Evil for Evil by Aline Templeton Read Free Book Online

first light, heading for the cave on Lovatt Island, eyes gritty from lack of sleep. He wasn’t upset, though. From the sound of it he was on to a good story.
    Smugglers, ancient skeletons, adventurous kids, nightmares – it had all the ingredients, a gift to a journalist. Good visuals as well – this could be one for BBC Scotland, even national, maybe, a soft tail-ender for
News at Six.
In a spirit of keen anticipation Tony steered the boat through the mouth of the cave.
    He’d glanced inside once, years ago, but seen nothing to tempt him further. Now he couldn’t see anything either and for a moment wondered if he was chasing a figment of a child’s vivid imagination. It was still fairly dark, though, and like Craig he got the torch out of the locker and shone it round – nothing. Then Tony shone it above his head.
    And there it was. The rock shelf it was lying on was man-made, definitely – wide and deep, with a couple of empty shelves above it. The skull was close to the edge, and when he stood up in the boat he could see the ribcage, too, and leg bones. And horribly, a lower arm bone and a lower leg bone hanging, clamped to the wall by iron staples.
    He had time to think, ‘Poor bastard!’ and wondered what ancient crime had merited such a hideous punishment. Then he noticed what was still round the arm, resting on the staple.
     
    Marjory Fleming put the bacon in the pan on the Aga, then fetched eggs from the larder. There were mushrooms to chop too, and she’d better not forget baked beans. It was the full works today, with Cat going off.
    She’d shed some quiet tears feeding the hens this morning. Tomorrow night there’d be three in her family, not four. Cat’s visits would be frequent, no doubt, but just that – visits. Catriona Fleming doesn’t live here any more. Her precious daughter was going out into the world alone – willingly, eagerly, without a backward glance over her shoulder. Just as she should.
    The thing was, Marjory thought mutinously as she put plates to warm beside the sausages in the oven, no one ever explained as they put the tiny, utterly dependent creature into your arms –
your
baby, flesh of your flesh – that you were at the start of a relentless process of giving her up, to nursery, to school, to friends. Imperceptibly, a whole new life developed, where you had no part any more. Of course, she’d never been
yours
at all – it had just felt like that during the long years when you had her on loan. Having to face the reality felt almost like bereavement.
    Marjory was swallowing hard when Bill came in.
    ‘Ah! Best smell in the world, that!’ He was looking unnaturally tidy in a tweed jacket with a checked shirt and even a tie.
    ‘Mmm.’ His wife prodded the sizzling bacon with a fork. ‘Any signs of movement upstairs? I don’t want to fry the mushrooms too soon, but you could open the beans and dump them in a pan.’
    She hadn’t turned to look at him. Instead of obeying instructions, he came and put his arm round her shoulders.
    ‘Finding it tough? So am I,’ he said. ‘My wee girl – do you remember when she couldn’t say “mushrooms” and—’
    ‘Bill, stop it!’ Marjory said sharply. ‘Go and be sentimental somewhere else. If you want Cat to find us snivelling over the sausages, I don’t.’ She paused. ‘How was she – last night?’
    Bill grimaced. ‘Subdued. She’d set her heart on the last family meal—’
    ‘And I let her down again. I know, I know,’ Marjory said unhappily. ‘All for a domestic, and the woman’s recovering. Still, we can have a nice leisurely lunch in Glasgow today before we get her settled in at the residence.
    ‘Can you check Cammie’s getting up? I woke him, but he always goes back to sleep.’
    Bill went to shout up the stairs as Marjory started putting bacon on to a plate in the oven. When her mobile rang, she froze. Had the wretched woman died after all?
    She fetched it from her bag and listened. ‘How