The Harper's Quine: A Gil Cunningham Murder Mystery by Pat McIntosh

Author:Pat McIntosh [McIntosh, Pat]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2009-05-03T10:57:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

‘But can you believe anything he says?’ Alys asked, jiggling the baby on her hip. ‘Dance a baby, diddy!’

,It is obvious he needs the child,’ said Gil, looking at it with more interest. ‘And if he’s wise, he’ll try to convince his uncle without showing it to him. Even by candlelight, it’s dearly the harper’s get.’

J 1 V The baby grizzled at this, but Alys said indignantly, ‘It’s a boy. Aren’t you, my little man?’ she crooned to the baby.

J ‘Why is he crying?’ asked her father resignedly. ‘Is he hungry?’

‘No, because we fed him just now. And he’s all clean …’ She sniffed at the child’s nether regions. ‘Yes. I think he wants his mammy, poor little boy.’

‘May I take him?’ Gil put his hands out. She hesitated. ‘I am an uncle,’ he assured her, and after a moment she handed him the bundled baby.

He had forgotten what it felt like to hold a child this age, small and solid and totally dependent on the adult arms. By the time he remembered, his left elbow was crooked to support back and swaddled legs, and his right thumb was offering itself as a grasp for the small hands. The baby, perhaps hoping this new person might be the one he was looking for, stopped wailing long enough to inspect him.

‘There’s a bonnie fellow,’ said Gil, and was suddenly assailed by longing. He bounced the baby gently, and turned the little face to the light. Dark wispy eyebrows and deep-set blue eyes scowled at him; the lip quivered above a jaw alarmingly like Ealasaidh’s. ‘What a bonnie boy,’ he said hastily, and tried one of the tossing-up tricks other babies had enjoyed. Although this baby did not laugh as his nephews did, he showed no immediate signs of disapproval, but waved his arms as he was caught. Gil tried it again, and the bells on the coral pinned to the infant’s chest rang merrily.

‘He’s not long been fed,’ Alys pointed out. ‘Shall I take him?’

‘That’s what my sister always said.’ Gil handed the baby over reluctantly. As Alys left, the small face peered round her shoulder, looking for Gil. He waved, feeling rather foolish, and sat back as the door closed behind them both, wondering why there seemed to be less light in the room.

‘It is late,’ said the mason. ‘We only got over the bridge because Sandy the tanner had not yet returned to shut the Brig Port. If you are to go back up the brae before the moon sets -‘

‘True.’ Gil turned his attention to the box in front of him. ‘Have we something on which to make an inventory?’

‘I have,’ said Alys, returning. ‘And pen and ink.’ She stood at her father’s tall desk, dearly well accustomed to the position, and lit another candle, which gleamed on the honey-coloured fall of her hair.

‘Then let us commence,’ said Gil, drawing his gaze with reluctance from the sight.

The box was not a large one, but sturdy, the kind of thing a country joiner might make for a woman to keep jewellery in.

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