She had a pang in her heart, a rush of remembering why she’d fallen for him

Surtsey picked up her coffee but it was too hot to drink so she put it down again. “What did Alice say?” “She was frantic. He told her he was working late yesterday, that old line, but then he didn’t come home. “She tried his phone, nothing. Still nothing this morning.”

“Has she called the police?”

“They can’t waste manpower on a search,” Halima said. “No crime against going missing, they said.” “Really?”

Halima’s goon face was back. “He’s going to be in some big trouble when he turns up.”

“You don’t think he’s actually in trouble?” “What sort of trouble?”

Surtsey just wanted this to end. “Car accident? Heart attack?”

“Someone would have found him, contacted the police. Anyway, Alice said she already phoned round the hospitals. Nothing. The plot thickens.” “Don’t, Hal, he could be in real trouble.” “Ach, he’s fine. He’ll be on a bender or going astray with some daft undergrad. Minor midlife crisis. He’ll turn up sheepish, get a roaring at, then be welcomed back into the fold.”

Surtsey went to pick up her coffee again, but her finger slipped on the handle and liquid sloshed on to the floor.

Halima stepped back and narrowed her eyes. “You OK? That was some strong stuff last night.”

“I’m fine.”

“Iona clattering about with that guy didn’t help. Some girl.”

“Yeah.” Surtsey glanced at Tom’s office, then at her own desk. “I’d better get on.”

“Still on for lunch, yeah?”

Research grant

Surtsey nodded, went to her desk and logged in. First thing she did was a Google news search for “the Inch” and “Tom Lawrie”.

Nothing much, just some old puff pieces from months ago, when they got that research grant.

A picture of Tom on the Evening Standard website alongside one of the iconic pictures of the Inch, bloody lava pouring along the crevice between volcanic vent and flat plain, white steam billowing in a column where the lava fizzled in contact with the sea.

She had the same picture on a postcard next to her computer monitor.

Those early aerial shots of the island were inspiration to everyone who worked here, the idea of newly created land emerging from the ocean depths. It was beautiful, like anyone could get a new start in life given the right circumstances.

Surtsey clicked the story away, brought up the department homepage.

She went into her browser history and deleted this morning’s search.

“Was Halima telling you about Tom?” Brendan was next to her desk, running his finger along the edge of the wood.

She had a pang in her heart, a rush of remembering why she’d fallen for him in the first place, the dark curly hair and freckles, the green eyes, bags of energy. Why had she bothered looking elsewhere?

She should have spoken to him already, it must have looked weird not to when she came in, but she couldn’t face him just now.

“Yeah,” she said.

“Strange, eh?” That soft Dublin sliver of voice. “I’m sure he’ll turn up.”

Brendan rubbed at his knuckles.

“Up to much last night?”

Skyline

Surtsey stared at her computer screen. The uni logo, the panorama of Edinburgh’s skyline, the castle along to Salisbury Crags, the edge of the Inch poking out behind the rump of Arthur’s Seat.

The picture was taken from the observatory at Blackford Hill along the road, which meant if she could get up high enough, she could see the Inch from here. Edinburgh was such a small place.

“Night in with Hal,” she said.

Brendan nodded, puppy eyes. “Fancy doing something tonight?”

Surtsey touched her temple. “I’m feeling a bit grotty at the moment, let me think about it.” “Sure.”

She could sense his disappointment and felt guilty. Brendan shuffled his feet. “How about lunch?” She nodded across the office. “Hal has stuff going on, man problems. I said I’d help her talk it out.”

Brendan hovered for a moment. “Everything’s OK, yeah?”

Surtsey put on a smile. “Fine, just a bit spaced. And Mum’s worse.”

“Sorry.”

She was ashamed to use Louise like that but it worked. Brendan frowned and moved away from her desk.

“OK, take it easy,” he said, shoulders slumped. Surtsey scrolled down on the screen, moved the cursor over the link to Tom’s department page, but didn’t click.

She picked at a stale panini in the KB Café and gazed at the concrete and metal clutter out the window.

Halima prattled on, something about Iona that Surtsey probably should be listening to.

She looked around, couldn’t see Brendan anywhere.

Maybe he went to the union for a burger. She felt sick at the thought of eating, stared at her tuna melt in disgust.

“Anyway, we’d better get our stuff together,” Halima said, standing up and lifting her empty plate. “What for?”

“Sample trip,” Halima said. “Not like you to forget.”

Frowned

Oh no. They were due to collect rock samples from the Inch and Surtsey had blanked it from her mind. She couldn’t, she just couldn’t.

“I can’t go,” she said.

“Don’t be stupid, you love it on that rock, come on.” Surtsey shook her head. “I forgot, I have something on.”

“No you don’t, what’s up?”

Surtsey thought for a moment. “I don’t feel well.” Halima shook her head. “You’re just hungover, a bit of sea air will sort you out. The minibus is going in 10 minutes.”

“Seriously, Hal, I can’t.”

Halima frowned. “You’re coming, missus, if I have to drag you myself.”

“I’m not.”

“Look.” Halima’s voice was serious all of a sudden. “I need your help out there. You know Rachel has been riding me for better data.

“I need as many samples as I can get and this is the last scheduled trip for a fortnight.

“I can’t wait that long. And you’re the best there is with a rock hammer.”

Surtsey sighed and got up, leaving her sandwich where it was.

It would look worse if she didn’t go, and maybe this was what she deserved.

It had been coming ever since she left the Inch, left him, last night.

More tomorrow.