Snowballs and Scotch Mist by Andrea Frazer

Author:Andrea Frazer
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781783756315
Publisher: Headline
Published: 2014-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

Dinner held only one surprise. As they all trooped downstairs, a pipe was making a noise like a cat in a mangle in the main entrance hall, and each of them looked at the others, to see if anyone had any explanation for this unexpected replacement for Jock Macleod, but it was a complete mystery to all of them.

Their curiosity was satisfied, however, just before the serving of the first course, when Sir Cardew banged a spoon on the table and announced that they had taken on a young piper for a month’s trial, and he was sure they’d all appreciate the presence of his music, not only for dancing at the wake for the previous holder of the post, before their unexpectedly prolonged stay was over, but as a reveille in the mornings. He didn’t look very happy as he announced this.

Hugo groaned, and leaned towards Lady A to whisper, ‘Not again! I had forgotten that there were two seven o’clocks in one day. I haven’t had to cope with that since I did my stint in the army. At that hour, I haven’t finished with the night, and would appreciate being left alone, to an hour that I consider to be the start of the day, and not at a time when I’m well away, and just getting my best quality sleep. And I’d completely forgotten that we were supposed to be having a wake for Macleod.’

‘I’ll slip you a pair of ear plugs, Hugo. Now do stop moaning. A wake won’t hurt you, unless it’s far too early in the morning,’ replied Lady A acidly, quite exasperated with a Hugo who saw ghosts, did cartwheels down nursery slopes, and then got squiffy.

Conversation was all about their day’s outings, the cold, the beauty, and the atmosphere in the ice-encrusted forest. As the meal ended, and the guests adjourned for ‘coffee’, Sir Cardew left them. He always smoked his daily post-prandial cigar outside at the base of the west tower.

Leaning contentedly against the stone wall, he looked out on the winter scene of clusters of light, and the great shadows of the forest and hills, black lumps weakly illuminated but unidentifiable in the dim light of the stars. The moon was new, and hiding modestly behind a cloud on this, her debut night.

Puffing contentedly on his cigar, appreciative of the rich, pungent smoke it produced, and which Siobhan hated so much, he was a happy man, with the exception of one fly in his metaphorical ointment, but he wouldn’t allow himself to dwell on this. This was his daily dream-time. Sir Cardew looked deep into his mind and dreamt.

Sometime later, back in the drawing room, coffee was now over and a ghastly non-alcoholic liqueur was being served (these being kept separate in this household). Lady Siobhan gathered her guests close enough to listen, and asked them if they had ever seen the family broadsword. On receiving a uniformly negative answer, she offered to take them to view it

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