Finn felt like everyone’s eyes were on him as he wandered round with his basket. He was sure they were talking about him

Finn looked beyond the kirk. He could see the next headland south of here, then the one behind that, jutting out into the water like they thought they would last forever. But they would crumble into the sea eventually, just like this churchyard and all the bodies underground. Beyond that second headland, a few miles round the coast, was the Tomb of the Eagles and Ingrid’s place. You could walk it on a good day with the right boots.

He looked back at the grave and his grandad’s stone beside it. Ingrid would be next, he supposed. There was a space for her on the other side. What about him, what would happen to him when he died? Who would take care of that?

He ran a finger along the top of Sally’s gravestone. “I don’t think I understood how much I would miss you.”

He straightened up and looked around. No human activity anywhere, just grass and sand, sea and sky.

“I’m involved in something, Mum,” he said. “And I don’t know how to get out of it.”

He breathed in and felt his eyes grow wet. He swallowed and turned his head away from the wind off the sea. He thought about the seven dead people waiting to be put into the ground.

Survivors

He thought about the survivors – Sean in a coma, Charlotte in shock. And Maddie hiding in a byre.

He turned away from the grave and walked back to the car. He didn’t look back.

The wind rocked the car as he crossed the Churchill Barrier on to Glimps Holm. Just a few hundred yards then he was on the next barrier, a thin causeway exposed to the full brunt of the weather off Scapa Flow.

The sunken blockships in the sea to his right always filled him with a strange melancholy, like lives of neighbours half glimpsed in the corner of your eye. Their original purpose, to stop U-boats entering Scapa Flow during the war, was long behind them now, and their skeletal remains were an unsettling graveyard, an array of rusted and decayed hulls and decks protruding from the wash.

He thought of the remains of the Loganair plane sitting on the runway. How would they get rid of all that wreckage? What happens to planes after the investigators have finished with them?

On Lamb Holm he drove past the Italian Chapel, another sobering sight. During the war the Nissen hut had been turned into a beautiful church by Italian prisoners of war in their spare time. Finn thought about those prisoners here at the top of the world, far from home, in the country they were at war with.

A car was parked by the side of the last barrier and Finn spotted two wetsuited figures a hundred yards out in the bay. He dreaded to think what the water temperature was like this time of year, something to stop the heart.

On the walk back from the tomb to the cottage Finn had been working out an excuse for borrowing Ingrid’s car, but when he came into the living-room she was napping on the sofa, a cold cup of tea on the table by her side. He’d lifted the key and crept out.

Now at Bendigo, on the outskirts of Kirkwall, a car was stationary in front of him. There was a police car pulled over on the verge and an officer in a yellow jacket was leaning in the window talking to the driver.

Low-key

Not a roadblock but the same low-key thing they had at the airport. They would have them on all roads leading from the area, checking if anyone had seen Maddie. Finn had been expecting it.

It was a young woman officer, dark hair in a side plait, glasses, small frame. Finn wound his window down. He didn’t recognise her but she raised her eyebrows when she saw him.

“You’re out of hospital, then,” she said. So he was notorious already. Everyone in Orkney knew him, knew what he’d been involved in.

She patted the side of the car. “Where you headed?” “Tesco, getting the messages for my gran,” Finn said. “You think that’s a good idea?”

“Why not?”

“Showing yourself in public, so soon after.” Finn hadn’t planned on it at all but now realised he’d have to go there to back up his story. “I can’t hide forever,” he said.

The officer turned as a car pulled up behind Finn. “I take it you haven’t seen anything of this Madeleine woman?”

Finn shook his head. “I told Linklater everything I know.” “Fair enough. See you in a bit.”

“Sorry?”

The officer peered into the car. “When you come back with the shopping.”

“Of course.” Finn wound the window up, put the car in gear and drove away.

He headed into town, pulled up in Tesco’s car park and went inside. It was busy. It felt like everyone’s eyes were on him as he wandered round with his basket. He was sure they were talking about him as he walked up and down the aisles.

He would have to buy a decent amount of stuff, make the journey worthwhile, but he had no idea what Ingrid needed, so he just began picking things up – milk, bread, fruit, crisps, juice, the Tunnock’s teacakes she liked.

Easy target

When he had enough he went to the checkout, felt like a sitting duck, an easy target. Blood rushed to his cheeks as he paid and took the bags outside.

He put the shopping in the passenger seat then drove east, making to head out on the airport road then turning left on to Inganess Road, which soon became single-track with passing places outside town.

He slowed at each building, unsure which one Maddie was in. He went past three farms with outhouses and sheds clustered together, but kept on driving.

The road sloped down to Inganess Bay then ended in a tiny car park opposite the beach. One car was parked and Finn saw an old man walking a retriever along the shoreline.

The guy was wrapped in a scarf, hat and gloves, two jackets as well, the wind rippling the dog’s fur. Out in the bay was another rusted old ship, prow poking towards land as if it had died in a final attempt to reach shore.

These were dangerous waters. The skeletons of hundreds of ships lay around the coastline. In the other direction was the airport.

More tomorrow.