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‘Is nae about me.’
‘Yet here we are.’
Anger in his eyes. White knuckles on his glass. A long silence.
‘I met someone who was on board the Arianna when it sank,’ I say.
‘Who might that be?’
‘Your son, Angus. He’s been arrested down south and charged with killing seventeen asylum seekers, but I’m sure you know that.’
Mr Radford scoffs. ‘Gross negligence manslaughter – what sort of bullshit charge is that? And what does that have to do with the Arianna?’
‘I’m trying to solve a mystery.’
‘There’s no mystery. There was an engine fire. An explosion. The boat sank.’
‘Your youngest son died. I’m sorry.’
‘Did you know Cam?’
‘No.’
‘Well, why are yer sorry?’
‘For your loss.’
His glass is empty. Mine barely touched. He pours himself another. The whisky tilts and flashes gemlike in the glass.
‘Have you ever lost a loved one, Dr Haven?’
‘Yes. My parents and twin sisters were killed.’
He frowns in surprise, his eyebrows almost touching. ‘Did you see them dead?’
‘I found their bodies.’
‘How old were your sisters?’
‘Just turned eleven.’
He shakes his head and seems at a loss for words. He gazes into his glass, the pain etched on his face.
‘Cam was nineteen. He would have been thirty-one now. Ah have other sons, whose lives have never been the same. You’ve seen what it’s done to Finn. He blames himself.’
‘How does Angus feel?’
‘You’ll have to ask him.’
He makes a sweeping gesture with his hand. Whisky splashes over his fingers and beads on the table. ‘Let’s get back to the subject, Dr Haven. I don’t appreciate you coming here and opening up old wounds.’
‘That’s not my intention.’
‘Ah think it is. Ye’re picking on folks who have suffered enough.’
I glance around the luxurious interior of the boat and wonder whether Mr Radford has suffered as much as his sons.
‘Would you tell me something if I asked you?’
