Crash Land: Day 34

The air hostess, Charlotte, looked Finn in the eye. She seemed kinder without her glasses on. Finn wondered if her glasses had survived the crash. “What about you?” she said. “It can’t be easy. Everyone is blaming you.” Finn scratched at the back of his head but didn’t speak. “You and the woman,” Charlotte said. “What about you?” he asked. “Do you blame me?”

Charlotte put her hands into her pockets and looked at her feet. “I don’t think it was anyone’s fault really.”

“But you spoke to the police. Told them I hit that guy.”

“I told them what I remembered. I couldn’t lie.” “He was being aggressive to Maddie.” Charlotte nodded. “I know. I told the police that too. But I saw you hit him. I had to tell them. You understand?” Finn looked at her and felt like crying. “Sure.” There was silence. Finn could sense her dad lingering in the hallway behind the door. He heard the noise of the kettle in the kitchen. “Why did you come here?” Charlotte said eventually.

“I wanted to see if you were OK,” Finn said, then hesitated. “No, that’s not true. When I was walking here I wanted to speak to you, get you to change what you said to the police. But I don’t now. I’m just glad you’re all right.”

Charlotte took the tissue out again, held it to her nose. “There’s a memorial later,” she said. “For the others.” Finn nodded. “Are you going?”

“I can’t decide. Are you?”

“I feel like I should, but it’s hard.”

“I’m the same. I don’t know if I can handle it.” Finn smiled. “Well, if I go, I hope I see you there.” Charlotte nodded and Finn made to leave. He wanted to touch her but he didn’t. “Take care of yourself,” Charlotte said, closing the door.

“Same to you.”

Right address

Finn looked at the card in his hand. This was the right address for the counsellor but the door said The Centre for Nordic Studies, a silhouette of a longship stencilled on the glass and a spread of Scandinavian flags in the window.

He looked around Kiln Corner then pushed open the door. A young woman with blonde highlights and a thick jumper sat at a reception desk, the walls behind her covered in maps and posters of Vikings.

“I’m looking for Janet Jott,” Finn said. The woman looked up from her computer and pointed. “Down the hall, last on the right.”

Finn walked past a rack of leaflets advertising summer courses in island studies and Viking culture. The door said Dr Janet Jott. He knocked. “Come in.”

It wasn’t much more than a supply cupboard and the door opened inwards, nearly touched her desk on its sweep. There were shelves of textbooks along one wall, a view out the window of a lock-up garage and a large flag on the other wall.

It was one-third red and two-thirds navy blue, a circle of reversed colours overlapping the two, green and yellow stripes down the divide.

“Cool flag,” Finn said.

“The Sami people,” Janet said. “Indigenous across the Finnish and Russian Arctic. The circle represents the sun and the moon. They call themselves the children of the sun.”

Defensive

Finn gauged the room and her. She seemed in her element surrounded by academia. “So counselling isn’t a full-time gig?”

“Very few things are these days,” Janet said, gesturing. “Take a seat.”

Finn stalled for a moment, staring at the seat, then sat down. “I don’t know why I’m here.” “Because we had an appointment.”

“I was in the neighbourhood, otherwise I wouldn’t have bothered. I was visiting the police again.” “About the accident?”

“Partly.”

“It can’t be easy for you.”

Finn laughed. “You think?”

“It’s perfectly normal to be defensive. Textbook response, in fact.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be more touchy-feely?” Janet closed the laptop on her desk and focused on him. “I’ve found over the years that a more direct approach tends to work better around here. Orcadians don’t appreciate pussyfooting around.”

Finn waved his hand around the room. “So tell me how all this works. You’re a professor by day, a counsellor by night?”

“I’m only a doctor, not a professor,” Janet said. “It’s simple really. Two part-time jobs make one modest living. Very different experiences, but equally rewarding. I get to help people in different ways.”

Finn held up the card she’d given him at the hospital. “How does this work?” He looked around the tiny room. “You don’t have space for a psychiatrist’s sofa.”

“Shrinks haven’t used leather sofas in 50 years, it’s a movie cliché. We just sit and chat.”

“For how long?”

“As long as you like.”

“What if I want to leave?”

Janet pointed at the door. “Close it on the way out.” Finn smiled. “How do you know Ingrid?”

“We met at night school.”

“Night school?”

Janet nodded. “There was no university or college on Orkney back then. I’m talking mid-1970s. If you wanted education after school you left the islands or went to night classes.”

“And you didn’t fancy leaving?”

“I couldn’t really. My folks needed me on the farm, couldn’t manage without me. Ingrid was in the same boat, that’s how we came to be friends.”

“What did you study?”

Disgraceful

Janet pointed at the flag. “Viking culture and indigenous people of the North. That sort of stuff. There wasn’t much in the way of courses in all that in those days. It was frowned upon. Our culture wasn’t thought worthy of study. Looking back on it, that’s pretty disgraceful. But we got lucky with a local guy who was a self-taught expert.”

“And Ingrid did the same courses?”

Janet nodded. “I suppose it started us on the road to where we are today.”

“But all Gran does is show tourists round the Tomb of the Eagles.”

Janet shrugged. “It’s a matter of self-respect and pride. When we grew up, being Orcadian was nothing to shout about, local culture was put down or ignored. Now the opposite is true.” She pointed to a framed diploma on the wall. “I’m a doctor in Nordic studies, internationally respected expert on the Sami.” Her voice played with the words ‘internationally respected’ to debunk them a little, but she was still proud.

“And a trauma counsellor,” Finn said. “Indeed.” “How did you get into that?”

More tomorrow.

Crash Land is published by Faber, paperback priced £7.99. dougjohnstone.co.uk

I’ve found over the years that a more direct approach tends to work better around here