at this moment, in fact. I haven’t seen him for a couple of years, though he used to come and shoot on occasion. He is a bit of a practical joker at times, but ...’ Fergus looked thoughtful. He shrugged. ‘Rory did tell me something once about setting fire to a barn on the estate once; accidentally, when he was very young. That might tie in with these match boxes ...’ He shook his head, inspected the contents of his glass. ‘But I don’t think I ever mentioned that to Rupert.’
I felt sick. ‘Nothing about ... some pieces of writing makes any sense, does it?’
‘Writing?’ Fergus said, tilting his head, one eye narrowing. He shook his head. ‘No. Whose writing?’
‘Rory’s. Based on something that you saw here; up in the roof-space of the castle, and which you told Rory when you were in that bothy together. The night you shot the rat.’
Fergus had leaned forward again. He looked totally bemused. Finally he jerked upright and laughed. He looked at the glass he held. ‘Maybe I should lay off this stuff. You’re making less and less sense as you go along here, Prentice. Rory and I did spend a night in a bothy once, on the estate. But there wasn’t any ... rat.’ He smiled and frowned at the same time. ‘Or any shooting. I don’t think we even had guns with us; we were fishing some of the out-of-the-way lochans and streams.’ He sighed, giving the impression of patient weariness. ‘Is this something you’ve read?’
‘Yes,’ I conceded.
‘What, in your father’s papers, since his death?’ Fergus looked as though he felt pity for me.
I nodded, trying not to look down from his gaze. ‘Sort of,’ I breathed.
‘And who is meant to have seen what?’ He raised one finger to his mouth, bit briefly at a nail and examined it.
‘None of that makes any sense to you, does it?’ I said. ‘No ... confession, revelation? Nothing to do with Lachy Watt?’
Fergus looked hurt. He swirled the glass, drained it. ‘That was a very long time ago, Prentice,’ he said quietly.
He looked at me more sorrowfully than accusatorily. ‘We were only children. We don’t always appreciate the seriousness of what we do ...’ He glanced at his empty glass ... ‘when we’re younger.’
He put the glass on the table.
I couldn’t match his gaze, and lowered mine again. I felt dizzy.
I heard Fergus take in a breath. ‘Prentice,’ he said, eventually. ‘I was quite close to Kenneth. He was a friend. I don’t think we saw eye-to-eye on anything really, but we ... we got on, you know? He was a gifted man, and a good friend, and I know I feel the loss. I can imagine how you feel. I ... I’ve had my own ... What I mean is, it isn’t an easy thing to cope with, when somebody that close dies so suddenly. Everything can look ... Well, everything can look very black, you know? Nothing seems right. You even resent other people their happiness, and, well, it just all seems very unfair. It is a terrible strain to be under; don’t think I don’t appreciate that. And just now, when the world seems ...’ He took another deep breath. ‘Look, old son -’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, stopping him. I smiled shakily. ‘Uncle Fergus; I’m very sorry I came here. I’ve been silly. I don’t know what I was ...’ I shook my head, looked briefly down. ‘I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ve not been getting much sleep recently.’ I smiled bravely. ‘Watching too much television, maybe.’ I waved one hand round a little, as though flailing out for something just beyond reach, then shrugged. ‘I’m sorry,’ I concluded.
Fergus looked serious for a moment. Then he gave a small smile. He crossed his arms again. ‘Oh well. I think everything looks a bit sort of mad, really, at the moment, doesn’t it?’
‘A bit,’ I agreed. I sniffed, wiped my nose with a paper hanky.
‘Sure you won’t have that drink?’ Fergus said.
I nodded, stuffed the hanky back into my jeans. ‘No thanks, I have to drive. Better be getting back.’
‘Right you are,’ Fergus said.
He saw me to the door. He patted me on the shoulder as I stood in the doorway. ‘Don’t worry, Prentice, all right?’
‘Yeah,’ I said.
‘Oh, and I don’t know if your mother’s mentioned it -’
‘Opera; Friday.’ I smiled.
Fergus smiled too, jowls wobbling. ‘Ah, she has.’
‘Yes. No problem,’ I said.
‘Jolly good. Well, that’s all right then.’ He offered