Icefall (21 page)

Aileen lived in a cramped modern estate of starter houses, so far from the city centre it was practically Glasgow.
Starter homes.
I felt a pang of grief for this woman of Conal's, this woman he'd left frozen in time, this woman who'd never got beyond him. It angered me. And that in turn saddened me, because he was my idol, my angel, my surrogate father, and he slipped further from me every day.

‘Sheena's photos, I brought them all here. I haven't looked at them.' Her voice trembled.

‘I'm not surprised,' murmured Seth sympathetically. I wanted to kick him.

‘I can show you the boxes. They're still in the lounge. There's some documents and stuff too. Sheena was the one who—she was the one who was interested in the family history. I wasn't, really. I mean, what does it matter? They're all dead, aren't they?'

The living room was small, furnished in a bare and careless style. A couple of blue sofas huddled by a gas fire and a television; an IKEA desk and a rusty swivel chair were crammed into a corner, a laptop perched open on the desk. By way of a screensaver the laptop was scrolling through a slideshow of recent family pictures. The room might have been stuffy, but the window was wide open, and the stripy curtains moved in the breeze. I thought it was odd, after what had happened to her sister. I thought she might have locked and bolted and barred herself into her house, but Aileen didn't seem too connected to her home planet. That last remark, for instance.
They're all dead, aren't they?

Yes, and not just the distant ancestors. Aileen looked more ravaged by grief than she had when she was up north with us. Maybe the shock had only just worn off, or maybe she'd been floored by another unexpected bereavement. There weren't many pictures on display in the room, so I couldn't help noticing the one on the plain pine mantelpiece. I still got a little jolt every time I saw his face. It still hurt, after all these years. Conal grinned at me, his hair tangled and wild in the wind on some hillside.

She had all Sheena's family pictures, I thought, but that was the one she'd chosen to put up there.

‘I just found that,' she said. ‘I looked it out. I don't know why. I think maybe I'll put it away again.'

Seth raised his eyebrows at me.

~
Bunny boiler.

~
Stop that.

However sorry I felt for Aileen, she wouldn't thank me for it. ‘Are those Sheena's albums?'

I needn't have asked: it was self-evident. My heart plummeted. There was a pile of very fancy silk-bound albums, but there were also two sizeable and chaotic boxes, and it wasn't rocket science to guess where the older photos would be.

Aileen shrugged. ‘It's like I say. She had all the family photos.' She nodded at the desk. ‘That's her laptop. It's got a lot of picture files too. I still don't really see why you…' As if her eyes were drawn against her will, she glanced reluctantly at Seth.

He gave her his best puppydog face. Gently biting his lower lip, not quite smiling. He
was
batting those bloody lashes.

~
Stop it,
I told him again.

He didn't. ‘It's, ah … we're kind of doing it for Hannah. You know? A surprise. Unless you'd rather…?' The bottom lip caught between white teeth again. ‘I mean, maybe it's a bit presumptuous, seeing as you…'

‘No! I mean, I'd never get around to doing something like that. I'm no good at it anyway. I'm not interested enough.'

‘So you really don't mind if we…'

Aileen shrugged again. ‘I don't see the harm in it. Help yourselves. Want a coffee?'

‘That'd be nice. He kept his mesmerising eyes riveted on her till she'd left the room. As soon as she was gone he was all business.

‘Okay. You take the boxes, Finn; I'll start with the laptop.'

‘Not,' I said. ‘The boxes are all yours. Call it a penance, you flirt.'

 

Hannah

‘You should swim,' I told Sionnach as I dumped my tray and sat at his side, tucking my damp hair behind my ears. ‘It's fun.'

I didn't know how he could just sit there mainlining espresso. The air was stickily humid, and smelt of sweat and chlorine. Nothing but a railing separated the big cafeteria from the pool area, so the whole vast hall echoed with whistles and shouts. Sionnach disliked the chaos, but only because he was such a control freak about his environment. To me it was familiar and friendly. I'd come to the Aquadome a lot when I was younger, when I wanted to get away from Sheena and Marty. The thought gave me a jolt of the usual guilt. Well, I was getting used to it.

‘I don't want to swim,' said Sionnach. He swiped a handful of our shared basket of chips, and picked at them.

‘What's up?'

‘The guy with the goggles.' Nibbling another chip, he nodded at the pool. ‘I don't like him.'

I turned to look. Goggles was tall, spare, muscled: I'd noticed him already when I was in the pool. His dark hair was pulled back into a slick ponytail. He stopped staring at us—because he definitely had been—and, snapping his goggles onto his eyes, executed a beautiful dive into the deep end, right next to the
No Diving
sign. A lifeguard scowled, then pretended she hadn't noticed.

‘He's Sithe?'

‘I dunno. Can't tell.'

‘Which means he probably is.'

‘Yes. In which case he's blocking. Unusually well. Let's go home.'

‘Bugger, Sionnach! I just ordered.'

‘So eat fast.' He added, ‘Please.'

Please
always did it for me, with Sionnach. Obediently I wolfed half my cheeseburger and wrapped the rest in a paper napkin, then grabbed a last handful of chips to eat on the run.

I risked another glance over my shoulder. Goggles had hauled himself dripping from the pool, though he'd only just got into it. Funny, that. He'd struck me as the type who was in there for fifty lengths before his next business meeting.

He stood on the pool edge, ignoring the kids who shoved and shrieked. Draping a towel round his shoulders, he paced towards the changing rooms, passing within feet of our table. Sionnach never took his eyes off him. And frankly I thought Goggles' blue stare lingered a little too long on the both of us. I was getting as paranoid as Sionnach.

I stood up. ‘Let's go.'

Sionnach didn't move. ‘Phone.'

‘Oh. Yeah.' Registering the faint familiar text alert, I fumbled in my swim bag and extricated my phone from a jumble of towel and wet swimsuit. Just as well his hearing was better than mine.

I peered at the display. ‘S'my mother. I'll get it later.'

‘Your mother's texting you? And she saw you a week ago? Check it.'

I took his point.

I flipped open my phone and read the message. It wasn't long, but it took me a while.

Sionnach didn't rush me. He was watching the swing doors of the changing rooms where Goggles had disappeared, but after maybe a minute he turned back to me.

~
What?

I passed him the phone. His face froze a muscle at a time. ‘This doesn't make sense.'

I shook my head, my hands clasped over my mouth. I managed to say, ‘Yes. It does.'

I just got this from your cousin,
said my mother.
I don't understand it. Think it's for you.

I didn't. I scrolled down.

hi H, pls have you got stuff, promise promise promise I have £ now, also what I owe u, pls pls meet me at Caley 4pm. will wait

‘It can't mean that,' said Sionnach. His scars stood out very white against his face.

‘Oh come on.' I wanted to be sick. ‘What else could it mean? I don't know who H is but Lauren doesn't owe me a bloody penny.'

‘This didn't happen before. It's not what she was doing.' Sionnach stared at the screen again.

‘Course not.'

‘Drink and fags. That was all. I swear.'

‘I know, I know. I also know she nicked Fearna's cigarettes and she bought the Breezers at the corner shop in Fishertown. She didn't have to text anybody and beg for them.' I snatched back the phone and peered into it as if I could put some different construction on the message.

Caley 4pm. will wait

I checked my watch. ‘We need to go,' I said. ‘Now.'

Sionnach took my arm and half-pushed me towards the exit. ‘Let me call Seth.'

‘Seth's in Edinburgh,' I said. ‘Finn too. And I don't want them to know.'

‘Hannah…'

I shook my head, cold and certain. ‘No time.'

‘Then Iolaire and Jed.'

‘No
way!
You know what Jed's like! Remember his mother? He'd go straight over and kill H, whoever he is.'

Sionnach tilted his head. ~
Would that be so bad?

‘Yes, if Jed ends up in jail! Listen to me. I don't want anyone else involved. Jed would kill the guy. I don't want Lauren in trouble. She just needs … she needs … oh, I
dunno.
She needs family, she needs
me
. You guys don't know about this. It's not Sithe stuff. I'll handle it.' I took a deep sobbing breath. ‘Oh, God, I'll
kill the little cow
.'

He furrowed his brow. ‘So leave her to it.'

I shook my head violently. ‘I need to go get her before I kill her.' I tried to laugh, wiped my nose with a sleeve. ‘It's my job, Lauren's
my
responsibility. She's screwed up. It's my fault, kind of. It's my fault.'

~
Don't be stupid,
he said calmly.

‘Can we fight later? We need to go and get her.'

He didn't argue any more. ‘Come on.' ~
And calm down. Don't run.

 

Finn

My fingers ached and so did my eyes. If I smelt another coffee I was going to throw up. I pushed the chair away from the desk and stretched as I glanced over my shoulder at Seth. He'd been sitting cross-legged on the floor, until he got cramp; now his preferred position was flat on his back on the sofa, one hand idly delving into the box of papers on the floor, even as he held the last one above his face to study it. He rubbed his eyes.

‘Feeling the strain?' I asked sarcastically. I was unreasonably cross that he'd picked the better job by default, or rather by having it thrust upon him. I could see the attraction of it for him over a computer: frail documents, the smell of old ink and paper, words and photographs faded to sepia.

He gave me a sidelong grin. ‘You wanted to do the computer files, babe. Want another coffee?'

‘Urrgh. I
want
a humonguous Scotch.'

I could tell Seth was enjoying himself. He stroked ancient signatures with a fingertip, touched inscrutable faces. He must have known, as he gazed at the stiff-necked Victorians, how that fabric had felt against his skin, what the women's soap had smelt of, how to make hair tumble loose from elaborate knots, what sounds and sights and stinks had surrounded these people in the clattering streets beyond their parlours. I couldn't share that.

Well, I could have, if I'd asked him to remember. But I didn't want to. I was jealous. I felt it like a nagging heart-burn. Not of the women: of the time. The long, long time without me.

His hand went back into the dusty box, disturbing a little spider. He shook it off, and it scuttled under the sofa. ‘Sorry. I've wasted our time.'

‘Nah. It was worth a shot. But if I see one more picture of Marty in his Speedos my brain'll explode.' I wrinkled my nose. ‘Or my stomach.'

Actually my most disturbing moment had been clicking on a picture of Shania, polished and cocky in her school uniform. A knowing lipsticked smile. Shining caramel hair. Chills in the nape of my neck. I'd been scared of her, so scared. And now all I was seeing was a teenager, full of herself, not seeing the world and the life and the death ahead of her. I'd thought she was the devil incarnate; there on the screen there was only an innocent. A bitchy, hyper-confident innocent who probably grew out of it, and promptly got killed for being at home on the wrong day. It was knowing me that had led her to her horrible death.

~
Aye. Knowing you and persecuting you,
said Seth.

Which didn't actually make me feel any better.

Standing, I shook myself and stretched my shoulders. The picture on the laptop screen faded, switching back to its family slideshow. I watched it, sleepily interested, but I didn't know these people. Just to stretch my legs, I wandered over to the mantelpiece and gazed into Conal's grinning frozen face. With my forefinger I stroked it lightly, trying to see only his laughing eyes, trying not to see the skull beneath. What was wrong with me?

‘Finn, c'm'ere!' Seth was on his feet, jabbing frantically at the laptop touchpad.

‘What?' I was beside him in an instant, taking over.

‘That photo that just came up. Bring it back!'

I leaned over, clicking on menus. ‘Which one? I can't. They're random, Seth. They only come up for a few seconds.' I clicked hopelessly through the picture folders. ‘You're not helping…'

‘Holidays.' He rubbed his forehead. ‘Abroad.'

Sheena wasn't bad at labelling but boy, she took a lot of photos. ‘Tenerife? Spain? Help me out here.'

‘Damn. Oh damn.
There!
Go back. Like that but—that's it! Antigua! That's Antigua, Finn, I recognise it.'

Me too. It was spooky seeing Sheena and Marty propped grinning against the parapet at English Harbour, the Caribbean shining like a bolt of silk below. We'd taken a photo of ourselves in the exact same spot, two summers ago. I clicked the keys, going through the pictures individually so that they filled the screen. Sheena and Marty on a beach. Sheena, Marty, and Shania. Shania and Darryl. Darryl and Marty, bonding over beers at the cricket. Must have been a family holiday. Though I didn't know that couple with them in the seventh picture …