Murdo's War Read Free Page A

himself, Donald followed at a safe distance behind.
    The track from the graveyard to the main road was potholed and twisted, with tussocks of frozen grass between the wheel tracks. It was quite short, however, and in two or three minutes the cars drew up at the first house.
    As Hector opened his door Donald wound down the window and called across. ‘I’ll not stop. Better get this lad back to his aunt or we’ll all be for it.’ He looked at the boy beside him who twisted with frustration and made a face. ‘Now stop that, Lachlan, you know I’m right. We’re more than an hour late as it is. And it’s an early start in the morning.’ He turned back to Hector. ‘The boy’s coming down with me tomorrow to see our Jessie in Edinburgh. I promised I’d give them a visit.’
    ‘Is that right, Lachlan? Surely you’ll be missing your lessons. Would it not be better for you to stay at the school?’
    The boy looked down at his knees, unsure how to take Hector’s teasing. Then his head came up. ‘My dad said I could go.’
    ‘Aye, so he did,’ Donald agreed. ‘Last time he was on leave – if the lad worked hard and kept his nose clean with his auntie. The schoolmaster’s given him some books and extra homework – and I tell you, our Jessie will make sure that he does it.’
    Hector laughed and felt in his pocket for a half-crown. ‘Here, Lachlan, you take yourself away to the pictures. Never mind all them books.’
    Somewhat shyly the boy leaned across and took the money.
    ‘And Donald, you take that watery man of Jessie’s a bottle or two of this whisky,’ Hector called. ‘Do him all the good in the world; better than them religious tracts he’s always reading.’
    ‘Oh man, shut up. It’s more than my life’s worth. I daren’t even take one for myself. She’s terrible down on the drink, and he’s just putty in her hands.’ Donald started the car.
    ‘Aye, well, be good.’
    Murdo leaned across and called through the open door. ‘Donald, tell Lachlan I’ll be along in about an hour. He’s not to go to sleep.’
    The boy’s face appeared in the window. He raised a hand. With a roar the car pulled away, wheels crunching on the frozen track. Soon it dipped from sight down the steep hill that led to the crossroads. Standing on the verge with the bitter breeze blowing in his face, Murdo heard it slow, then draw away up the road towards the old manse where his aunt and uncle lived.
    From within the cottage there was the sound of movement, and a bolt rattled in the front door. It swung open. A young woman stood in the entrance holding an oil lamp.
    ‘Hector, I guessed it was you. I had a feeling it was about time you were up to your nonsense again. Come away in.’
    ‘Mary, my linnet! You’re looking lovelier than ever. My own Florence Nightingale.’ The old seaman planted a whiskery kiss on her cheek.
    She smiled and pushed him away. ‘Never mind that, you old goat. Just go on through.’
    Pulling off his woollen cap, Hector stepped past her into the dark hallway full of coats.
    As Murdo followed, she laid a restraining hand against his shoulder. ‘And you’ve been with him, all the way this time. Don’t tell me, I can see well enough.’ She laughed, sadness mingling with the affection. ‘You’re going to end up as bad as himself.’
    After the moonlight and bitter frost, the living room was a jewel of warmth. The walls were of golden pine; a tilly lamp hissed softly on a dresser and a bright fire glowed in the hearth.
    ‘Surely you had a good load of peats this year, Willie, with a blaze like that.’ Hector’s blue eyes were watering from the cold. He wiped them and stretched a hand towards the flames. ‘It’s good to feel the heat when you come in.’
    ‘Indeed by the smell of you, Hector, you should be warm enough already,’ cried the sharp old lady who sat at the fire. ‘Don’t give me your usual old flannel. I suppose you’ll be bringing some more of that poison in for Willie