Page 104 of The Midnight Secret

Norman released Effie’s arm with a savage push, throwing her forward so that she sprawled across the floor. Jayne lunged for her, getting down on the ground and drawing the girl into her arms and a fragile safety; for the first time, she saw Effie had a nasty graze on her cheek.

Her husband stared back at them both, his chest heaving as he began to calm himself down. ‘Not...a...word,’ he threatened, pointing a finger at them both.

‘Of course not,’ Jayne whispered before Effie could respond, squeezing her with her arms a little tighter in silent warning. ‘I never do. You can trust me, Norman.’

He stared right into her soul, seeing everything broken and frightened inside her. ‘Aye, but make suresheunderstands it too,’ he growled. He cast his attention onto Effie once more. ‘Things can always get worse, little lady. For youandy’ loved ones. We all remember what happened to Poppit, now, don’t we?’

Effie flinched, and Jayne could feel her shaking in her arms – but it was with rage, not fear. Effie was a fighter. ‘I’ll make sure she understands, Norman,’ she said quickly.

There was a silence as Norman ran a hand through his hair and adjusted his shirt, then he strode out of the cottage. For several moments, neither woman stirred. It was hard to believe what had just happened – their joyful homecoming tarnished in this way, violence erupting in the middle of a peaceful day.

Effie wriggled out of Jayne’s arms. ‘We need to stop him,’ she gasped.

‘No.’

‘Aye, Jayne! We can’t let him do this!’

‘Yes we can. Just let him go. Let him do what he needs to do. It doesn’t matter.’

But Effie misunderstood. ‘How can you say that?’ She looked at Jayne with an expression of utter disbelief, and Jayne knew what she was really thinking; it was what David hadn’t been able to understand either. Why had she stayed with Norman all these years? But there was no easy one-word answer. Survival took many forms.

‘What is it he’s gone to get, Effie?’

Effie turned away, rubbing her sore arm. ‘It’s supposed to be a secret.’

‘And so is this,’ Jayne replied, watching her. ‘What is it Norman wants so badly that he’d hurt you like this?’

But Effie shook her head, not listening. ‘How could you make me give it up to him like that?!’

‘Because it was the only way to make him stop,’ Jayne replied simply. ‘What is it he wants?’

Effie sighed and dropped her gaze to the ground. She looked exhausted. ‘...The Sir Rory Mor horn,’ she said finally.

‘...What’s that?’

‘It’s a MacLeod artefact. Mathieson stole it last summer and hid it over here. The theft was kept a secret. Superstition or something.’

Jayne closed her eyes, her own suspicions confirmed at last. If Frank Mathieson had stolen the horn but the theft had been kept a secret, then there was only one way Norman could have known about it: her husband was the third man the police believed to have been involved in the smuggling ring. She remembered the final days and nights on the isle, when the two men had been roaming the hills, examining every cleit as a so-called inventory check for the landlord...That last night when he hadn’t come home at all.

‘Norman killed Frank,’ Effie said, watching Jayne as she got to her feet.

‘No.’ The word came out before Jayne could stop it.

‘Aye, Jayne,’ Effie said pityingly. ‘I know it’s hard to hear. He’s still your husband even if he is a brute, but there’s no honour among thieves. Norman’s a thief – I saw him creeping around MacLeod’s library at Dunvegan. I reckon he was looking to see if the horn had been found and brought back. He must have thought Frank had double-crossed him or gone back on his word, and they got into some kind of fight—’ Her voice broke as a memory surfaced. ‘I met him coming back from Glen Bay the morning we left – when he killed Poppit. He was the very last man on the island, don’t you remember? He was making sure no one found the body.’

Jayne shook her head. ‘No,’ she repeated.

Effie raised an eyebrow. ‘I know. Donald’s only here because you finally told the police Norman didn’tcome home that last night.’

‘Did Mhairi tell you that?’

‘No, David...’

‘Hello?’ A knock came at the door. ‘...Effie, are you here? I must talk with you.’

Both Jayne and Effie froze at the distinctive voice sounding through from the kitchen. A moment later, Sholto appeared in the bedroom doorway. He took in the sight of them both: the fear on their faces, Effie’s grazed cheek and dishevelled clothes. ‘My God, what’s happened?’

Jayne looked over at Effie. She could see, as Effie met the blue-eyed gaze of the man she loved, that it was all over for Norman now.

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