As Katie headed for the lab, she thought about the Grail legend. She wondered why Sir Gawain had failed in the quest. The label hadn’t explained that. The Arthurian legends were one of those things that you thought you knew about from films and watching episodes of Merlin on TV, but how much did she know really? It might be interesting to find out more.
Someone was walking behind her, feet crunching on the gravel. She turned to see a young man dressed in a red and black plaid jacket with binoculars on a strap around his neck. His hair was cut in a slicked-back pompadour, he had a big, bushy beard and an earring in one ear. This had to be Tarquin.
“Hey,” he said. “I’m guessing you’re the new technician.”
Somehow Katie hadn’t been expecting a genteel Edinburgh accent.
He pulled off one of his gloves and thrust his hand out. “Tarquin.”
“Caitlin.”
They shook hands. His hand was warm, his grip firm. He gestured to his binoculars. “There’ve been reports of ring-billed gulls on the mainland, so I thought I’d see if they’ve got this far.”
“Is this a good place for birding?”
“A great place. I was thrilled when this job came up. When I was a kid, we used to have holidays on Lundy Island, not far from here. That’s where I got into birdwatching: puffins, Manx shearwaters, water rail. Of course it’s all on a smaller scale here. We don’t have those huge nesting colonies, but we still have thousands of migrating birds pass through. I even spotted a red-footed falcon last June. And last spring we had a pair of peregrine falcons nesting on the headland. I set up a telescope so that we could see the chicks hatch. I really hope they’ll be back this year.”
So that was what the telescope was for. It seemed somehow surprising that Tarquin should turn out to be a twitcher. But, on reflection, why shouldn’t someone be both a hipster and a birdwatcher? This was the kind of place that would attract people who were interested in some aspect of the great outdoors. There was Bill and his moths, and Maddie with her hiking. But for someone who didn’t enjoy nature and country life, well, add to that the remoteness of Debussy Point, the pressure-cooker situation of working and living at close quarters, and maybe you didn’t need to look any further to find an explanation for the rapid turnover of technicians.
Tarquin laughed and said, “Sorry! Got carried away. Once I’m on my hobby-horse...”
He turned the conversation adroitly towards Katie and began to ask questions that she’d come to expect. As she walked along beside him, she kept glancing sideways. She was fascinated by his moustache, which was waxed so that the ends turned up and he looked like Hercule Poirot in the TV adaptations. Though the beard was bushy, it was carefully trimmed. A lot of men had grown beards in Antarctica, but not like this one. It all looked pretty high maintenance. The combination of the beard and the plaid jacket reminded her of something, but she couldn’t quite think what.
It occurred to her that Tarquin was likely to know Claudia better than anyone. They were the same age and at the same stage in their professional career. If anyone at Debussy Point harboured suspicions about Claudia’s work, it might well be him. She was wondering how to broach the subject, but as it happened she didn’t have to.
“How are you finding it, working with Claudia?” he asked.
“Pretty good so far. There is something, though.” She hesitated. “I’ve heard that one or two of my predecessors have had problems with her.”
“Well, there’s been a fair turnover of technicians in the last year or two, it’s true. Of course, it’s not everyone’s cup of tea, living out here.”
“Wasn’t just that though, was it? I know for a fact that the last technician had a row with Claudia and walked out before her notice was up. Because that was why I got asked if I could start the job early.”
“Bit of a personality clash there,” Tarquin agreed.
“So, what was the row about? Do you know? Forewarned and all that.”
“Oh, something and nothing. I think Claudia complained about something Sophie had done, said she had to do it again, and of course Sophie was working her notice and she was already pretty fed-up with Claudia, so maybe she wasn’t taking as much care as she might have. I think that was the last straw and they had a stand-up row in the lab. We all heard it. And Sophie walked out.”
“Did Professor Braithwaite get involved at all?”
“Gemma?” Tarquin snorted. “As far as Gemma’s concerned, as long as Claudia comes up with the goods – and she does – she can do no wrong and Gemma’s more than happy to let her get on with it. What’s the loss of a technician here or there, as long as a replacement can be found and sharpish? That’d be her attitude.”
This confirmed what Lyle had suspected – that Gemma didn’t exactly have her eye on the ball – and it confirmed Katie’s assessment of her character.
They walked on together in silence. Then Tarquin remarked, “Lucky you were free to start straightaway.”
“Well, I’d not long been back from travelling and I didn’t have to work out my notice anywhere.”
“It’d be only natural if the sponsors wanted to know what was going on. They’re the ones who’ve appointed you, aren’t they?” Tarquin shot a sideways glance at her.
It was at that moment that she began to wonder if the tables had been turned. She’d thought she was pumping Tarquin, but perhaps it was the other way round.
She looked at him. He gazed guilelessly back. Did he suspect that she had a hidden agenda?
“I think they’re paying, yes,” she admitted. “My old boss knew I was looking for a job and recommended me to Lyle Linstrum.”
Tarquin nodded, seemingly satisfied. He said, “Hey, how would you feel about coming to the Burns’ Night Supper a week on Thursday? I organized it last year and it was such a wow that by popular demand I’ve been prevailed on to do it again. You don’t have to be Scots, or even an admirer of the great Rabbie Burns, to come along and have a good time. My hangover lasted days.”
“I’d love to,” Katie said, following her new principle of saying yes to everything.
“Have you ever been to one?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“There’s a wee man in Barnstaple that plays a mean bagpipe. He pipes in the haggis, and what with the whisky and all... Of course,” he added hastily, “you don’t have to have haggis. I’m planning a vegan alternative for those of us that don’t eat meat, and the same for the pudding.”
Of course you are, Katie thought. “No, no, I like haggis,” she reassured him.
He brightened up. “And whisky?”
“I enjoy a good malt as well as the next woman.”
“Cool! I’ll put an invitation in your pigeon-hole.”
They had reached the laboratories now, and as they had signed in, she suddenly thought, A lumberjack! That is what he reminds me of! It was the red and black plaid jacket and the bushy beard. All he needed was a Davey Crocket hat and an axe.
But she was left with the feeling that beneath the flamboyant surface there was a sharp intellect at work and it wouldn’t do to underestimate Tarquin. She had the distinct impression that he knew – or at least suspected – more about Claudia than he was saying. And why was no one willing to tell her what Sophie and Claudia had argued about?