Amy, that was what he’d said. He’d asked if I was Amy.
Patrick had written the frenzied numbers in the lantern room.
III
We stood together in the lantern room, and I kept my arms across me protectively. Despite the cold I could feel sweat gathering under my shoulder blades, my heart banging in my chest. I could tell he was trying to work out if I knew or not, a darkness in his stare that wasn’t there before. It made my unease even worse.
“I see,” he said, bending to look over the numbers on the walls. We were in darkness, save the purple light of the UV lamp. He ran a hand over the word “Amy,” and I flinched.
He looked up. Had he seen me jump? I watched him carefully, turning every so often to look out over the bay for car lights. I hadn’t called Finn. I should have, but I’d felt foolish. What was I going to say? That I’d found some writing in the lantern room? That I thought Patrick Roberts was out of his mind?
You should have called him.
“I’ll change the locks on the door,” he said, straightening. “And the door to the bothy. Perhaps look into some security system.” He stood, looked me in the eye. The nervy, awkward boy I’d met before was gone—he was sour, now, and the curl of his lips when he smiled contained a malice I’d not seen. “Will that make you feel safer?”
I turned off the UV lamp, flooding the room quickly with the white glare of my torch. “Yes,” I said, with the biggest smile I could muster. “Thank you.”
He smiled back. But the air between us was charged with a shared knowledge—he knew I knew.
We took to the stairs in silence. I walked quickly, chatting animatedly about the mural, about the paint quality and the weather—anything I could think of to spin the conversation toward the realm of normality and fill the terrifying space that had cracked open between us. Once I hit the ground floor I strode quickly to the door and yanked it open, never more relieved by the fierce winds outside that met me.
“Thanks for coming over,” I said, when he came outside. Big smile. “I didn’t mean to cause alarm.”
He swept my apology away with his hand. “Think nothing of it.” He held my gaze. There was suspicion in his eyes. “It’s a beautiful night. Why don’t I take you on a cruise of the island? You wanted to learn more about the history of this place, if I remember correctly.”
“I’ve no one to watch my girls,” I said, explaining that Saffy was at her friend Machara’s house and Luna and Clover were too young to be left alone.
“Bring them along,” he said. There was no denying his tone—it was insistent.
Say no.
“Think of it as part of your commission,” he added, and I swallowed hard.
“I’d love to.”
Outside, the wind was picking up, and once we’d collected the girls we headed quickly to my car parked at the roadside. From there it was a short drive to the port along the bay to a large white boat. Clover and Luna had long forgotten their board games and were now enthralled by the prospect of going out on a boat. This will be good for them, I told myself, but inside my instincts were shouting at me, telling me to make an excuse and back away. But too late—he led us on board and pulled up the gangplank.
Clover took the opportunity to tell Patrick all about Basil the basking shark, who Patrick surely must have known about but pretended he didn’t.
“He must be very lonely,” she said. “All the other basking sharks have gone home for the winter, but Basil just stays around because he likes it here so much.”
“He’ll be heading on his way soon enough, I’m sure,” Patrick told her. “If we see him while we’re out, you can always give his back a good scratch.”