Empty Nets and Promises Read Free Page A

no’?’ Jenny’s face brightened. ‘I must admit, I’m no’ enjoying my dinners jeest noo. No’ much tae look forward tae when you’re having cauliflower cheese and vegetable broth every night.’
    â€˜No’ dae much for your wind, neither,’ observed Hoynes.
    â€˜If folk were meant tae eat plants and naethin’ else, then how come they made a Sunday roast so tasty? If I was you, Jenny, I’d put a’ that nonsense oot o’ my mind and go and get yoursel’ a pie fae Blue’s. You’ll be needin’ tae keep your strength up if you’re courting. Who’s the lucky boy, anyhow?’ asked Hamish.
    â€˜Here he is coming up the street noo,’ she replied. ‘No stranger tae the pair o’ yous, anyway, I’m thinking.’
    Sure enough, a slim young man in a suit that looked at least a size too big for him was making his way up Main Street towards them, clutching a small bunch of flowers.
    â€˜Skipper, Hamish,’ said Peter, his face flushing. ‘I hope your meeting went well.’
    â€˜You sly young dog, Peter,’ said Hoynes. ‘But did you no’ keep your romancing close to your chest.’
    Peter shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. ‘Oh, this is oor first date, isn’t it, Jenny?’ He smiled bashfully at the young woman who nodded and threaded her arm through his.
    â€˜And if we don’t get a move on, we’ll miss the film, Peter.’
    â€˜Aye, you’re right. I’ll see you bright and early on Monday morning, skipper,’ said Peter as Jenny dragged him down the street.
    â€˜Aye, see you’re in good fettle, tae. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, young man,’ said Hoynes. ‘And tell your faither we’re asking for him, Jenny.’
    They watched as the pair walked arm-in-arm down Main Street.
    â€˜There’s no justice, Hamish.’
    â€˜No, you’re right there – none at all.’
    â€˜How a miserable bugger like Watson the Fishery Officer can produce a bonnie wee lassie like that, I’ll never know. If Maggie was as ship-shape in the beam as young Jenny, we’d have been rid o’ her years ago.’
    â€˜But then you might have a boy like Peter for your future son-in-law, not a police sergeant, Sandy.’
    â€˜You’ve the right of it again, Hamish. Auld heid on young shoulders, right enough. Come on, you, and let’s get a dram o’ this poison fae Skye.’
    â€˜I daresay I’ll manage tae force one doon, skipper,’ replied Hamish with a grin.

4
    Hoynes lived in a neat, two-storey, semi-detached council house on the outskirts of Kinloch. Despite the time of year, there was a crackling fire in the grate; on the mantelpiece sat an ornamental ship’s wheel flanked by old black-and-white photographs and a pair of brass candlesticks. The three-piece suite was old but comfortable, and as Hoynes went to fetch the whisky Hamish felt his eyelids grow heavy. A small television in the corner of the room flickered silently to nobody in particular.
    â€˜I don’t know why they insist on leaving that thing on when there’s nobody in the room. Instead o’ turning the sound down, why dae they no’ jeest turn it off,’ complained Hoynes, brandishing a bottle in his large right hand. ‘I’m fair crippled wae they electric bills. In the winter you can see this hoose fae miles aboot – lit up like the Ardnamurchan lighthoose, it is – every light in the place on. Aye, and us all sitting in here by the fire. Fair profligate they women are.’
    â€˜A waste o’ electricity,’ muttered Hamish, looking absently at the television screen, where Andy Stewart was busy mouthing the words to a song they couldn’t hear.
    Hoynes switched off the set, then slid open the glass door of the display cabinet which sat next to the television. ‘Since you’re no’ jeest anybody, you can