The Madness of July by James Naughtie

Author:James Naughtie [Naughtie, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781781855997
Publisher: Head of Zeus

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By six, true to his word, Babble was approaching the house. Sitting bedside him in the car, Abel was absorbing the sights of home, eyes darting from the woods to the high hills ahead of them, then back again, his spirits high. ‘Look at the loch,’ said Babble as it slid into view. ‘See that light? Capital.’ He stopped the car for a moment and Abel rolled down the window. He could smell the trees, and hear the faint sounds of the countryside. Nothing was too loud. Tranquillity. Babble waited for a minute or two before driving slowly round the last curve under the sycamore branches, and through the trees Abel saw the house for the first time for long years. When he’d last been here, Will had been winding up his secret life, and thinking of his first election. Only Mungo had been with him on that visit. It had been in high summer, and nothing seemed to have changed since. The shadows were lengthening before dusk, the sky a cobalt grey, but Altnabuie itself was glowing.

As they pulled up, Abel was ready to spring from the car. Babble said, ‘Off you go then. You’re home.’

Abel got out, and Babble drove round the house and out of sight.

From the gable end, where he stood in a sunny spot, Abel saw his brother on the path leading up from the loch, and caught his profile. Still slim, leaning into the slope, he had kept the lithe ease that Abel had envied in him as a boy. Flemyng was walking slowly towards the house. As if he’d caught some movement by the door, he turned his head.

Abel raised one arm in greeting and he stopped, copied his gesture, and with hardly a pause ran forward to greet him. They met in a haze of relief and after a silent moment fell into each other’s arms.

Neither seemed ready to speak first; time passed before they stood back, and Flemyng looked him up and down. ‘Welcome home. And healthy as a horse.’

Abel laughed. ‘You too, despite it all.’

They walked back together in silence, Abel’s arm on Flemyng’s shoulder, and there was Mungo in the doorway, a broad smile on his face and arms outstretched. ‘A sharpener, I think,’ he said. ‘We’re all here.’ He reached for the whisky bottle that he’d placed on the hall table as a sign of welcome. ‘Old Pulteney. We deserve this, for all kinds of reasons. Your very good health.’

For half an hour they caught up with their stories, and settled into each other’s company. Mungo announced, ‘We’re going to sit down at eight, just like the old days. Babble as well, which is important.’ Flemyng caught Abel’s expression, with its passing hint of surprise.

They went to the orrery, and enjoyed memories of boyhood games, falling under the spell of its shiny mechanism. ‘Time for a lunar eclipse before dinner,’ said Flemyng, fiddling with the lever. They laughed together. Mungo slipped upstairs. Then Abel, refusing to allow the chance to pass, said, ‘I hope we’ll have a good catch-up later, apart from the family.

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