Empty Nets and Promises by Denzil Meyrick Read Free Book Online

the engine, a battered old Land Rover puttered past, turned right and headed up the Glebe Brae. ‘That’s our men,’ said Grant. He waited for a few moments then followed.

9
    â€˜Great idea, gentlemen,’ said Bertie from the back of Geordie’s Land Rover. ‘We don’t get to see much of the countryside.’
    â€˜I daresay it jeest flies past in a flash – and a bang,’ said Hamish who was sitting in the back with the pilot.
    â€˜We can take the top off one of these.’ Bertie fished around the inside pocket of his raincoat and produced a lemonade bottle.
    â€˜Is that what I think it is?’
    â€˜â€œThe clearrr schtuff”, as you call it,’ replied Bertie, adopting a Scottish accent. ‘I’ve grown quite fond of it. Blows your cares away, eh, Ralph?’
    â€˜It does, indeed,’ replied his fellow pilot. He was squeezed in between Hoynes and Geordie, who was gripping the large steering wheel and squinting through the windscreen at the heavy rain. ‘Reminds me a bit of that scrumpy we used to get in Somerset. You know, with the bits floating at the bottom. A couple of those and you were set for the evening, and no mistake.’
    â€˜Och, but it’s fine you like a drink or two. The price of whisky in that Douglas Arms – damn near daylight robbery,’ said Hoynes. ‘Once we’ve got tae the bothy we’ll make a right good night o’ it. We’ve a few bottles of our own.’
    â€˜Hear, hear,’ said Bertie. ‘Time for a bit of a song, I reckon.’ He cleared his throat then launched into ‘One man went to mow, went to mow a meadow’. Everyone joined in, apart from Geordie, who shook his head and concentrated on the wet road.
    â€˜That’s not oor Geordie’s Land Rover,’ said Beth. ‘He’s got a crack in his rear light, and there’s no sign o’ anything like that. Anyway, it’s too new.’
    â€˜Maybe he got it fixed,’ suggested Maggie.
    â€˜No, nor fixed. We’re following the wrong folk!’
    â€˜But they’re going the right way, Beth,’ said Marjorie. ‘Surely that’s a good sign.’
    â€˜They’ll be accomplices, Mother. You better stay back a bit, Beth. You’ll just make them suspicious. I tell you, this is getting murkier and murkier by the minute.’
    As the rain got heavier, and the wind gusted to gale force, the three-vehicle convoy travelled on. About seven miles outside Kinloch, Geordie turned his vehicle onto a single track road marked ‘Glen Brackie’. The engine strained as it took the steep hill.
    â€˜Heading well into the hinterland, are we not?’ said Ralph, taking the bottle from his lips.
    â€˜It’ll be well worth the wait, you’ll see,’ said Hoynes, a broad grin spread across his flushed face. ‘Och, I’m fair enjoying oor wee jaunt, right enough.’ He took a swig of whisky from the bottle in his hand. ‘Whoot song will we murder noo?’
    â€˜Wid you mind no’ murdering anything,’ replied Geordie. ‘I’ve tae keep my wits aboot me. This road’s mair like a burn.’
    Steep hills rose on either side of them, shimmering in the sheets of rain pushed along by the wailing wind. The sky was a dark grey, and seemed to hang over the landscape in heavy curtains.
    â€˜You wouldna think it wiz July,’ said Hamish. ‘It reminds me o’ a story my faither used tae tell me when I was a boy.’
    â€˜Is it the one aboot the Raglin shepherd and his horse?’ asked Hoynes, his voice slurring. ‘If so, I know it off by heart.’
    â€˜We don’t, though,’ piped up Bertie. ‘Come on, Hamish. It’ll break up the journey. The speed we’re going we’ll be lucky to get where we’re going by Christmas.’
    â€˜I’m goin’ as fast as these conditions will allow. If you’ll note,