Free Come to Harm by Catriona McPherson Page B

bringing it up, and the meeting was over.
    The Traders straggled out to their cars in weary ones and twos except for Mr. McKendrick, Kenny Imperiolo, and Iain Ballantyne, who came downstairs together and, like a shoal of mackerel, executed a sharp right into the public bar. Mrs. Dessing and Mrs. McLuskie, ruffled and too late for golf, went off for a tetchy half-hour in the practice range. Craig, Murray, and Mrs. Watson came reeling out in fits of giggles and ran into Mrs. Poole and Mrs. McMaster standing at the kerb.
    â€œYour mother and I are just going to take a walk up by,” said Pet McMaster to Murray, nodding her head towards the top of the road.
    â€œD’you want me to come with you?” asked Murray, moving away from Fancy and Craig. “Mum?” Mrs. Poole looked at him without expression, then turned to the beckoning arm of Mrs. McMaster, who bore her away.
    â€œOkay, pal?” said Craig, as they began to head down the street towards home.
    â€œWe all know how it feels to lose a loved one, Murray,” said Mrs. Watson. “No shame in sorrow.”
    â€œI’m fine,” said Murray. “Bloody nuts, anyway.” He spoke too softly for the others to catch his words, then he winked at Craig and went on, louder: “What did you call Sandra Dessing, Mrs. Watson?”
    â€œWhat did you say, Mabel?” said Fancy.
    â€œIt sounded like ‘Vinegar Tits’ to me,” Craig said.
    â€œI did not say any such thing!” Mrs. Watson protested. “Murray, you’re a disgrace to your poor mother and the memory of your father. And you, Craig McKendrick, your uncle would be ashamed of you.”
    â€œHa! Lucky me then,” said Fancy. “No good name to lose!”
    â€œOch, you and your nonsense,” said Mrs. Watson stepping into her shop doorway and picking over a bunch of keys. “I’m away in to give this place a good clean.”
    â€œDon’t forget to wash your mouth out,” said Fancy, but Mrs. Watson just tutted and went inside.
    â€œHey!” said Craig, looking up at the big bay window, where Keiko and Viola were watching them. “I thought she was away into the uni.”
    Fancy shrugged. “She came back. Offered to baby-sit.”
    â€œOffered?” said Craig.
    â€œWell,” said Fancy. “Didn’t say no.”
    â€œShe looks a bit fed up with it,” said Murray, squinting up at Keiko.
    â€œNah, she was fed up already,” Fancy said. “I think she’d been crying.”
    â€œWhat?” said Murray. “Bloody hell, Fancy. Why are we standing around down here staring at her then?”
    _____
    â€œSo how did you get on?” he said, upstairs in the kitchen, blowing on the top of his tea. “First day and all that.”
    â€œFine,” said Keiko. She smiled at him. “Thank you for asking.” Her voice wobbled as she spoke. “Please eat. I have plenty.” The bottom cupboard was stacked with cash and carry multi-packs of Kit-Kats and Bountys and Mars Bars, crackling heaps that threatened to slide out onto the lino whenever she disturbed them. Craig dipped his Twix in his tea and stirred it around before sucking off the chocolate.
    â€œI can’t believe you still do that,” said Fancy, shaking her head at him.
    â€œHow come?” said Craig, taking the Twix out of his mouth with a long suck that put deep dimples in his cheeks and left a ring of chocolate on his lips afterwards. “Don’t you still do anything you used to do at school?”
    Fancy blinked and snapped her head around to stare—without seeing—at Murray instead.
    â€œSo, Murray,” she said. “What’s em … Where’s—yeah!—Where’s your mum off to with Pet, then?”
    â€œCemetery,” Murray said.
    â€œWho’s dead?” Viola asked with her eyes wide.
    Fancy shushed her. “Murray’s daddy, sweetheart,” she said.