The Malice of Waves

by Mark Douglas-Home

  Beacom held up his hands, calling for quiet. ‘Everybody, please.’ He sounded impatient, which was also unlike Beacom. Cal associated him with coolness, subtlety, having a plan, playing a long game.

  Beacom was talking again. ‘Hannah Wheeler was reported missing at five ten this morning. The Jacqueline’s dinghy had also gone. It has since been found west of here, floating and upright, but Hannah wasn’t on board. Everything possible is being done to find her. Our thoughts are with her father and sister. Our efforts, energies and resources are focused on finding Hannah alive.’ He listed the manpower, boats and equipment deployed. Another Coastguard helicopter would be arriving soon. ‘We’re investigating a number of possibilities, one of which is the dinghy ran aground on a skerry or rocks during the night and Hannah was thrown out.’

  A male voice shouted out: ‘Is there any hope?’

  Beacom replied, ‘Of course there is. Hannah is a good swimmer. She’s young and strong. She could have reached shore. At this stage we have every expectation of finding her alive.’

  What else could Beacom say, Cal thought – that searching for Hannah was complicated by her swimming ability? He imagined the Coastguard’s search and rescue experts would have been pessimistic. Beacom would have been briefed about people becoming disorientated when they were in the sea in the dark. They might strike out in the wrong direction, away from land. The current was another factor complicating the search. Low tide had been at two in the morning. Later on, the flood tide could have run at between three and seven knots in different parts of the sound. Even at three knots the current was travelling at five and a half kilometres an hour; at seven knots, almost thirteen. If Hannah had swum with the current she could be a long way beyond the present search area. Beacom was missing two other important pieces of information. He didn’t know when Hannah had gone into the water or where. Cal was less optimistic than Beacom of finding her alive.

  A woman reporter said, ‘Can you tell us what happened last night? Was there an argument? Do you know of any reason why Hannah should go off like that?’

  Beacom consulted a female police officer who was standing behind him. When he turned back, he said, ‘There was no argument or disagreement. Hannah’s father went to bed at about ten. Hannah and her older sister Chloe stayed up to talk. As you can imagine, it was an emotional conversation about Joss and Max. Although it was private, I can tell you that Hannah expressed a desire to return to Priest’s Island. She told Chloe she wanted to visit the chapel. Hannah and Chloe agreed they would ask their father this morning. Then Chloe retired to bed and Hannah went on deck. In Chloe’s opinion, Hannah must have felt impelled to attempt a crossing of the sound on her own during the night.’

  The same reporter asked, ‘Didn’t the police officer on guard duty try to stop her?’

  But Beacom didn’t appear to hear. Instead he was taking a question from behind Cal. ‘Why have you stopped the township from helping in the search?’ Cal turned and saw Alistair, his square head thrust forward in anger. The people who had been standing outside the tea room were clustered behind him. Alistair appeared muscular and self-important, as though he was leading a delegation. ‘It’s Wheeler’s doing, isn’t it?’ Alistair demanded. ‘He doesn’t want the township involved.’

  Beacom replied that the police had sufficient – ‘in fact, more than enough’ – resources because of the large deployment for the investigation into Joss Wheeler’s murder. ‘Mr Wheeler has other important and distressing matters on his mind, but I’m sure he would be as grateful as I am for any offers of help. That’s all, thank you.’

  Afterwards, Cal hung around while Alistair held court, accusing Wheeler and the police of blacklisting the township because of the wrong-doings of a disturbed young man who had grown up on the mainland. Cal noticed Helen. She was walking round the back of the group. She turned to look at the helicopter when she was beside him. ‘The boss wants you to go to Priest’s Island, look for this place that Ewan mentioned to Catriona.’

  Cal replied in an undertone. ‘Low tide is at two eighteen. I’ll be back later if you’re thinking of going for a run this evening. I’ll let you know if I’ve found anything then.’

  Mary-Anne picked at Ina’s uneaten chocolate cake and agonized about Hannah, whether there was anything the township could do to help.

  ‘I’ve been praying for her,’ she said to Helen. ‘Would it be a good idea if I stood up now and asked everyone to join me?’

  Seeing how agitated she was, Helen tried to reassure her. ‘I’m sure everyone is praying already. Probably best if people do it privately.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right,’ Mary-Anne sighed.

  Later, when Mary-Anne was calmer, Helen asked, ‘Was Hannah closest to Max, do you think, since she was next to him in age?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t really know,’ Mary-Anne replied. ‘Bella said Joss was always worrying about what happened to Max. She blamed herself for not being with him on the island. Maybe Joss, not Hannah, was closest emotionally to Max because she was the oldest and felt responsible for him. I’ve known that before in families.’

  ‘Really, how interesting,’ Helen said. Then, a few moments later, ‘I wonder why Joss blamed herself for that night in particular.’

  Mary-Anne looked puzzled.

  ‘Well,’ Helen said, ‘Max spent other nights alone on the island. Joss didn’t go with him any of those nights. Isobel told me that. Or was it you? I forget who.’ She paused but Mary-Anne didn’t answer. ‘Why do you think Joss felt guilty about not being with Max that night?’ Helen persisted.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Mary-Anne looked alarmed. ‘You won’t say anything to Bella. She’ll think I’ve been talking.’

  ‘Of course I won’t,’ Helen reassured her. ‘I’m just curious. Are you a fan of detective fiction? Well, I am. I like the old-fashioned ones when all the characters gather at the end and the murderer is revealed. Don’t you think that being in the tea room, hearing all the chat, is rather like that, being in the middle of a murder mystery?’ She made a guilty face as if she couldn’t help herself.

  Mary-Anne was about to speak but Helen gushed on. ‘It’s been so interesting, trying to work out the clues, what’s important and what isn’t. You see, I was thinking … there was one thing different about that night.’ She leaned close to Mary-Anne, becoming conspiratorial. ‘Hannah.’ She raised her eyebrows as if prompting Mary-Anne. ‘Hannah was the difference. Every other time Max had camped alone. Wasn’t that night supposed to be Hannah’s first? Why did Joss and Chloe go to see whether she was all right when she was safe with Max and they were only a shout away?’ Now Helen put on a frustrated expression. ‘Some detective I’d be – too many questions without answers.’ She ate another crumb of Ina’s cake – Ina was once again asleep in her chair, clutching Helen’s arm. ‘Still, it’s interesting that Joss blamed herself. Her fault, since she’s the eldest. Isn’t that what you just said? I wonder what she meant by that: a responsibility to Max or to Hannah?’ Helen looked defeated, as if it was a mystery that would never be solved. ‘Or to both.’

  After a moment she added, ‘Another thing, was it you who told me about Max being not a very pleasant boy? I’m sure someone did but I can’t remember who. I wonder if Joss couldn’t trust him to be nice to Hannah and if that’s why she and Chloe went to the island?’

  Mary-Anne appeared put out, as though Helen had gone too far. ‘Well, it certainly wasn’t me. Nobody’s ever told me that. This isn’t a crime novel, Helen.’ She lifted her head towards her God. ‘Real people have died. I think you’d do well to remember that.’

  Afterwards, she was silent, Helen assumed in prayer for Hannah and probably asking forgiveness for her flash of temper.

  26

  Wherever Cal looked, machines and people were on the move. Police cars drove along the shore road on Eilean Dubh. An assortment of small craft kept watch along the north coast of Priest’s Island and around the islets and skerries in the sound. One helicopter patro
lled to the east, towards the Minch, and another to the west, on the Atlantic side. The restlessness that Cal saw around his RIB was matched by his own unease – the recurring thought that he was an actor in the Wheeler family tragedy. Crossing the sound, he regretted ignoring the warning signs of tensions, especially when he thought back to his first meeting on the Jacqueline when Hannah had become distressed.

  Cal remembered Hannah’s parting remark to her father, the frustration and distress with which she said, ‘Anyone would think Max is the only child that matters … the only child you’ve lost.’ Like Hannah, Cal also felt discarded. What was he thinking, interfering in the affairs of a fractured family? Of all people, he should have known better. Then there was Joss’s attack on him. He touched the scabs on his face, finding them hardening, changing – almost living – when Joss was dead. If he hadn’t taken on the role of Beacom’s provocateur would Joss be alive? Would Hannah be missing? Even when he reached the south shore of Priest’s Island, away from the cars, boats and helicopters, he questioned why he was still there. Inquiring into Max’s disappearance and death had led to more blood being shed. Shouldn’t he leave?

  So it was in a troubled frame of mind that Cal hunted the shore below the shieling, looking into the hollows and fissures left exposed by the falling tide. Not only a troubled conscience but a sense of futility: what was the purpose of trying to find out where Ewan and Max used to hide away when Hannah was the Wheeler child who mattered now? Cal should be involved in searching for her. After all, bodies in the water and where they travelled were his areas of expertise. Cal’s feeling of uselessness increased as the gaps and openings revealed by the retreating sea all seemed to be too narrow, not sufficiently enclosed or too shallow.

  Once you went inside no one could find you. Wasn’t that what Catriona had said?

  Then, at low tide, just as he was about to give up, he noticed a rectangular dark area at the base of a large perpendicular slab of rock across the small bay: the emergence of an opening of sorts. On closer inspection, Cal saw the gap extended beneath the slab and water was draining from it in a fast stream, a sign that much more was inside. That it had an inside. He shone in his torch and lit up a rock passageway which led into a flooded chamber: the torch beam lit up a back wall.

  Cal crouched and crawled on his hands and knees through the stream. After three metres, a cavern opened and he was able to stand. The floor was ankle-deep in water and covered with stones, weed and silt. The walls were rock. The atmosphere was cold and dank. Cal shone his torch around and was surprised by how high the roof was above him, twice the height of a normal room, and how wide and spacious the interior. He formed the impression of an accident of geology having created this large chamber rather than it having been gouged out by the scouring of the sea. It was as though at some time in the distant past a vast stone slab had slipped from the land – a natural portcullis dropping – and had enclosed this space. Eventually, over decades, even hundreds of years, the sea had undermined the area below the rock and had created an entrance. Cal thought of Ewan showing it off to Max and of Max going there on his own and becoming trapped. Was that what had happened to the teenager?

  Cal shone his torch on to the back wall and saw that the high-water mark was higher than he was. Looking around for the possibility of escape – somewhere the rock could be climbed to get away from the incoming tide – he noticed a rectangular shape dug into one of the side walls. Above was a rusted iron ring and another and another, an ascending procession of what appeared to be footholds and handholds leading to a deep recess or alcove that could have accommodated a medium-sized man or a teenage boy who was small for his age. A cross was carved above the recess. It was crude but unmistakably done by human hand.

  As Cal crossed the chamber intending to climb up to the alcove, there was a stirring of a shadow at the edge of his vision, similar to when he was at sea and a dolphin or porpoise breached nearby. There would be a split-second awareness of movement and, once Cal had turned his head to see what it was, it would reappear a little further away, a sleek black back arcing through the water. On this occasion, he went to the far side of the chamber to be able to shine his torch further into the alcove. He imagined the movement to be one of the odd dancing effects caused by the beam reflecting off wet rock. But no: again he saw movement, this time more definite, a pressing into the rock, as though he had disturbed a terrified night-creature which was cringing from the light. He made a noise, a cough which changed into a shout, not sure what he expected to frighten, perhaps a bat. Instead he saw blonde hair and the side of a face.

  ‘Hannah,’ he said, ‘is that you?’ His voice lifted in surprise and relief. ‘Thank God, you’re alive.’ He noted the slump of her shoulders, a physical dejection to match the lifelessness of her face. ‘Hannah,’ he tried again. ‘It’s me, Cal McGill. We met on your father’s boat. Are you all right?’ Again she didn’t respond or react. Cal moved the torch in case its blinding light was disorientating her. ‘Everyone’s been so worried about you,’ he said. ‘How long have you been up there? Your legs must be stiff. You’ll be cold. Shall I climb up and help you down?’

  He splashed as he went back across the cave and Hannah cried out, ‘Don’t.’

  Cal looked up and saw that she had stretched out her left arm. The torch caught a flash of silver, a blade. She held a small knife at her exposed wrist. ‘I’ll do it. I’ll cut myself.’ She jabbed the point closer. ‘I will, if you come any closer.’

  Soon there was another incident to intrigue the detective in Helen. Catriona came into the tea room from outside, an unfinished cigarette in her hand. ‘The Jacqueline’s moving,’ she announced. ‘She’s leaving harbour.’

  The tea room erupted in noise and movement – chairs scraped as people hurried outside to watch. The commotion disturbed Ina. She woke with a start, gripping tight on to Helen’s arm. ‘What’s that racket?’ she asked.

  ‘The Wheelers are leaving,’ Helen answered. ‘You stay here and I’ll find out what’s going on.’

  Following the others outside, she heard snatches of conversation, speculation that David Wheeler and Chloe had decided to join the search for Hannah or that they had been advised by the police to take the Jacqueline out into the sound, for their own safety.

  When the boat was beyond the harbour wall Chloe appeared on deck and stood at the stern watching the township watching her. Helen thought her demeanour was defiant, almost accusing. The tea room’s regulars must have thought so too because they fell silent and became restless. One by one they returned to their tables, but Helen watched the Jacqueline until she was halfway across the sound. Going back inside, the tea room was buzzing again.

  ‘Has something else happened while I was away?’ Helen asked when she sat down beside Ina. ‘Some use I am, Ina. I was supposed to be telling you what was going on.’

  Mary-Ann replied for Ina. ‘Bella rang Constable Dyer and he told her that Chloe had persuaded her father to carry out Hannah’s wish. They’re going to the chapel on Priest’s Island to remember Joss and Max. They’re going to wait for Hannah there.’

  ‘Not look for her?’ Helen stared through the window towards the sound. ‘That’s odd, don’t you think?’

  Mary-Anne appeared irritated at Helen playing detective again. ‘Constable Dyer also said that Chloe planned to light a fire and keep it burning so her sister would be able to find her way home. The smoke would guide her during the day and the flames at night. He didn’t seem to think there was anything curious about that.’

  Helen said, ‘Well, he’s the policeman …’

  ‘It’s OK, Hannah.’ Cal backed away.

  Slowly, her arms dropped to her sides.

  ‘I won’t come up there if you don’t want me to.’ He moved back again and the light of the torch moved with him. ‘But I’m not going to leave you.’

  She didn’t react and Cal asked whether she minded him talking. There was something he wanted to tell her; a confession, he supposed, an a
pology too. She didn’t reply but sat back and leaned her left shoulder against the rock wall – signs, Cal thought, of her being prepared to listen.

  ‘I was thinking of you when I found this place,’ he began. ‘We’ve all been dreading the thought of you being pulled out of the sea, dead. I’m so relieved you’re alive. Everyone else will be too – there’s a big search going on for you.’ He paused, trying to gauge her reaction. ‘I have a confession to make. It was a bad idea coming to work for your father. My mistake – I’m sorry. All I seem to have done is to make the tension between the township and your family worse.’ Still she didn’t move. ‘When I saw how upset you were that time on the Jacqueline, I should have walked away.’

  He stopped speaking. The only sounds were of running water and the rhythmic plop of drips falling from the rock ceiling. ‘You going off like this will have made everyone understand how hard these last few years have been for you.’ Hannah seemed to slump a little further and Cal tried a different tactic. He had to get her talking. ‘Did your brother Max show you this place?’

  She didn’t answer.

  Cal carried on, ‘I don’t have brothers or sisters, so I can’t imagine what you’re going through. But I did lose my mother when I was seventeen – she died from cancer. And my father had a breakdown and went away to another continent, so I lost him as well. I’m alone too and quite a few times in the last few years I would have wanted to hide away in the dark, somewhere like this, where no one might find me. But I’m glad I didn’t.’

  Still Hannah said nothing.

  ‘What you’re feeling now is the worst it will be. In time, the pain will be dulled. It will be bearable. It’s different for me, I know, but that’s been my experience. I’m sure it’ll be yours too.’