Santa Claus but Prentice still gets presents at Christmas, doesn’t he?’
‘Ah!’ Ashley said, pointing at him. ‘That’s different, Mr McHoan; there’s hunners of them!’
He took a step back, looked shocked. ‘You little barrack-room barrister; what sort of extra-mural comment is that?’ He threw his arms out wide again. To his shock, Ashley jumped right into them, yelling,
‘Jurmonimo!’
The girl slammed into his chest, clunked her head off his chin, little arms whacking round his neck, knees hoofing into his stomach. He put his arms out to hold her, staggered back, almost fell, aware that behind him were the twins, sitting on the grass.
He bent his knees, flexed his back, and did not collide with or fall over the twins. He wobbled upright with Ashley still clinging to him, legs round his waist now. She smelled ... sweaty, was probably kindest. ‘Well,’ he wheezed, winded. ‘Thank you for that contribution, Ashley.’ The others were relatively quiet. Ashley was rubbing her forehead vigorously with one hand. He frowned, lifted the girl away from his chest so he could look at her face. Apart from being grubby, it looked all right. ‘What did you shout, Ashley?’
‘Please, Mr McHoan,’ the wee rough voice said, ‘Ah said JURMONIMO!’
He started to laugh and had to put her down. He went to his knees, then sat down and rolled over. All the rest joined in except Ashley, who stood, arms folded, bottom lip stuck out fiercely.
‘This isnae funny,’ she said, turning away. ‘Ah’m away tae get fed.’
‘Ha ha ha ha,’ Kenneth McHoan said, holding his tummy. ‘Ha ha.’
‘Were your classes this hilarious?’
Kenneth opened his eyes.
‘Uncle Rory!’ Prentice said, and ran for the man; the boy jumped up onto him rather the way Ashley had leapt down onto his father. Rory laughed and caught him, swung him around, let go an arm and grabbed a leg, whirling the boy round once. ‘Wheee!’ Prentice yelled. Rory landed him one-handed.
Kenneth went to Rory, hugged him. ‘God, man, it’s good to see you.’
‘You too, Ken.’
‘You just get back?’ Kenneth laughed.
‘Ten minutes ago.’
The two men separated; Kenneth looked his brother up and down.
‘Uncle Rory! Uncle Rory! Do some magic; do a trick!’
Rory’s chestnut curls had been cut back to what was almost a crew-cut; his face was tanned, clean-shaven. Rory pursed his lips, took a coin from his pocket, bent down to the children, made the coin progress across the knuckles of one hand, then disappear into his fist; he waved over it, and when the fist became hand, the coin was gone. Squeals.
Rory looked lean and a little tired; his jeans were white with wear, and frayed at one knee. He wore a cheesecloth shirt and smelled vaguely of patchouli.
The coin re-appeared behind Diana’s ear. She put one hand to her mouth, eyes wide. The others went, ‘Yaaayy!’
Kenneth grinned, shook his head, as Rory straightened, a little stiffly. ‘More! More! Do it again!’
‘Later,’ Rory said, looking serious, mysterious, and winking.
‘So,’ Kenneth said. ‘How’s the world?’
Rory shrugged, ‘Still there.’
‘Back for long?’
Another shrug, and an easy smile. ‘Dunno. Maybe.’
‘Well,’ Ken said, putting one arm round his brother’s shoulders and starting to walk towards the path, where the still-frowning form of Ashley Watt stood, arms crossed tight as her brows. Ken smiled broadly at her, glanced at Rory. ‘Better get all the family in the one place before you start answering questions; otherwise you’ll get fed up telling the same stories all the time.’ Kenneth turned round, waved to the rest of the children. ‘Come on, rabble; your Uncle Rory’s back from exotic places and he’s got much better stories than me!’
The children started after them. The two men came up to Ashley; Rory ruffled her hair. She frowned. Kenneth lifted her up with a grunt, held her dangle-legged in front of him. ‘Sorry if I upset you, Ashley,’ he told her.
‘Huh, okay, Mr McHoan,’ she said. ‘Ah’m sorry ah swore.’
‘Okay,’ he set her down.
She looked down the hillside to the forestry track that led back to Lochgair, glanced up at him, then back at the other children, and said loudly, ‘Ah bet ah can be back at the hoose first, though but.’ She turned and ran.
The rest raced after her, whooping and hollering past Kenneth and Rory.
Kenneth shook his head. ‘Preprandial stampede; traditional,’ he told his brother. He made a show of squeezing Rory’s boney shoulder. ‘Woa; feels like you could do with a bit of feeding up yourself.’
‘Yeah,’ Rory said, looking down at the heather. ‘Well, my stories might be a bit thin,