The Malice of Waves

by Mark Douglas-Home

  Now he looked around, in case Joss had been thrown out earlier. And it occurred to him, as he followed the trail of debris, that the hawser must have snapped at the height of the gale during the night because the clothes and paper that were strewn about were all water-logged. It hadn’t rained for a while. As he walked he kept checking his mobile phone. No signal. After a hundred metres, he turned back in time to see the caravan tumble over again. Now it was clear of the gully but there didn’t seem to be anything to stop it rolling all the way to the Deep Blue. Tying it with ropes secured to a four-wheeled drive or tractor was the only solution. But one of Cal’s ropes was attached to Millie, the other was in his RIB.

  He had to get help.

  Bella longed for ten o’clock and opening time. ‘Won’t it be nice to be among friendly faces?’ she said to Catriona who was refusing to talk. Catriona said nothing. ‘For goodness’ sake, Catriona, what do you expect me to say? You’re not exactly a joy this morning.’ By ten thirty, every table was occupied and Bella thought how cheery everyone seemed to be and lighter in spirit compared to the foreboding of yesterday. Perhaps she was aware of the change because of the contrast with Catriona’s sullen glances, but Bella thought it more than that. Going from table to table taking orders, it was as if a weight had been lifted from the township now that the memorial service was over. Everyone seemed to be chattier and more relaxed and optimistic. Even Joss’s assault on Dr McGill was dissected for its possible and beneficial consequences.

  To Bella’s surprise, Mary-Anne Robertson, normally to be relied on to see hell and damnation around the next corner, was also guardedly optimistic. Wouldn’t McGill be dismissed after the incident with Joss? ‘Since Wheeler’s running out of money, that might be the end of it – no more investigations.’

  Isobel looked startled at the prospect. ‘Imagine that! We’ll be able to get on with our lives.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Bella said. ‘Wheeler’s nothing if not single-minded …’ Straight away she wished she’d kept her mouth shut. Although just trying to stop hopes becoming too high, her remark had more of a dispiriting effect than she intended.

  Alistair Morrison, a square-built thirty-five-year-old on leave from his oil job in the North Sea, said, ‘McGill won’t be going anywhere for a while – the ferry won’t be running for a day or two.’

  Then Graham Stewart, known as ‘Grey’ on account of his first name and being the township’s oldest working crofter, added to the gloom. He’d got up at first light to check his sheep on the east of the island. ‘McGill’s pickup was by the slipway but I didn’t see him or his RIB.’

  Ina Gillies put her hands together as though praying, taking a leaf out of Mary-Anne’s book, and cast her eyes up. ‘If there’s a God at all, he’d have seen to it last night that McGill was blown right across the Minch back to the mainland …’

  Mary-Anne pursed her lips in disapproval at God’s name being taken in vain. Grey sat in his usual hunched way, chair pushed back from the table, forearms resting on his legs. ‘He’ll be out there somewhere …’ He shook his head in resignation.

  Isobel added to the gathering despondency by finishing his sentence ‘… doing Wheeler’s work.’

  The swing in mood depressed appetites. Bella took advantage of the lull in orders to take the weight off her tired feet.

  ‘Five minutes,’ she told Catriona as she went to the office, ‘then it’ll be your turn for a break.’

  Catriona gave her another of her sour looks. At least silence was better than the alternative, Bella thought as she collapsed into the chair by her desk. No sooner had she closed her eyes than she heard shouting coming from the tea room. What now! Hurrying back, she was surprised to see McGill standing by the noticeboard, having just come in the door. She was about to throw him out when she realized most of the noise was coming from him. Something had happened but she wasn’t sure what. Was it something to do with the storm – had his pickup been damaged? Her curiosity turned to dismay when she heard him say, ‘The caravan’s going to roll into the sea if we don’t do something now.’

  Isobel saw Bella’s distress. ‘It’s Joss,’ she said to her across the tea room. ‘The caravan’s been blown over and she’s missing.’

  Bella slumped against the office door frame to keep her from falling. ‘Oh no, I can’t bear it,’ she moaned.

  Cal said, ‘The hawser holding the caravan must have sheared during the night. The wind’s blown it quite a long way and it’s been badly damaged. The inside’s a mess but I couldn’t see Joss, not that I had much time to look. The wind lifted up the caravan while I was on top and I was thrown off. It’ll have to be roped down and tied to a tractor or four-wheeled drive.’

  As if in reply to the shock on Bella’s face, to the question that she was asking herself, Cal shook his head. ‘Joss is going to be injured if she was in the caravan when the hawser broke, all that bouncing around and sharp edges.’

  Bella gasped, ‘Oh, heavens, oh no.’ She looked at McGill, then at her regulars. Why weren’t they moving? She saw suspicion in their expressions, as though this was some kind of trap of Wheeler’s, setting off the same thought in her mind too. ‘Dr McGill,’ she said, ‘I’d be obliged if you’d leave my tea room.’

  Cal looked exasperated. ‘I’m telling you what’s happened. There isn’t time to fuck around.’

  As soon as he was out of the door, Bella studied the faces in front of her. Once again none met her eyes. What was wrong with them? ‘We must find her.’ She watched for a reaction but no one moved. ‘Hurry, Joss’s life is in danger.’

  ‘If you take McGill’s word for it,’ someone muttered.

  Bella saw how they gave each other awkward glances as if waiting for someone else to volunteer. ‘I don’t believe this.’ Bella’s voice cracked. ‘At least go and see what’s happened. Are you really going to take a chance with Joss’s life? Are you going to leave her there, let her be swept into the sea because of McGill and because her name’s Wheeler? Heaven knows what state she’s in.’

  She looked again from face to face and found the same reluctance to meet her eye. ‘Shame on you! Where’s your humanity? Don’t let David Wheeler turn us into monsters. If that young woman dies because none of you would save her, there’ll be no forgiveness. Everything that he’s ever said about us, everything that’s been written about us – our cold hearts, our murderous, vengeful natures – will be true.’

  Alistair Morrison raised a hand. ‘I’ll go and have a look.’ Others followed with murmured apologies. The shock of McGill bursting in and his report about the caravan had immobilized them, they said, rather than any reluctance to help Joss. Six of the fittest men agreed to go with Alistair. Grey would go to his croft and bring his old tractor. They passed Cal who was waiting outside the door. No one spoke to him until Alistair turned back and pointed. ‘McGill, this doesn’t change anything. You keep out of our way.’

  18

  Helen was sure she hadn’t been seen. She’d entered the tea room from the chalet by the back door, as Catriona said she could. She’d hung back when she heard Cal’s voice, knowing by his raised tone that something was seriously wrong. When Bella offered the rescue party waterproofs and boots from the tea room’s cloakroom, Helen left by the back door. She hurried to the chalet and rang Beacom, praying that the line hadn’t been blown down in the night.

  ‘Oh, thank goodness, sir,’ she exclaimed when Beacom answered. ‘There’s a bit of a situation here – Joss Wheeler’s caravan has been blown over. She’s missing. Even if she’s not injured I wouldn’t give much for her chances. There was a bad storm last night, another’s coming in now. Some men from the township are heading out to search for her. Should I take charge? It’d mean abandoning my cover.’

  Beacom thought aloud. ‘What can you do that they can’t? They know the area. If the weather’s as bad as you say, it might be better leaving it to the locals. What’s the alternative? You saying you’re a detective, won’t that just be a distracti
on when you want everyone focused on the search for Joss? No, for the time being, just listen in. If you think the search isn’t being done properly, let’s talk again.’

  ‘OK.’ Helen tried to sound more certain than she was. ‘I’ll go back to the tea room and see what’s going on.’

  Once the rescuers had gone, Bella rang Constable Dyer at the police house. According to his answerphone message, he was off the island for a couple of days. She dialled the number for divisional headquarters to which Dyer’s calls were being referred. An operator took the details. Bella doubted there was much anyone off Eilean Dubh could do. Even the neighbouring islands were cut off. The police wouldn’t be able to bring in search teams from the mainland for a day, probably more. Back in the tea room, Bella organized Isobel, Mary-Anne, Ina and the rest of the women to make sandwiches, soup and flasks of tea and coffee. While they cleared tables for worktops, Bella asked Catriona to take charge of the Deep Blue because she was going to drive to Joss’s caravan with a first-aid box and dressings – in the panic of the moment she had forgotten to give them to Alistair. At least she would be doing something practical even if it might be inadequate and too late. Catriona’s reaction, appearing cooperative, was a relief to Bella but soon forgotten in her anxiety about Joss.

  On the narrow coast road, the wind buffeted Bella’s car with such force she feared she would crash. She imagined flipping over, the car rolling with her inside. The thought made her feel sick for Joss. If the poor girl had been in the caravan when it was bouncing around, she was bound to be badly injured. What hope was there for her?

  The shock of arriving at the scene only increased Bella’s alarm. The caravan was lying on its roof. One rope had been put around it and tied to Alistair’s Land Rover. Even so, the wind kept lifting the caravan as though it was readying for another somersault. Three men were trying to attach a second rope to Grey’s old tractor. At times they could barely stand against the wind and Bella wondered if she had been right to dragoon them from the tea room. They were risking their lives, the caravan threatening to crush them all. How would she forgive herself if anyone was hurt? Why hadn’t she gone to Joss last night? Why hadn’t she gathered her up and let her stay in her spare room? The answers piled guilt upon guilt. She had been too preoccupied with Pinkie and Ewan, too concerned about Catriona being unwelcoming. If something awful had happened to Joss, wasn’t she to blame? Approaching the cars parked on the road above the caravan, Bella recognized Grey by his crofter’s stoop. She stopped beside him and opened her window.

  ‘Is there any news of Joss? Is she all right?’

  Grey’s big mouth twitched. ‘No one’s been able to get in yet.’ He stared at the knot of men struggling to keep the caravan tethered.

  Bella closed her window. How long she sat there, she didn’t know. She was in a daze, unable to see anything but Joss’s bloody and broken face. Sometime later she registered the caravan being secured with two, three, four ropes and watched a figure with Alistair’s squat build going inside. A few minutes later, Grey knocked on Bella’s window.

  ‘Joss? Has she been found?’

  Grey opened the car door and knelt beside her. ‘Joss wasn’t in the caravan.’

  ‘Oh,’ Bella exclaimed. ‘Oh, thank goodness. Then she’ll be safe.’

  But Grey was avoiding her eyes.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Bella asked. ‘You said she wasn’t in the caravan.’ She let out a nervous laugh. ‘Didn’t you?’

  Worry creased Grey’s leathery face, the words hard to say. ‘She could be hurt, Bella, badly hurt, and heaven knows how long she’s been out in this weather.’ He reached for her hands, holding them tight. ‘Alistair found blood in the caravan, quite a lot of blood. I’m sorry, Bella.’

  Helen broke off a corner of date and walnut cake before returning the rest to the side of her plate. ‘I’m just not hungry.’ She glanced around the tea room, at the township women sitting at tables. Like Helen, they were picking at biscuits or cake, or sipping at tea. If they talked, they did so in hushed voices and sporadically. How apprehensive everyone seemed, Helen thought, and beaten down. What a difference in such a short time. Before, she’d been impressed by the women’s organization, at how speedily they’d set about making sandwiches and ringing round the island recruiting volunteers for the search. The reaction, Helen assumed, of coastal people practised at dealing with emergencies and responding with minimum fuss and an absence of emotion. Now, with nothing practical left to do, waiting for news, the women appeared shrunken and frightened, a mess of emotions. ‘They’re like different people,’ she said, ‘like they’ve retreated into themselves.’

  Catriona didn’t answer so Helen placed another sandwich in the box that was to be taken to the rescuers.

  ‘But if worrying could make a difference,’ she went on, ‘there’s enough in this room for Joss Wheeler to be found alive.’ She glanced at Catriona. ‘Wouldn’t that be wonderful?’

  Catriona started wrapping film around more sandwiches. Her hands stopped before she’d finished and she glanced up at Helen. ‘That blonde girl I was telling you about …’

  ‘The one your ex was cheating with?’

  Catriona nodded. She leaned towards Helen. ‘That was Joss Wheeler.’

  ‘No way,’ Helen cried out, forgetting herself. Lowering her voice, she said, ‘The Wheeler girl? That was her, the blonde you mentioned?’ She was conspiratorial now, whispering, ‘So I don’t suppose you mind much if she disappears?’

  She watched Catriona, how young she seemed, how hurt.

  ‘Well,’ Helen said, ‘time for me to confess too.’ She frowned as if hoping Catriona wouldn’t think the worse of her. ‘I suppose I’ve had the odd bad thought about my ex’s Phoebe: buses running her down, lightning striking her, Islamist militants kidnapping her.’ She was aware that Catriona was studying her. ‘But I wouldn’t want her dead, not really. Anyway, I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of hating her that much.’ Helen paused for thought. ‘That wouldn’t be dignified.’ She pulled herself upright, as if ascending to high ground. Then she said, ‘How about you and Joss? You wouldn’t want her dead, would you, not really?’

  Bella saw the upturned caravan bucking and heaving. In her feverish state, it seemed to resemble a wild animal straining against the ropes of captivity. A piece of Joss’s clothing – flimsy and dull red in colour – blew from the wreckage. Bella imagined the wind as a scavenger, making off with ripped flesh. Her eyes flitted from one scene to another, as if other horrors were waiting unseen, as if vigilance was the only deterrent, the only way of keeping Joss alive. She daren’t breathe or blink for fear of some new threat to Joss taking advantage of her inattention. Now Bella watched the huddle of men in front of her car. A face lifted and turned towards her – Grey’s. Even through the smears of rain on her windscreen she understood that expression of dread. As soon as she saw it, she shut her eyes. Now warding off evil was a matter of blinding herself. When the car door opened and she felt the rush of wind she kept her eyes closed and offered up a prayer. But when Grey spoke she couldn’t stop herself looking and listening. She noticed every little detail, how he crouched beside her, how his face was tight with strain, how her duty was to make it easier for him, as he was trying to do for her. ‘What is it, Grey?’

  ‘Bella.’ He shook his head. ‘It wasn’t the wind. Someone did this.’

  ‘Did this?’ Bella said. ‘Someone?’ she added in puzzlement as if such chaos and distress were beyond the power of one person, as if Grey must have been invaded by the derangement which had overtaken everything else. ‘All of this, Grey?’ she asked. ‘Are you sure? How?’

  ‘Bella, the hawser was cut.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘It was cut at the base, Bella, where it was fixed to the ground.’ He spoke slowly, repeating her name, as if trying to summon her into the present, into reality. ‘It wasn’t the hawser fraying in the wind against the caravan roof as we thought. It was cut, deliberately. Someone did this, Bella.�
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  They watched each other: Grey’s rheumy, small eyes working out whether Bella understood, Bella wondering what other shocks still had to be revealed.

  ‘What is it?’ she coaxed when his eyes avoided hers. ‘Grey, tell me.’

  ‘Bella, the caravan door had been secured on the inside with ropes. Joss must have been worried about someone breaking in during the night.’

  Bella heard herself exclaim ‘oh’ and ‘oh’ again as Grey described how the door had been torn from its hinges – by the wind, by something or someone – and how the rope had been severed. ‘Bella, they found traces of blood on the door frame.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Grey’s large, rough hands took Bella’s. ‘Either Joss got out by herself or someone took her out. Whoever cut the hawser would have been there when the caravan turned over. In that wind, it would have been instantaneous.’

  ‘Who, Grey?’ Bella asked. ‘Who? Who could it be? Not one of us?’

  She noticed how his eyes still wouldn’t engage hers, how he stuttered but didn’t answer her question. Instead he told her Alistair had rung the police from the landline at Grant’s Croft, and that a senior officer had given instructions on conducting the search. A detective chief inspector and three other officers would be arriving by helicopter as soon as the worst of the storm had passed, and reinforcements, including PC Dyer, would arrive later tomorrow by ferry – weather permitting. Suddenly, he stopped and held Bella’s right hand. ‘We’ll find her,’ he said. ‘We’ll find her.’ Alarm crossed his face when he saw Bella’s expression.

  ‘Who, Grey?’ she insisted. ‘Which one of us would have done that to Joss?’

  Grey exhaled, a long, deep breath of resignation. ‘Ewan’s missing, Bella. He wasn’t at Grant’s Croft when Alistair went there to use the phone. His boat’s gone too. Alistair checked.’ Grey shook his head, ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t want to worry you any more than you are already. No one’s seen him. No one knows where he is.’ Bella realized they were both thinking about history repeating itself, Max now Joss, the nightmare never ending.