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647 lines
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<h1>4</h1>
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<p>Kate Delaney had a slash of green paint running from her eye to the curve of her chin, and a clown dab of red on
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her cheek as though she had deliberately drawn it there. Her hair was pulled back and tied in a casual knot,
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copper bronze gleaming in the afternoon glow. Fast confident brush-strokes streaked the white wall, making the
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picture come alive like a slow fade-in. He watched her from the other side of the street, hands jammed in his
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pockets, shoulder against a lamppost. </p>
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<p>Bend and dip, raise and stroke. She was lithe in faded, paint-spattered pants with big pockets on the thighs and
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an old shirt tied in an old-style sixties knot, showing a five inch band of silky summer tan. </p>
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<p>She was halfway along the hundred yards of old brick railway wall whose crumbling surface had been patched up and
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whitewashed bright. The bunch of kids were doing their own thing, talent from the primary schools, daubing and
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spattering as the sun quick-dried the paint.. </p>
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<p>Kate felt his look on her back and turned, backhanded her brow and put the pot down on the crusted sheet. He
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waited until she came across the street, leaving the youngsters and the other teacher to get on with the slap
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and dash. </p>
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<p>"It's coming along," he said. She leaned into him and slipped a thumb over his belt. The sun gave her hair the
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sheen of new-stripped copper. </p>
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<p>"Art for arts sake, money for god's sake."</p>
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<p>"You've been listening to too much of that old stuff."</p>
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<p>"We've the same taste, retro man" she said. Her eyes swept the wall scene, east to west. "You get a perspective
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from here. Up close it's just paint and you have to imagine it. But you're right, it <em>is</em> coming along."
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</p>
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<p>The Heritage Wall. The project had fought off dozens of other contenders for Millennium money from the arts
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council and then it had been forced to wait all this time to get the cash and the permissions needed to take a
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bunch of kids and some pots of paint to cover a decaying eyesore and put some colour on it. </p>
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<p>"When will you finish it?"</p>
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<p>She laughed, cocking her head to lean it light on the side of his arm. "By the next millennium probably. It'll be
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like Stonehenge."</p>
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<p>He could admire it from here, the whole town spread in a foreshortened panorama with an almost medievally
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distorted perspective that gave the highlights an arbitrary prominence. The castle on the big basalt rock that
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sat at the mouth of the river overshadowed the whole scene, as it did the whole town, black and green and grey,
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all angles and planes of fissured and fallen stone and ancient battlement. The silver meander of the river
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snaked between the tall buildings, each one an unmistakeable landmark, the old Ballantyne's distillery and its
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high retort tower, the old tenements on River Street, the big gasometer. All of the old companies had their
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names and insignia neatly done in exaggerated emphasis. The Latta shipyard, closed in the fifties. Carden's
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engineering, down in the sixties. McMillan's forge, a late survivor that finally fell its length in the
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eighties. The old glass factory that still stood but nobody living remembered bustling. The dye works that had
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used the soft river water for global success before synthetics knocked it on the head. All of them remembered on
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the heritage wall. A history of boom-times past.</p>
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<p>"It's good."</p>
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<p>"Sure it's good," she agreed. "It's a history lesson, but that's what they wanted. I argued that we should be
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looking to the future. Put in a couple of heliports. A rocket pad. A touch of pizzazz, inject some damned <em>ambition</em>."
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</p>
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<p>"Or you could put in the call centre, the supermarket, Ferguson's scrap yard and the Corrieside team shooting up
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and drinking superlager and buckfast tonic wine."</p>
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<p>"Oh, we are a true cynic this sunny day." She gave him a quick squeeze, more friendly than anything else. "What's
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up?"</p>
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<p>"I've got to go in later on. Andy Kerr wants to talk to us."</p>
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<p>"Is this the big crunch?" She pulled back and looked up at him, shading her eyes from the sun. </p>
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<p>"Same for Don and Jed. Sproat's called a mass meeting at the distillery, no surprise."</p>
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<p>She pointed to the long street-art mural. "I'll have to red ring the distillery and the dairy now, how our town
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<em>used </em>to work. In the good old days. What do you plan to do?"</p>
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<p>"Let's wait and see what Andy says. We might have some time left. After that, well I've got a couple of ideas
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that I'm still kicking around in my head."</p>
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<p>He couldn't tell her any of them. Nor anyone, yet.</p>
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<p>"I hope they still include getting your degree."</p>
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<p>He gave a short laugh. "Don't nag. Sure, I'll go for it, but it's time I branched out. I'm thinking of setting up
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on my own."</p>
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<p>"Doing what?"</p>
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<p>"Observing the two golden rules for success."</p>
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<p>"And they are?"</p>
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<p>"Don't tell people everything you know."</p>
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<p>"What's the second one?"</p>
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<p>He clapped an arm round her shoulder and put a finger to his lips. For a second she wondered what he meant and
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then the penny dropped and she elbowed him in the rib.</p>
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<p>"Oh, big secrets now? Well, things don't look as if they could get much worse."</p>
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<p>A couple of the kids across the street turned round to watch them and she moved herself out of his grasp, almost
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imperceptibly, making it casual. The children were dressed, despite the sun, in coveralls and rubber boots, and
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the multi-coloured splashes showed this had been a well thought precaution. </p>
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<p>"Like you say. We're living on history and nostalgia, hanging on to the past when we should be fixing things for
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the future. Our Mike should breeze his highers and there's enough on place to see him to his honours if he wants
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to go the distance, so that lightens the load a bit. I can do whatever I want."</p>
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<p>"I agree, Jack Lorne. You can do <em>absolutely</em> anything you want. I've told you that before."</p>
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<p>"Ye of plenty faith. No, what I meant is that this might be the best thing that's happened to me. Sometimes you
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need a kick in the backside."</p>
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<p>"Or you need to hit bedrock."</p>
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<p>"That too. Look at this place." He pointed at the heritage wall, whitewash bright, brilliant with acrylic colour
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that was somehow too day-glow to be a true depiction of the old town, as if an alien sun gave it a chromatic
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boost. He moved his finger up and down, shooting off at the old company signs. "Closed. Closed. Shut. Bust. Gone
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away. Receivership. Closed. Shut."</p>
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<p>"My my, Mr Lorne, we <em>are </em>pessimistic."</p>
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<p>"No, just realistic, and just waking up to it. We have to turn this around or we'll be living in a ghost town.
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You're lucky there's a wall still standing for you to paint on."</p>
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<p>"That was touch and go. They were set to rip this down before we got the grant."</p>
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<p>"Anyway, I'm working something out."</p>
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<p>"Ah, ze <em>beeg</em> secret." She elbowed him in the ribs. "And I hear you've got more secrets. I hear you made
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it big with two blonde bimbos."</p>
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<p>"You hear wrong." He felt his face redden. The guys knew he had a thing for Kate. He just hadn't pushed it, not
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while he was still delivering milk in the mornings. Maybe it was pride.</p>
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<p>"Not wrong. My sources are impeccable. Astrid and Britt, something like that?"</p>
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<p>"Ilse and Ingrid," he said and she laughed again. She had suckered him so easily. </p>
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<p>"Big tits, long legs, <em>sveedish</em> accents, helium brains. And two of them? A bit ambitious, Jack the lad,
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or are you ambidextrous?"</p>
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<p>"Tempted, but I didn't go the distance."</p>
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<p>"Oh, you <em>vonted to be alone?</em>"</p>
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<p>"I needed some time to myself. Give me a break."</p>
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<p>"You think Gus Ferguson will give you a break?" She kept her hands over her eyes and fixed on him, suddenly
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serious. "You have to watch yourself."</p>
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<p>"Jesus! Does everybody in the whole town know about that? I was just helping a mate."</p>
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<p>"I know you were. Come on Jack, it's not New York. You're better known than you think. Everybody knows what they
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did to Donny, and what Don Watson knows, everybody knows. He's a mobile phone on feet. He should carry a bell
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and shout <em>oyez</em>."</p>
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<p>She was still holding his eyes with her own. "I do mean it though. You watch yourself."</p>
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<p>"My uncle told me that already."</p>
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<p>"Well listen to him. You don't get to that old fox's age without having some brains." She slipped a hand round
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and gave him a quick and surreptitious hug, maybe a gesture of solidarity, but it felt like more. She smelt of
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paint and turpentine; faint flowers and hot woman sweat and if the kids hadn't been watching he might just have
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tried a response, tried a try, but it was still the middle of the day. She patted his backside, squeezed a
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tease. </p>
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<p>"Back to work, some of us have to. You go find out whether you're on the dole or operating secret plan number
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one."</p>
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<p>She started to cross the road and was half-way to the kerb when she turned. "Come down to the corner at five and
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I'll treat you to a coffee. Deal?"</p>
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<p>"Wish I could, but we'll have some things to chew over, me and the boys. But I was thinking of going to Stirling
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tomorrow to watch Jed on the stock circuit. Want to come?"</p>
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<p>"And watch macho loonies smash metal?"</p>
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<p>"If you want to go up by Creggan way, I'll buy you an ice cream."</p>
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<p>"You know the way to a woman's heart, you smoothie." She laughed and added more light to the day's aggregate.
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"You're on."</p>
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<p>He held up a thumb and waited until she picked up the brush again and slashed another clear green line, no
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hesitation, no pondering, as if she had the complete picture all in her head. He knew she most likely did. </p>
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<p>He wished <em>he</em> had.</p>
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<hr />
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<p>Andy Kerr had a face like granite, grey and rough, matching his hair. It was amazing what a couple of months on
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the edge could do for a man. Whether his cousin Billy had been a chancer or a thief, it made no difference. The
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walls were closing in on all sides. </p>
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<p>"I won't lie to you guys," he said. The stress made him hoarse. "It's not looking too clever."</p>
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<p>"Is our national insurance paid?" The demand came from the back for the group. Jack turned to look. It was a
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legitimate question, sure enough, but a bit early in the day. </p>
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<p>"Hear the man out first," he said. </p>
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<p>"No, Jake, that's fair enough. You've all got a right to know. You're right. We discovered a discrepancy in the
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national insurance contributions," He nodded to Jake who had helped him go through all the books in the past
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couple of weeks. "but I've been on to the Inland Revenue and that's all been taken care of. So no matter what
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happens here, you are all up to date. That's a personal guarantee from me."</p>
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<p>"I was just saying...." the man at the back piped up, embarrassed now. Andy was known to be straight, no
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matter what folk thought of his slimy cousin Billy. The rest of the guys shooshed him to silence. </p>
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<p>"Right, let's get down to business, so much as it is. I have to raise a hundred thousand minimum in six weeks,
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pure and simple as that. Sproat wants me off the ground so he can sell it and the lease is up for renewal. I
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still have the option, but everybody knows he wants the ground and it's a big hike, so for the next little
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while, I'll be trying to get some backing, and Jim McGuire will be running the show on a day to day basis."</p>
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<p>Andy wiped his face with a dry hand, flattening out wrinkles on his brow that seemed to have sneaked up and dug
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furrows overnight. </p>
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<p>"But we still have the problem of the contracts. They're cutting the price to the bone and the farmers can't
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operate at that level. My guess is that if we can't squeeze a couple of points, some of them will go over to
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barley and potatoes and cull the herds. Under the circs, it's a real bastard, so I'm not going to bullshit you.
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Things are <em>not</em> looking hunky dory. Not good at all."</p>
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<p>"Tell us straight Andy, are we in a job or out?"</p>
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<p>"You're in for six weeks, but not all of you. I've got a choice to go on short time, or short staff, and short
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time just won't work. I have to lose half of you as of now."</p>
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<p>"That's twenty men."</p>
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<p>"Men <em>and </em>women," one of the girls chipped in, making the point, as if it mattered.</p>
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<p>"Twenty. For the time being. If we survive this and pick up, then I'll do my best to bring you back. If we don't,
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then there's no point in talking about it."</p>
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<p>"Who's the twenty?" Big Trevor Hannah wanted to know now. Everybody was angry and worried and some were scared
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more than a little. </p>
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<p>"I could do last in-first out, but I won't. I need Jim, Fergus McCann on the bottling, Sally on the phones and
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paperwork. George and Bill on the tankers, but only for two weeks or so because we're giving them up and I'll
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get a lease deal on old stock. I need two deliverymen door-to-door and two bulk. A couple of others. What I've
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done is put the names in a hat, for apart from the key people, I'm not going to say who's out and who stays.
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It's only fair."</p>
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<p>Jack had no quarrel with that and hoped nobody else had. He'd find something to pay the bills and hit the books
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hard. And in his mind he was out of here, on to the next plan. On to the first real plan in his life. </p>
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<p>He made it to the bank just before it closed, trying to shake off the hollow sensation of disquiet that had
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transmitted itself from the rest of the dairy people. He could only empathise, soak up their anger and
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apprehension. Most of them had worked nowhere else but the dairy, and all of them would have a hard time getting
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something new. It had always been a job for life. Dairies and distilleries, they never closed, did they? You
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left school, you got a job when one was going, and you stuck to it and it saw you through. That was the way it
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was. <em>Used</em> to be.</p>
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<p>Now, it was all changed.</p>
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<p>He had the passbooks with him, jammed in the back pocket of his chinos, and he had decided not to waste any time.
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He'd seen all this coming and he had to pick himself up, move right along. No time to lose.</p>
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<p>Janey Cooper, Jed's cousin was behind the counter in the bright building society, all glass and wood and red
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corporate blazers. She gave him her usual big smile and he handed over a wad of notes and the book. Getting the
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money out of the bank had been a matter of moments. In, out, and years of savings were wedged into his front
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pocket. When you thought about it, it didn't amount to a hell of a lot, but then again, he'd had other things to
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do with his cash. </p>
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<p>"I want to make this a joint account," he told Janey. </p>
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<p>"Oh really? Is there something I should know?"</p>
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<p>"Yeah. I've met a really nice boy and we're moving in."</p>
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<p>Her eyes widened in disbelief, saw he was kidding and went along with it.</p>
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<p>He handed over the little form he'd filed in and she changed the passbook without demur. He was well enough known
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on River Street.</p>
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<p>He could have gone back along through the town, but word would be out by now and he didn't want to face all the
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people who would clap him on the back and condole.</p>
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<p><em>Your friends all come running, clap you on the back and say....</em></p>
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<p>Not please. Not this time. They say sorry mate, something will turn up. Tough break.</p>
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<p>He went down by the river and strolled along by the railing, watching the flow of the deep black water, swirling
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down under the low bridge. Across and downstream, the old boatyard still stood, but there were damn few Rinkers
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and Bayliners there. A couple of sea trout broached the surface and snatched at flies, and a pair of diving
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birds surfaced and scattered them and the old river went rolling right on down to the castle and to empty itself
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out into the Clyde.</p>
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<p>You could go with the flow. You could let the flow just catch you, like Franky Hennigan and Tig Graham over by
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the water edge, side by side on a bench drinking cheap rotgut wine, lost in the current, unable to stand against
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it.</p>
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<p>Or you could maybe find a way of going against the current, moving under your own power, haul out somewhere and
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find your feet.</p>
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<p>Maybe, <em>maybe</em>.</p>
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<p>He went home and his mother had heard the news. She gave him a tight hug that said it all and asked him what he
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was going to do. He said he had some things to think about. Sheena came down and told him she would light a
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candle for him and say a prayer, which was what Sheena always did in times of crisis and every other time
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besides. He ruffled her hair and then went up to the room he shared with Mike. His brother was still down in the
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supermarket, stacking shelves until he went to Uni in the autumn. Jack sat on the bed and brought out the second
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thick wad of cash.</p>
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<p>Very methodically, he took them note by note and crumpled them up, until he had a thick, unruly ball of money. He
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jammed it in an old syrup tin he'd used as a kid to keep loose change.</p>
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<p>At Aitkenbar Distillery, a fair crowd had formed around the gatehouse, muttering the way they do when they're not
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happy and unsure of what to do next. Disorganised dismay. </p>
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<p>Alistair Sproat was less blunt than Andy Kerr had been, but everybody knew he hadn't been just as honest. He
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flanked himself with a couple of the suits from the offices and James Gilveray who headed the customs post,
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while the rest of them faced him in the canteen, stacked in rows on plastic chairs. Everybody was there,
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coopers, bottlers, the maltmen and distillers, three forklift drivers and the barrel rollers who did everything
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from that to slungeing out the mash bins and scaring the seagulls from the roof. </p>
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<p>Donny Watson sat listening to the Sproat drone on, watching Gilveray survey them all as if he expected them all
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to be leaving with a dozen bottles down the legs of their overalls, which, considering the state of things,
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wasn't so far fetched. Gilveray would be just fine and dandy, because come what may, he was just a civil servant
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and they'd squeeze him in somewhere else. He treated every drop of whisky as if it was from his own personal
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hoard and like every boss in a uniform he could be a mean-minded bastard. </p>
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<p>"We're gathered here today," Sproat had started and some of the coopers had laughed at that, even though there
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was nothing much to laugh at. "Because there are great changes in the air, and it's best for me to tell you
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about them personally. It's a great opportunity for Aitkenbar to progress and diversify, and frankly, it will be
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a great wrench to me in a personal way, having grown up in this business, here in Levenford."</p>
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<p>There was plenty more of the same and the upshot was that Sproat was moving on and up, investing his money in
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designer drinks and to finance that, well Aitkenbar and Dunvegan distilleries had to go. A team of the maltmen
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had come down from the little distillery on the far edge of the Isle of Skye, a handful of angry workers who had
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travelled two hundred miles to be told it wasn't worth their while going back up north again. Their shop
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steward, Donald Munro stood with his shoulders hunched and his arms folded, glowering like the Cuillin Ridge on
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a November day and muttering under his breath. He'd have to take the word back up to Skye that two hundred years
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of history was washed up and washed out with this tide. </p>
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<p>Mac's bar was full at five, full of long faces and wall-to-wall resentment, but the beer was going down fast
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enough, faster than it ever did at this time in the afternoon. </p>
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<p>"Jack Lorne, meet Donald Munro," Donny did the introductions. </p>
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<p>"Too many Donalds here," the big islander said. "You call me DJ."</p>
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<p>He was drinking dark single malt and that figured, seeing he had grown up with the stuff up there on Skye where
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the water ran though miles of peat and turned the whisky a rich tawny dark. Jack wasn't in the mood for a big
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drink, but solidarity was a great primer and, well, it seemed the thing to do under the circumstances. </p>
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<p>Now he knew he should be drinking coffee, but it was still hot in Mac's and he thought he'd keep an eye on Donny
|
|
who was making a short-term career of getting drunk. Ed Kane matched him drink for drink and while he was a good
|
|
couple of stone lighter, he could hold it a whole lot better. Jack remembered he'd offered to give them a hand
|
|
against Cullen and Foley. He'd a steady look in his eye then and now. Tough. A good man at your back.</p>
|
|
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<p>"Me? I'll get a job somewhere. They always need people to roll barrels and drive a fork-lift."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"That's very good for you," DJ said solemnly. His full black beard made him look ten years older than thirty.
|
|
"But up at Dunvegan, there's nothing at all, at all. "</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"I heard about the cheese plant," Jack put in. "That was a shame. It's happening all over, especially with
|
|
ScotMilk taking everything over."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"That was the problem. It's my cousin's place and he's facing a hard wall, I can tell you. They said it was too
|
|
far to collect the milk and cancelled the contract and now he's left with a herd of five hundred pure jersey
|
|
milkers he'll have to put to market if something doesn't come up. The cheese market's never big enough to use it
|
|
all."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>DJ lifted his whisky and looked at the lights though the dark amber.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"It's like the highland clearances all over again. It's true what they say. Human beings are worth less than
|
|
damned sheep."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p> "You're right," Ed Kane came in. "What Sproat's doing to this town is a pure crime. Flattening the place and
|
|
making a shopping centre car park. That'll be forty shelf stacking jobs paying peanuts."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Jack hadn't been there, but he'd heard the gist of it. Sproat had told them the new closing date was in two
|
|
months time, but they would all be getting a special presentation bottle of the last historic blend of the
|
|
finest whiskies made at both distilleries, a one-off bottling that would be a historic occasion.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"I think we should strike," DJ said in his measured island tones, "and fuck the smarmy bastard. It's well seen
|
|
what he's up to. Same thing happened at Corrievreckan when it closed. They took every barrel from the warehouse,
|
|
almost all of it twenty years old and they made a special presentation box. There was a huge demand for it from
|
|
collectors all over the world, because it was the last whisky ever to come out of there. I heard they were
|
|
selling it for a hundred a bottle."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"They must be crazy paying that," Ed said, but that was understandable, because most of the boys at Aitkenbar
|
|
came out almost every night with a thin sauce bottle of the finest blends and malts stuffed down the legs of
|
|
their overalls and they never paid a penny for it. The Angels' share.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Well, I say we shouldn't let him away with that. We should get everybody on strike and picket the place."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"What good would that do?" Donny's face was red with the heat and the drink. His bruises were healing well.
|
|
"There's too many women on the lines anyway. They never strike."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"It's time we did something," Jack said. "He's screwing you lot and killing the dairy. That's too much power in
|
|
one man's hands."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Did something," Donny demanded truculently. "Like what?"</p>
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|
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|
<p>"It's time we went into business for ourselves."</p>
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|
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<p>"And what business would that be?"</p>
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|
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|
<p>"The success business."</p>
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|
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|
<p>She picked him up at two in the little red Volks. He had waited in the corner caf\u0061, going over the stories
|
|
in the Levenford Gazette. Blair Bryden, who ran the paper had got the stories right, and he'd made a good, if
|
|
subtle attempt in his leader column.</p>
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|
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<div class='block'>It is time to call a halt to the old decline and the new rush to destroy the past.</div>
|
|
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|
<div class='block'>The only thing we learn from history is that we do <span class='noital'>not</span> learn from
|
|
history. The
|
|
closure of two vital facets of the community will have a devastating effect.
|
|
</div>
|
|
|
|
<div class='block'>It is also time for men of good will, of good standing, to look upon their responsibilities and seek
|
|
to
|
|
repay the loyalty and the profits they have received in abundance from this town and its people.
|
|
</div>
|
|
|
|
<div class='block'>As for our civic leaders, it is in their hands to help prevent such a catastrophe in a town already
|
|
hit by a
|
|
succession of closures. In the interests of the young, they should examine what powers they can bring to bear to
|
|
do right by the people who vote them to office. And then they should use those powers for the good of all.
|
|
</div>
|
|
|
|
<div class='block'>In destroying the past, we jeopardise the present, and we endanger the future.</div>
|
|
<p>Jack had smiled. It was easy to read between those lines, but it was a triumph of hope over experience to expect
|
|
Jamieson Bell or any of his snout-in-the-trough burghers to go against Sproat and his old money. Jack remembered the
|
|
old saying. A good politician stays bought, and that lot were right in the cash-bag with the draw-string tight.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>It was good of Blair to give it a try, stand up and be counted, rather than taking the free whisky Sproat sent out to
|
|
anybody he thought he could hook. It was good, but it was only words. What they needed was some action.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Kate pumped the horn and got his attention. He crossed and got in the passenger side. They talked of a few things on
|
|
the way north, with the sun flashing stabs of pure light through the tall sycamores that lined the shore road
|
|
towards Arden, and then they were on the high road that curved inland and then came out at Creggan, a small village
|
|
at the end of the picturesquely rugged peninsula that jutted down into the sunlit estuary.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>She pulled in at Julio's caf\u0061 and they had a fine Italian coffee, watching the waves lap the smooth rocks. She
|
|
bought
|
|
him a piece of millionaire's shortcake and the irony of that made him laugh. It was rich and sweet. He might not be
|
|
getting too much of that in the near future.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Not good news then?" She had finely tuned antennae. He shrugged. He'd been thinking all the way down the line. </p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Some people got upset. They've been there longer than me and they'll be on the dole a long time, them and the
|
|
Aitkenbar crowd. It's really a shame."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"So what's your plan?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"A big Swedish guy says I can come and work on his boat any time."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"<em>That's</em> the big plan?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"I'll speak to him anyway. It could be something new."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"And what about your degree?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>He shrugged again. There were some things he couldn't say. Kate shook her head. "So really, what will you do?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"I'm going to develop anti-gravity, so I can pull myself up by the bootlaces. That's the trick. Everybody can do it.
|
|
All you need is an idea, create a demand, find a supply, screw the competition, beat the tax-man."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"And you can do all of this on a boat?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>He laughed aloud and the old biddies having their afternoon tea turned round, curious. </p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"You never know."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>She slapped his arm and told him to get serious, but he didn't want to talk about it any more. He steered the
|
|
conversation away. </p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The ice-cream was the best Kate had tasted, so she asserted.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"You are a super smoothie," she said as she licked a circle round it, savouring it right down to the wafer. They had
|
|
taken a walk on the south side of Creggan strolling along the path on the high red cliffs that overlooked the sunlit
|
|
reach, and he'd already decided to give the stock-racing a miss. He wouldn't dare tell Jed, or Neil who was a
|
|
mechanical magician, but today, this was better than watching the boys. He needed the quiet, to think and
|
|
reflect.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>They sat for a while, watching the gannets wheel and dive, folding their wings back into cruciform shapes to spear
|
|
into the water, graceful lances. Out on the firth, a few sleek yachts caught the breeze and billowed their
|
|
spinnakers, puffed with pride and money. Over close to the Creggan pier wall, a couple of the usual suspects on
|
|
jet-skis buzzed the shore, irritating wasps.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The air was clean and fresh, with that tang of bladderwrack and kelp and everything else that makes the sea. He sat
|
|
at the edge, peering down the straight hundred feet to the rocks below, while she warned him to beware, concerned
|
|
he'd be too careless.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"That's what I want," he said. She eased closer, nervous of the height. He slipped an arm round her shoulder and she
|
|
went along with it, leant a little closer. Down below, half inside the natural harbour formed by the jutting red
|
|
sandstone wedges, a big Moody forty-footer lay at anchor, sail furled, streamlined, like a fast fish that could
|
|
suddenly flick and be gone in a surge. A couple of people sunbathed on deck.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"You want a boat?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"If you can afford that boat, you've got the freedom to do what you want. That thing will take you round the world.
|
|
You could keep going forever and never have to stop."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Sounds like you want to escape."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Don't you?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>She turned to face him and the sun lit emeralds in her eyes.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Travel maybe, keep on going if you like, but not escape."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"I suppose you're right. Escape isn't the answer."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"What is?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>He tapped his temple. "You have to escape in here. Free yourself up."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>She smiled, slipped a hand round his waist, just a gentle touch, but it made him feel okay.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"You're free to do what you want, Jack Lorne. I told you that before. There's nothing you can't do if you put your
|
|
mind to it. I'm a good judge of character."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"I'd take that as a compliment, if I had a character to judge." He eased her to her feet, pulled her back from the
|
|
edge. "I just have to get out of the way of thinking that other people control my life. Once I do that, it's
|
|
anti-gravity. Only one way, and that's up."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Further along, a narrow trail led an easy way down to the sea level. She held his hand all the way, trying not to
|
|
slip on the dry earth, and when they reached the bottom, he walked along by the water, skipping the flat stones,
|
|
while she hunted for pieces of shells and water-smoothed rocks. She had an artist's eye.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Ahead of them, the tall spar of the big yacht pendulumed slowly in the rising tide, the hull hidden by the big line
|
|
of house-sized rocks that pushed out into the firth. He made his way up onto the boulders and followed the line
|
|
out.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>She had razor shells and a big gannet feather when she joined him out at the edge. A hundred yards out, somebody in a
|
|
wet-suit was diving down in the clear green depths, sending up a shoal of bubbles. The drone of the jet-skis got
|
|
louder as the riders scooted out from Creggan. </p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"If you had a boat, where would you go?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Out to sea," he said. She punched his shoulder.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Don't get smart, smartass. Anyway, I can't join you. I've got things to do."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>He raised an eyebrow, waiting.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"We're trying to set up an organisation to protect the harbour. I spoke to a few friends and we have a constitution
|
|
going. Charter 1315, we'll call it."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Catchy name."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"You think? That's the year after Bannockburn, when Bruce gave us the Royal Charter, made the town a real Burgh, and
|
|
gave the river and everything on it to the people."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Sure, I remember. I went to school too. Don't let the unemployment fool you."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>She punched again, gentler now.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Sproat wants to dump those old buildings in the harbour inlet and reclaim land, which is sheer vandalism. It's going
|
|
to destroy our heritage."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"It will get him another three prime acres and make him a couple of million. That way he gets to build his new spirit
|
|
distillery and wipe out Donny and Ed, kill off Andy Kerr's business and screw up a lot of good honest working
|
|
people."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"But if we can show that the harbour really belongs to the people, we could try to stop him filling it in. And then
|
|
the mall developers won't see it as such a good proposition."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Sounds like a plan," Jack conceded. "But you won't be able to take Sproat on, not without money. A whole lot of
|
|
money. It's the only language these days."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"And I thought you were a scrapper, Jack Lorne. We plan some fund raisers to...."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Jack was suddenly on his feet. "What the hell are they doing?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>She was stopped in mid sentence. He stepped forward on the big rock, looking out at the water. The two jet-skis left
|
|
froth trails behind them, each weaving past the other, both skittering fast on the surface. The engines whined like
|
|
hornets.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Jesus!" Jack was waving his arms now. He bawled out a warning.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Out there where the shore sloped away into the depths, the line of bubbles showed where the diver was getting close
|
|
to the surface.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Fucking idiots," Jack said, almost snarling. Kate had never heard him swear. She was up beside him, shading her eyes
|
|
against the glare.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Whatever prescience he had, Jack saw it before she did, saw it before it happened. The nearest speeder came in close
|
|
to the jutting point, hopping across the troughs. The kid on the back was howling arrogance. His pal tried to catch
|
|
up.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Jack was moving, running across the uneven rock.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The jet ski hit the surfacing diver with such a thump they heard it twice when the echo threw it right back from the
|
|
high cliff.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Oh my god," she blurted.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>He was off, sprinting for the edge. She followed, keeping to the flat sandstone, watching him move, shirt pulling out
|
|
from his jeans, feet thudding on stone. The jet skis veered away, seemingly unaware of what had happened, though the
|
|
boy couldn't have failed to notice. He didn't even look back. A patch of pink tinged the water out from the
|
|
point.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Jack dived, no change of pace, no hesitation, a long, low arc, out and down and he was under. She saw the splash and
|
|
hurried to the edge. The diver was just a dark shape in the water, not moving. Jack reached him in twenty seconds,
|
|
got an elbow round the swimmer's chin, hauled for the low shore on the lee of the rocks. It took him ten minutes of
|
|
hard struggle to drag both of them to the shingle and he stopped just on the waterline, shoulders heaving, lungs
|
|
hauling.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>She ran for them and got down beside the diver, flipping off the mask.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>A bright stain of blood pulsed from a gash high on the crown, blurted through the wet fair hair. He was only a boy,
|
|
sixteen maybe, not much younger than Michael, deadly pale. His eyes were rolled up, showing whites. The breather
|
|
mask hung uselessly where it had been torn free.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Jack got himself to his elbows and knees and flipped the boy on to his side while she loosened the suit. He pushed
|
|
him onto his face and started to press his weight under the shoulderblades. Water trickled from pallid lips.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Come on, son. Come <em>on.</em> Give it a go."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>He pushed again, harder this time, got no response and flipped the sagging youngster back over, grabbed his nose and
|
|
breathed into him.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>He felt the reaction and pulled back. The boy spasmed, every muscle trembling like a taut wire, coughed hard and a
|
|
gout of seawater just missed Jack's face.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Over by the rocks people were shouting. Jack rolled the youngster back on his face and pushed on the ribs, forcing
|
|
him to lie still, helping ease the rest of the water out. The eyes were still wide and blank, but at least the kid
|
|
was breathing again.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>A man with iron grey hair came pounding up.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Jason. Dear God, <em>Jason</em>." They could hear the dread in his voice. A woman was not far behind, screaming her
|
|
son's name.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The boy was suddenly violently sick, just as his parents scrambled down on the shingle to get their hands to him.</p>
|
|
|
|
</div>
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</div>
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</body>
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</html>
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