The Woman on the Cliff Page 14

  “Let’s just hope they get something.”

  We arrive at the hotel and are shown to our table. As soon as we sit down, Elspeth begins questioning me about Innes.

  “So, you and this Innes Nevin? I had to rack my brain to think of him. The name sounded familiar but I couldn’t put a face to it. Not that the face I remembered looks anything like his present one.”

  “Looks? Have you been Googling him? Already?”

  Ignoring my disapproving look, Elspeth pours me a glass of wine.

  “Seriously, Ros. You mean you haven’t looked for him online yourself?”

  “No. And you shouldn’t have done either.”

  “It’s what everyone does these days, Ros.”

  I think I’ve picked up a hint that Elspeth has something to tell me about Innes. She has an air of smugness about her. I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of getting one over on me but I’m dying to hear what she’s discovered. I take a sip of my wine, say nothing. I’m banking on her being as desperate to tell me as I am to know.

  “Oh, come on, Ros. You’re bursting there.”

  “I’m really not.”

  Elspeth gives one of her annoying snorts. She drops her voice almost to a whisper, leans over the table and says, “I bet he hasn’t told you that he was fired from the Glasgow police.”

  I can’t suppress my astonishment. More wine is required — a slug this time.

  “So, what did he tell you? That he’d retired?” The look of glee on Elspeth’s face is infuriating.

  “Yes,” I say. “What do you know, Elspeth?”

  “Only that your friend is stretching the truth a bit. Well, quite a lot, actually.” Her words send a bolt of misery through me. Even before Elspeth delivers her bombshell, I’m feeling like an idiot for trusting Innes.

  “Strictly speaking, he did retire but prior to that, he’d been suspended and investigated for corrupt practices.” Elspeth sits back, wine glass in hand, her work done. Or almost done. She’s eager to provide me with the details. But afternoon tea arrives in the form of an array of dainty cakes and pastries, and crust-free sandwiches. As soon as the waitress moves away, I ask Elspeth to explain.

  “He’s been accused of planting evidence on a suspect. He was lucky not to be prosecuted himself. Apparently, his wife had just divorced him, and he was judged to be emotionally compromised. Compassionate grounds. You know how it goes. He was allowed to take early retirement in order to save his reputation after what had been a distinguished career.” I wonder what it cost Elspeth to add that last sentence.

  “As if that wasn’t bad enough,” she continues, her hand covering her mouth as she bites down on a pastry, “the suspect died in mysterious circumstances before his trial. No one said it was Nevin but . . . Oh God, Ros, you have got to try one of those cream slices. They are so moreish.”

  In response, I push my plate away and excuse myself. It’s too much to take in. Innes has lied to me about so many things. “Ros? Are you okay?” Elspeth’s voice calls after me, shrill and grating.

  What do you think?

  In the privacy of the toilets, I sit in one of the cubicles, thoughts racing, anger mounting. The fact that Innes has failed to mention a case in his past that sounds eerily like Moira’s is unsettling, disturbing even. It casts him in an entirely different light and makes me wonder if he’s invented this story about Menzies. For all I know, he could be delusional. Then there’s his wife. He told me she committed suicide. Even if he had personal reasons for the lie, it made him dishonest at best.

  On the other hand, a little voice inside my head cautions me. Elspeth has proven to be untrustworthy in the past over rivals for my attention. Even Doug didn’t escape.

  Upon my return, she apologises. “I’m sorry, Ros. I shouldn’t have dumped that on you the way I did. I don’t do subtle. I didn’t really appreciate that you might have had deeper feelings for Innes Nevin. You did keep insisting you were just friends.”

  Elspeth’s always had this way of apologising by apportioning a good share of the blame to the victim. I know her of old, and don’t hold it against her. I even believe her when she tells me she checked Innes out to protect me.

  “Look, I’ve booked a twin room here. You’re welcome to stay with me tonight. I’ll drive you to Nevin’s cottage so that you can pick up your things. How does that sound?”

  I nod, numbly. If we time it right, Innes will be out walking Bronn and I won’t have to confront him. Cowardly, I know, but I don’t feel I can face him right away. I need time to work out truth from fiction.

  We don’t time it right.

  Innes has been waiting for me to call him. I’ve forgotten he offered to pick me up from the hospital and drive me back to his cottage.

  He seems surprised that I have company. Before I have a chance to say anything, Elspeth butts in. “Ros has come to collect her things. She’s decided to stay in St Andrews with me tonight.”

  “Okaay.” Innes’s voice is hesitant. He must have picked up that something’s amiss. He throws me a questioning look. “Ros?”

  “I . . . it’s for the best,” I say, evasively.

  “Is something wrong? Is it Izzy?”

  “Izzy’s fine. It’s . . . it’s just . . . so that I can be on hand for her if she needs me.”

  Innes doesn’t seem convinced. He gives me a searching look. Elspeth shifts from foot to foot, no doubt impatient with our dithering. Suddenly, she can contain herself no longer.

  “Ros doesn’t appreciate being lied to, Mr Nevin.”

  Innes turns a cold stare on her. “What are you talking about?”

  “About your retirement?” For a moment, Innes looks confused as he absorbs her words. Confusion becomes anger. His gaze swings back to me. “What has she been saying to you?”

  Elspeth pre-empts me again. “Only that you’re a crooked cop. Or are you going to deny that you were suspended over an allegation of corruption?”

  Innes looks like he will explode. From the kitchen comes the sound of whining, followed by scratching at the closed door. It’s Bronn, exhibiting that extra sensory perception dogs have when they know that their owner is upset. Innes’s eyes flit to the door, then back to me.

  “Ros? You believe this crap?”

  Put on the spot, I become defensive. “I . . . how do I know what to believe? You told me your wife took some pills to end her life. Elspeth says your wife divorced you.”

  “My first wife took her own life. I married again in haste, an old friend who’d just lost her husband. A stupid mistake, borne out of mutual grief. We realised immediately that we’d made a big error of judgement and divorced amicably within months. As for that other business, Ros, there are two sides to every story. Let me know when you’re ready to hear mine.”

  With that, he stands aside so that we can reach the stairs. “Post your key through the letterbox when you leave. I’m going out.”

  As I pack my things into my suitcase upstairs, I hear Bronn’s excited barking, followed by the slam of a door.

  “Just popping to the loo,” Elspeth announces.

  As soon as she leaves the bedroom, I cross to the window and see Innes striding out along the cliff path, Bronn bounding along in front of him. Two lonely figures in a grey landscape awash in a mist of uncertainty.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Ros!”

  I swung around in the corridor of the history department to see Andrew Kelso beckoning me into his office. I looked around, as if expecting some other Ros to appear at my side, but there was only me.

  “Please, take a seat,” he urged. I sat down in one of the spindle chairs arranged around the small room he used for his tutor group. It was so cramped that his students’ knees must have touched. The room had a sloping ceiling, leaving little head room. Bookcases lined what wall space was left between floor and sloping ceiling, and of necessity, Andrew’s desk was piled up with books and papers. Underneath his desk there were two heaps of books separated by a tunnel of fr
ee space, presumably so that Andrew could stretch out his long legs. The tiny room had one saving grace — the glorious sea view, which must have made it difficult for his students to concentrate on their studies.

  It was a few days after Stuart Brogan had discovered him in bed with Moira, and Andrew was still sporting a colourful black eye. I tried not to focus on it when I looked at him. Why had he asked me into his office? I suspected it was something to do with his messy love life. I was right.

  “Ros, I’m sorry about that scene at your house the other night.” I gave a shrug, not sure why he was apologising to me. I hadn’t even been there when it happened. Moreover, he’d already been round to the house with that outrageously outsized bouquet and apologised to Moira. Relations between him and Moira were back to what passed for normal with those two.

  But after apologising, he just sat, folded into his chair, eyes on the view through his sash window. As the silence lengthened, I started to feel uncomfortable. I cleared my throat loudly. Andrew started, as though he’d forgotten I was even there.

  “How well do you know Moira?” he asked suddenly. The question caught me off guard.

  “What do you mean? I’ve been sharing a house with her since October.”

  “Yes, yes, but how well do you really know her?” he persisted.

  “I don’t understand what you’re getting at. We’re sort of friends, I suppose. I think we get along okay. Moira’s quite easy to talk to.” Andrew seemed agitated, as though my response was inadequate. I felt like a student who’s unable to back up an answer.

  “Who is she close to, then? Who does she confide in? She told me you were a close friend.”

  “Me?” I stared at Andrew stupidly. “I . . . I didn’t think we were all that close.” Frankly, I was slightly shocked by this revelation, even a little flattered. “She gets on well with Shona. They often go out together.”

  His questions came thick and fast. “Does she go out a lot? Ever go away overnight?” I shrugged, feeling uncomfortable again. Suddenly, Andrew blurted out what I thought he’d wanted to ask all along. “Besides this Stuart Brogan, is there anyone else she’s been seeing?”

  “No! I don’t think so. But you should be asking Moira about that, not me.” So that was it. He was afraid of further betrayals.

  Andrew caught his breath. He ran long fingers through his hair. His agitation was beginning to worry me.

  “Does she talk about our relationship much?” he asked. “What sort of things does she say?” I coloured. No way was I going to tell him that I’d been told in pretty graphic detail what the pair of them got up to in bed.

  “Er . . . she likes you. A lot. She told me she only went out with Stuart because you told her it was all over between the two of you. Then you changed your mind. She was intending to end her relationship with Stuart, even before . . . before . . .”

  “Did she tell you about our trip to Aviemore?”

  “Yes.”

  Andrew leaned forward in his chair. “What exactly did she say?”

  I frowned, puzzled. “Only that she’d enjoyed it. Except she didn’t like you spending so much time with your cousin. She found him a bit, er, boring.”

  “Is that all she said about him? That he was boring?” Andrew seemed to relax.

  “I don’t remember her saying anything more. Surely you don’t think Moira and your cousin are seeing each other?”

  Andrew shook his head, but I got the impression he wasn’t really listening. He was staring out the window again, his gaze on the distant horizon. He seemed deeply troubled. Then again, he was a married man with a baby and a secret lover, and he’d just discovered that this secret lover had been cheating on him. It was enough to trouble anyone.

  “I can’t understand it,” he said. “Why would she cheat on me?” That seemed rich, coming from someone who had cheated on his wife more than once. Andrew Kelso must be an exceptionally vain man, I thought, someone who genuinely believed he was God’s gift to women. The possibility of a rival was as unbelievable as it was repellent to him.

  I picked up my bag. “Can I go now?” An unnecessary question. I didn’t need his permission to leave.

  The magnetic sea view had his attention again. Barely looking away from the window, Andrew said, “Yes, yes, yes,” each word fainter than the last.

  Since he no longer seemed aware of my presence, I muttered a goodbye and headed for the door.

  When I saw Elspeth later, she was piqued to hear that Moira regarded me as a close friend. I wasn’t going to tell her at first, but the whole encounter with Andrew had seemed so strange that I needed to talk it over, and this fact slipped out along with the rest of it. At first she couldn’t contain her jealousy. She was also jealous that I had been alone with the great Andrew Kelso.

  “I’d give my left arm to be alone in a room with that man,” she said. “It’s ridiculous him falling for Moira. She doesn’t have a single thing in common with him.”

  “I think he’s really pissed off that any woman would look elsewhere when she’s with him. Maybe he doesn’t know Moira as well as he thought. Do you think I should tell her about his conversation with me?”

  “That’s up to you. You’re her best mate.”

  “Her words, not mine.” Great, I thought. Now Elspeth’s going to sulk. I wished I’d spoken to Shona instead.

  The following day, I asked Moira to meet me for lunch. “That would be nice,” she said, before asking warily, “Is Elspeth coming too?” I assured her it would just be the two of us.

  I chose a pub on the outskirts of town, a place it was unlikely anyone we knew would pop into by chance. Moira was already there when I arrived, sitting at a table and looking at the menu.

  “Hi. Sorry I’m late. Lecture ran over time.”

  “No problem.” She smiled. “Good choice of venue, if a bit off the beaten track.” I sensed she’d guessed I’d chosen this pub because I didn’t want Elspeth to see us together. Moira must have thought I was a timid mouse.

  “You shouldn’t let her dominate you, you know,” Moira said quietly. I wanted to tell her that was rich, coming from someone who treated Lucy like a serf and who had everyone else (Elspeth excepted) at her beck and call. But of course, I didn’t. It wasn’t in my nature. And there was another reason. People did things for Moira because they wanted to. I thought of Lucy, fetching and carrying for her, and suddenly I saw that their relationship could have been interpreted in a different light. Lucy was a little lost and Moira gave her a purpose, made her feel needed.

  So, instead of saying, ‘I don’t,’ I replied, “I know.”

  “Why does she have such a hold over you?”

  I told her about Leah. How her death had made me want to retreat from the world. Shrink inside myself. “I met Elspeth in my second year here. Besides still grieving for Leah, I was terribly homesick and finding it hard to make friends. To tell the truth, I was thinking of jacking it all in. Elspeth kind of saved me.”

  “Did it ever occur to you that she might have been feeling just as lonely and desperate as you?”

  The idea startled me. “Nooo . . . not really. I suppose I was just grateful that she considered me worthy of her friendship.”

  Moira threw her arms in the air. “Don’t undersell yourself, Ros. You are very worthy of being anyone’s friend.” Her eyes narrowed. “Elspeth Blair exploits your good nature. Surely you’ve noticed that she doesn’t exactly get along well with a lot of people.” She sat back. “She hates me because she knows I see right through her. Well, not just because of that. Because I’m cleverer than her and I have Andrew, and because she thinks I’m trying to take you away from her.”

  This was news to me. “Are you?” I asked. “Trying to take me away from her?”

  “I just want to be friends with you, but Elspeth gets so jealous whenever I try to be. You know it too. That’s why we’re here, miles from anywhere. In case she spots us together. She’s so in control of you.”

  “She doesn’t see
m to mind me being friends with Shona or Lucy.”

  “That’s because Shona’s got loads of other friends, and Lucy . . . well, she probably doesn’t see Lucy as competition.” Moira shrugged. “Anyway, what are you having to eat?”

  We went to the bar and ordered some food. I had half a pint of cider and Moira had a coke. She didn’t often drink. When we returned to our table, I began to tell her about my odd encounter with Andrew Kelso, his strange questions and his apparent agitation.

  “Andrew asked you how well you knew me? Who I confide in?” Moira said.

  “Yes, I think he would have asked me more questions but I told him we weren’t that close.” Thinking that sounded bad, I added quickly, “That’s why I asked you to have lunch with me today. I felt bad that we’ve been sharing a house for a few months now and I don’t really feel I know you all that well.”

  Moira laughed. “And to tell me about your encounter with Andrew, for which I’m grateful.” She looked thoughtful.

  “Moira, it’s none of my business, but don’t you think it would be better if you stopped seeing Andrew Kelso? He gave me the impression of being very possessive.”

  Moira frowned. “Don’t worry, Ros. I can handle Andrew Kelso.”

  “You’ve got so much going for you, Moira. You could have your pick of the men around here—”

  “So why pick another woman’s husband? Is that what you were about to say, Ros? This is the twentieth century, you know. I’d expect an attitude like that from po-faced Elspeth Blair, but not from you.”

  This wasn’t going well. “It’s not that at all. I’m just concerned. Look at the men you’ve been involved with recently. Stuart Brogan hit you and Andrew Kelso is insanely possessive.”

  Moira gave a weary sigh. “Stuart didn’t hit me. Look, Ros. I don’t always live by other people’s rules or standards. If I want something, I take it. I don’t feel sorry for Andrew’s wife because she’s made a choice. She knows what kind of man Andrew is and she chooses to stay with him. As I’ve said before, if he wasn’t cheating on her with me, he’d be cheating on her with someone else. I know exactly what I’m doing with Andrew, same as I’ll know exactly when it’s time to call it a day.”