Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
I f she could see things how they really were, Esme could look at Tobias and see what he was. If she wanted. The thought was thrilling and frightening.
She knew the island had some unusual residents. Fiona and Euan could shift form. Esme had looked it up and knew the mythical term, selkie, but had no idea whether Fiona would identify as such or whether it would be an offensive term to her people. There was a possibility, she supposed, that Hamish might be the same. Esme didn’t know how it worked, whether everyone in Fiona’s family was the same, or whether it was a recessive characteristic that only came out once or twice per generation.
Jet was curled up in front of the wood burner and he stretched, rolling over and exposing his tummy. His eyes were blinking half-open as he regarded her. Unable to resist his implicit command, Esme dropped from the sofa to the floor and scratched his fur in the way he preferred. Purring, Jet twisted around and stood up, butting her hand until she stroked around his head.
Jet wasn’t often in the mood for so much contact, so she pushed her whirling thoughts to one side and let herself enjoy the moment. She had always liked cats, in a theoretical sense, and could hardly believe that she now had one of her own. Not that she owned Jet, of course. He had simply come with the house. A lodger.
Once Jet had had his fill of the love and attention that was his due, Esme took her latest book from the special collection at the shop, an encyclopaedia of healing rituals, and curled up for a long session of learning. Kate Foster might have thought that knowledge was the root of all evil, but Esme rather thought it was what you chose to do with the knowledge that counted.
Tobias carried the tea tray into the living room and found DS Kerry Robinson on the floor with Winter, petting him. Winter had barely moved for over a day and he hadn’t eaten, either. Tobias pushed the thought to one side and put the tray onto the side table. Whenever he felt a little weary of humanity, he just had to think of a good-hearted soul fussing over a dog and he felt instant hope for the world.
Getting up in a self-conscious manner, Robinson moved to help him with the tea. He waved her away. ‘It’s in hand, officer.’
‘Call me Kerry,’ Kerry said and then looked surprised, as if she hadn’t intended to say that at all.
Once they were both seated and with cups of tea, Tobias expected DS Robinson to get down to business. The body of the unfortunate young man had been removed from the cottage by the authorities and he assumed that this was a follow-up interview. Hammer had suggested they deal with it ‘in house’ but the boy had done nothing wrong. He deserved to be reunited with his kith and kin, and his family and friends deserved to know his fate.
Given enough time, the connection with the island would hopefully be lost in the labyrinthine system of the police service but, for now, DS Robinson was doing her job. She had had enough contact with Tobias and the island over the years to cement more memories of the place than most mainlanders.
‘Between us,’ Kerry said, ‘there’s enough evidence for the case against Elin Jones. As soon as she wakes up, she’ll be placed under arrest.’
‘She must be a very disturbed young woman.’
‘We have no solid connection with the island community at this time. Working hypothesis is that it was a crime of convenience. We believe she followed the victim here and must have seen the disused cottage as an opportunity.’
‘It’s a quiet place,’ Tobias said. ‘But not a good choice. We’re a small community, we notice things that are out of place. You know that.’
‘We don’t work alone like this,’ DS Robinson said, surprising him.
He raised his eyebrows in polite interest.
‘Official guidelines are for two officers to attend.’ She shook her head as if trying to clear it. ‘I interviewed people here back when…’ a small frown crossed her face, ‘Alvis. When Alvis Knott died.’
‘Was that because it was natural causes?’
‘You know, for a moment there I couldn’t remember her name.’ The officer seemed to realise she was speaking out loud and shook herself. ‘Sorry. Sorry, I’m not here to talk about operational procedures.’
‘Wonderful,’ Tobias said warmly. ‘It’s not in my top ten.’
‘Top ten?’
‘Favourite conversational topics to have with tea. Operational procedures isn’t bad, as such, but it doesn’t make top billing.’
She cracked a smile. Then went serious again, the smile falling away.
‘How’s your tea?’ Tobias asked and took a sip of his own. He had known this woman for many years and he didn’t remember her seeming so uncertain and scattered. He worried that her regular contact with the island and its protective wards was having a detrimental effect on her mind.
‘It’s a bit of an odd one,’ she said. ‘And this isn’t official. I shouldn’t really be here…’ She stopped speaking with what looked like an effort, closing her eyes for a moment to gather herself.
When she didn’t resume speaking, Tobias sipped his tea quietly. Winter stretched his front legs and rearranged his head on top of his paws, and the fire in the grate crackled.
After a little while, DS Robinson opened her eyes. She looked directly at Tobias and said, ‘I think something happens to me here. I thought I was going mad or had early dementia, but my memory is fine with everything else. Why can’t I remember this place? Why do I struggle to remember your name, your face, this house? Is there something in the water? Do you put something in my drinks?’ She seemed to realise what she had just said, looking horrified at her empty teacup.
‘You are quite safe,’ Tobias said. ‘Please do not be alarmed.’
‘Forgive me,’ she said, ‘but I think I am.’
Tobias waited for a moment. He felt a small pinprick in his conscience. If he was a good man, he would tell DS Kerry Robinson everything. He would explain that she wasn’t losing her mind, but that she was being affected by ancient magical wards. Instead he waited, until the officer’s expression cleared and she made a comment about the wintery weather, and he knew the topic had been forgotten. He wasn’t a good man at all. He wasn’t even a man.
Tobias had called Esme to let her know that the police officer had gone back to the mainland. He said that he expected that to be the last of it, unless Kate Foster regained consciousness and the case against her proceeded.
Her hand was in Winter’s fur, stroking around his neck as she looked around the cosy room. The sounds of Tobias making tea drifted through the open door and the fire crackled in the grate. She knew the ice would still be riming the glass of the windows and that, if she looked carefully at Tobias, she would see something that wasn’t human. But she had decided not to look. It would be rude. She would wait to be asked.
A tiny electrical crackle, like a static shock, ran across the tips of her fingers. Her hand jerked back in surprise. Winter was breathing more quickly than was normal in a resting animal. Not quite panting, but getting close to it. His eyes rolled up and looked beseechingly at Esme.
Esme didn’t know dogs very well and didn’t consider herself an expert in canine communication, but her instinct told her that the animal was in distress and that he was asking for her help.
Without thinking, she opened herself up and looked, scanning Winter for the cause of his discomfort. There was something dark around his head. A miasma of tiny black particles that moved individually in a cloud. Like tiny flies buzzing around a swollen corpse.
Esme blinked. That was an unpleasant image.
But she got the message. That fuzzy dark cloud was malevolent.
It was also outside the body. Whatever was wrong with Winter wasn’t from the expected ravages of old age, but from something external.
‘Where does he sleep? In here?’ Esme usually saw Winter slumbering by the fire in the living room, but she had to check.
‘Mostly,’ Tobias said. ‘I often doze in my chair and we keep each other company.’
‘How have you been feeling?’
He blinked. ‘Fine. Why do you ask?’
‘May I look around the room?’
‘Be my guest,’ Tobias said, still looking concerned.
Esme dropped to the floor and began to crawl around, looking under furniture. If Kate Foster had planted something in Tobias’s house, this room would be the most likely location. She had had access to it while taking tea. She thought back to that first meeting, Kate sitting in her chair, looking shiny and perfect and as if she had never even heard of dark magic or cursed books.
She couldn’t waste energy berating herself for her past failings. She could only learn and do better. That was the key, Esme decided. She was next to the guest armchair by the fire, the one that sat angled toward Tobias’s favourite, inviting a person to sit comfortably, warm themselves and enjoy a civilised conversation and a cup of tea from the bone china that Tobias used. Maybe enjoy one of the slim lemony biscuits that he always seemed to have on hand.
She couldn’t see anything under the chair, even with her mobile phone as a torch, but she used her hand to feel the underside of the seat anyway. Now that she had thought about it, this was the obvious place. It had to be here.
At that moment, her fingers felt the lump in the underside of the chair. Between the webbing that held the seat cushion, an unpleasantly soft lump that most definitely did not belong.
Gripping it between finger and thumb, she wiggled the object until it came loose from its hiding place. Thanks to her reading, she knew instantly that this was a hex bag. It was crudely made from what looked like the fur of a small rodent or rabbit, and it was tied at the top with a thin leather cord. She used her knife on the cord rather than attempting to untie the knots, and tipped it upside down.
She was expecting bones, but one was too small to have come from the owner of the fur and another of them was hollow, so it had to have belonged to a bird. That meant at least three lives had been used up. Whoever had put this bag into Tobias’s home hadn’t been messing around. It had to be Kate Foster, of course. Nobody else would do such a thing, and she had already shown herself to be adept with a cursed object.
The bones were clean and she wondered if that was because it had been in situ for a while, or whether Kate Foster had scoured them to prevent Winter from being drawn to the meaty scent and alerting Tobias. There was a shell, too, worn smooth by the sea, and almost certainly picked from Shell Bay on the island.
Tobias was carrying a laden tray, and she waited for him to put it down onto the stuffed ottoman before speaking. ‘I found a hex bag under your chair.’ She indicated the surface of the table and its unpleasant contents. She felt calm, despite the awfulness.
He took the news in his stride and simply picked up the teapot. ‘Shall I be mother?’
‘Kate Foster must have left it here. I’m not sure what it’s meant to do. There are curses that are harmful, but there are ones which are meant to make people more amenable, or calmer, things like that. Have you been feeling all right?’
Tobias smiled at her gently. ‘I’m not concerned by a witch’s trick. No offence to you, my dear.’
‘I’m more worried about Winter,’ Esme said and then felt awful at Tobias’s stricken expression.
They both looked at the old dog, his sides shuddering with every laboured breath. ‘This hex bag is serious business and we don’t know how long it’s been…here.’ She had been going to say ‘poisoning Winter’ but stopped herself in time. Tobias looked devastated, and she didn’t want to upset him any further.
‘I’m going to break it,’ she said, channelling her best ‘nurse knows best’ voice, ‘just to be safe.’ The book had explained that removing and emptying a hex bag ought to undo its power. However, salting and burning was best for strong or particularly evil curses. Esme was a belt and braces kind of woman, so asked Tobias for salt.
When he returned, holding a china shaker, she applied it liberally over the objects and the fur bag and then swept the lot into the fire. She didn’t know if she had been expecting a flash of coloured flame or a thunderclap, but nothing unusual happened.
‘Is that it?’ Tobias asked. His expression was both disbelieving and hopeful, and he bent to stroke Winter’s side.
‘Yes,’ Esme said with complete certainty.
The fire crackled and the flames leapt and the evil burned away while she and Tobias enjoyed a hot cup of a tea.
The sky was bright blue, the winter sun shining across the sparkling sea as if it would never consider doing anything else. The puddles in the track were iced over, but there was hardly any wind. Esme decided to take a stroll down to the shore before heading home.
There were three people walking slowly down the path toward the bay. Euan, far taller than Fiona, now, and broader than Esme remembered from even a few days ago, and baby Hamish. He was dressed in a bright blue waterproof all-in-one and was taking wobbly steps with Fiona hunched over and holding both of his hands to help him balance.
Esme thought about running to catch up to them, but decided against disturbing the small family group. Instead, she took the fork in the path toward home.
Half an hour later, Fiona knocked on the door with Hamish in her arms. Their cheeks were pink from the cold, and they looked delightfully wholesome and healthy. Esme ushered them inside. ‘Stove’s on in the living room. Go on through.’
‘I won’t stop long,’ Fiona said as she efficiently stripped off Hamish’s outdoor layer.
Esme picked up the damp waterproof and hung it over a kitchen chair in front of the radiator to dry.
Esme assembled a tray with teapot, mugs, biscuits and a sippy cup of milk. She didn’t have baby bottles, but kept a small stash of plastic tableware for the youngest guests.
When she walked into her living room, a punch of strange longing hit her gut. Hamish was holding onto the edge of the sofa to stand up and was babbling nonsense while Fiona gazed at him with a fierce expression of love.
He stopped babbling and whipped his head around to stare at Esme. Then, evidently deciding she was safe, began babbling again.
‘Yes, you can have some milk. Thank you, Esme.’ Fiona seemed to understand Hamish. He let go of the sofa and sat straight onto the floor with a bump, his nappy-cushioned bottom making a soft thump. Then he reverted to high-speed crawling toward the tray on the coffee table. Fiona was sitting on the floor and she intercepted him, pulling him onto her lap.
Esme passed across the sippy cup and Fiona helped Hamish with it.
‘Good walk?’
‘Euan’s gone for a swim,’ Fiona said, her eyes still on Hamish. ‘I wanted to check on you.’
‘On me?’
Fiona looked at her, then. ‘You’ve been through a lot. When I think about that woman… what could have happened.’
‘I’m fine,’ Esme said, mildly surprised to find that it was true. Kate Foster’s conviction that she was evil and deserved to die had made her realise something at her core: she didn’t agree. As a woman who had spent most of her life feeling not good enough, defective and weak, Kate Foster’s pure and uncomplicated hatred had helped her to see clearly that she was fine. She certainly didn’t believe she deserved to be burned alive, like all those poor witches of old, and that was refreshingly positive. Instead of trying to put this into words, knowing that Fiona didn’t need to be burdened by the depths of her own self-loathing, even if the point of the story was to illustrate that she had discovered a tiny sliver of self-love buried at the centre, she just added. ‘Honestly. I really am.’
‘And what about our Book Keeper? I can tell I’ve missed something significant there.’
‘Nothing.’ Esme felt the rush of blood to her face. ‘We’ve got closer, I think.’
‘You think.’ Fiona laughed and shook her head. ‘The two of you can’t stop staring at each other.’
‘Luke doesn’t stare at me.’
‘Aye right. He wants you. Question is, are you ready for him?’
‘I don’t know,’ Esme said, feeling her old worries come rushing back. She didn’t panic anymore and had mostly banished Ryan’s hectoring voice, but she was still the woman who had run away when Luke had moved to kiss her. She wanted to be ready. Maybe that would be enough?
‘I’m sorry, hen,’ Fiona said, concerned. ‘I was only teasing.’
Hamish pushed the cup away and launched himself from Fiona’s lap.
‘It’s all right,’ Esme said. ‘I do like him.’ It felt good to say it out loud. She was allowed to like Luke. The toxic torrent had gone. Her ex had absolutely nothing to say. Being almost burned to death by a deranged woman seemed to have cleared him out for good.
Hamish made it across the carpet to Esme and began pulling himself upright, using her knees, chest and arm as if she were a climbing frame. Esme held her breath, blown away by the simple trust.
‘He likes you,’ Fiona said.
Esme found she couldn’t speak, she was captivated by the soft skin of Hamish’s cheeks, the way his long dark eyelashes fringed his clear eyes, the newness of him.
‘He’s going to be staying for a while.’
Esme glanced sharply at Fiona.
Her eyes were worried, but she kept her voice upbeat. ‘Isn’t that right, wee man? You’re going to stay with Auntie Fi.’
‘For a few weeks?’ Esme asked.
‘Mebbe longer,’ Fiona replied. She smiled. ‘If I’m very lucky.’
Esme lowered her voice. ‘Is everything all right? With your niece?’
Fiona shook her head gently and reached for the television remote. Once CBeebies was playing, Hamish turning open mouthed to it like a flower to the sun, she moved closer to Esme and spoke quietly into her ear. ‘Eilidh came through the op fine enough, but she’s not wanting her wee boy back anytime soon.’
Esme wanted to ask why, but Fiona was cutting her eyes to Hamish, warning her not to dwell on the subject. ‘She thinks he’ll be safer growing up here. With us.’