‘Put the kettle on,’ she said. ‘I’ll speak to him.’
Her dad looked from her to Finn then back. ‘It’s not a good idea.’
She rubbed his shoulder and moved aside to let him go back in. ‘Tea. Go. I’ll be done in two minutes.’
Her dad hesitated then left, looking defeated by his inability to protect his daughter.
Charlotte pressed her mouth into a line and turned to Finn.
‘How are you?’ she said.
He wasn’t expecting that. He was expecting to be asked what he was doing here, how dare he come.
‘OK, considering. How are you?’
She pulled a hand from her pocket and pushed a tissue against her nose as she sniffed. She shook her head a little, as if to herself.
‘Sometimes I think I’m fine, but then I picture it all over again. I saw that English couple, you know. I was right there. I don’t think I’ll ever get that out of my mind.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘I tried to go out for a walk earlier. Just along the road, get some air. Everything seemed dialled down, you know? Like the cars weren’t really cars, the houses were only shadows of houses. It’s hard to explain. Do you understand?’
‘I think so,’ Finn said.
‘But then other times it’s the opposite,’ Charlotte said. ‘The world is just too much in your face. Putting clothes on, going to the toilet, it’s all just too bright and difficult.’ She held out her hand, palm up, a red welt along the outer edge. ‘I burnt myself on the toaster this morning. Just had my hand against it. Didn’t realise until it was already blistered. What’s wrong with me?’
‘You’ve been through a lot.’
She looked him in the eye. She seemed kinder without her glasses on. Finn wondered if her glasses had survived the crash.
‘What about you?’ she said. ‘It can’t be easy. Everyone is blaming you.’
Finn scratched at the back of his head but didn’t speak.
‘You and the woman,’ Charlotte said.
‘What about you? Do you blame me?’
Charlotte put her hands into her pockets and looked at her feet. ‘I don’t think it was anyone’s fault really.’
‘But you spoke to the police. Told them I hit that guy.’
‘I told them what I remembered. I couldn’t lie.’
‘He was being an arsehole to Maddie.’
Charlotte nodded. ‘I know. I told the police that too. But I saw you hit him. I had to tell them. You understand?’
Finn looked at her and felt like crying.
‘Sure.’
There was silence. Finn could sense her dad lingering in the hallway behind the door. He heard the noise of the kettle in the kitchen.
‘Why did you come here?’ Charlotte said eventually.
‘I wanted to see if you were OK,’ Finn said, then hesitated. ‘No, that’s not true. When I was walking here I wanted to speak to you, get you to change what you said to the police. But I don’t now, I’m just glad you’re all right.’
Charlotte took the tissue out again, held it to her nose.
‘There’s a memorial later,’ she said. ‘For the others.’
Finn nodded. ‘Are you going?’
‘I can’t decide. Are you?’
‘I feel like I should, but it’s hard.’
‘I’m the same, I don’t know if I can handle it.’
Finn smiled. ‘Well, if I go, I hope I see you there.’
Charlotte nodded and Finn made to leave. He wanted to touch her but he didn’t.
‘Take care of yourself,’ Charlotte said, closing the door.
‘Same to you.’
28
Finn looked at the card in his hand. This was the right address for the counsellor but the door said The Centre for Nordic Studies, a silhouette of a longship stencilled on the glass and a spread of Scandinavian flags in the window.
He looked around Kiln Corner then pushed open the door.
A young woman with blonde highlights and a thick jumper sat at a reception desk, the walls behind her covered in maps and posters of Vikings.
‘I’m looking for Janet Jott,’ Finn said.
The woman looked up from her computer and pointed. ‘Down the hall, last on the right.’
Finn walked past a rack of leaflets advertising summer courses in island studies and Viking culture. The door said Dr Janet Jott. He knocked.
‘Come in.’
It wasn’t much more than a supply cupboard and the door opened inwards, nearly touched her desk on its sweep. There were shelves of textbooks along one wall, a view out the window of a lock-up garage and a large flag on the other wall. It was one-third red and two-thirds navy blue, a circle of reversed colours overlapping the two, green and yellow stripes down the divide.
‘Cool flag,’ Finn said.
‘The Sami people,’ Janet said. ‘Indigenous across the Finnish and Russian Arctic. The circle represents the sun and the moon. They call themselves the children of the sun.’
Finn gauged the room and her. She seemed in her element surrounded by academia. ‘So counselling isn’t a full-time gig?’
‘Very few things are these days,’ Janet said, gesturing. ‘Take a seat.’
Finn stalled for a moment, staring at the seat, then sat down. ‘I don’t know why I’m here.’
‘Because we had an appointment.’
‘I was in the neighbourhood, otherwise I wouldn’t have bothered. I was visiting the police again.’
‘About the accident?’
‘Partly.’
‘It can’t be easy for you.’
Finn laughed. ‘You think?’
‘It’s perfectly normal to be defensive. Textbook response, in fact.’
‘Aren’t you supposed to be more touchy-feely?’
Janet closed the laptop on her desk and focused on him. ‘I’ve found over the years that a more direct approach tends to work better around here. Orcadians don’t appreciate pussyfooting around.’
Finn waved his hand around the room. ‘So tell me how all this works. You’re a professor by day, a counsellor by night?’
‘I’m only a doctor, not a professor,’ Janet said. ‘It’s simple really, two part-time jobs make one modest living. Very different experiences, but equally rewarding. I get to help people in different ways.’
Finn held up the card she’d given him at the hospital. ‘How does this work?’ He looked around the tiny room. ‘You don’t have space for a psychiatrist’s sofa.’
‘Shrinks haven’t used leather sofas in fifty years, it’s a movie cliché. We just sit and chat.’
‘For how long?’
‘As long as you like.’
‘What if I want to leave?’
Janet pointed at the door. ‘Close it on the way out.’
Finn smiled. ‘How do you know Ingrid?’
‘We met at night school.’
‘Night school?’
Janet nodded. ‘There was no university or college on Orkney back then. I’m talking mid-seventies. If you wanted education after school you left the islands or went to night classes.’
‘And you didn’t fancy leaving?’
‘I couldn’t really. My folks needed me on the farm, couldn’t manage without me. Ingrid was in the same boat, that’s how we came to be friends.’
‘What did you study?’
Janet pointed at the flag. ‘Viking culture and indigenous people of the North. That sort of stuff. There wasn’t much in the way of courses in all that in those days, it was frowned upon. Our culture wasn’t thought worthy of study. Looking back on it, that’s pretty disgraceful. But we got lucky with a local guy who was a self-taught expert.’
‘And Ingrid did the same courses?’
Janet nodded. ‘I suppose it started us on the road to where we are today.’
‘But all Gran does is show tourists round the Tomb of the Eagles.’
Janet shrugged. ‘It’s a matter of self-respect and pride. When we gr
ew up, being Orcadian was nothing to shout about, local culture was put down or ignored. Now the opposite is true.’ She pointed to a framed diploma on the wall. ‘I’m a doctor in Nordic studies, internationally respected expert on the Sami.’ Her voice played with the words ‘internationally respected’ to debunk them a little, but she was still proud.
‘And a trauma counsellor,’ Finn said.
‘Indeed.’
‘How did you get into that?’
Janet’s face fell for a moment and she swallowed.
‘I had trauma of my own,’ she said softly. ‘That’s how most people get into it.’
Finn looked at her. ‘You don’t have to tell me.’
‘It’s fine. When I was ten, my mother left me in the car with my little sister while she went to get her messages from the shops. I was playing with the handbrake and I took it off. The car began rolling and I couldn’t stop it. There were no seatbelts in those days. I only had a few bruises but Caitlin broke her neck.’
‘Christ,’ Finn said.
Janet glanced at him then out the window. ‘It was a long time ago.’
‘Still.’
‘I held that with me, took years to get over it. Of course, you never really do, something like that. We never had any therapy or counselling up here in those days, social services didn’t really know how to cope. Neither did my folks.’
‘I can’t imagine,’ Finn said.
‘I think you can, after what happened the other night. Anyway, that’s why I do this.’
‘Is that all there is to it?’ Finn said. ‘Experiencing the shitness of life?’
Janet shrugged. ‘Do you believe in God?’
‘No.’
‘Me neither. Christians like to say that God gets you through hardships, that without him you feel alone and helpless. But that’s bullshit, pardon my language.’
Finn laughed.
‘I’ve always found the opposite,’ Janet said. ‘The fact that there isn’t any great master plan makes it easier to take all the crap that life throws at you. Once you realise it’s all random and doesn’t matter in the scheme of things, it’s much easier to get distance from the awful things that happen to everyone all the time.’
‘This is some pep talk,’ Finn said.
‘It is what it is.’ Janet got up from behind her desk and came round to Finn’s side, perched on a corner. ‘I don’t pretend to have answers and to do so would be dishonest and disrespectful. How do you feel about the accident?’
Finn stared at the lines around her eyes, the grey in her hair, the traces of a life lived. ‘Kind of numb.’
Janet nodded. ‘It’s early days, that’s to be expected. It’s a long road, Finn. That’s not the kind of advice you young people want to hear, but it’s true. It can take months or years before you come to some arrangement in your mind with what’s happened. Sometimes you never do. It certainly never completely disappears. I know that with Caitlin.’
‘This really isn’t pick-me-up banter.’
‘If you want that, go find a cheerleader or a life coach. That’s not what I do.’
Finn looked out the window. The faint sound of church bells floated into the office in between the whipping of the wind.
‘I don’t know anything about those people,’ he said.
‘The ones on the plane?’
Finn nodded. ‘Seven dead.’
‘And the girl still missing.’
Finn looked Janet in the eye. ‘Yeah.’
‘Still no word on her from the police?’
‘Nothing new.’
‘I hope she turns up. It must be hard for her, wherever she is.’
Finn held his hands out. ‘Seven people dead because of me, that’s seven times what you managed with your sister.’
‘You didn’t kill those people.’
‘Didn’t I?’
‘No, and I think you know it.’
‘You have more faith in me than I have in myself.’
Janet shook her head. ‘No, I don’t. You just don’t know yourself very well at the moment. You’re capable of extraordinary things, the same as everyone else.’
‘I wish I believed that.’
The church bells were louder now, more insistent.
‘You will,’ Janet said.
Finn stood up and went to the window. He felt her eyes on him. ‘So what do I do now?’
‘That’s up to you.’
‘Isn’t there a twelve-point plan or something?’
‘There’s no single way of dealing with what you’ve been through.’
‘Some therapist you are.’
‘I’m a counsellor.’
‘Some counsellor, then.’
‘You want me to wave a magic wand?’ Janet mimicked a fairy godmother, sweeping her hand in front of her. ‘Whoosh! There, all better now.’
Finn gave her a sideways look. ‘Does this method work with other trauma victims?’
‘It’s a starting point.’
Something was nagging at Finn. ‘Why are they ringing the cathedral bells at this time of day?’
‘I presumed you knew.’
Finn frowned for a second then it came to him. ‘The memorial service.’
Janet nodded.
‘The police told me not to go,’ Finn said.
‘That’s good advice, I suppose.’
‘You don’t sound convinced.’
‘Some of the relatives will be feeling very angry. If you show up, you could be a focus for that.’
‘So I shouldn’t go?’
‘I didn’t say that. It’s up to you.’
‘If I don’t go it looks like I don’t care. I want to show that it hurts me too, everything that’s happened. I want to show respect for those people.’
There was just the tumble of bells falling through the wind outside.
Finn looked back out the window. ‘I didn’t kill them. I didn’t do anything wrong. I want to go and pay my respects.’
‘OK.’
Finn looked at Janet and took a deep breath. ‘Will you come with me?’
She replied without missing a beat.
‘Sure.’
29
Broad Street in front of St Magnus Cathedral was rammed. Several television broadcast vans were parked outside the medieval sandstone building. The babble of voices and the bright lights were dizzying. The road was full of people, the whole of Orkney must be out. There was an air of sombre propriety among the older ones, but kids were mucking around too, teenagers acting cool, mums trying to control toddlers, occasionally a face that Finn recognised from visiting the islands over the years.
His phone pinged in his pocket. A message from Ingrid wondering where he was. In fact, three messages from her in the hours since he avoided her outside the police station. In amongst them was a message from Amy saying she was on her way north. He typed a reply to Ingrid:
Heading to memorial.
Then he put his phone away and looked around. Crowds were backed all the way along Albert Street and West Castle Street, hundreds of people out to show support.
His phone pinged again.
Palace Road side entrance. Meet you there.
He touched Janet’s arm.
‘Round the back,’ he said.
He led her up Laing Street on to School Place then over the low wall at the back of the cathedral. They walked through the gravestones to the southern entrance, the side they used when the winds were too high to leave the front doors open.
Some people on Palace Road watched them as they stepped through the graveyard. Reporters and journalists round the front couldn’t see them from here. Finn didn’t know if that was good or bad. Wasn’t part of this to show that he cared? Shouldn’t he be seen going in? But it was more important just to be there, to show the dead people’s families that he cared, and to hell with the rest of the world.
He pulled open the side door and let his eyes adjust to the gloom. Before he could put a foot inside, Linklater was in fro
nt of him.
‘I told you not to come,’ she said.
Finn looked beyond her at the congregation. The main body of the cathedral was already packed. Subdued organ music and the odd scuffing of chair legs against the flagstone floor reverberated around the cavernous ceiling.
‘I had to,’ Finn said.
‘Go home.’
‘I’ll vouch for him,’ Janet said. She gave him a smile that was supposed to be reassuring.
Linklater shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, Janet, it’s not a good idea.’
‘You haven’t charged him with anything yet,’ Janet said. ‘He’s free to do what he likes.’
Linklater stepped on to the threshold and pulled the heavy door behind her.
‘This doesn’t concern you, Janet.’
‘Perhaps not professionally but I’m not here in that capacity.’
‘Why are you here?’ Linklater said. ‘Have you any idea what he’s mixed up in?’
‘I have some notion.’
Linklater looked at Finn. ‘I bet you haven’t told her the whole story.’
Janet frowned. ‘It doesn’t matter what he’s told me. I’m trying to help.’
‘Me too.’ It was a new voice behind Finn. Ingrid.
Linklater looked at her. ‘Please tell me you’re here to take him home.’
Ingrid was out of breath. ‘That’s entirely up to him.’
‘No, it’s up to me,’ Linklater said, ‘and I’m telling you to take him home.’
‘If I don’t?’
Linklater sighed. ‘Do you really want to get into this? There are people in there who want him strung up. Literally. I just want this thing to go off without any more distress for anyone.’
Ingrid stepped forward and laid a hand on the stonework. Finn imagined a Viking lord doing the same thing eight hundred years ago. She gave him a serious look. ‘Do you want to go through with this?’
‘Yes.’ His voice was squeaky, pathetic.
Ingrid turned to Linklater. ‘I promise I’ll look after him. We’ll stay out of the way, up the back. And we’ll leave before the end, no lingering. No one will even know we’re there.’
Another voice from behind the half-closed door.
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