Empty Nets and Promises Read Free Page B

have your dram oot o’ a crystal glass.’
    â€˜What’s the racket upstairs, Sandy?’
    â€˜Aye, you wid think there was a herd o’ baby elephants up there, no’ jeest the wife and daughter. They’re having the show o’ presents next week, so they’re busy getting the hoose ready.’
    â€˜Surely folk won’t be parading aboot in your bedroom?’
    â€˜That’s where you’re wrong. The bloody presents are tae be in oor bedroom – three nights o’ it. I’m going tae sleep on the boat. I canna be footered wae all this upheaval.’
    Marjorie Hoynes looked on as her daughter admired herself in the wardrobe mirror. Maggie had chosen a plain white wedding gown. At thirty-five, she was far too old to be flouncing about in a fancy big meringue.
    â€˜We’ll maybe get a shawl for you, Maggie.’
    â€˜A shawl? It’s July, Mother. I’m already worried that I’ll melt.’
    â€˜Och, sure you know, a good shawl can hide a multitude o’ things,’ said Marjorie, her eyes drifting to the back of the dress again.
    â€˜You mean it’ll hide my rear end.’
    â€˜Now, I never said such a thing. A shawl would complete the outfit. You could drape it o’er your shoulders, like so . . .’ Marjorie mimed the action.
    â€˜And then I could drape it further over my big backside.’
    â€˜No, no, not at all. That’s not what I meant. I could knit one – there’s still time.’
    â€˜Aye, and you can maybe knit me a bikini for my honeymoon while you’re at it.’
    Marjorie thought for a moment or two. ‘I widna recommend bathing in a knitted swimming costume, dear. The wool would just get waterlogged, and . . .’
    â€˜And then Duncan would get a right good look at my arse.’
    â€˜Och, there’s no reasoning with you, Maggie. You’re just as stubborn as your faither.’ She folded her arms and looked away from her daughter.
    â€˜What’s that I’m hearing?’ said Maggie eventually.
    Her mother cocked her head. ‘It’s your faither doonstairs. He must be back fae his meeting.’
    â€˜I bet he’s guzzling that good bottle of whisky my Duncan brought him last week . . . I can hear another voice too.’
    The women both looked into space and listened more intently.
    â€˜That’s Hamish,’ confirmed Marjorie. ‘Ye canna mistake the drawl. If you ask him nicely he’ll likely tell you if you’ll have a boy or a lassie when the time comes. He’s got the sight, the same as his faither and grandfaither afore him.’
    â€˜Well, that’s the end of the whisky, then. I was hoping Faither would keep it for raising a toast at the reception.’
    â€˜Maggie Hoynes! When have you ever known a bottle o’ whisky last mair than a few days in this hoose? It’s like sitting a monkey doon in front of a banana tree and expecting it tae take a look and say, “Och, I’ll just leave them until next week”. Your faither lacks willpower when it comes tae a dram, and that’s a fact.’
    â€˜Would you say they’re whispering?’
    The Hoynes women strained to hear the muffled conversation coming up through the floorboards.
    â€˜They’ve definitely lowered their voices – and that’s never a good sign. Aye, an’ maist unusual tae when they’ve had a few drinks.’
    â€˜They’ll be planning something devilish for my Duncan’s stag night,’ said Maggie, slipping out of her wedding dress. ‘I warned faither aboot it. Duncan can’t be seen to be up to any high jinks, not with him being the police sergeant.’
    â€˜Dae you mind whoot they did tae poor Johnny Souter? Och, it was a sin.’
    â€˜Well, if they think they’re going to set Duncan adrift on a raft in the Atlantic, they can think again. The poor bugger nearly got washed all the