Chapter Thirty-One
It took several hours for the men to bring Norman’s body back from Glen Bay. Strong in life meant heavy in death, and they had to carry him in rotating shifts. Jayne spent that time sitting with the minister as they prayed together in the kirk and discussed what would come next. He reassured her there were enough witnesses to the accident – and she understood from his tone that he meant enough witnesses ‘of repute’, namely the lairds – for the death not to be considered suspicious. Registering Norman’s passing back on the mainland would be a matter of paperwork, that was all.
That was all.
She had decided he should be buried here beside Molly, his dear sister and – Jayne believed – the only person in the world he had ever truly loved. The coffin cleit had been the only cleit not cleared before the evacuation, so there was enough wood to nail together a casket. Donald, Angus and Fin were leading that task; David and Sholto were digging the grave.
She sat now on the rocks, staring – as she always had – at the seabirds diving for their fish suppers; but her hands were idle now, no knitting with which to soothe her restless spirit.
She heard voices and knew the girls were approaching. Effie and Mhairi had been fluttering around her like butterflies ever since it had happened, bringing her water to sip and holding her hand. Everyone was in shock. For all their anger at what Norman had done – and what he had been revealed to be – no one had wanted this. They’d never imagined for a moment that their hunt would end with a kill.
They kept looking to Jayne, supposing the shock to be all the greater for her, never realizing that she’d had several days to process what was coming. To plan for it. Everything was all so neat and tidy, the mystery tied up at last, but she had been determined Norman’s death would not be in vain. Changing her statement to the police had been only the first part of it.
‘We knew we’d find you here,’ Mhairi said, sitting beside her and resting her head on Jayne’s shoulder.
‘But of course,’ Jayne smiled. ‘Where else would I be? This was always my safe spot.’
She caught the girls’ surprised looks at her plain words. She’d never been so candid before. To declare this a place of safety was to imply that elsewhere was not. But there was nothing to hide any more. Everyone knew now that her home had harboured hidden horrors and that her husband had ruled with an iron fist.
‘Are they ready?’ she asked, understanding why they had come to find her. The sun was beginning to make its descent in the sky, the day folding down on its drama. The hours had slipped past amid blood, sweat and tears.
Effie nodded, squeezing Jayne’s arm sympathetically. The minister had found himself an unexpectedly busy man today.
‘Very well, then,’ she said, gathering her skirt and rising. This had to be faced. Walked through.
Effie and Mhairi flanked her like bridesmaids, each woman holding her hand as they walked back to the village, the long grass brushing their bare ankles. Jayne felt the smoothness of the stepping stones against her soles, the wind in her unbound hair, her body soothed by the elements of home.
They walked wordlessly along the street, past their old homes where the doors stood open once more. They turned into the narrow path between the Big Gillies’ and Ma Peg’s, emerging round the back just below the burial ground. Its circular stone walls stood untouched by the storms that had blown through this past winter, just as they had for all the generations before; the winds could find no corners to catch here. Though the isle was now abandoned and the cleit roofs would, in time, fall in and the cottage doors would rot off their hinges, she knew this would always be the last place standing. She had sensed it that last night as she lay in its ancient embrace under the stars, with David above ground and Molly below. It belonged to the people and the wilds; an inside, out.
The men and Mad Annie were assembled in a solemn crescent either side of the minister, a Bible in his hands and Norman’s coffin at his feet, lying ready before the fresh grave. The men’s cheeks were still pink from their labours and she saw grief in their dry eyes as she took her position on the opposite side of the grave.
A silence fell upon the already muted company, eyes falling earthwards, hands clasped across still bodies.
‘...Almighty God, Father of all mercies and giver of all comfort...’ the minister began.
Jayne closed her eyes, aware of the proximity of the island girls, closer now than she had ever allowed them to get when Norman was alive.
Was it over?
Was it really over?
‘...casting all their care on you, they may know the consolation of your love...’ the minister intoned.
She opened her eyes to find David watching her. She had walked through the valley of the shadow of death. But a light was shimmering on the other side.
It was over...
Almost.