Free The Nonesuch and Others by Brian Lumley Page B

fifteen years earlier. So I could sort o’ watch over her while yet enjoyin’ a wee dram with him frae time tae time. That was before his drinkin’ got a lot more disruptive; which, lookin’ back on it now, didn’t take all that long. No, not long at all.
    “Ye see, the fact is he couldn’t face up tae responsibility o’ any kind. Kevin wasn’t a waster as such—he wasn’t a complete good-for-nothin’, ye understand—but simply immature. And when it came tae takin’ charge, makin’ decisions, well, he just couldn’t. Which put a load o’ weight on poor Janet’s wee shoulders. And him feelin’ useless, which I can only suppose he must have, that fuelled the need which only drink could satisfy. And it’s a fact that many alcoholics drink because they’re unhappy. Kevin was unhappy, I’m certain sure o’ that…not with Janet, but with his own weaknesses.
    “Now, I’ve told ye how The Lookout was goin’ downhill. That was partly because it had been up for sale, empty for a year or so, and was in need o’ repairs, some sprucin’ up and a touch o’ paint here and there. And bein’ located inland a mile or so, it wasn’t exactly ye’re typical seafront property. Janet’s plan—and ye’ll note I say her plan, because she was the thinker; aye and the doer, too—was tae refurbish the place in the fall and through the winter, when tourism fell off, and get it ready for the spring and summer seasons, when all the grockles—the holidaymakers—would be back in force. O’course, with bills and a mercifully small mortgage taebe paid, it was still necessary that The Lookout should tick over and stay in the black through that first winter.
    “Anyway, I ken now that I was perhaps a bit insensitive tae what was happenin’ with Kevin; but it was Janet hersel’ brought it tae mah attention. She asked me straight out, but in a verra cordial manner, not tae drink so much with Kevin because it was ‘interferin’’ with business. And I finally saw what she meant.
    “Kevin sometimes worked the bar: oh aye, servin’ drinks was one of the few things he was good at. In fact he was verra good at it! For every drink I bought in the bar when I was done with mah work in the kitchen, there’d be another ‘on the house’ frae him. And for every free one Kevin served me, he’d serve another tae himsel’. The bar was scarcely makin’ a penny because he was drinkin’ it up as fast as he took it in!
    “But though his eyes might glaze and his speech slur a wee, he was rarely anythin’ other than steady as a rock on his feet. That’s the kind o’ drunk he was, aye. Which I suppose makes his passin’ just a might more peculiar. I mean, it was unlike Kevin tae fall, no matter how much he’d put down his neck…But fall he did. Cracked his skull, broke his back, and even crushed his ribs, though how that last came about is anybody’s guess…!”
    When McCann paused to sip at his drink I took the opportunity to get a few questions in. “Kevin’s passing? You mean there was as accident: he got drunk, fell and died? My God! But with all those injuries…that must have been some fall, and from one hell of a height!”
    “Ye’d think so, would ye no?” McCann cocked his head on one side enquiringly. “But no, not really. No more than nine or ten feet, actually; or maybe thirteen, if ye include the balcony wall.”
    The balcony wall? And then, as certain of the Seaview’s hitherto unexplained curiosities—its mysteries—began slotting themselves uneasily into place, suddenly I saw it coming. But to be absolutely certain:
    “And what balcony would that be?” I asked, my own voice and question distant in my ears, as if spoken by some other.
    “The one on the corner there,” he answered. “The balcony on room number seven, which Janet lets stand empty now, though for no good reason that I can see. A room’s a room, is it no? If we were all tae shun rooms or houses where kith and kin died, why, there’d