Macbeth

‘I don’t know what he does most.’ Meredith smiled. ‘Look forward to something or dread it. The boy he had a fight with yesterday is in the class above him, and Ewan said the boy kicked little Peter first.’

‘Who?’

‘Ewan’s best friend.’

‘Oh, him,’ Duff lied.

‘Ewan said he was sorry but he had to defend his pal; Dad would have done the same. So he’s keen to hear what you have to say.’

‘I’ll have to be balanced then. Condemn his behaviour but praise his courage. Say something about taking the initiative to make up instead of waging war. Reconciliation, right?’

‘I’d appreciate that.’

And as he and Meredith glided out through the water Duff decided there and then that he would never swim anywhere except in their little lake in Fife.

‘Here it is,’ Meredith panted behind him.

Duff turned onto his back so that he could watch her while he floated, moving his hands and kicking his feet. His body was pale with a greenish tint under the water whereas hers, even in this light, was golden brown. He spent too much time in town; he had to get more sun.

She swam past him and crawled ashore onto a large water-smoothed rock.

Not any rock. Their rock. The rock where their daughter was conceived one summer’s day eleven years ago. They had come to Fife to escape the town and had found this lake almost by chance. They had stopped because they saw an abandoned little farm Meredith thought looked so sweet. And from there they saw the water glitter, walked for ten to fifteen minutes and found the lake. Although the only other creatures by the lake were a couple of cows, they had swum to this hidden rock across the water where it was unlikely anyone would see them. A month later Meredith had told him she was pregnant, and in total euphoria they went back, bought the house midway between the lake and the main road and after their second child, Ewan, was born, the plot by the lake where the cabin now stood.

Duff clambered up next to her on the rock. From where they sat they could see over to the red cabin.

He lay on his back on the sun-warmed rock. Closed his eyes and felt waves of pleasure run through his body. Sometimes it was worth getting cold to enjoy warming up afterwards, he thought.

‘Are you home again now, Duff?’

When you lose something and find it again, the pleasure is greater than before you lost it.

‘Yes,’ he said.

Her shadow fell over him.

And when they kissed he wondered why he now — and not before — thought a woman’s lips wetted by freshwater tasted better than wetted by saltwater, but concluded that it must be the body at some point telling you that freshwater can be drunk but not saltwater.

Afterwards when they lay entwined and sweaty from the sun and making love, he said he had to go to town.

‘Right. It’s broth at the usual time.’

‘I’ll be back in good time before. I just have to pick up Ewan’s present. It’s in the desk drawer in my office.’

‘He wanted the undercover cop outfit, didn’t he?’

‘Yes, and there’s one other thing I have to sort out ASAP.’

She stroked a finger down his forehead and nose. ‘Something come up?’

‘Yes and no. I should have sorted it out ages ago.’

‘In which case—’ her finger, which knew him so well, caressed his lips ‘—you do whatever you think you have to do. I’ll wait for you here.’

Duff sat up on his elbows and looked down at her. ‘Meredith.’

‘Yes?’

‘I love you.’

‘I know, Duff. You just forgot for a while.’

Duff smiled. Kissed her freshwater lips again and stood up. Went to dive in, then stopped. ‘Meredith?’

‘Yes?’

‘Did Ewan say who won the fight?’

‘Did the chief commissioner say why they have to be driven to their club house?’ the driver asked.

The prison warder looked down at the bunch of keys to find the right one for the next cell. ‘Not enough evidence to keep them in custody.’

‘Not enough evidence? Bloody hell, the whole town knows it was the Norse Riders who picked up the dope at the harbour. And they know it was the Norse Riders who killed that policeman and his son. But I didn’t ask why they were being set free — I’m used to that malarkey — I was wondering why we don’t just let them go. When I drive prisoners it’s usually from one prison to another, not as a bloody taxi service so they don’t have to walk home.’

‘Don’t ask me,’ the warder said, unlocking the cell. ‘Hey, Sean! Off your bed and home to your missus and daughter!’

‘All hail Macbeth!’ came a cry from inside the cell.

The warder shook his head and turned to the driver. ‘You’d better bring the bus to the exit and we’ll assemble there. We’ll send two armed officers with you.’

‘Why? Aren’t these boys free?’

‘The chief commissioner wants to be sure they’re delivered where they’re going with no trouble.’

‘Can I put leg shackles on them too?’

‘Not according to the book, but do as you like. Hey! Do up your shoes. We haven’t got all day.’

‘Do you mean it? Are the good times back, like under Kenneth?’

‘Heh, heh. It’s a bit early to say, but Macbeth’s shaping up well, they say.’