Perez paused, remembering the phone call he’d made to Gwen James earlier, the silence on the other end of the line, broken eventually by a single sob. ‘Not immediately. She says she can’t face it. Not yet. I have the feeling that she would hate to break down in public and that she’ll be hiding out in her own home for a while.’ How did he know that? He wasn’t sure but he thought it was true.

The Fiscal frowned. ‘We need some background on the girl’s medical history. You’ll have to talk to her, Jimmy.’

Again Perez remembered the earlier call. ‘I’m not sure that’s a conversation we could have on the phone.’

The Fiscal considered for a moment. Perez thought she was weighing up the cost of a trip south against the value of providing good customer service to a politician. ‘Get yourself to London to talk to her, then. Get this afternoon’s plane south. Give me a ring when you get back.’

Sandy shuffled his feet, making the shingle scrunch and shift. Perez knew what was going on in the Whalsay man’s head. Take me too. He wasn’t sure if Sandy had ever been to London; perhaps once on a school trip. He pictured him wandering around the streets, staring up at the buildings he’d only ever seen in films or the television news. Sandy looked up at Perez and caught his eye. Pleading. Perez read the expression exactly. He’d sensed the tension in Utra. Sandy was desperate to escape, even if only for a couple of days. But there was no way he could justify both of them being away from Shetland.

Perez took a risk, knew he would probably come to regret it later. It was as much about showing Rhona Laing that he wouldn’t be bossed around as giving Sandy a chance.

‘I wonder if this is a job Sandy could do. It would be fine experience for him.’

Fran was in London. If Perez went himself he’d have the opportunity to spend the night with her. But she’d want to introduce him to her friends. He knew how it would be. Some trendy wine bar, loud voices discussing topics about which he had no knowledge and no opinion. He’d show her up. So this was about cowardice too.

Rhona Laing raised her eyebrows. ‘This is a sensitive job, Jimmy. The woman’s a politician.’ Sandy wasn’t exactly famous for his tact or discretion. Or his brains.

‘I think he’s ready for it. We’ll talk it through before he goes. And I want to be here.’

She shrugged. ‘Your call.’ Leaving him in no doubt that he’d be the one to get the blame if Sandy screwed up.