Angus had a way of looking at you as if you werecompletely deranged. ‘Well, her husband’s just been killed, as I expect ye’ve noticed.’ He continued oiling the hinges.
‘I know that, but I think it would be good for her to have some contact with you. I’ve tried to suggest they take a walk up here, but none of them seem keen on leaving the malthouse.’
‘Lazy lot,’ he said.
‘I wondered if you might pop in sometime – just have a little chat with her perhaps?’
Angus grunted. ‘She wants to talk to me, she can come here.’
‘I think they’re afraid of the press,’ Ally said. ‘There’s been a few reporters and TV crews around.’
‘We all have our jobs to do,’ he said, laying down the oil can.
Ally realised she was getting nowhere. ‘It was just a thought,’ she said lamely.
‘Let me tell ye somethin’,’ he said. ‘My niece is as tough as one of my old boots. She comes from a strong family.’
‘Well, she’s pretty vulnerable at the moment,’ Ally said.
‘She’ll soon recover and move on. That’s what Pat does. Don’t go wastin’ any tears onher!’ He continued looking at her. ‘Between you and me, I never liked her husband; he was far too fond of himself. She should’ve married a local lad.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Och, maybe it’s as well she didn’t because she was never any good at keepin’ her knickers on.’ He spoke completely matter-of-factly. ‘Let me tell you, Mrs Malthouse, that bullet was meant to look as if it came from the earl or myself because we are both crack shots. Or maybe the two lads workin’ fer me, Gordon and Tom.’
Angus had never taken the time to find out Ally’s real name.
‘And you didn’t get down to the games at all?’ she asked.
‘I had more important things to do. And so did the lads. Did ye not know we had a break-in and that rifle taken? I had the police here for most of the day, so I went nowhere. Nowhere at all. And certainly not taking potshots at some bloody Canadian!I want that rifle back when they’re finished with it! And let me tell you this – we save our skills for the deer and the rabbits,’ he added before turning on his heel and disappearing into the tractor shed.
Ally sighed as she and Flora made their way back home. The meeting had not been a great success, and it was obvious that Angus hadn’t the slightest intention of visiting the malthouse to console his wayward niece.
Flora gave an excited bark as she spied a rabbit, and Ally decidedshewas barking up the wrong tree.
When she got home, Ross phoned.
‘There’s been no end of trouble with getting this damned boiler fitted,’ he said. ‘What with bits missing, a pipe cracked and the plumber swearing. Just as well this cottage isn’t booked until the end of the month because it’s going to need some replastering and redecoration at the very least.’ He sighed. ‘I’m feeling worn out, so why don’t we go down to have a drink and something to eat at the Craigmonie tonight?’
‘Great idea,’ Ally agreed.
‘I need to get away from the chaos here, and you need to get away from your stricken guests. How did you get on with Angus by the way?’
‘Waste of time – tell you later.’
‘See you around six, my lovely,’ he said.
After she finished the call, Ally made herself a cup of tea and sat down in the armchair. The house was warm, and Flora was already stretched out on the fireside rug, fast asleep. She felt weary too as she sipped her tea and relaxed.
The next thing she knew it was half past five. There was a hungry-looking dog waiting for her dinner on one side of the chair and a cold cup of tea on the other.
By the time Ross had parked up, at five past six, in his big, black Mercedes, Ally had had a quick shower and a change of clothing.
They decided to take a drink in the Craigmonie Bar first, as opposed to the hotel’s cocktail bar, before going into the restaurant. This popular bar was manned by Ivan from Lithuania, his only help being a girl who went backward and forward to the main hotel kitchen to collect epicurean delights such as pies, sausage rolls and chips, greatly welcomed by the locals as they stopped off for a few pints of beer on their way home from work. They’d be back later after what they called their ‘tea’ and would put the world to rights with a further few pints. This group normally included Murdo and his two sons.
‘Ah,’ said Ivan, hastily placing his whisky glass under the bar. ‘Good to see you both. What can I get you?’
‘We’ll have two gin and tonics, please, Ivan,’ Ross said, ‘and make them doubles! And put another shot of Scotch in your glass!’
‘Thank you!’ Ivan retrieved his glass and did just that before he poured their drinks. As he placed them on the counter, he said sadly, ‘The past few days have been so quiet, ever since the games.’ He pointed at a group huddled together in the far corner of the bar. ‘See them? They are from the television, the newspapers, and they hope, I think, that the Armstrong family will come in here for drinks maybe. But not yet.’ He turned to Ally. ‘Perhaps they do not drink?’
‘Yes, they do drink,’ Ally replied. ‘Certainly when they’re stressed.’ She recalled the evening after the games. ‘But they don’t seem to like going out.’ She pointed at the group in the corner. ‘Because ofthem. They’re avoiding the press.’ She and Ross clinked glasses as she took her first sip.
