Too Soon a Death: A Scottish mystery where cosy crime meets tartan noir: Borders Mysteries Book 2 (5 page)

‘Doing away, Doctor. Doing away.’ He gave a cheery smile and drove off towards Westerlea.

She sifted through her post as she walked round to the back door. The latest offers from the Co-op, a credit card company offering zero percent interest on balance transfers, two clothing catalogues and a postcard of the Grand Place in Brussels. She turned over the card; as usual there was no message. It joined the others in a kitchen drawer.

Choosing what to wear is easy when virtually nothing in your wardrobe fits any more. Zoe pulled on a pair of navy leggings and a sleeveless turquoise tee-shirt. Wanting to look her best though unsure why, she also put on a multi-coloured necklace and slipped its matching cuff onto her wrist.

She had first made this journey in January, and for several months the frequent, hammering rain which often became sleet the further west she travelled had meant driving was a chore rather than a pleasure. However, since April, she had been able to enjoy crossing into Dumfries and Galloway, which shared the Borders’ empty roads and beautiful scenery. These outings felt less of a culture shock than the occasions when she travelled north to Edinburgh, despite her destination being further away.

As the A708 curved to the right on its approach to Moffat, Zoe’s mouth went dry. She reached over for the bottle of water sticking out of her bag, feeling foolish for being so nervous. She and Andrew Balfour had met several times since he first approached her outside the health centre last December. On that occasion, she had stood rooted to the spot and listened to what he had to say, then asked him not to contact her again. He didn’t argue, just stood staring at the ground as she got into the Jeep. She had sat for a moment, opened her window and asked him for a number she could call him on, then raced home, unable to get indoors before vomiting up her lunch. Of course she hadn’t known then that she was pregnant.

Moffat was starting to look familiar. As usual, she smiled when she caught sight of the statue of a curly-horned ram on top of a mound of large stones. She found a shady spot in the hotel’s car park but remained in the Jeep for a few minutes, trying to quell the butterflies in her stomach. Having once again made allowances for non-existent traffic jams—a throwback to her previous life in a city—she’d arrived twenty minutes early.

On the dot of midday, as she sat on a wooden seat in the beer garden, reading a book and swirling ice round the bottom of her glass, she heard someone say her name. She looked up, shading her eyes with a hand. Andrew came forward, hesitated then bent down and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

‘Can I get you another drink?’ he asked.

‘Please. Lime and lemonade with lots of ice.’

By the time he returned, Zoe had put away her book and taken a few more deep breaths to calm her nerves.

Andrew set down their drinks. ‘I assumed you wouldn’t want to eat out here, so I’ve reserved a table in the dining room. We can go in whenever you want.’

‘Great, thanks. I don’t think these seats were designed for tall, pregnant women.’

‘I’m sorry I couldn’t be here earlier. Hope it doesn’t mean you’ll have to rush back.’

‘There’s no need to apologise. Really.’ Zoe looked across the table at her father. His hair, streaked with grey, used to be the same colour as hers, and she could see now where she got her long, rather narrow nose from. She wondered if they shared any traits which were more than skin-deep.

‘I do that rather a lot, don’t I?’

‘All the time. How’s Helen today?’

His face fell. ‘Since I spoke to you yesterday, I’ve realised she only has bad days now. The doctors say she probably won’t last another month. They’ve asked me if I want them to find her a place in a hospice but as long as we can keep her comfortable at home, we’d rather she stayed there.’

‘I can understand why. It must be so hard for you all, though.’

‘Nina’s taken over running the house. Her way of coping, I suppose. She never used to lift a finger but she’s suddenly grown up. Ewan’s only sixteen and not very mature anyway, but he’s hardly helping the situation. We rarely see him. Says he’s spending time with friends but I’ve no idea who they are.’

‘People deal with things differently. Being a teenager’s difficult enough, but having to watch a parent die must feel like your world is ending, slowly and painfully.’

‘How did you cope with losing your mother, Zoe? You said you were only twelve when it happened.’

‘It was different for me. A road accident. She waved me off to school one day and in the afternoon my teacher told me she’d been killed. It was awful, brutal even. But not long and drawn out.’

‘I should have been there,’ he said.

‘You’re here for Nina and Ewan. That’s what’s important. I’m all grown-up, so you don’t have to worry about me.’

‘I never stopped thinking about you.’

‘I don’t blame you for what happened. And neither did Mum.’

‘Finding you is helping me cope with losing Helen. I just wish you could meet her before it’s too late.’

‘But you said you didn’t want her to know about me. That she would see what happened between you and Mum all those years ago as a betrayal.’

‘She would. Your mother was the only secret I’ve ever kept from her.’

‘Do you really think she’d care after all this time?’

‘There’s something else I haven’t told you.’

Andrew stared at the glass in his hand without speaking for so long that Zoe eventually asked, ‘What is it?’

‘We adopted Nina and Ewan because Helen couldn’t have children. We tried for years and it tore her apart. My having fathered you during a brief relationship with another woman was the worst thing I could possibly have done to her. I can’t tell her. Maybe if she’d been well, but not now.’ He gave a humourless laugh. ‘This should be such a happy time. I’ve been reunited with my eldest daughter and soon I’ll have my first grandchild. But in exchange, I lose my wife.’

He stood up. ‘Let’s go in and have lunch.’

Their meal was more enjoyable than Zoe expected. As usual, the food was excellent and Andrew made a big effort to be more cheerful, even getting out his phone to show Zoe a photograph of himself with his Border Collies. When she asked if he had any pictures of his family as well, he shook his head. ‘Ewan took this one and set it to show when I turn my phone on. I prefer to use a real camera.’ He tilted his head to one side and studied her. ‘You’ve got the Balfour nose. Something else I should say sorry for, I guess.’

Zoe smiled. ‘So I can expect my baby to have one too?’

‘I suppose that depends on his or her father.’ Andrew reddened as soon as his words were out.

Before he could apologise yet again, Zoe said, ‘It’s okay. I may not talk about him, but I can’t deny he existed.’

‘I hope you’ll allow me to be part of the child’s life.’

‘He’s got more family than I ever did. It’ll be important for him to know them.’

‘It’s a boy, then?’

‘No, I simply find it easier than keeping on saying him or her, he or she. My friend Kate is beside herself with curiosity, convinced I know but won’t tell her. She can’t believe I feel no need to find out before the birth.’

‘That’s Ranald Mackenzie’s daughter?’

‘I was forgetting you knew him. Yes it is. She got married, moved away for a few years then came back. She’s divorced now.’

‘Her father and I used to meet at Kelso races. Years ago, of course. I doubt if he’ll remember me.’

‘The whole family has been incredibly kind to me. I’m going there tonight for a barbecue.’

‘I imagine the entire country will be having a barbecue this evening. You can’t have expected this sort of weather when you moved up here.’

‘That’s true.’

They went their separate ways mid-afternoon without making any further arrangement to meet up. Andrew felt unable to commit himself, given the unpredictability of Helen’s illness, and although it remained unsaid, Zoe knew she would only see him again after his wife had died.

As she drove past the turning to the inn which sat between St Mary’s Loch and that other loch whose name she could never remember, she noticed an ancient, blue Ford Fiesta behind her. It kept a safe distance back, so all she could see of its driver were a baseball cap and big sunglasses. The same car was still there, two vehicles separating them now, when she stopped briefly at a junction in Selkirk. The next time she looked in her mirror, it had gone.

SIX

Zoe arrived at Tolbyres Farm at six-fifteen, accompanied by Mac who had sat on the passenger seat panting with excitement all the way there. The number of cars parked behind the farmhouse suggested a bigger occasion than Kate’s spur-of-the-moment invitation had suggested, but it was too late to turn round and go home now.

As soon as Mac’s feet hit the ground, a Border Terrier appeared from nowhere, scattering a group of brown hens pecking at the dry earth nearby. The dogs approached each other warily then ran off together towards the garden and quickly disappeared from view.

The path along the side of the house was dry and dusty, reflecting the lack of rain in over two months, in contrast to Etta Mackenzie’s flower beds which teemed with colour and her husband’s meticulously striped lawns. Zoe breathed in the scent of lavender and stopped briefly to admire a swathe of bright red poppies. Arriving in the front garden, she spotted several children crowded round Mac and his new friend, while scattered groups of adults stood on the lawn talking and laughing.

A boy in blue shorts and a bright red tee-shirt rushed over. ‘Hello, Zoe. Mum said I was to take you to her as soon as you arrived.’

‘Hi, Frankie. Just tell me where she is and I’ll find her.’

‘In the sitooterie.’ Kate’s eldest child pointed towards the single-storey barn set at right angles to the farmhouse. A century ago it would have contained machinery but now its arches were too low to accommodate even the smallest tractor, so it was used as an extension to the house. ‘She and Gran are bringing out the food while the barbecues heat up. We’re having steak and beefburgers and sausages.’

‘Sounds great. I’ll see you later.’

After straightening the ruched material of her dress which clung to her bump, Zoe strolled across the wide lawn. Kate came into view, wearing pink pedal-pushers under a white, sleeveless blouse and carrying a tray piled high with baskets of bread rolls.

Zoe waited to speak until Kate looked up from placing the rolls on one of the trellis tables covered with red-and-white tablecloths. ‘Hello. I made it, as you can see.’

Kate beamed. ‘Come and get a drink then I’ll introduce you to a few people. It’s a pity you’re off alcohol at the moment, because we have Pimms.’ She led Zoe to the far corner of the barn nearest the house, where guests surrounded a table laden with bottles, jugs and glasses, proclaiming, ‘Make way for the pregnant lady.’

Cheeks burning, Zoe forced a smile, but the temptation to flee subsided when she recognised most of the people who turned towards her.

‘Zoe, how are you?’ Robbie Mackenzie stepped forward and kissed her on the cheek. His year-round tan had darkened several shades since the last time they met. ‘Sis tells me the work on Keeper’s Cottage has gone well.’

‘Yes, thanks to you. I can’t believe how fast the builders have worked.’

‘Good to hear. I—’

Robbie broke off as a young woman with the body and bearing of a dancer came forward and linked her arm through his.

‘Aren’t you going to introduce us?’ Her southern English voice stood out from the clamour of soft Borders accents.

‘Sorry, darling. This is Kate’s friend, Zoe Moreland. She lives in a house I used to own. Zoe, meet my lovely wife, Ingrid.’

The women exchanged wary smiles. Ingrid’s asymmetrical curtain of blonde hair shifted slightly as she looked Zoe up and down. ‘I like your dress,’ she said. ‘Coral suits you.’

‘Ingrid has an eye for colour, don’t you, darling? She’s an interior designer, does all my properties.’

‘Thank you.’ Zoe now knew why Kate rarely mentioned her sister-in-law. Robbie couldn’t have married a woman more unlike the one he’d grown up with.

As if reading her mind, Kate reappeared bearing a tall glass of orange juice which she handed to Zoe. Ignoring her brother and his wife, she grasped Zoe’s arm and pulled her aside.

‘There’s someone here I want you to look after.’

‘Not another baby, I hope. It didn’t go well last time, did it? She cried all the time until her mother came back.’

Kate rolled her eyes. ‘No, it’s a man. Here he is.’

Oh God.

A figure wearing camouflage-patterned shorts which were slightly too long for him was walking towards them, clutching a bottle of wine to his chest. Zoe recognised Patrick Dunin immediately, although she’d never seen him before so casually dressed or without a stethoscope around his neck.

Kate scurried across the grass to meet him. ‘Hello, Patrick. Come and see who’s here.’

The new arrival handed Kate his bottle and allowed her to lead him to Zoe. He nodded gravely. ‘Good evening, Doctor Moreland. I’m glad to see your dog’s fully recovered. He and mine have hit it off.’

Zoe followed his gaze. She could see no sign of the Border Terrier now but Mac was chasing a tiny brown dog down the garden towards the life-sized wire statues of a ram and a ewe which Kate and her three brothers had given their parents last Christmas. ‘I hope they’re okay. Mac’s so much bigger than yours and can be very boisterous.’

‘Peggy’ll be fine. Dachshunds can stand up for themselves. If he gets too much, she’ll let him know.’

‘Zoe, will you show Patrick where the drinks are?’ Kate said. ‘I need to get back to helping Mum with the food.’

Powerless as usual to do anything but go along with her friend’s wishes, Zoe walked with Patrick to the barn, wishing she hadn’t worn heels which made her tower over him. It seemed like good manners to hang around while he poured himself a glass of orange juice. He was obviously acquainted with several other guests but just as Zoe had decided it wouldn’t be too rude to leave him chatting with them, he rejoined her.

‘Our dogs have disappeared. Shall we see if we can find them?’ His smile came as a surprise. During all the visits she and Mac had made to his surgery back in February, the vet had never smiled once, not even when the test for canine pancreatitis had come back negative. In fact, his expression had been so serious before telling her the result that Zoe had steeled herself for bad news.