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No, wait. Listen to what I have to say. I buried my head in the sand, for years I pretended it didn’t happen.’ She told him about Delfont, how he’d pressured her into leaving and what might have happened in the car. For a moment Rob said nothing, he just stared at her, open-mouthed, then his face crumpled and he pulled her close and started to cry. ‘I’ll kill him, I’ll kill that bastard for what he did to you.’
‘Listen though, there’s more. He’s been arrested for corruption. Money laundering via gold purchases.’ Shona saw the spark of recognition in Rob’s eyes. ‘You know what this means?’ She continued, ‘He targeted both of us. That’s why Milton McConnell set you up, they wanted you to go quietly. It also means we both have to face up to what happened, tell the investigators what we know and take the consequences. But I think we can survive that if we support each other. If you want to, that is.’
‘You kidding? Shona, there’s only ever been you. You’re like no one I’ve ever met. I don’t know if I can beat this gambling thing, but I’m gonnae give the therapy everything I’ve got, because the one thing I do know is my life is infinitely better with you in it. I love you.’ He kissed her. ‘So you’re no getting rid of me just yet. You’re the one sure thing in my life and I never, never want to be without you.’
‘We’re going to have to look at the financial situation,’ she warned.
‘I know,’ he said seriously. ‘I think there’s a way to continue the B&B, but it will mean re-mortgaging.’
‘Well, let’s not make any other decisions right now. I need a cup of tea.’ She smiled at him. ‘I do love you too. Come on, get the kettle on.’ She pulled him from the office and into the kitchen.
Becca had her back to them, washing up with one hand. Outside, the sun had vanished behind the hills across the estuary and the day was dimming down. ‘By the way, I’ve decided I want to be home schooled. I’ve worked out a timetable.’ She didn’t turn round, but Shona knew she was watching their reaction in the reflection of the kitchen window.
‘Okay, but won’t you get lonely?’ Shona said neutrally, exchanging a glance with Rob, who didn’t seem too worried by the idea.
‘I’ve decided to do archaeology at Glasgow University.’ Becca slid a plate onto the draining board.
Rob leaned past Shona to grab a tea towel. ‘Archaeology?’ he said under his breath. ‘Where the hell did that come from?’
‘Don’t look at me,’ Shona muttered.
‘I can apply without A-levels or Highers if I have voluntary and practical experience,’ Becca continued. ‘But I’ll need maths and English. Since we’ve got Bees Wing Community Teaching Co-operative nearby, I thought Dad could teach maths there and they’d let me sit my exams with them. Maybe he could get some paid tutoring, I know we need the money.’
‘Great, I’ll have a home-grown crop of embezzlers and insider traders on my patch to deal with,’ Shona muttered to Rob.
‘I’m genuinely hurt by that remark,’ he said, handing her the second tea towel, but he didn’t look it. Perhaps the thought of losing everything – home, family, her – had given him everything he needed to change. She knew she was outnumbered and out-gunned. ‘I’m not saying no,’ she said eventually. ‘We’ll need to talk it over a bit more.’ Behind her, Rob and Becca bumped fists and smiled.
* * *
Shona walked down to the lifeboat station. She’d call Munroe in the morning and thank him for his offer. There’d been enough change, enough running. She was staying here, for now. The main road along the seafront had been closed off and Kirkness Arts Festival was in full swing. The smell of haggis burgers and cooked fish drifted on the wind, making her stomach rumble. A man in a kilt wheeled a trolley of gin along the pavement in front of her, the bottles clinking like an advancing army.
Tommy McCall stood on the concrete apron outside the station and brandished his RNLI donations bucket. The dressing had come off and a neat line of stitches along his brow and a shiny black eye gave him a pirate air. ‘That piece in the papers and on the news has done us the world of good,’ he said to Shona, easing the almost full bucket to the ground. Callum the postman was showing a group of giggling girls over the Margaret Wilson. The crew room was out of action, but with donations pouring in it would soon be fixed.
Next door, Tommy’s boatyard had been given over to a group of artists busy hanging exuberant oils of seaside scenes and displaying sculptures fashioned from driftwood. A crowd out front was cheering a young man juggling lit-up neon clubs. It would soon be dark. Later, Shona planned to watch the yacht club fireworks with Rob and Becca.
Shona saw Tommy’s expression change. He reached into his pocket for the vibrating pager. ‘Shout,’ he called to Shona, pulling out his phone and hitting the entry marked Coastguard Red Line. ‘Family with children caught by the tide on Rock Island.’ He relayed the distress call that had come in to the coastguard minutes earlier. ‘Shona, I’m giving you authority to launch. This is yours and Callum’s, if you want it?’ He gave her a calculating look.
‘I’m fine and I want it.’ Shona ran past him. ‘Callum,’ she called. ‘You and me.’ The postman gave her a thumbs up and quickly loaded the first aid bag into the Margaret Wilson. Tommy started the tractor and prepared to back her out.
Other crew were arriving and cleared the visitors from the path to the slipway. Shona took the helm as they launched lifeboat D-855 to enthusiastic applause from the crowd, who assumed this was all part of the festival show. Four minutes later they spotted the family; parents, two children and a small dog, shivering and cut off on the tidal island by the rising water. White foam arced above the rocks as the short, sharp sea advanced towards the stranded visitors.
‘Callum!’ Shona shouted over the noise of the engine. ‘Here, take the helm. Nudge us in.’ They swapped places. Shona leaned over the bow. The parents’ faces were white ovals of fear. She reached out her hand and smiled. ‘Hi, I’m Shona. I’m here to help.’
