The Darkness and the Deep by Aline Templeton

glanced round them, a smirking sneer on his face. ‘She’s Kylie MacEwan. But it sounds as if she’s not the only one. She’s thirteen, you dirty old man!’
    Luke knew he should have stood his ground, defended himself, laughed at such a ridiculous charge. He knew the girl by sight, largely because there had been anxious discussions at staff meetings about the problems she was presenting – including her relationship with Nat – but he didn’t teach her, had never spoken to her, far less been alone with her. He should have declared that immediately. He didn’t. What every teacher most dreads had happened and he was frozen with the horror of it all.
    He had fled the classroom, knowing from the rising decibel level that Nat had caused a sensation. The story would be circulated without even his denial to counter it.
    The next thing he ought to do was see his union representative and Fiona Walker, the pleasant, sensible, middle-aged mother of three who combined teaching French with her role as Child Protection Officer. Fiona, surely, would understand the evil game Nat was playing. No one could possibly take such a ludicrous allegation seriously.
    But she would have to . They all knew that. They all knew what an allegation of this sort meant: immediate suspension, with the attendant publicity, which would only be lifted if the child could be persuaded to admit that it was a malicious fabrication, or a court cleared you, months later. One or the other happened in 95 per cent of cases, but your life was ruined anyway. He had seen the ordeal inflicted on a blameless colleague in Glasgow, who’d had a breakdown and never worked again.
    He couldn’t face it. Not yet, not until he had to. A bell pealed, announcing the end of a lesson. Usually it was music to Luke’s ears; now it was a warning that in another moment or two he would no longer be alone. It wouldn’t take his colleagues long to hear the scandalous story.
    A minute later he was in his car, heading for his home in Knockhaven with the instinct of a wounded animal.

5
    Willie Duncan glanced at his watch. Five o’clock: time to lock up the lifeboat shed and head up the hill home to his tea. His last chore, as always, was to glance over the Maud’n’Milly , lying in readiness at the top of the slipway, to check that all equipment was in place, and he climbed in over the nylon tubes which, on top of a glass-reinforced plastic hull, formed the sides of the boat – such as they were. It looked such a flimsy, vulnerable construction, with no superstructure at all to protect its crew from the effects of severe weather, and yet it was one of the fastest boats in the RNLI fleet, flexible and highly effective for inshore operations.
    The old shed was full of shadows; Willie never wasted money by putting on all the lights when he was there by himself. There was talk of a new building, with all mod cons, but that would never have the atmosphere of this great vaulted space. It was creaking and groaning now like a ship in the gale but he barely heard it, any more than he noticed the smell of the creosote which coated its timbers or the dry dustiness of the coils of rope. As he mechanically performed his check, his mind was on the problem which had gnawed at him for days now.
    When the side door opened, letting in a blast of cold, fresh air and the sound of the storm, he didn’t need to turn his head to see who was standing there. He felt the man’s presence as an animal senses a stalking predator, and his hand, resting on the rail by the helmsman’s seat, gripped it until the knuckles showed white.
    Tam MacNee stepped inside, shaking himself like a wet dog. His dark hair was plastered to his head and water streamed down the black leather bomber jacket. He had to shout to make himself heard above the roaring sea and the wind.
    ‘Fine weather, eh, Willie? You’ll be hoping they’ve all had the gumption to tie up safe in harbour tonight.’
    Duncan turned to look at him