Whirligig by Magnus Macintyre

Author:Magnus Macintyre
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atria Books/Marble Arch Press

-9-

Do I step on the brake to get out of her clutches?

Can I speak Double Dutch to a real Double Duchess?

‘New Amsterdam’, Elvis Costello

Meeting Peregrine’s younger sister, the gorgon Bonnie Straughan, for dinner at her house was far from being a prospect he relished, but Claypole’s joyous mood was not easily dimmed following his private triumph on the golf course. He even hummed as he skipped damply into the Loch Garvach Hotel and acquainted himself with his cramped room that now smelled of fried fish. He dried himself and put on some of his own clothes. Though there was no time to rest, he consoled himself that he would sleep in the hotel bed that night.

It had stopped raining when he emerged, and the evening sunshine blazed again on the damp street outside the hotel. With a skip, he hopped into the cab of the Land Rover and turned the key in the ignition. It made a noise like a rheumatic donkey, and then died. This evening, Claypole was not to be got down by the Fates. One quick ‘fuckety fuck’ was all he allowed himself by way of demonstrable irritation, and got out of the Land Rover whistling. A pair of hiking-booted tourists – German, if he’d been forced to guess – were watching him with curiosity. He gave them a ‘good evening’, and walked back into the hotel to order a taxi.

Bobby Henderson – he of the electric car hire – also ran Garvachhead’s only taxi service. Claypole feared Henderson might know about the totalled electric car by now, and be on the hunt for Gordon Claypole. So under the name Barry Macbeth, Claypole called for the taxi to take him to Bonnie Straughan’s house. Henderson, a garrulous pot-bellied Yorkshireman, refused to drive his Mercedes down Bonnie Straughan’s pitted drive, and Claypole was forced to walk the last half-mile. Claypole swore as he walked along the gorse-lined track, and stumbled over rocks and fell into muddy potholes when his eye was taken from the track to the fabulous view across the loch. The green and light-brown hills rose up at a gentle gradient from the shore on the other side of the loch, which seemed a stone-skip away. The heather-covered mountains behind glowed a brownish purple in the golden evening light, and even Claypole, who never thought he had cared much for views, could not help but be impressed by the magnificence of the scene. But this uppish mood was destined not to last, for the sun was on its way down. The sun going down on a still, cloudless day at any point between April and October can mean wonderful sunsets in Scotland, and gladdens the heart of every visitor. But it also means midges, particularly in August.

It is very fortunate for the Scots, and any guests in the country, that the walking pace of an adult human, if they are reasonably fit and not doing anything to delay their pace (such as having a conversation, or admiring the scenery), is just greater than the flying pace of a midge.

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