other world he sometimes seemed to retreat
to.
‘We’d better give the landlord a ring to let him
know we’re coming for his car,’ she added. ‘What did happen to your mobile this
time?’
‘Dropped it in a snowdrift,’ he muttered.
‘That’s very helpful.’ She took two mobile phones
out of her parka pocket, gave him one and used the other to call the landlord
of the Queen of Scots. He sounded resigned to them borrowing his vehicle, and
even offered a bottle of brandy as his contribution to the search and rescue
effort.
‘That’s all very well, but where are we going to
find a St Bernard at this time of night?’ she said, and rang off.
‘A St Bernard?’ said Christopher.
‘It was a joke,’ said Amaryllis. ‘Hang on to that
phone, by the way. It’s my old work one so it’s got some important numbers in
it.’
‘Should you have kept it after you retired?’ said
Christopher.
‘Theoretically not,’ she said. ‘Bring the map.
Have you got a spare parka? Spare gloves? Hat?’
She knew she wasn’t Christopher’s mother, but it
was difficult not to worry about him.
‘I made a couple of sandwiches and a flask of soup
while you were on the phone,’ he said unexpectedly. ‘It’s in this rucksack.’
She was pleasantly surprised. She hadn’t expected
him to show any initiative.
Chapter 6 Nightmare drive
Christopher hadn’t imagined anything worse than
being driven back from North Queensferry by Dave in the pick-up truck, but he
soon realised that being in a previously untried Range Rover driven through the
snow by Amaryllis was ten times more frightening. She had only recently got her
licence back, and she barely adjusted her speed to the road conditions, which
were dire on the way up to the main road from Pitkirtly, just passable on the
short section of the main road before the cattery turn-off, and almost
impossible after that.
As she skidded round the corner into the side road
that led up the hill, ending up facing a stone wall, he said, as mildly as he
could manage, ‘Careful!’
‘I’m being careful,’ she said. ‘It’s safer to
drive at a normal speed in those conditions. It’s slowing down that causes
accidents.’
‘Hmm,’ he said. Not being a driver himself, he
didn’t want to cast doubt on her expertise, but he wasn’t sure how much longer
he would be able to sit still in the front seat and refrain from kicking and
screaming with terror.
‘What if Dave’s truck’s in a snowdrift up here
somewhere? We don’t want to risk running into it.’
‘But it’s steep - I’ll have to take a run at it.’
She turned the Range Rover round, away from the
wall, and accelerated hard. The wheels sounded as if they were spinning.
Christopher resigned himself to walking the rest of the way. There were a few
streetlights at the road junction, although they flickered like candle flames
in a draught. It was only a matter of time before they stopped functioning altogether.
And up the hill where they were heading, it was dark, the only dim illumination
coming from the heaps of snow at the sides of the road. He shivered at the idea
of getting out and walking any distance. The light of Amaryllis’s torch, though
powerful, wouldn’t help much and there was no knowing how long the batteries
would last. But if Dave were stuck in a drift, or if the pick-up truck had
broken down or anything, he might be sitting waiting for help - or he might
have got out of the truck and be wandering, lost, somewhere in this unnaturally
white still landscape. He could wander on to the site of the old mine workings
and fall down a hole, or fall and break a bone and lie there becoming more
hypothermic by the moment. They just had to find him.
‘He’s probably got back to Pitkirtly another way
by now,’ said Amaryllis, knowing, as often happened, what was in his mind.
‘Jemima hasn’t rung.’
‘You’ve got my phone switched on, haven’t you?’
‘Yes, of course I
Learning to Kill: Stories