On the Edge of Darkness. Barbara Erskine

her again. After all, it was a coincidence almost too big to be possible that she should be in Edinburgh. It was probably his imagination. Comforted, he sat back and gave his attention to the professor in front of him.

      Liza stood back from the canvas and chewed the end of her paint brush. She glanced at her watch and smiled. A good time to stop.

      The knock on the door came at exactly the right moment. She and Adam were planning to bike over to the Royal Botanical Gardens for a picnic in the warm autumnal sunshine. The bicycles were a new idea, borrowed from friends of hers who had graduated to a three-wheeled Morgan. ‘Come in. It’s not locked!’ She was rinsing the brush in a jar of turps and did not turn round. ‘I’ll be with you in two seconds, Adam. I’ve done a lot of work this morning. What do you think?’ She turned, gesturing at the canvas and stopped short. Standing in the doorway was a strange young woman with long dark hair. ‘I’m sorry,’ Liza frowned, puzzled. ‘I thought you were someone else.’

      ‘You thought I was A-dam.’ The girl stepped into the studio and closed the door behind her. She was dressed in an ankle-length, russet dress with a soft woollen coat over it which came to her feet. On her shoulder hung a loosely woven bag. Her eyes were as hard as flint.

      ‘Who are you?’ Liza put down her brush and rag. The skin on the back of her neck had begun to prickle. There was something about this strange young woman which made her very uncomfortable. She moved surreptitiously a little nearer to the table and groped behind her for the knife with which she had been scraping her palette.

      ‘It does not matter who I am.’ The voice was strangely monotone.

      ‘I think it does. You are in my home. I would like to know what you want.’

      ‘You are A-dam’s girlfriend.’ The voice, though still flat, held venom.

      Liza’s questing fingers found what she was looking for and she quietly picked up the palette knife. She stepped back again, putting the table between her and her visitor, praying that Adam would appear. Her nerves were beginning to scream. ‘I am his friend, certainly,’ she said cautiously. ‘If you are looking for him, he’ll be here soon.’

      The young woman did not look round. Her eyes were fixed on Liza’s face. ‘I do not need you,’ she said calmly. ‘A-dam does not need you.’ She was reaching into her bag as she spoke.

      Liza gasped. She saw a blade flash as the woman raised her arm and had barely registered the knife when without thinking she threw herself down behind the table at the same moment as she heard Adam’s cheerful shout from the bottom of the stairs.

      ‘Adam!’ she screamed. ‘Adam, be careful!’

      He found her sobbing on her knees, the palette knife still clutched in her hand, her fingers covered in thick yellow paint.

      ‘Liza! Liza, what is it? What’s wrong?’ He was down beside her on his knees. ‘Tell me. What happened?’

      ‘Where is she?’ Shaking, Liza managed to stand up. ‘For God’s sake, Adam, who was she?’ She was staring round wildly. The studio was empty.

      ‘Who? What? What happened?’

      ‘That woman! That girl! You must have seen her?’ Unaware of the paint on her hand she pushed her hair back off her face, leaving a smear of yellow across her forehead. ‘She tried to kill me!’

      Adam closed his eyes. He took a deep breath. Why had he thought immediately of Brid?

      ‘Describe her,’ he said. He led her to the bed and sat her down gently. Then he walked over to the door and stared down the stairs. As he had climbed them in the dark, glad to be out of the cutting wind, he had been halfway up when a cat had fled past him. He had time only to register the dark shape, the fierce green eyes, the wild fury of the claws on the worn steps, and it was gone. ‘There’s no other way out of here is there?’

      She shook her head. ‘No.’

      ‘Then she must still be here.’ He walked slowly round the studio searching every corner, every cupboard, every shadow. There was no one there.

      ‘She was small, dark hair. Long dark-red clothes. She spoke with a funny foreign accent.’

      Brid.

      ‘What do you mean, she tried to kill you?’ Adam sat down beside her.

      ‘She pulled out a knife and threw it at me.’

      ‘Are you sure, Liza?’ His voice was gentle. ‘Where is it? Where is she? I don’t see how anyone could have been here. I would have seen her.’ He found himself picturing the cat’s eyes as it raced past him down the stairs.

      ‘Are you telling me I’m making it up?’ Liza stared at him furiously. ‘Adam, for God’s sake, I know if someone tried to kill me or not!’

      ‘Then we should call the police.’ His hands were shaking. He pushed them firmly into his pockets.

      ‘Of course we should call the police. There’s a potential murderer running round here. Look over there. The knife must be somewhere. I saw her hurl it at me as I threw myself on the floor. She couldn’t have gone to look for it. There was no time.’

      But there was no knife. They looked for half an hour, combing every inch of the studio.

      ‘So. Who is she?’ Liza had cleaned off the paint and was feeling calmer.

      Adam shrugged. For a moment he wondered if he should deny his suspicions, but Liza knew him too well. She had already read the dawning horror in his eyes. He sat down on her divan and felt in his pocket for his cigarettes. The pendant he had given Liza, Brid’s pendant, was lying where Liza had left it, on the side table under the lamp. He could see the soft gleam of silver from where he sat.

      ‘It sounds like Brid. She’s someone I saw quite a bit of at home,’ he said at last. He refused to meet her eye. ‘We used to explore the hills in the holidays. Her brother was – is – a stone mason. He carves brilliantly. I think,’ he hesitated, ‘I think the family have rather exotic roots. They’re very excitable.’ He made it sound something unpleasant. ‘Brid has a very short temper. She’s attacked me before now.’ He gave a small, uncomfortable laugh.

      ‘And what is she doing in Edinburgh?’

      ‘She must have followed me.’ He shook his head. ‘I told her it was all over. We were kids together, that was all. She was going to college up north and I was coming here. There was no future for us. None at all.’ He paused for a moment, then he went on. ‘But she didn’t like it. She wanted to come with me. I told her no. I never expected her to follow me.’

      ‘Had you seen her here before?’

      He shook his head, but she saw the troubled look in his eyes.

      ‘Adam?’

      He shook his head again. ‘I wondered if I had seen her the other day, in the distance. But then she wasn’t there.’ He shrugged helplessly.

      ‘She’s obviously good at disappearing acts.’

      ‘Yes.’ He shivered. ‘Yes, she is.’

      ‘And is she capable of trying to kill someone?’

      Miserably he stared at the floor. ‘I think perhaps she might be,’ he said at last.

      They did not tell the police in the end. There seemed no point.

      Susan Craig was sitting in the corner of the tea room, her back to the wall.

      Adam had seen her only once since their first encounter. ‘I’m sorry, I haven’t much time.’ He sat down opposite her. ‘We’ve a lot of studying to do at the moment.’

      ‘Of course, dear. I’m so proud of you.’ She had already ordered the tea. Pouring it into two cups, she pushed one towards him. ‘Adam, there is something I must tell you.’ She was perched uncomfortably on the edge of her chair. ‘I’ve … we’ve, that is, my friend