A red sunset was setting over the waters of the Clyde. Little fiery points danced on the choppy water as he climbed down from the police Land Rover feeling stiff and awkward.
“Elspeth!”
She swung round at the entrance to the flats and stared at him. “What is it, Hamish?”
“What iss it, lassie? You ran away from me in Corsica, you didn’t answer my calls, what on earth did I do?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why?”
“Hamish, I’m tired. Do we need to go into this now? All I want to do is get to bed.”
“Yes, now. Can we go inside?”
“No. Look, Hamish,” lied Elspeth, “I phoned the studio that evening in Corsica and they said someone was trying to take my job. I panicked. I didn’t stop to think. I just rushed off to the airport.”
“But you met me for breakfast the following morning and you didn’t say a word!”
“Look, I left on an impulse. I’m sorry, okay? Now if you don’t mind…”
She turned away from him and went into the block of flats.
Hamish climbed slowly back into the Land Rover and sat deep in thought. What on earth could he have done? That evening before she left, had he said anything to put her off? He remembered that phone call to the hotel and how he’d asked for news of Priscilla. Could she have heard him? Then he remembered that the windows to his balcony had been open; and if Elspeth’s had been open; well, she could have heard him. What if she had followed him in the morning and heard him asking for an engagement ring and assumed it was for Priscilla? Was that it?
Oh, what’s the use, he thought. Just let me get back to Lochdubh.
Elspeth stood at the window. She suddenly turned and ran out of her flat and down the stairs to the street. But she was just in time to see the Land Rover turning the corner and disappearing.
Josie McSween was married. She was now Mrs. Jeffries, married to a divorced lawyer she had met at a meeting, the one who had given her his handkerchief. They had been married quietly in a registry office and had gone to Paris on honeymoon. But even in Paris there were bloody AA meetings where she sat moodily glaring at slogans with legends like LIVE AND LET GOD and wondering what God had ever done for her.
Still, a lot of sex had counteracted her cravings for drink until they were back in Perth and Tom Jeffries, her husband, was once more immersed in work. She knew she did not dare even have one drink because as Tom had pointed out, you can’t bullshit the bullshitters and he would know the minute she had lapsed.
For fear of the press, the wedding had been kept very quiet. She longed to show Hamish Macbeth and all those creeps in Lochdubh that she was now a rich, married lady.
So one Saturday, she startled her husband by proposing that they drive up to Lochdubh. “I know I had an awful time there,” said Josie. “But Sutherland is very beautiful. We could just drive along the waterfront at Lochdubh but not stop.”
Tom had been so busy since the honeymoon that he felt he had been neglecting her. He was disappointed that Josie did not seem to have made any friends amongst the women at the Perth meeting. But, he thought, it was early days. It took some people quite a long time to settle in.
Josie relaxed in Tom’s BMW and looked out the window as the car smoothly moved over the humpbacked bridge and on to the waterfront.
But to her horror, there was the tall figure of Hamish Macbeth, standing in the middle of the road, holding up his hand. Tom slid to a stop and lowered his window. “What’s up?” he asked.
“There’s a great big hole in the road ahead. You’ll need to turn round. Why, Josie? Is that you?”
“Yes,” muttered Josie.
Tom looked at the tall policeman in surprise. “Are you Hamish Macbeth?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Josie and I are married.”
“Congratulations,” said Hamish.
Tom made a three-point turn and drove off. So that was Hamish Macbeth. Josie had described him as quite old and with a sour face and little eyes. But the Hamish he had just met had been an attractive-looking man with fiery red hair and clear hazel eyes. He felt a pang of unease as he glanced at his sulky wife.
“Let’s just go home,” said Josie.
How she endured the rest of the weekend until Tom went back to work, Josie did not know. Every fibre in her body was screaming for a drink. Just one, she thought. Just one little drink.
When Tom went to work on Monday morning, Josie headed for the supermarket. She wandered down the aisle amongst the wines and liquors in a trance.
In his office, Tom phoned his AA sponsor. “I’m worried about Josie,” he said.
“You should be,” said his sponsor. “I tried to warn you. Josie hasn’t hit bottom.”
“But she hasn’t had a drink!”
“She’s white-knuckling it. That lassie’s on a dry drunk.”
Josie had meant to buy a miniature but the supermarket only sold bottles. She got herself a bottle of whisky. She would just take one little drink and pour the rest down the sink.
She carried the bottle home, opened it, sat down at the kitchen table, and poured herself a small measure. As she drank it down, she felt her screaming nerves disappear. One more wouldn’t do any harm. Those numpties at AA didn’t know what they were missing, thought Josie, unaware that they all knew exactly what they were missing, and that’s why they were there.
Jimmy Anderson called on Hamish a month later. “They’re still trying to find a copper for you. But no one wants to move to this dead-and-alive hole.”
“Suits me,” said Hamish.
“Have you heard about Josie?”
“I saw her with her new husband a month ago. Seems to have landed on her feet.”
“She’s about to land in the divorce court, that’s what.”
“Was she unfaithful to him?”
“In a way. Turns out the love of her life is the bottle.”
“That explains a lot,” said Hamish. “Nothing dafter or more devious than an alcoholic.”
“You said it, laddie. Got any whisky?”
After Jimmy had left, Hamish strolled out to the waterfront with his cat and dog at his heels.
Angela, coming out of Patel’s grocery, saw him looking out at the loch and went to join him.
“Grand evening, Hamish. How are things?”
“Quiet. Just the way I like them.”
“You’ve been living in a nightmare for quite a long time,” said Angela sympathetically.
“Well, like I told you, it’s thanks to you alerting Elspeth that I got off the hook.”
“Have you still got any bad effects from the shooting?”
“When it’s cold, my shoulder hurts a bit.”
“I did think when you went off to Corsica with Elspeth that the pair of you might make a match of it.”
Hamish forced a laugh. “It wouldnae work. It would mean I would have to move to Glasgow. I’m still enjoying having my bachelor life back.”
Archie Maclean came up to join them. “Like to come out to the fishing tonight, Hamish?”
Hamish’s face lit up. “I’d like that fine.”
“Aye, see you at the harbour. Bring your beasties.”
Hamish said goodbye to Angela and strolled off. She saw him stop and say to his cat, “Think o’ it, Sonsie. Lots and lots o’ fish.”
Lugs put a paw on Hamish’s knee and he laughed and picked up the dog and hugged him.
Angela walked away, shaking her head. You might think, she reflected, that Hamish Macbeth was married already.
M C Beaton
