Read Online The Seal King Murders by Alanna Knight - Free Book Online

of giggling and nudging, she was delighted to observe that this was a reaction to the strange young man in their midst, her handsome son. There was one girl in particular that Mary had her eye on: pretty but less flighty than the others, intelligent too, Jenny liked books and was a skilled seamstress.
    Yes, Mary decided, this lass would do very nicely. She had already marked her down on top of a list of those whose qualifications would guarantee a place in her quest for a suitable daughter-in-law.
    Faro found the sermon too long, with a minister who droned on at great length regarding the sins of the flesh to a congregation who huddled like lost sheep in their pews and stared up at him wide-eyed, as if ‘lust’ was a rare word in their vocabulary and they’d like to hear more about its implications.
    On his rare appearances at the kirk in Edinburgh, Faro was prepared to accept such admonitions from the pulpit in the grandeurof St Giles’ Cathedral, surrounded by superb architecture, elegant churchgoers in their Sunday best, splendid hymns and an excellent choir, but lacking such distractions in a chilly, bleak building, he found his mind drifting to more agreeable subjects than original sin.
    He had no doubts, however, that the lady in question who consumed his dreams, namely Inga St Ola, was well versed in that particular topic. As time was short, he hoped that this Sunday afternoon would present an admirable opportunity to see her again and examine her thoughts on that subject, among others.
    Released at last, as he and Mary walked arm in arm through the kirkyard, Faro was aware that the remains of Dave Claydon lay buried in Kirkwall. His observations produced no comment from Mary Faro, whose thoughts were firmly engaged on the more pressing and urgent matter of producing a suitable future daughter-in -law from among her limited candidates.
    When Faro mentioned casually that he would take a stroll towards Stromness, she pointed out that, being several miles distant, it was more in the nature of a day’s excursion. And with Jenny at the forefront of her mind, said that she usually provided the maids’ tea in the afternoon and had hoped he would be present.
    Stubbornly, Faro shook his head. ‘A splendididea, Ma. But tea parties are not for me. I want to walk, explore – it’s a fine day and I have so little time.’ A lie, he thought, but a forgivable one if his mother suspected his real intentions.
    ‘What about your Sunday dinner?’ Mary asked. ‘We all eat together in the lodge.’
    Faro laughed. ‘After that huge breakfast? Please spare me, I’m not used to being fed like this.’
    ‘Well, you should be. You are far too thin.’
    Faro shook aside her protests, promised to eat something later and, kissing her briefly outside the church, hurried off down the road, conscious of her anxious frown, but quite unrepentant.
     
    Inga was at home. She opened the door, her face registering surprise and delight as she greeted him with a kiss of welcome.
    As he responded with hopeful warmth, she said, ‘So good to see you again, Jeremy.’ Taking his arm, she led him inside.
    Low-ceilinged, humbly but comfortably furnished in the traditional way of crofters’ houses on the island, there was an indefinable but unmistakeable ring of home about Inga’s tiny parlour, which was sadly lacking in the newly built servants’ lodge. It brought a sudden nostalgia for his childhood home, with the additional welcome from the peat fire glowing in the hearth.
    The fire was so much a part of island life – its flame tended day and night, even in summer, and only extinguished and relit once a year at Beltane. Its cheerful glow touched a large sideboard, an oak dresser with china gleaming from its shelves, and a sturdy kitchen table. Stools well worn by the passing generations completed the furnishing.
    And his first disappointment. They were not to be alone.
    ‘I have a visitor, Jeremy. Someone I want you to meet.’
    A visitor