Red Bones (Shetland Quartet 3)

the bairn grizzling, Michael talking about how well he was doing at work, Amelia being saintly. He went back inside, found an old packet of Bourbon biscuits in the cupboard and tried Perez’s number again.
    This time it was answered. ‘Sandy. How are things?’
    ‘Well enough.’ He had wanted to discuss his concerns about the situation at Utra with Perez, but now he couldn’t find the words to do it. Besides, this was probably something he should deal with on his own.
    There was a brief pause before Perez spoke again.
    ‘Did Mima ever talk about the Shetland Bus?’
    ‘Not to me.’ Of course Sandy had heard the stories but the old folks’ reminiscences had never meant much to him. All that seemed so long ago that it was no longer relevant. They could have been telling tales about trows. He wondered why Perez was interested now.
    ‘Apparently your Uncle Andrew’s father helped build the little inshore boats that the Norwegian vessels carried across the North Sea.’
    ‘Aye, I did hear that.’
    ‘Would Andrew know anything about it, do you think?’
    ‘I should think he would. He was always interested in anything to do with the sea.’
    ‘Would he tell you what he knows?’
    ‘He might. Some days he talks better than others. He minds things that happened long ago better than stuff that went on yesterday.’
    ‘Would he still talk to you if I was there too?’
    ‘Aye, I think he would.’
    ‘We need to ask him if there’s a Norwegian man buried at Setter.’ Perez went on to explain why the question should be asked, but Sandy wasn’t much clearer about what that could have to do with Hattie and Mima dying. All the same he was glad he had something constructive to occupy his time this morning. It gave him an excuse to stay away from Utra until everyone there had left for Sumburgh; he wouldn’t have to put on a show that he was sorry Michael and Amelia were leaving so soon.
    His Aunt Jackie must have seen them coming up the hill because she had the door open before they arrived.
    ‘Come in,’ she said. ‘Come in, come in.’ He wondered why she was so pleased to see them, and then remembered how sociable she’d been before Andrew was ill. The house was always full of people. When they’d been bairns they’d gathered at the Clouston house; Jackie would welcome them all in no matter the noise or the mess they made. She even liked them around the place when they were teenagers, drinking cans of lager and playing loud music. Andrew had bought them a full-size snooker table. It must be hard for her now. She and Andrew had built this grand new house which was perfect for parties, and she rattled around in it with nobody to talk to.
    They went into the kitchen and she had coffee made and a plate of flapjack on the table in no time. Andrew was sitting in his usual chair in front of the Rayburn.
    ‘I’m sorry we couldn’t make it to the funeral,’ Jackie said. ‘Andrew was having a bad day. He didn’t want to leave the house. But I heard it went off very well.’ She didn’t ask what Perez was doing there, but shot suspicious glances towards him.
    ‘Aye,’ Sandy said. ‘Very well.’ Now he was here he wasn’t sure how he could explain Perez’s presence or engage the big man in conversation. Jackie often acted as if her husband weren’t in the room, or as if he were deaf. He turned to his uncle. ‘Are you feeling more yourself today?’
    Andrew stared, then nodded briefly.
    ‘Look,’ Jackie said. ‘While you’re here would you mind staying with your uncle while I get to the shop? I’ve run out of flour and I wanted to get some baking done. I don’t like to leave him on his own.’ She looked again at Perez. ‘That is if you’ve nothing you need to ask me.’
    ‘No,’ Perez said easily. ‘We were just wanting to talk to Andrew. Chat about the old times. Nothing important at all. You get yourself away.’
    Sandy knew this was a good thing, because they’d be able to talk to his uncle without Jackie overhearing, but he couldn’t help being nervous. Perez would expect him to persuade Andrew to confide in them and he wasn’t sure it would be that easy. Folk said Andrew’s intellect hadn’t been affected by the stroke, just his speech and his short-term memory, but Sandy thought he’d become quite a different man. Before the illness Andrew had been loud and strong and fierce. Competitive. Sandy remembered him on the golf course, swearing because he’d made a mess of a drive.