Dalintober Moon by Denzil Meyrick Read Free Book Online Page A

truth?’
    ‘Of whoot heppened tae my grampa Billy, Mr Daley. I don’t think any o’ the family ever thought we’d find out what that brute McMunn did tae him.’
    ‘McMunn? I’m afraid I’m a bit lost, Mrs Hutchinson. Can you tell me from the start, please?’
    ‘Aye, jeest so, Mr Daley, jeest so,’ she said taking a sip of her tea and settling back in the chair. ‘My faither was jeest a wee boy when it happened. 1910 it was, before the Great War, ye understand.’
    Daley nodded as the woman spoke. Her expression was blank, as though she was seeing pictures before her mind’s eye.
    ‘My grampa Billy worked at Wellside Distillery – long gone noo, mind, but a thriving business at the time. Och well, apparently he was a good-looking lad – curly hair, blue eyes – and folk often said that my faither was his spitting image. A nice young man, full of fun, and only twenty-three when it happened.’
    ‘When what happened?’
    ‘Him and Archie McMunn were on the nightshift. Archie was a wee bit older than my grampa, no’ much, mebbees in his late twenties. He’d been in the army for a wee while, but it didna suit him – well, mair like he didna suit it, I wid say.’
    ‘Why was that, do you know, Mrs Hutchinson?’
    ‘Och, at the time everybody knew whoot Archie was like. A brutal man, Mr Daley, cruel, wid fight with his own shadow, or so they said. He had a lovely wee wife, gied her a hell o’ a time, apparently. Didna stop there, neithers. He was jeest as cruel tae the folk he worked with. His uncle was the distillery manager, so he got the job as foreman. If you didna dae as you were telt, well, you suffered the consequences. He had a right spite at my grampa Billy for some reason, tae. Poor Grampa would come home black and blue from his work, regular, so my faither said.’
    ‘Didn’t he complain?’
    ‘Whoot was the point? With McMunn’s uncle the boss, who would have listened?’
    ‘True, I suppose,’ said Daley, trying to imagine the young man’s plight at the hands of his vicious foreman.
    ‘In those days, you jeest shut up an’ got on wae it. There was no benefits or the like, so if you lost your job you and your family starved, so Grampa Billy wid likely have had tae jeest grin and bear it all.’ She wiped away a tear.
    ‘Take your time, no hurry.’
    ‘Och, I’m jeest being stupid, Mr Daley. I didna even know my grampa, but I’ve heard so many tales aboot him, I feel as though I can picture him standing before me as plain as day. Do you know how it is?’
    ‘I do,’ Daley replied, remembering how real the stories his mother had told him about her father had made the man, despite the fact he had been killed in World War II, long before Daley was born.
    ‘At any rate, this night the two o’ them was on nightshift,’ continued Mrs Hutchinson with a sniff. Despite being in her eighties, she was clear-eyed and sharp-witted. ‘Their job was tae load a coastal puffer wae barrels o’ whisky so the captain could catch the tide first thing in the morning. They had a horse and cairt and used tae put the barrels on a pulley and lever them aboard the boat. I mind seeing it done when I was a wee lassie.’
    ‘Wasn’t it dark?’
    ‘Aye, nae electric lights or anything like that in they days, Mr Daley. Normally, they wid work by the light o’ the boat’s big storm lanterns. But on this night – so the story goes – they didna need them. There was a Dalintober moon.’
    ‘A what?’
    ‘Jeest that, a Dalintober moon – big an’ blue in the sky, lit up the whole scene. You don’t see them very often.’
    ‘Once in a blue moon?’
    ‘Aye, well, a Dalintober moon’s no’ as regular as that,’ she said dismissively, with another sniff.
    ‘So where were the crew?’
    ‘Och, sure you know, Mr Daley. Oot in the toon enjoying themselves. The whisky boats were dry, ye see. Wae all that booze on board, it widna do for the crew tae get drunk and start tapping intae barrels o’ whisky to