The Lighthouse Witches(21)

“That was you?” I said, surprised. “What a kind gesture.”

“The Longing is super grim,” Rowan said. “I could come and cleanse it for you, if you like?”

“Cleanse?” I said. I heard Isla sigh behind me.

“It probably has a lot of negative energy. You should really cleanse it before you start work. I’m a witch, you see. Didn’t Sapphire tell you?”

“As in, Wiccan?”

Row shook her head, her large blue eyes wide. “No, not Wiccan. I’m a green witch. It’s very different.”

“Off you go, Rowan,” Isla said, irritated.

Rowan threw me a shy smile and gathered up her blanket. “I’ll come and do a cleanse anytime, just let me know.” And she floated off.

“Righty-ho,” Isla said, closing the door and handing me a cup of tea. She sat down and cocked her head. “You sounded very panicked on the phone, my dear. Walk me through what happened.”

I told her about the bones in the lantern room. They definitely weren’t there the day after we arrived, so sometime between then and yesterday someone had put them there.

She pursed her lips at this. “Very strange. I can imagine why you’re so rattled.”

I exhaled deeply at this. I worried that I’d overreacted.

“You know, any other time I’d have said Mr. Roberts left them, but he’s at sea just now.”

“Why would Mr. Roberts leave bones in the lantern room?”

She pulled a face. “He’s a bit of an odd one, that Roberts. Folk aren’t keen on him, keep their distance.”

Now I was even more puzzled. “But . . . you work for him?”

“Doesn’t mean I’m bosom buddies with the man,” she said. Then, leaning close: “If anything, I work for him to keep a close eye, see what he’s up to. You’ve never met him, have you?”

“No. I heard about the commission through a friend . . .”

She nodded. “I see. Nobody knows anything about him. Keeps his cards close to his chest, you see. The island’s mystery millionaire. And right now, I can tell you he’s out at sea.”

I nodded, a little uneasy at what she’d said about Mr. Roberts. “You said the Longing had been vandalized before. Do you think it might be the same people?”

“I can’t be sure. Like I said, I’m sure it was outsiders that graffitied the place. Tourists, you ken.”

“Why couldn’t it have been someone local?”

She sighed. “To be completely honest with you, most folk around here are too afraid to go near the Longing.”

“Why?”

“It has a wee bit of a history, that place.”

I thought back to my visit to the Neolithic museum. “I’ve heard it was named for people who were grieving?”

Isla folded her arms and pursed her lips, visibly weighing up how to shortcut to the parts of history that mattered. “A long time ago, the people that lived here burned a number of women who were accused of witchcraft. The accused were held until their trials at the site where the Longing is now.”

I thought about the hole I’d found, covered by the metal grille. The thought of people being held down there made me shiver. “Were they held underground?’

A nod. “I believe so.”

“But that was hundreds of years ago,” I said. “Surely people aren’t afraid for that reason?”

Isla gave a little laugh. “Ah, well . . . when one of the witches was being burned at the stake, she cursed the island. Soon after that, things started happening that were . . . frightening. And folk have been wary ever since.”

I frowned. “What things?”

“Look, I don’t think the bones are anything to worry about. I tend to know most of the goings-on in this place and I’m fairly sure there’s no one who poses a threat to you. It’s probably animals. Maybe some kids having a lark.”

“What about a young child?” I said, thinking back to what I’d seen in the lantern room the day that I pushed Saffy. “Would a young child from the island be deterred from going inside?”

“No wains live near the bay,” she said, puzzled. “Are you sure you saw one?”

I faltered. I couldn’t say I was sure.

“You mention that people here are still wary,” I said. “That the island was cursed. You don’t believe that, do you?”

She flicked her hair. Isla could be direct all day long, but wasn’t keen on receiving it. “I can appreciate that a ‘curse’ sounds very dramatic from the outside, but when you start to see the evidence . . .”

“What evidence?”

She lowered her eyes. “About thirty years ago, a child went missing on the island. My wee brother, Jamie.”

“Oh, Isla,” I said, horrified. “That’s terrible.”

A small sigh, and I could she was growing upset. “I was sixteen. We all adored him. He was only two. We were playing in the rock pools on the bay all afternoon. One minute he was there and the next . . .” She pressed her fingers to her mouth. “We searched everywhere. Every inch of the island was covered. My parents never got over it.”

“I can imagine,” I said. “What a terrible thing to happen.”