose power and phones if the weather’s bad, so we’re not that sophisticated yet. But it works fine most of the time.’

When she’d gone I sat down heavily on the bed. Its springs made a metallic rustling as they took my weight. God. I was more tired than I’d thought. The incident on the stairs had struck through the defences I’d painstakingly built up after Kara and Alice had died. It had taken a long time to reach a state of truce with the cold fact that I was still alive, while my wife and daughter weren’t. Jenny had played a large part in that, and I was deeply thankful to have been given a second chance.

But every now and then the loss would still hit home with a force that took my breath away.

I rubbed my eyes, fatigue catching up with me. It had been a long day. And you’ve not finished yet.

I took my laptop from my bag and put it on the dresser. I picked up the phone to call Jenny as I waited for it to boot up. She should be back from work by now, at her flat in Clapham where we were unofficially living together. Unofficially because I still had my own flat in east London, although I hardly ever stayed there. When we’d left Norfolk eighteen months ago, while Jenny was still recovering from an abduction that had nearly killed her, we’d both felt it would be good for us to keep some degree of independence. For the most part it had worked out.