Scrap Metal by Harper Fox Read Free Book Online Page A

“Was that difficult, growing up around here?”
    “Was it difficult where you come from?”
    “Sometimes.”
    We stood together quietly. Outside, the island day was gathering pace—the first day of spring, it felt like. Harry had left the porch door open. Scents of warming earth made their way in on the air. In a different world—an Eden swept clean of pain, of duty, family ties and loss—I’d have taken this stranger by the hand, walked out with him to the cliff-top meadow where the turf grew springy and rich, and lain down with him. As it was, I had work to do. “Will you stay, then?”
    “I want to. I don’t know if I can carry it off. I’ve only got the clothes I arrived in and these ones you gave me, for a start.”
    “Aye. We’d better get you your own or Harry will notice. I tell you what…” Reluctantly I turned away from him and went to the drawer in the huge oak dresser where I kept cash for deliveries and daily expenses. “Go and get yourself kitted out. Don’t go back into Brodick—there’s a bus on the hour that goes west of here into Blackwaterfoot. They’ve got a decent farm store.”
    “All right. You don’t need to give me money, though. I’ve got a few quid left.”
    “How much?”
    “I don’t know—a tenner or so, I reckon.”
    I smiled. “That won’t get you far, you townie. You need two sets of overalls, waterproofs, a couple of changes of warm clothes that don’t look like they came from Topshop. Boots and gloves I can give you, but you’ll need this much at least.” I held him out some notes. “Don’t worry. It’s just a loan.”
    “Why would you trust me?”
    I shrugged. His question had come out hoarsely, and he had flushed up. Maybe I was being stupid, but an old faith was stirring inside me, a willingness to lean on the tides of the universe instead of swimming desperately against them.
    I put the money into his hand. “Why would I not?”

Chapter Three
     
    I might have done nothing more than aid the flight of a criminal. I knew that, and about a tenth of me was resigned to never seeing Cameron or my money again.
    The rest of me felt wonderful. I couldn’t account for the change. All right, I’d had my fill of sleep for once, but that hardly explained the energy surging through me as I set about my daily routine. Occasional glimpses of my cat, darting about among the sheds and outbuildings, kept refreshing my sense of miracle. The luck of the farm… I should have told Harry about her return. He was off now at the Campbeltown sheep mart, but the news would cheer his superstitious Gaelic soul when he came back. I wondered how many we’d be sitting down to dinner tonight. We’d stopped sitting down at all over the last weeks, just grabbing what we could on the run. That was bad. I decided to get a casserole going once I’d finished my work outside.
    First I had to do the midday round of feeds. Harry had taken our ancient Toyota truck to the mart, leaving me the quad, so that was quickly accomplished, a short exuberant roar around our pastures with bales of fresh hay in the trailer and new blocks for the salt licks. I’d thought we were out of those but a glance into one of the sheds had revealed a last batch of them. Dropping them from our shopping list had been a false economy—the lactating ewes needed the minerals, and the overall health of the flock had deteriorated since we’d stopped putting them out.
    Back at the farmhouse, I cleaned out every pen and stall in the barns without pause for breath. The change in the weather had transformed everything. I could shed my layers and stride about the yards in a T-shirt and jeans, sun warming the back of my neck. I felt as if I’d been limping head down through a rainstorm for as long as I could remember.
    I was lying underneath the second quad bike, trying to figure out why it had died on us, when I heard the approaching engine. It was too soon for Harry to be home, and we weren’t due any deliveries. I