Maybe you should go back and tell them the truth,” Halima said. “I can’t,” said Surtsey

Fault Lines: Episode 23

Surtsey felt something under her feet. The sand seemed to vibrate and dance, a yellow blur all around. A gang of seagulls lifted up in a fluster and she felt the first jolt of the quake, a shudder that made her balance shift. She planted her feet, gazed around. Other beach walkers had stopped and done the same, waiting like statues for it to subside. That’s all you could do.

A rumble under her shoes as the ground shifted again, grains of sand chasing each other towards focus points, like hourglasses running out. Her fingers were splayed, knees bent like a surfer on a board trying to stay on the big wave.

More shifts, a tip one way then the other, the seagulls high in the sky, the air silent like everyone was holding their breath. The shudders gradually subsided replaced by a tremble, a guitar string being plucked, a thin thrum that she felt up her legs and into her hips. Then it was over.

Surtsey realised she really had been holding her breath. She sucked in air. That was more than just an aftershock. That was as big as the one she’d experienced on the Inch two nights ago.

Predictions

She hadn’t heard any earthquake predictions on the news, but it was a hopelessly inexact science, guessing when earthquakes and volcanoes would fire into action. The earth wanted to keep humankind on their toes.

An old man walked past, highland terrier snuffling at Surtsey’s ankles then scuttling off.

“Strong one, eh?” he said.

She watched the man as he walked away. She’d grown up with these disturbances her whole life but he knew a time before them, had spent most of his life on solid ground. She tried to think what that felt like.

She flinched at a ringtone in her pocket. She pulled out her own phone. She was carrying both phones now, in case there were more messages.

But this was her phone ringing now. Halima. “The earth move for you, babes?”

“Hal.”

“Sorry I never got back sooner, been in a dumb meeting with Rachel. ‘Keeping the ship steady in these turbulent waters,’ or some such nonsense. What’s the big panic?”

Surtsey pulled at her earlobe. “I need your help.” “I’ve got your back, you know that.” “Good.” A pause. “Have you spoken to the police yet?”

“Just on the island yesterday. Why?” “They’re coming to see you.”

“Right.”

Surtsey could hear the doubt in Halima’s voice. “I need you to lie to them.” Static on the line for a moment. “What’s this about?”

A young mum was sitting with two toddlers along the beach, picnic blanket laid out. Sippy cups and sandwiches, a bunch of grapes. The kids were nonplussed by the recent quake but the mum threw Surtsey a worried look.

“They just interviewed me,” Surtsey said. “About the whole Tom thing.”

“We seriously need to talk about that, by the way,” Halima said.

“We will, I promise. The cops asked me where I was the night before we found Tom.”

“You were out on a date.”

“I said I was at home with you the whole time.” Silence. “Why?”

Surtsey closed her eyes. “I panicked. I didn’t want them thinking… they already knew about me and Brendan, and me and Tom. I didn’t want them to know I was out with someone else.”

Sighed

Halima sighed. “I don’t know, babes.” “These cops were boors,” Surtsey said. “Judging me, you know what it’s like.”

“Still.”

Surtsey breathed in and out.

“Maybe you should go back and tell them the truth,” Halima said.

“I can’t,” Surtsey said. “I already feel stupid, I can’t handle even more guilt.”

“I can’t believe they’re hassling you. Are they really suggesting you had something to do with Tom’s death?”

“They’re just fishing, they don’t have a clue about anything. They didn’t like me, that’s for sure, because of my thing with Tom.”

“But this date guy is your alibi.”

Surtsey paused. “No, you’re my alibi now. OK?” She had her teeth clenched. She made an effort to ease the tension in her jaw. “You said you’ve got my back, Hal.” “Come on.”

“It’s not like you need to lie. We did stay in that night drinking, watching TV. That’s all you have to say.”

“Maybe miss out the part where we got monumentally stoned.”

Surtsey forced a laugh. “Yeah.”

Halima’s tone had shifted, she was on board. “OK.”

“You’ll do it?”

“I’ll do it.”

The gulls had drifted back down and were pecking at the seaweed looking for food.

“But we need to talk about all this, Sur. Tonight, yeah?”

“Definitely.”

Halima ended the call and Surtsey put her phone away. She got the other phone out her pocket and stared at the screen. Flicked to Messages and read through the texts from last night.

She scrolled through the other messages between her and Tom, arranging to meet at the Inch. They’d never explicitly mentioned the place, but Surtsey got her own phone back out and deleted all the messages between them.

If the police took her phone they could presumably get that data back but it was all she could do for now.

She looked at Tom’s phone. This was the key. Someone had been following them. She had to find out who, and what they wanted. Her thumb moved over the letters: Come and get me.

She pressed send and looked up, stretched her neck, easing out the knots in her shoulders. In the distance one of the toddlers had run away from the picnic blanket and fallen face first into the sand.

She picked herself up and continued tottering to the water’s edge, her mum shadowing a few yards behind, looking out for her, keeping her safe.

Energy

Iona was a natural behind the bar, like that was the only place she came alive. Kicking around the house she was surly or drunk, argumentative or morose, never communicating.

But stick her between the beer pumps and the spirit gantry and she glowed with energy, chatting to other staff, flirting with regulars, rebuffing their jokes or tearing a strip off them if they went too far.

She moved in a blur, wiping down the bar, clipping out change, slicing limes, stacking the glass washer, ducking out the way when they lifted the cellar trapdoor.

Surtsey watched her sister with narrow eyes. They used to get on when they were younger, Iona looking up to her big sister, trying to gain the secrets of make-up, boys and booze before she was ready.

In return Surtsey looked out for her, stepping in to ward off playground bullies, holding her hand as they crossed the road, packing her gymnastics bag when she was running late for training.

More tomorrow.

Fault Lines, by Doug Johnstone, is published by Orenda Books and costs £8.99.