skin and break a leg?”
“Never mind her. I need some help, Archie. Come into the police station and have a dram.”
Archie’s face brightened. “Grand. But don’t be telling the wife.”
In the police station, Hamish poured two glasses of whisky. “Listen to me, Archie, I need you and some of the more liberal-minded fisherman to help me.”
? A Highland Christmas ?
5
That afternoon, a group of children met outside Patel’s to share sweets and talk about what they hoped to get from Santa Claus. A red-haired little boy called Sean Morrison said, “Folks say Morag has been visiting Mrs. Gallagher.”
There was an amazed chorus, “That old witch! Maybe she’ll put a spell on her.”
Then Kirsty Taylor, a blonde who already had a flirtatious eye heralding trouble to come, said, “I bet you, Sean, you wouldn’t have the guts to go out there and ask for Morag.”
“Bet you I could.”
“Bet you can’t.”
“I’ll go if you all come wi‘ me,” said Sean.
Kirsty danced around him, singing, “Cowardy, cowardy custard.”
“If you don’t come,” shouted Sean, “you won’t know I’ve been there!”
So it was decided they would all go. Sean would knock at the door and they would hide.
¦
“Who can that be?” asked Mrs. Gallagher as she heard the knock at the door.
“I’ll go if you like,” said Morag.
“No, it’s all right.” Mrs. Gallagher opened the door and looked down at the trembling figure of Sean. “Is Morag here?” he asked.
“Come in,” said Mrs. Gallagher.
¦
“He hasnae come out,” whispered Kirsty. “Maybe she’s putting them both in the pot to boil them for her supper. I’ll creep up and peek in the window.”
The others clutched one another as Kirsty crept up to the window. At lasts he came running back, blonde hair flying, cheeks red in the frosty air. “They’re sitting at the fire eating fruitcake,” she gasped. “Fruitcake with icing on top.”
Mrs. Gallagher opened the door and saw the group of schoolchildren, all professing to be friends of Morag. Mrs. Gallagher knew from Morag that the girl craved friends and was shrewd enough to know why this lot had come round. She knew her local reputation.
“Come in,” she said. “There’s plenty of cake and lemonade. But first, you’ve got to give me your phone numbers and I’ll phone your parents and let them know where you are.” She wrote down the phone numbers and names and went to the phone in her parlour. When she returned to the kitchen, Morag was surrounded by chattering children.
“I’ll give you all some cake,” said Mrs. Gallagher, “and then you can all help me to put up the Christmas decorations. I’m a bit late this year.”
When had she last put up decorations? she wondered, looking back down the years. She cut generous slices of fruitcake while Smoky purred on Morag’s lap.
¦
Hamish phoned Maisie Pease. “I’ll be setting off from the war memorial tomorrow,” he said. “Pick you up at one-thirty.”
“Grand, Hamish, I’ll see you there.”
She rang off and then stared at the phone. How odd? Why wasn’t he picking her up at the schoolhouse? She looked through to her neat kitchen where a large turkey lay waiting to be roasted. She had bought a large one to make it look really Christmassy in a Dickensian way. It was too large, she thought. She would be eating turkey for a month.
¦
Jessie and Nessie Currie set out arm in arm for their usual tour of the village. They liked to keep an eye on everything that was going on. As they passed Chisholm’s garage, Ian was hosing down the minibus.
“It’ll freeze in this weather,” said Nessie.
“Freeze in this weather,” echoed the Greek chorus that was her twin sister.
“Just getting it ready for Macbeth,” said Ian.
“And why would he want a bus?” asked Nessie.
“Don’t know. But he’s booked it for Christmas day.”
The sisters headed for the police station, eyes gleaming with curiosity. Then Nessie grabbed her sister’s arm. “Look at that!”
Angela Brodie was pushing a pram along the waterfront. “Herself is past having the babies,” exclaimed Nessie.
“Herself has never been able to have the babies, the babies,” said Jessie.
They crossed the road and stood in front of Angela. “Who does the little one belong to?” asked Nessie.
“Me!” said Angela with a smile, and pushing the pram around them, headed for home.
“It is the fertility treatment,” said Nessie.
They went to the kitchen door of the police station. Jessie peered round Hamish’s tall figure. The kitchen seemed to be full of fishermen.
“What’s going on, what’s going on?” asked Jessie.
“Crime prevention meeting,” said Hamish curtly. “What can I do for you?”
“You hired a bus for the morrow,” said Nessie. “Why?”
“I’m taking some people down to an old folks home in Inverness for a Christmas Day concert.”
The sisters looked at each other. Then they said in unison. “We’ll come.”
Hamish wanted to be rid of them. “All right,” he said. “The bus leaves the war memorial at one-thirty.”
“We’ll be there.”
I don’t want them, thought Hamish, but if that pair is determined to come, there’ll be no stopping them.
¦
At two in the morning on Christmas day, there was a wickedly hard frost, which turned the whole landscape white. Silently and quickly Hamish and the fishermen set to work. Archie paused in his labours to whisper to Hamish, “What will you say if Strathbane finds you out?”
“I’ll say I’m testing them,” Hamish whispered back. “To see if they work. It’s the one day only.”
¦
Christmas day. Morag struggled awake and switched on her bedside light. She knew she should not hope that Santa had brought her anything, but she wistfully thought it would be wonderful if just this year he had decided to stop at her home.
She climbed out of bed and drew back the curtains. Then she let out a gasp. It was snowing, large feathery flakes falling down from a black sky.
But not only that. She rubbed her eyes and looked again. The Anderson house was at an angle so that the windows faced down the waterfront. Fairy lights were winking and sparkling through the snow, and by the memorial was a large Christmas tree, also bedecked in lights.
She hurriedly washed and dressed and was about to rush from her room when she saw a bulging stocking hanging on the end of her bed. Wondering, she tipped out the contents. There was a giant bar of chocolate, a small racing car, nuts and oranges. Santa must have come. Her parents would never have allowed her chocolate.
She went into the sitting room. Four packages wrapped in Christmas paper stood on the coffee table. Eagerly, she opened them up. Three labels said TO MORAG FROM HER MOTHER AND FATHER. In one package was a smoky blue Shetland scarf, in another, a bright red sweater, and in the third, a doll with blonde hair and blue
