Death on Lindisfarne (8 page)

“I was not
pursuing
her. For heaven's sake, Sue! She's a child of God who needs rescuing. And I can't imagine that a woolly liberal like Lucy Pargeter is going to do it. What that girl needs is a real fear of hellfire.”

“So why is it always teenage girls?” Sue's voice protested. “Elspeth's been far more outspoken about atheism. But I don't notice you turning on the charm to try and save
her
from hell. You didn't drag her off for a walk on the sands on your own the moment you arrived.”

“Be reasonable, Sue. Elspeth Haccombe is a hardened sinner. She's thrown up a wall like granite around her. Rachel's young. She's not set in her ways yet. I can get through to her, I know I can.”

“Like you get through to all those girls at True Gospel? You have your fan club drooling over you, all hoping for a special smile from those big blue eyes. Don't think I haven't seen you taking them off to the vestry. For personal shepherding, was it?”

“Sue! That's an outrageous suggestion. I'm doing the Lord's work.”

Aidan came to suddenly. He shouldn't be here with Melangell, listening to this. He started to hurry her down the steps.

A last shout floated back to him.

“Sue! Come back here!”

They set off down the cobbled ramp, heading back towards the village.

The plump figure of Sue was already hurrying away from the castle. But not along the road that would lead her back past the harbour to St Colman's House. In spite of the approaching storm, she was taking the footpath that headed north between the fields and the rocky eastern shore.

“Y
ou're back, then.”

Mrs Batley was setting out teacups in the lounge. There was no one else about at St Colman's House.

“Perhaps the others are taking shelter in the Priory Museum or a teashop,” Aidan suggested.

“Or they've gone to their rooms to get dry.” Melangell squeezed the rain from her fringe expressively.

“Point taken. We'll be down in a minute, Mrs Batley. That chocolate cake looks good.”

Up in his room, he changed into dry trousers. He'd have done better to stick to the shorts he had worn in yesterday's sunshine.

When he and Melangell came downstairs again, there were two people in the hall, shaking rain from their waterproofs: Lucy and Peter. One look at their faces told Aidan all he needed to know.

“You haven't found her?”

Lucy shook her head. He was alarmed to see how exhausted she looked. He was already regretting his behaviour towards her last night.

Peter was trying to sound cheerful, though the naturally lugubrious downturn of his face made it hard to be convincing. “Holy Island's bigger than you think. We checked the village and the shoreline out to Castle Point. It's rocks and stones all the way north to the light at Emmanuel Head. Then you're into a wilderness of sand dunes and more rocks. There's any number of gulleys, caves and things. We couldn't do it all.”

Lucy sighed. “She might have gone the other way – east along the coast road and the dunes out on the Snook.”

“We were up on the castle roof,” Aidan offered. “We didn't see a sign of her. Or on the way back.”

“Sue and James were there,” Melangell said. “They were quarrelling.”

Lucy was hesitating. “I know what I said, about it being too early to report her missing. But I'm getting a bad feeling about this. There aren't any police on the island, are there, Mrs Batley?”

“No, it's the Coastguard and Rescue people get called out if someone's missing. I didn't like the look of that girl when she first arrived. That peaky face, and she'd never look at you straight, behind all that hair. That girl's trouble, I said to myself.”

“I'm worried about what might have happened to her. Not what she might have done,” Lucy snapped. “She's not a criminal. At least…”

She'll have a police record,
Aidan thought.
Even if it's only for shoplifting. Possession of drugs? What else?

He had little idea of the murky lives teenagers like Rachel lived. Lucy had said she'd been in care. But how caring was that? Would she have had anyone she could turn to, once she had passed sixteen?

Lucy was in a corner of the lounge, talking quietly into her mobile. Aidan helped himself to tea and cake, watching her, but trying not to make it obvious.

She snapped her mobile shut with a sigh. “Predictable. I'd have said the same myself. ‘She's eighteen? How long has she been gone, madam? Since mid-morning? Has she done this before? And she's always come back? Then I don't think that warrants sending out a search party just yet. Don't worry. She'll probably come back when it gets dark.' He said I could call him again if she doesn't. Thanks! I should have asked for the coastguards straight away.”

She pulled off her raincoat and poured herself a cup of tea. Rain had made her fair hair darker. Beads of moisture dripped from the tips of it.

Aidan felt helpless. “Do you want more of us to go out looking? I'm sure James and Sue would, if they're back. And probably Valerie and Elspeth.” He was less sure that he could imagine Frances Cavendish combing the sand dunes in the rain.

Lucy sank into a sofa. Mrs Batley had gone.

“I really hope she's back for supper. I know it sounds petty, but I can't face the thought of apologizing to Mrs Batley for her missing three meals in a row.”

“She was here for breakfast,” said Melangell.

“But she hardly touched a thing,” Peter countered.

“Did something happen to upset her?” Aidan was aware that he was treading on delicate ground.

“I don't know.” Lucy frowned. “She seemed really cheerful in the car coming up here. She was looking forward to it. She's never had much in the way of holidays. I know Lindisfarne may not be the most exciting place for a teenager, but at least it was somewhere different. And then… we'd hardly got here before her mood changed.”

“Could she have met someone? Somebody in the group who said the wrong thing? … James?”

“I could screw his neck if it was him. Oh, gosh! I shouldn't be talking like this, should I? I'm getting into police mode, and forgetting I'm a Methodist minister now. And even as a policewoman, I ought to be more detached than I am. I feel responsible.”

Aidan looked past her at the window. “Look, there's an edge of brighter sky out to the west. Let's wait for this storm to blow over, then we'll split up the island between us and go over the rest.”

“Perhaps she's gone away.” Melangell's high voice broke in. “Across the causeway. Or the sands.”

Silence fell over the room.

“It's possible,” Lucy said reluctantly. “Anything is.”

Lucy nerved herself to take command of the situation. She sent Aidan and Peter to do a round of the rooms, recruiting everyone they could find to look for Rachel. Some of the group had shown up for Mrs Batley's afternoon tea. Some had not. The square hall at the foot of the stairs was filling. Elspeth, in a voluminous waterproof cape over her tweeds, seemed to take up an inordinate amount of the space. Valerie, slender beside her, looked grave and businesslike.
David Cavendish was flushed. Lucy had half heard an argument between him and Frances. But he was buttoning up his beige raincoat, determined to come.

Peter came in from the chalets. “I can't find James.”

At the same time, Aidan was coming downstairs, followed by an uncharacteristically sulky-looking Melangell. She was trailing her yellow and pink waterproof jacket.

“I
can
come. I'm not a bit tired,” she said to Aidan's back.

“I know. But it's hard work, walking over sand. And there are a good few miles to cover, if we do it thoroughly.”

Frances put a possessive hand on Melangell's shoulder. “You can leave her with me. I'll look after her. We'll have a nice time together, won't we, sweetheart?”

Melangell wriggled away. “I want to go.”

“No, love,” Aidan sighed. “That's an order. Thanks, Fran.”

He turned his harassed face to Lucy. “Everyone accounted for upstairs except Sue. She's not in her room. We saw her when we were at the castle earlier. But she was heading away from the village then. Out towards Emmanuel Head.”

“James is with her, I suppose.”

“Not when we saw them. I think there was a row… Over Rachel,” he added awkwardly.

Lucy digested the news in silence. Then she straightened up. “So, that leaves – what? – six of us. I was hoping for eight. I'm going to need to call in some help. Still, let's see how to divide the island up between us.”

She led the way into the lounge and spread the map out on the table, where Mrs Batley had cleared the teacups and cake plates. “Elspeth and Valerie, perhaps you could take the village. I know several of us have been around that area this afternoon, and haven't seen her, but you could ask around. Gift shops and cafés. And try the harbour again. If one of the sheds is unlocked, she might have gone in out of the rain.”

“Will do,” Elspeth responded firmly.

“I need to go out to Snipe Point, and check the caves there.”

“I'll come!” Peter put in eagerly.

“No. I have a couple of friends in the village I'm going to call on. I want you and Aidan to take the North Shore and as much of the dunes to the east as you can. If anything happened to her on the south coast, I'm hoping someone would see her from the road. The tide's down, so you can take Aidan's car for a mile or so.”

“Sorry!” She saw him start. “I'm fine to search that area, but I don't have the car with me. We walked across the sands.”

Lucy digested the information. She looked more doubtfully at David. “Could you do that? It'll be a hard slog over the dunes.”

David looked pointedly down at his polished brown shoes. Then he shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever you say, ma'am.”

To her relief, the antipathy Aidan had shown the day before had been swept aside for the moment by concern for Rachel.

“Let's get going,” he said. He chucked Melangell under the chin. “Sorry, partner. I'd love to take you. But Peter and David and I need to cover the ground as fast as we can. We've some serious walking to do.”

Lucy watched Melangell's lips press together in a mutinous line. She turned her eyes to Fran's. “Thanks for staying with her.” Lucy managed a smile. “I hope you get along OK. I really need Aidan.”

“Don't worry about us. We'll be fine, won't we, love?”

There was no answering smile from Melangell.

Lucy folded up the map and slipped it into her pocket. She held out leaflets of Holy Island with smaller maps to the others. “There. I've marked off roughly how we're doing it.”

The front door opened on a rush of cold damp air. Aidan had been right about the storm passing over, but the yellow sunlight that replaced it had a cold, watery gleam. It glistened off wet roofs and leaves.

Lucy tried to sound more confident than she felt. “Right, folks, we'll give it two hours. Back here for supper at seven o'clock. We mustn't let Mrs Batley down. Between us, we've a good chance of finding Rachel.”

“If she's on the island.” Melangell's voice came from behind them.

Lucy was leading the way down the steps towards the road when she halted suddenly.

A figure came staggering through the gate. He seemed to be having difficulty walking in a straight line. He was holding his hand to the side
of his head, but through his fingers Lucy could see the bright blood trickling down the side of his face.

“James!” she cried.

She ran forward to catch him.

Peter was on the other side of James, helping to take his weight. Together they steered him up the step into the house.

Mrs Batley rose to the occasion. Lucy was afraid she would complain about this rain-soaked figure dripping blood and trailing wet and mud across her floors. But she gave one look, turned away and then came bustling downstairs with a pile of old towels.

They sat James down on a chair in the hall. He seemed to be semi-conscious, looking around him vaguely.

Lucy turned back the hood of his anorak. “Get me some water, please.”

She wiped the mud away gently and patted the head wound dry. There was a sizeable area of broken skin and bruising. Blood still seeped from it. Without the rainwater, the flow was slowing. It looked darker, more vividly red.

She was assessing swiftly whether this could be the result of a fall, or whether something had hit him.

“What happened?”

James frowned. His blue eyes tried to focus. “I don't remember.”

His voice was shaky, unlike the confident assertion with which he had challenged her this morning.

“Did you hit it, or did it hit you?” Elspeth's decisive mind had gone straight to the vital question.

James tried to shake his damaged head and winced.

“Shouldn't somebody tell Sue?” Valerie's voice came from the edge of the group. Everyone looked round, but there was no sign of the pastor's faithful assistant.

“As far as I know, she hasn't been back since lunch,” Lucy said. “Aidan saw her going away from the castle.”

“And
I
did.” Melangell had appeared from the lounge with Frances.

Lucy turned her face up to Mrs Batley. “Is there a doctor on the island?”

She guessed the answer before it came.

“No. You need to get to the surgery on the mainland. But they won't be open on Sunday.”

Lucy felt her security receding. She had always thought of Lindisfarne as a place of sanctuary. Somewhere she could come for healing when she was in trouble. Now the practical reality came home to her. With only a few hundred residents, there was no doctor, no police officer. The only emergency service based on the island was the Coastguard and Rescue Service.