The Woman on the Cliff Read online

  Shona shook her head. “No. I think you were right before, Ros. I think Moira’s death has sent her over the edge. She must be in a really bad way if even a romance can’t buck her up.”

  Like Elspeth and I, Shona had stopped using the word ‘murder.’

  “Do you think we should contact her parents?” I said.

  “I don’t think so. Not yet. Let’s wait a bit longer and see if this Alec can cheer her up,” Shona said. And so the matter was dropped.

  A couple of days after we’d been discussing her state of mind, I spotted Lucy on the second floor of the library. She was sitting at a booth by the window with some books open on the desk in front of her. I could see she wasn’t working. She was staring out of the window, looking miserable. I approached her and asked if she had time to join me for a coffee. She jumped, almost out of her seat, and both the books on her desk crashed to the floor.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you, Luce. Are you okay?” I bent to pick up the books. They were about Australia and New Zealand.

  “Planning on escaping somewhere exotic?”

  “No!” Lucy’s voice was sharp, defensive. “These aren’t mine. They were on the desk when I arrived. Someone else must have left them there.”

  It seemed like a transparent lie, but maybe they had been left behind, as she said, and she’d opened one and started browsing out of curiosity. Though it seemed a little odd that she had no other books or papers out, especially as I knew she had a couple of essays due in soon. Still, if she wanted to be secretive that was up to her.

  “So, is that a yes or a no?” Lucy stared at me blankly. “Coffee?”

  “I suppose. It’s not as if I’m doing anything constructive here.”

  Since she only shrugged when I asked where she’d like to go, I chose a café that I knew she liked, and once inside, we ordered pancakes and maple syrup.

  “So, how are you feeling these days?” I asked clumsily.

  “What do you mean, how am I feeling?” I understood her defensiveness. If anyone had asked me how I was feeling after Leah’s death, I’d have been just as angry.

  “Well, we’re all a bit concerned about you. You don’t seem yourself these days. Is it Moira?”

  Lucy mumbled something that sounded like, “Of course it’s Moira.” Then, “What have you all been saying about me? You don’t have to say stuff behind my back. If you’ve got anything to say, say it to my face.”

  “Calm down, Luce. No one’s been saying things behind your back. Shona just said you seemed a bit down. You’re our friend. Isn’t it natural that we should worry about you? If there’s something you’d like to talk about, you know you can talk to me, Elspeth and Shona, don’t you?”

  “Elspeth?” Lucy said. “I don’t think so.”

  “I know they didn’t get on, but Elspeth does feel bad about Moira,” I say quietly.

  “That’s charitable of her. As for Shona, well, she’s got lots of friends, hasn’t she? I like Shona, but she’s so busy she doesn’t have time to babysit me. And you, Ros? Elspeth doesn’t let you off the reins long enough for you to be a proper friend to anyone else.”

  “That’s not true,” I said. I was beginning to get a bit sick of people telling me I was under Elspeth’s thumb. Lucy merely shrugged, as though the point wasn’t even worth disputing. I felt irritated.

  Lucy became apologetic. “I’m sorry. I know you’re concerned about me, but there’s no need. I think I just need a break, you know? I can’t seem to get down to doing any work. My mind’s all over the place. The Easter break’s coming up. I’ll be okay when I get back.” Then, in a hesitant voice, she said, “There’s something a bit . . . unwholesome about Elspeth, you know. A person who cuts up someone’s clothes . . . that’s not normal behaviour. It’s extreme. It’s . . . it’s disturbing. Moira was afraid of her, you know.”

  I was becoming uncomfortable with the conversation. I suspected that Moira and Lucy, perhaps Shona too, had been talking about my relationship with Elspeth behind my back.

  “Next you’ll be saying Elspeth killed Moira,” I said hotly. “She had nothing to do with it.”

  “I know that,” Lucy said. “The thing is, you’d say that even if the police caught her with her hands still round Moira’s neck, shouting, ‘I’ve killed her!’ Open your eyes, Ros. Everyone can see her for what she is —everyone but you.”

  The pancakes arrived and we ate in silence for a bit. After Lucy’s outburst, I didn’t know what to talk about. I’d asked her out to try to help her, but now I was angry. Perhaps realising this, Lucy changed the subject.

  “I’m finding it hard to work,” she admitted. “What happened to Moira has made me wonder what the point is in anything. You never know what’s round the next corner. This town feels claustrophobic to me now. I just need to get away.”

  “Another year and you need never come back to this town again, Luce. You could go to Australia or New Zealand, anywhere you like. You just have to put what happened to Moira in a box for now and try to concentrate on getting a good degree.”

  “In a box?” Lucy said.

  “I’m sorry, Lucy. I could have put it better. What I meant was—”

  “It’s okay. Don’t feel bad. I know what you meant. It’s just that I don’t find it easy to block things out. My thoughts won’t stop.”

  “I wish there was something I could do to help,” I said. Inviting Lucy out for coffee hadn’t been such a great idea after all. I didn’t seem to be lifting her mood and she was making me miserable. “Shona’s pretty cut up too, you know,” I said.

  “Yes. Poor Shona. I think she was a little in lo . . .” Lucy’s voice trailed off.

  I wished I could have found some way to broach the subject of Alec, but a promise was a promise. Besides, I could see the state Lucy was in. She was angry, hurting, and her brain was working overtime. Her hostility towards Elspeth, I decided, was simply another symptom of her generally negative frame of mind.

  Once we’d finished drinking our coffees, Lucy returned to the library, but I doubted she was going there to work. In her mind, she had already distanced herself from this town, and all of us. I hoped that getting away for the Easter break would give her some respite from her obsessive thoughts over Moira’s death, and that she would return, refreshed, for the final term of the year.

  I didn’t see Lucy much after that. She went home a week before the end of the Easter term and never returned to St Andrews. But just before she left, I was standing on the pavement outside the front door of our house on North Street, waiting to see her off, when she kissed me on the cheek and whispered, in a voice so low I thought I’d misheard, “Take care of yourself, Ros. Elspeth Blair’s your friend now, but watch out for her when the wind changes direction.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  For the longest time, I stare at Lucy, unable to believe it’s really her.

  “I’m for real,” she says, smiling. Lucy arrived at the café about ten minutes after her phone call, came straight over to my table and gave me a hug.

  “How . . .?”

  “My cousin Cathy called. She told me about your visit, and that you were planning on coming to St Andrews. I thought you’d still be in London. Imagine my surprise — and delight — to learn that you were here in town.”

  “It’s mutual,” I say, “the surprise and the delight.” We both smile.

  “Alec, my husband, is parked on a double yellow line across the street.”

  I look out of the window and see a man on the pavement opposite, leaning against a blue Citroën. He looks up and down the street, alert for any roving traffic wardens. He’s shortish, slim, with long, greying hair tied back in a ponytail and is dressed all in black, right down to a pair of black suede ankle boots. He reminds me of Hugo Weaving as the Elf King in The Lord of the Rings.

  “Why don’t you come round to our house? It’s about a mile out of town. We can have a good old catch up,” Lucy says.

  “Oka-ay,” I say
uncertainly.

  “Quick then, before we get booked.”

  I follow her to the car. The king of the elves smiles at me. He’s holding the back door open so I can climb in quickly.

  On the way to her house, Lucy introduces us. “Ros, meet Alec, my husband of twenty-one years.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Ros,” Alec says. I return his greeting.

  Lucy cranes her neck round to speak to me. “I recognised you straight away, even though you look so different.”

  “You look different too.” And she does. Her hair is silvery white, streaked with blue and cut in a swishy bob. She’s wearing green lace-up ankle boots and black skinny jeans, with a long light-grey cardigan that looks soft enough to be cashmere.

  “I hope so,” Lucy comments. “I looked like a dog’s dinner back in the day.”

  “You did have a style all of your own,” I say. She grins.

  “Here we are,” she says, and Alec swings into a private road and pulls up outside the third house along.

  Lucy ushers me inside while Alec puts the car in the garage. She shows me into a cosy sitting room and takes my coat.

  “You have a lovely home,” I say.

  “Thanks. It’s kind of big for the two of us, now that the twins have flown the nest, but Alec and I work from home so we feel the space is justified.”

  “It’s good to see you, Luce . . . Good to see how your life has turned out. I’ve often wondered about you over the years. I was always sad we all lost touch.” After Moira was murdered.

  “My fault,” Lucy says. “I left in a bit of a rush, didn’t I? I was embarrassed about my state of mind. Back then it wasn’t the thing to talk about feeling depressed, was it? And I wasn’t exactly brilliant at keeping in touch.”

  “None of us were,” I say.

  “I moved around a lot in those first two years. Alec came out and joined me after the first six months. After a few more years, we moved to the States and lived there for eight years or so. Came home when the twins reached high— I mean, secondary school age.”

  “Sounds like you’ve had a more exciting life than me. What brought you back to St Andrews?”

  “Alec’s parents were getting older and their health was poor. They lived in Anstruther.” I nod. Anstruther is a picturesque fishing village a few miles along the coast from St Andrews and not too far from Innes’s cottage. “They’re both gone now,” she says with a hint of sadness. “My parents too.”

  “And mine.” And Doug, I think to myself.

  Alec appears with a bottle of red wine and asks if we’d like a drink. I feel I’m in need of one. After filling our glasses, he excuses himself, saying he’s going to rustle up something to eat.

  “Alec’s a great cook.”

  “So is Lucy,” he says immediately. “You should taste her salmon en croute.” They exchange glances of genuine affection — no, love.

  “I’m happy for you, Lucy. You seem so . . .”

  “Happy?” She chuckles.

  “Yes. Tell me about your family. Your cousin mentioned twins.”

  “We have two grown-up sons, twins. Ben and Ian. They both live and work in Edinburgh.”

  “Elspeth’s in Edinburgh,” I tell her. Lucy nods. She asks what Elspeth is doing but seems only mildly interested. When I mention Shona, on the other hand, her face lights up, and she seems delighted to hear that Shona has come out at last. “You knew?” I ask.

  “Not for sure. I always suspected she was in love with Moira.” We lock eyes for a moment, and then Lucy asks about my family.

  “Well, I have a daughter,” I say. “Izzy. She’s been a student here since October.” I tell her about Doug.

  “I’m so sorry, Ros.” There’s a brief silence.

  “It was a long time ago now. Not that time makes a difference.” I’m relieved that she doesn’t ask if there’s been anyone since Doug.

  “What you said about me being different now,” Lucy says a little shyly. “Well, I am different. I was so immature in those days, emotionally that is. Sometimes, I wonder how I survived. Moving into the house on North Street with you all was a godsend. You, in particular, were so kind to me.”

  We are both silent for a moment. Moira’s name has come up once and we skirted round it. Now that the house on North Street has been mentioned, it’s inevitable what will follow. A shadow falls over Lucy’s face.

  “All ended in tragedy, didn’t it?” she says.

  “Yes. Is that why you left?”

  “Yes. I was more affected by Moira’s death than the rest of you, I think. It sent me into a downward spiral. I just couldn’t go back to that house after the Easter holidays.”

  “You missed your final year. You could have taken a year off, and come back to complete your degree.”

  “That really wasn’t an option. I just had to get as far away as possible from this place.”

  “Wasn’t it hard, coming back here, given how you felt?”

  Lucy sighs deeply. “It was a long time before I realised that it wasn’t St Andrews I was trying to get away from. One of the first things I did when we moved into this house was go for a long walk along the East Sands and up to the cliff path, to where Moira’s body was found.”

  “I did that too,” I say, softly, “the day I brought Izzy here.”

  “So, you understand?”

  “Yes. It’s something that stays with you, wherever you go.”

  Lucy nods. “Yes. That’s it, exactly.”

  We are disturbed by a loud beeping from the kitchen. A timer for whatever is in the oven. “Time to eat,” Lucy says. We move to the kitchen.

  Alec fills three plates with vegetable lasagne. There’s warm garlic bread and salad to go with the meal. When we’ve finished eating, we go back to the sitting room, glasses replenished, and Alec joins us. Lucy and Alec talk about their time in Australia and the US, their return to Scotland and their sons. They are so easy-going and open that I find myself telling them about my own life over the past twenty-odd years.

  “I worked for the Civil Service for a year but it really wasn’t for me. I went back to school — art school, actually — in London. I taught art for years before going freelance. Now I make portraits of people’s pets. You’d be amazed how much work I get.”

  By now the wine is taking effect and I find myself talking about Doug, the lonely years while Izzy was growing up. Lucy presses my arm and I’m reminded of how empathic she’s always been. Maybe it’s the wine, or maybe it’s because I feel so at ease in her and Alec’s company, but suddenly I feel it’s an appropriate moment to talk about Innes and what he told me that day on the beach. My worry is that talking about that time in her past might upset Lucy.

  “A funny thing happened the day I brought Izzy to St Andrews at the start of term.”

  “Oh?”

  “Do you remember PC Innes Nevin, Lucy?”

  “Yes, I do. He was the younger of the policemen who came to our house on North Street to tell us the terrible news about Moira.” She looks at me, eyes alight with curiosity.

  “This is going to sound a bit outlandish,” I say. “But here goes. And, please, Lucy, if you feel uncomfortable hearing about this just say the word and I’ll stop.” Lucy and Alec exchange a look.

  “Go on,” Lucy says.

  “As I said, after saying goodbye to Izzy at her hall of residence, I went for a walk on the beach . . .”

  Lucy and Alec listen with increasing interest while I describe my chance encounter on the beach with Innes, how he told me about John Menzies going missing when he was out on his boat, and how his body was never recovered. When I get to the bit about a Canadian woman contacting Innes to say that Menzies had been living with her for years under an assumed identity, they both lean forward in their seats.

  “I haven’t even got to the interesting bit,” I say. “Menzies died recently. He had dementia. Before his death, he told his wife that during his time with the Fife police, he planted evidence on a suspect in a murder
investigation. The suspect’s name was Stuart Brogan.”

  “I knew it!” Alec exclaims. His eyes flash with anger. Lucy clarifies.

  “Alec never believed Stuart was guilty. He knew Stuart growing up — he was friends with Alec’s older brother. Alec couldn’t believe he was capable of doing such a thing.” She pats his hand. “We knew about Menzies and his boating accident. Alec was still here at the time and he read about it in the local paper.”

  “I thought there was something funny about the fact that his body was never recovered,” Alec says.

  “You remember how my mind worked in those days?” Lucy asks me.

  I nod. “You saw conspiracies in everything.”

  Lucy colours slightly. “I was a mixed-up individual back then. I know exactly who I am now. Writer of fantasy fiction, creative writing teacher, Labour Party member—”

  Alec interrupts. “Loving wife and mother . . .”

  “And conspiracy theorist.” Lucy grins. “Some things never change. Anyway, when Alec described the circumstances to me, I thought it was a bit odd too. Menzies disappeared on a calm day, so there was no question of a rough sea or a strong wind knocking him off the boat.”

  “Menzies’s life jacket wasn’t on the boat,” continues Alec, “suggesting that he’d been wearing it, so even if he’d suffered some sort of injury and fallen overboard, he would have stood a fighting chance of being found and rescued. Then there’s the fact that his body was never recovered. That was always a bit of a mystery.”

  Lucy shrugs. “Well, he isn’t the first person to go missing at sea in mysterious circumstances and he won’t be the last. Believe it or not, I did wonder if perhaps he’d faked his own death, maybe as some sort of insurance scam.” She paused. “But there was no wife or kids to benefit. Then I wondered if maybe he’d had some pressing reason for needing to disappear. From what you’ve just told us, it sounds like he planted the evidence on poor Stuart Brogan to solve the case quickly — for who knows what reason. And then he panicked that someone would find out.”

  Lucy takes a sip of her wine. I lean back in my chair, impressed by her theory. But, if Innes and I are correct, she’s not quite on the right track. I clear my throat. “We, that is, Innes and I, are considering another possibility alongside the ones you’ve just suggested. That someone might have paid Menzies to help frame Stuart for Moira’s murder. According to his widow, Menzies — or Bob MacDonald as she knew him — had a substantial amount of money when he arrived in Canada. Much more than he could have saved on his police salary. It was enough to buy a house and set up a business.”