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‘Angus is the eldest. He was the skipper,’ says Dylan. ‘Why are you interested?’
‘Angus Radford was arrested down south. I’m looking at his background.’
‘What’s he done now?’ asks Jessica, sounding resigned.
‘He was on a trawler that collided with a migrant boat.’
Dylan whistles through his teeth. ‘The one in the news. All those people washed ashore.’
‘He’s been charged with murder.’
‘Fuck me,’ says Dylan.
Jessica glares at him. ‘Mind your language in front of the bairns.’
‘Sorry, hen.’
‘And don’t call me hen.’
Jessica lifts the twins from the highchairs and takes them into another room before returning.
‘Are you with the police?’ she asks.
‘I’m a forensic psychologist. I study criminal behaviour.’
‘Well, we’re all pretty normal up here,’ says Dylan.
Jessica gives a derisory laugh. ‘Yeah, apart from the underage drinking, youth suicides, wife beating and drug dealing.’
‘OK, but not here in St Claire.’
‘How would you know? You’re a well-known eejit.’ She ruffles his hair and smooths it down again.
Dylan gets to his feet and takes a high-vis jacket from a hook on the back of the door.
‘I’m off. I’ll be home at six.’
Jessica stands on her tiptoes and pulls down his face in both her hands, kissing him on the lips. ‘Give Cyrus a lift.’
‘That’s OK. It’s not far,’ I say.
‘No. He’ll take you.’
4
Evie
Cyrus has left me a note: Gone for a run. Won’t be long. Stay out of trouble. He put twenty quid in the envelope, which I don’t need, but I take it anyway because technically I’m helping him and he gets paid to do stuff like this.
Something topples in the next room. I think he must be back. Opening the internal door, I find a girl going through the pockets of his jacket. She has dyed pink streaks in her hair and one side of her head is shaved, revealing her left ear, which is like an island dotted with silver studs.
‘What are you doing?’ I ask.
She jumps, startled, withdrawing her hand from the jacket pocket.
‘H-h-housekeeping,’ she stammers through the braces on her teeth. ‘I was just hanging this up.’ She hooks the jacket onto a hanger.
She’s lying.
