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‘A fire.’
‘How old were you?’
‘Auld enough to know better.’
‘You’re a fisherman.’
‘Fourth generation. My father. His father. His father before him.’
‘Tough work.’
He raises his calloused hands, sitting up to face me. Greasy curls have left a dusting of dandruff on his shoulders and his eyes are a washed-out blue, set too far apart on his face.
‘Have you always been a fisherman?’ I ask.
‘Since I was fifteen.’
‘No other jobs.’
‘Why?’
‘No reason.’
He screws up his face. ‘You were with that wee girl.’
‘Did you recognise her?’
‘What is this?’ he asks, growing annoyed. ‘Did she say I touched her? She’s lying.’
‘Nobody said you touched her. What happened to the two young women? They were in the water. You picked them up.’
‘No comment.’
‘If you helped us find them, it could make things easier for you.’
He laughs. ‘Are you offering me a deal?’
‘I’m not in a position to do that.’
‘Thought so. Piss off!’
I notice a book lying open on the bed. The title visible. Wealth of Nations by Adam Smith. ‘Heavy reading.’
Radford sneers. ‘You think I’m some dumb Jock who reeks of fish.’
‘Not at all. I had you pegged as a socialist. Adam Smith is the poster boy of the free market.’
‘Ah’m a pragmatist.’
‘But are you a racist?’
His eyes narrow. ‘You have no idea what I believe.’
‘That’s true. Can I call you Angus?’
‘Do what yer like.’
‘Adam Smith drew a contrast between savage nations and civilised nations. He said that some countries were so miserably poor that they abandoned babies and old people and sick people. He said civilised nations were industrious and frugal and deserved their wealth, while savage nations would never enjoy the conveniences of life.’
