whisky. He wondered how serious the other man was. Industrialists often made that sort of threat, but they rarely seemed to be carried out. Kenneth was a little surprised that Hamish hadn’t said anything about the factory being in such dire straits, but then his brother did seem to put the church and the factory above family and friends.
‘I don’t know.’ Fergus shook his head. ‘If we weren’t tied to this bit of the country, I’d almost think about chucking it all in and heading off somewhere different - Canada, or Australia, or South Africa.’
It was Kenneth’s turn to look sour. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Well, you’d probably get on fine in the RSA, Ferg. Though that’s the one place I wouldn’t recommend if you want to keep well away from the red tide.’
‘Hmm,’ Fergus nodded, still watching his wife, now talking to Shona Watt. ‘Yes, you may be right.’ He knocked back his drink, turned to the bottle-loaded table behind and poured himself another large whisky.
Antonia clapped her hands, singing out: ‘Come on, you boring lot; let’s all play charades!’
Kenneth drained his glass, murmured. ‘God, I hate charades.’
‘Heniiss ... never liked him either; fat lipped beggar ... queer, y’know; thass wha he’s singing you know; d’you know that? “Scuse me while I kiss this guy... disgussin ... absluley disgussin ...’
‘Fergus, do shut up.’
‘ “Scuse me, while I kiss this guy” ... bloody poofter coon.’
‘I’m sorry about this, Lachy.’
‘That’s okay, Mrs U. You no goin to put your seat belt on, no?’
‘No; not for short journeys -’
‘Lachy? Lachy ... Lachy! Lachy; I’m sorry about your eye ... really really sorry; never forgave myself, never... here, shake ...’
Fergus tried to lever himself up from the rear bench seat of the old Rover, but failed. He got as far as lifting his head and getting one shoulder off the seat, but then collapsed back onto the leather, and let his eyes close.
The car rumbled about him ... even more restful than the noise of train wheels in the old days; he tried to remember the old days ...
‘You sure you don’t mind doing this, Lachy?’ Fiona said, swinging the car off the’main road and onto the drive that led to the castle. The headlights made a tunnel of the trees and rhododendrons.
‘Na, it’s okay.’
Lachlan Watt had been about to leave Hamish and Antonia’s party when Fergus had fallen over and Fiona had decided it was time to take her husband home; she had offered Lachy a lift back to his brother’s house, but when they’d got there Fergus had seemed fast asleep, snoring loudly and taking no apparent notice of Fiona shaking him and shouting at him; Lachy had volunteered to come back to the castle to help get Fergus out of the car and upstairs to bed; Fiona would run Lachy back afterwards.
‘God that man’s a nuisance,’ Fiona said, as they turned the corner in the drive and the lights of the castle came into view against the coal-dark night. ‘Like I say; I could have got the baby-sitter to help me with him, but she’s just a skelf... not our regular girl. She’s built like a rugby player, could probably put Ferg over her shoulder, but not this girl. Leanne’s her name ... that’s her car there; doesn’t look old enough to drive if you ask me ...’
Fiona brought the Rover to a halt behind a beaten-up mini, standing on the gravel in front of the castle’s main entrance.
‘This really is awful good of you, Lachy.’
‘Aye, it’s no problem, Mrs U.’
Fiona turned to him. She smiled. ‘Lacby; it’s Fiona. You make me feel old when you call me Mrs U.’
‘Sorry; Fiona.’ Lachy grinned.
He had been a thin, light-framed boy, and he had grown to become a lean, wiry man; the years of life on merchant ships, and then in Australia, had left his skin looking well-used, like soft and fine-grained - but slightly distressed - leather. His hair was unfashionably short, and both eyes glittered. It was a spare, uncluttered, characterful face, especially compared to Fergus’s.
‘That’s better.’ Fiona smiled. She turned and looked in disgust at the body in the back seat, just as Fergus started to snore again. ‘Well; better get this lump out of the car, I suppose.’
Fergus had gone back into a deep sleep. They couldn’t wake him. Fiona went in to tell the baby sitter she was free to go, while Lachy tried to rouse Fergus.
‘Hoi you; Fergus. Ferg; wake up, man.’
‘Aarg ... Henriss, bassard.’
‘Fergus; wake up,