Chapters (43)
- Pronunciation
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Thirty-nine
- Forty
- Acknowledgments
Fin shook his head, “No thanks.” He and Marsaili perched uncomfortably on the edge of the armchairs. “We’re trying to establish the identity of a man, now living on the Isle of Lewis, who was at the Dean Orphanage some time in the mid 1950s.”
Kelly laughed. “Sure you’re not still in the force? You don’t sound like an ex-cop to me.” He sank back into his white settee.
“I can assure you I am.”
“Well, then, I’ll take your word for it.” He drew reflectively on his cigar. “What makes you think I can help?”
“Your family was living in old millworkers’ tenements in the Dean Village at that time.”
Kelly nodded. “We were.” He chuckled. “Wouldn’t recognize the place now, though. A yuppie paradise it is these days.” He paused. “Why do you think I would know some boy from The Dean?”
“Because I believe he was involved in an incident on the Dean Bridge that affected your family.”
There was the merest flicker of something in Kelly’s eyes, the slightest heightening of the colour on his face. Fin wondered if it was pain he saw there. “What’s his name?”
Marsaili said, “Tormod Macdonald.” And Fin flicked her a look.
He said quickly, “But you wouldn’t know him by that name.”
Kelly’s eyes turned towards Marsaili. “What’s he to you, this man?”
“He’s my father.”
The silence that ensued hung heavy in the air, like Kelly’s cigar smoke, and lingered for longer than was comfortable. Finally, Kelly said, “I’m sorry. This is something I’ve spent a lifetime trying to forget. It’s not easy to lose a big brother so young. Especially when he was your hero, too.” He shook his head. “Patrick meant the world to me.”
Fin nodded. He said, “We think the boy’s first name was John. Something. That’s what we’re trying to find out.”
Kelly took a long slow pull on his cigar and let the smoke leak from his nostrils and the corners of his mouth before blowing a grey stream of it into the pregnant atmosphere of the conservatory. “John McBride,” he said at last.
Fin tried to control his breathing. “You knew him?”
“Not personally. I wasn’t on the bridge that night. But three of my brothers were.”
“When Patrick fell to his death?” Marsaili said.
Kelly turned his focus from Fin to Marsaili. His voice was barely audible. “Yes.” He sucked in some more smoke, and Fin was shocked to see what looked almost like moisture gathering in his eyes. “But I haven’t talked about that in more than fifty years. And I’m not sure I want to start now.”
Marsaili nodded. “I’m sorry. I can understand that.”