The Stranger Came (82 page)

'I
was
on
the
phone
when
you
and
Doctor
Macleod
came
last
night,'
he
said.
'I
couldn't
think
who
the
call
was
from.
I
didn't
recognise
the
voice.
She
asked
me
if
I
had
any
children.
It's
late
for
a
survey,
I
said.
But
at
that
exact
moment
it
came
into
my
head
who
she
must
be.
If
you
had
any,
she
said,
you
wouldn't
have
killed
mine.
You
couldn't
have
been
so
careless,
not
knowing
how
precious
they
are.’

'How
could
she
do
that?'

She
meant
how
was
the
woman
able
to
talk
at
all,
if a child of mine had died under the wheels of a car I would have drowned in tears.
But
Maitland
said,
'That
policeman
didn't
like
me
much.
Not
that
there's
the
smallest
chance
of
proving
he
told
her,
if
it
was
him.’

It
seemed
to
her
that
in
one
way
the
mother
had
been
brave.
Thinking
about
that,
she
remembered
the
day
she
had
hurried
along
the
frozen
burn
calling
'Mr
Rintoul!'
She
saw
the
picture
of
herself
doing
that,
hurrying
after
the
two
men,
as
if
she
had
been
a
watcher
standing
somewhere
apart
on
a
hill.

'Anyway
she
didn't
threaten
me
or
anything.’
Maitland braked
and
caught
a
gap
that
took
them
into
the
traffic
on
the
first
roundabout
before
the
city.
'Of
course,
I
did
put
the
phone
down
before
she
was
finished
–
when
I
heard
the
noise
of
the
two
of
you
coming
in.’

The
mist
shrank
and
bent
the
light
of
the
headlamps.

The
locals
called
it
haar,
a
word
for
a
raw
wind
across
the
German
plains,
a
word
the
old
tribes
had
brought
with
them
when
they
came
north.
It
poured
up
off
the
water
of
the
firth
to
fill
the
city.
Out
of
the
car,
she
shivered
at
its
touch.
'Easier
to
park
here
and
walk
across,'
Maitland
said.

Her
heart
sank
at
the
effort
needed
to
walk
across
the links.
Out
in
the
middle
of
the
open
grassy
space,
it
was
hard
to
believe
a
city
lay
round
them.
She
heard
the
hurry
of
her
breath
and
their
footsteps
tapping
on
the
frozen path.
Trees
came
and
went
singly
as
stripes
of
darkness.
From
somewhere
on
their
left
a
wordless
yelling
rose
and
fell
silent.
She
wanted
to
sink
down,
but
Maitland
took
her
by
the
arm.
She
could
not
think
why
he
had
chosen
to
park
so
far
away.

When
she
thrust
her
hand
into
her
pocket,
there
were
no
gloves,
she
must
have
left
them
in
the
car.
Instead,
she
found
a
bottle,
a
small
square
shape
that
she
turned
over
and
over
between
her
fingers.

'I
don't
want
to
do
any
harm,'
she
said,
'to
you
or
him.’

As
they
entered
the
street,
he
didn't
answer.
Perhaps
she
had
only
thought
the
words.
In
the
ground-floor
flats
un-curtained
windows
showed
long
narrow
kitchens
fiercely
lit
or
square
shadowy
rooms
in
glimpses,
pictures,
mirrors,
a
television
set
in
a
corner.
As
they
went
into
the
close,
he
said,
'There
is
no
me
and
him.
Isn't
that
what
we're
here
to
prove?'

Climbing
the
stair
took
an
enormous
effort.
All
the
feeling
seemed
to
have
gone
from
her
legs.
Waiting
for
the
bell
to
be
answered,
she
was
afraid
she
would
fall
down.
Her
hand
clenched
on
the
bottle,
squeezing
it
in
her
fist.
They
waited
so
long
it
began
to
seem
no
one
would
come
and
he
would
have
to
take
her
home
so
that
she
could
sleep.
She
saw
him
take
out
a
ring
with
two
keys
on
it.
First
he
used
the
Yale
and
then
with
the
long
thin
key
turned
the
lock
below
that
and
pushed
the
door
open.

She
knew
him
so
well.
And
part
of
what
she
knew
was
that
less
than
anyone
in
the
world
would
he
be
able
to
endure
her
seeing
him
as
the
poor
shameful
thing
that
was
Rintoul.
He
was
taking
her
to
Monty
Norman
who
would
hypnotise
her
into
forgetting
everything.
Why
else
would
he
have
keys?
The
idea
frightened
her,
but
if
giving
her
their
life
back
was
a
matter
of
forgetting,
she
would
forget
and
be
grateful
to
forget.