Red Bones (Shetland Quartet 3)

you? But perhaps a farmer’s wife who helped slaughter animals took death in her stride. It was all part of her competence.
    Later, after they had looked at the British Museum website, they walked to the Cloustons’ bungalow. Evelyn insisted and Hattie didn’t know how to stand up to her without appearing rude or stand-offish. They found Anna in the workshop, not in front of her computer. She had switched on the light and for a moment they stood outside and looked in through the long window, watching what she was doing. She had no sense that they were there. There was no sign of Ronald.
    It seemed to Hattie a terrible intrusion, to be staring in at her. The baby was in his basket on one of the big trestle tables. Next to him, some cloth was soaking in an old tin bath. Anna was carding some fleece, preparing it for spinning, combing it between the carders with strong easy movements. The process seemed very complicated to Hattie; she could work out the theory but knew she’d be useless in practice. The fleece was combed between flat hardboard sheets pierced with thin nails. Anna moved the untangled fleece from board to board, then pulled it free of the nails and curled it into a loose roll. Now it was ready for the spinning wheel. Another competent woman , Hattie thought. I can’t even peel a carrot with any sort of skill.
    Then Anna noticed them through the window. Their presence had obviously startled her. She stared at them sharply before waving them to come in. She met them at the workshop door and there was a moment of awkward silence. Hattie almost expected her to send them away.
    ‘You’ve heard about Ronald?’ She kept her voice low, though there was no one to hear except the baby. ‘The police have decided to take no further action. They’ve accepted Mima’s death was an accident.’
    ‘He’s a lucky man,’ Evelyn said.
    ‘I know that, and so does he. He’s going out fishing with Davy for the night. I told him it would do him good to get away for a while.’
    Hattie found the atmosphere in the bungalow almost unbearable. I’m going to faint , she thought.
    ‘At least we can go ahead and organize the funeral now.’ Evelyn walked ahead of Anna into the workshop. ‘The Fiscal has agreed to release the body.’
    ‘Ronald wants to be there,’ Anna said, ‘but he’s not sure what Joseph would feel about that.’
    ‘Joseph’s an easygoing sort of man. He’s not one to bear a grudge.’
    ‘Thank you.’ Anna reached out and touched Evelyn’s shoulder. ‘I hope this doesn’t change things between us.’
    There was a brief pause before Evelyn said, ‘Of course not. Why should it?’
    Hattie had the impression that suddenly Evelyn was very pleased with herself, but she couldn’t work out why. She’d never been any good at picking up unspoken communication. Sometimes she felt lost, a stranger in a foreign country, only half understanding the language. I shouldn’t be here , she thought. She had to control an impulse to turn and run away.
    ‘Have you heard about the find at Setter?’ Evelyn took a seat at the table where Anna had been sitting.
    No chance of keeping it secret then! Hattie didn’t know what to say. She thought Evelyn had used her as an excuse to be there. She wanted to make her own excuse and leave, but couldn’t think of a way of doing it with any sort of dignity.
    ‘Tell me all about it.’ Anna leaned against the trestle and Hattie could see the swelling around her belly where the baby had been. Hattie mumbled an explanation of the significance of the coins. The baby started crying, a griping grizzle as if he was in pain. Anna lifted him out of his basket, rocked him in her arms. Suddenly she held him out to Hattie, a kind of challenge. ‘Would you mind taking him while I tidy this away? He’s got colic and he’ll scream the place down if I put him back in his basket.’ She gave a tight little smile. ‘Actually he’s been driving me mad today.’
    Hattie found the baby in her arms before she could object. She held him gingerly, slightly away from her body. He seemed very light and fragile. She had a moment of panic when she imagined herself dropping him; in her imagination she deliberately opened her arms wide and he slipped from her grasp and his head cracked on the floor like one of Mima’s big white eggs. There’d be a puddle of blood. The picture was so vivid that she was surprised that there was no sound, no crying and shouting, but the two island women