AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He’s clammed shut, but I know I’ve got him. It’s about the other kid, got to be.
He stops at the edge of the headland. The tide filling a rock pool at our feet. Salmon-pink anemones clinging to the side. Their tendrils move with the motion of the sea.
‘Gethin showed me what you wrote. Not like you were hard to find.’ I challenge him again.
He kicks his boot into the rock. Stares into the swirling water.
‘Aye, I’ll soon be moving to the city, instead of being a sitting duck idiot for every bugger to chuck their worst at.’ He rubs his chin as he speaks. Head lowered. Shoulders pulled in.
I watch the ebb and flow of the water. How the heck do I get him to tell me what’s going on?
‘You sound like me,’ I say as it occurs to me. ‘I’m always on the run, right? Left my last job in a hurry when the boss went bankrupt without telling me. Same time as deciding he was in love with me. And once I got Ken’s gold, it had to be the bike. Couldn’t wait to be away on it.’
‘Well, you’ve got some guts, hen, I’ll say that for you.’ He looks at me at last. Face drawn and weary.
‘I wouldn’t have the bike without Ken, right? So, it leads back to him. No escaping what’s in here.’ I tap my head. Clocking the truth of this.
Don picks up a driftwood twig. Pokes the end into an anemone, which clamps itself around the stick. ‘Who says I’m after escaping from my heid?’ he mutters.
‘Right, so what is it? Something between you and the folks round here?’
‘What have you heard?’ He glares at me.
‘Nowt, just things you’ve said, right? The folk in Broomdale? Is that like your family HQ?’
‘There’s a distant connection. My father and the Laird are third cousins twice removed or some such. My grandfather liked to boast of our clannish connections, but we mean jack-shit to the Laird.’
‘Is that why you’re so hostile to any mention of them?’ I meet his scowl. Holding eye contact.
He turns and heads for a rocky ledge away from the tideline. Sits and stares ahead of him.
I light myself a cig. Walk over to offer him one. He shakes his head, disapproving. I stand smoking feeling an idiot. How do I get him to tell me about the young lass?
‘Och, the Laird keeps himself aloof, that’s nae bother to me. It’s the ordinary folk cause me grief around here,’ he says at last.
‘Why’s that, then?’ I take a couple of drags. Will myself to give him time. The image of Gethin stone cold on the beach flashes through me again.
‘The old crofting families, they like to moan well enough about English folk with their trendy coffee shops and second homes sending the land prices rocketing. But that’s as nothing to how they see a bit of Glasgee trash bringing in a load of greaser bikers to lower the tone.’ He rocks on his ledge. Staring out to sea.
‘Can’t say I’ve seen the place crawling with bikers,’ I say.
‘No’ the now, but when I first opened the museum was quite popular. The locals were glad enough to help me bring in different tourist money.’ He pulls his lips tight.
Bend to put my cigarette out on the damp sand. ‘So, what happened?’ Pocket the butt. Step towards him. ‘I’ll get it out of you, right?’
He takes a deep breath. Shaking his head as he exhales.
‘You’re no’ one for giving up, are you?’ Glimpse of a smile?
‘Resistance is futile.’
‘Sit down.’ He pats the flat rock beside him.
Do as I’m told. Wait for him to talk.
‘There was this young lassie, Ruthie. From one of the crofting families, two older brothers, they’d already taken against me.’
He pulls a sheepish grin and I nod. Wey-Hey, we’re getting there.
