Dark Waters (10 page)

‘Look at them,’ Klaus nodded at the two elegant swans. ‘So graceful, but you should have seen them a minute ago. Trying to land. Flapping their wings around like crazy people.’ He flapped his arms to demonstrate, laughing. Then he saw that Col wasn’t laughing.

‘What?’ he asked, concerned.

It all came tumbling out. About the break-in, the Sampsons, and Mungo’s involvement.

Klaus listened, without saying a word until Col was finished. ‘So, what are you going to do?’

Col looked at him. ‘I can’t do anything. Do you not see that? He’s my brother.’

‘But, Col, he betrayed you.’

And that was what hurt more than anything. Mungo had betrayed him. He had used him. Col felt like an accessory, as if he had decoyed the Sampsons to London, leaving Mungo free to do what he wanted.

And even knowing that, it didn’t make any difference. ‘I can’t tell on him,’ he said.

Klaus, for the first time since Col had known him, sounded angry. ‘I don’t understand you. What has he done to deserve your loyalty? Nothing. If you tell the police, the Sampsons might be able to get some of their belongings back, yet you still refuse to tell.’

‘Yes!’ Col snapped at him. ‘You
don’t
understand. Mungo doesn’t have to do anything to deserve my loyalty. He’s my brother. We’re family. That’s enough. I’ll never turn on him. Never!’

Klaus’s face seemed to pale in the dark of the afternoon. He took a step back from Col, almost as if he wanted to be as far away from him as possible. ‘What made me ever think you could help me?’ His voice sounded bitter. Not like Klaus at all.

Col had wanted to talk to Klaus, but it hadn’t helped. Klaus could never understand. He turned and left him, running without a backward look. He ran back towards
the lights of the town that were shimmering through the drizzle. He was angry and he was hurt.

He hated Mungo for this. What he had done had wiped out all the excitement, all the memories of his trip to London. All that seemed an age away now. It might never have happened.

And Mungo was probably right. The Sampsons would never want to see him again, and he couldn’t blame them for that. It didn’t matter he told himself. But deep down he knew it did. He liked the Sampsons. He even liked daft little Dominic. But he’d never see them again now.

All because of Mungo.

Yes, he hated his brother because of this.

But he’d never betray him.

Chapter Seventeen

That night the dream came back. Rushing like a torrent through Col’s troubled sleep. It was Mungo’s fault. Even deep in sleep he blamed him. He hadn’t had the nightmare for so long. Until now.

Only this time it was different. It was much worse.

Someone else was in the water with him, trapped under the ice, arms flailing wildly, reaching out to him, trying to pull him down deeper. Suddenly, it was Dominic – but this time he couldn’t save him. They were both helpless. Then Dominic’s frightened face shimmered into that of Klaus, a disappointed Klaus, wanting Col to help him, too, and knowing now he couldn’t. Col tried to turn away, angry that everyone wanted his help yet there was no one to help
him
. Then, suddenly, it wasn’t Klaus or Dominic whose face floated eerily in the depths. It was Mungo who was reaching
out to him, but not for help.

He wanted to pull him down, down, into the murky, icy water. And for the first time in his life, Col was afraid – really afraid of his brother. He yelled himself awake as Mungo clawed towards him, almost reaching him, almost touching him, his smile becoming a skeleton’s grin.

NO!

He bolted upright in his bed. He was bathed in sweat, his heart was thumping in terror. He never wanted to sleep again.

His mother had heard his yell, and burst into his room pulling on her dressing gown.

‘Col, are you all right, son?’ She sat on the bed beside him, holding his shoulders. ‘Did you have another nightmare?’

Col nodded, wiping his brow with the edge of the sheet. He wanted so much to spill the whole story out to his mother, but it was an unwritten law that the brothers didn’t involve Mam in anything Mungo got up to. She was never to be involved, never expected to provide an alibi.

Yet, she knew all about the break-in at the Sampsons, and Col was convinced she knew that Mungo was
responsible. Col had been disappointed when she didn’t challenge him about it, hadn’t been angry with him. It was as if what Mungo did was his business and not hers.

But it was her business! She was their mother, she was supposed to be able to say anything to them.

For the first time in his life, another first, he resented his mother. She should stand up for Col. Stand up for something. In the dim light from the hallway, he looked at her as if for the first time – slim and blonde, with the black roots showing that they always teased her about. She’d never questioned Mungo’s behaviour. Or Col’s. They were her boys, and if they did wrong she didn’t want to know about it.

And that wasn’t the way it should be.

Mrs Sampson wouldn’t have kept silent. Somehow, he couldn’t imagine any of the Sampsons in this kind of situation, but he was sure Mrs Sampson would never allow Dominic, or Ella, to do something bad, and her not say anything about it.

His mother, unaware of these thoughts, said, ‘What if I sleep in here the night? I’ll wrap up in a duvet and snuggle down in the chair. Then, if you have another bad dream, I’ll be right there beside you.’

Col felt a rush of guilt. A wave of love for her flowed
over him. He wanted to hug her, but they weren’t a hugging kind of family. Mungo was right. He was getting more like the Sampsons.

‘No, Mam, honest,’ he said softly. ‘I’ll be fine now. You get back to bed. You’ve got work in the morning.’

He was sure the dream would come again after she left. He tried to force himself to stay awake. But, eventually, sleep did come. Deep, dreamless sleep.

The police came next day to interview Mungo. As they questioned him, he leaned back against the mantelpiece, master of his own house. Col watched through a crack in the door, listening to his brother throw out one well-rehearsed answer after another.

Once, it would have made him laugh watching Mungo run rings round the cops. Now, it only made him angry.

One of the policemen glanced towards the open door. ‘Is that you, Col? Why don’t you come and join us?’

Mungo stood erect. ‘Hey, you leave my wee brother out of this.’

The policemen looked at Mungo as if he had just crawled out from under a rock. ‘What are you so worried about, Mr McCann? You’ve got six people to alibi you. You were nowhere near the scene of the crime. We
only want to say hello to Col. The Sampsons were, I believe, good to him. Fond of him even.’

He looked straight at Col now as he stepped warily into the room.

‘You saw what the burglars did in that house, Col. You’re probably as determined as we are to catch whoever could do that to such a nice family. Isn’t that right?’

Col felt his face go red. They knew Mungo was the culprit. They knew that Col knew it, too. They were testing him.

Testing his loyalty.

But to who? Mungo, or the Sampsons?

Col shook his head. ‘I wish I knew who did it.’ He blurted the words out, not looking at Mungo or the police. ‘But I haven’t got a clue.’

‘But if you did know … you would tell us?’ the other policeman said.

Col felt Mungo’s eyes burn into him, waiting for his answer.

Col was angry. Angry at them all. ‘How would I ever find that out? I’m not a detective! I’m just a boy.’

He hated going back to school on Monday. News of the break-in had swept round the town. No one wanted to
talk about London. It was as if it had never happened. Paul Baxter avoided him in the corridor, didn’t ask for an interview, didn’t ask for an article.

They all assumed he had been some kind of accessory. They all assumed his brother had been responsible.

Especially Denny. Denny thought the whole thing was exciting and dangerous. Just what he’d come to expect of the McCanns. He wanted to know all the details. It was all he wanted to talk about.

Finally, Col couldn’t take any more. ‘It wasn’t Mungo did it, right? Get that through your thick skull, Denny. He wouldn’t do that to friends of mine, or to me. And I had nothing to do with it either.’

Denny took a step back, surprised by his outburst. ‘Well, that’s no’ what everybody’s saying.’

‘Well, they’re wrong. And if I hear you spreading that about, I’ll belt ye!’

‘You’ll belt me?’ Now Denny looked alarmed. Alarmed and puzzled. ‘You’ve changed, Col. I think you went into that loch as Col, and you came out as somebody else entirely.’

As Denny stalked away from him, Col shouted, ‘Maybe this is the real me then.’

‘I think you’ve changed for the better.’

He turned at the unmistakably husky voice of Blaikie. Her hair was even blacker than usual, standing out in spikes round her head, like a chargrilled Statue of Liberty.

‘What do you mean? I’ve changed for the better?’

Blaikie shrugged, blew a fat, slow bubble. Sucked it back into her mouth before she answered. ‘You’re easier to talk to. Nicer. Everybody says it. Not just me.’ She chewed thoughtfully. ‘Even Mrs Holden’s getting to like you.’

That was true, and it was strange that Blaikie, of all people, should have noticed that. He smiled at her.

She smiled back. Her face was so white, her teeth looked yellow. ‘See,’ she said. ‘You’ve never smiled at me in your life.’

‘I wish you’d wash that muck off your face, Blaikie. You’d be a real cracker if you didn’t wear that make-up.’

For a minute he was sure she was going to spit her chewing gum at him, but then, she smiled again. ‘If you say Mungo didn’t do it, I’ll believe you.’

In that second, Col realised he wanted to tell her everything. He needed somebody to confide in, maybe Blaikie was the one. She would listen. She would understand.

But the moment passed as Col heard a familiar, excited voice calling him from across the playground.

‘Col! Col!’

It was Dominic, jumping about at the school gates, and with him, looking grim, was Mr Sampson.

Chapter Eighteen

Dominic came running up to him, and began pulling on his hand. ‘Come on, Col.’

Col was sweating as he was dragged towards the school gates.

‘You’re for it now,’ Denny sneered at him as he passed. Denny, once his best pal, was now wishing more trouble on him. Mr Sampson wasn’t even looking Col’s way. He kept his back to him, studying the road intently.

Col saw his headmaster emerge from the school building. He caught sight of Mr Sampson. Col saw recognition on his face. Then alarm as he saw Col heading towards him. Col had seen that look many times before. Waiting for trouble. Expecting it from the McCanns.

Col could hardly listen to Dominic’s chattering. Only
caught snatches of it.

‘My dad’s got the car. Wants you to go with him.’

Col’s heart was bursting through his chest. Wants me to go with him? he thought. Where?

To the police station probably.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see his headmaster watching closely, waiting. And not just
his
eyes, the eyes of all the other pupils in the playground.

Mr Sampson turned as Col approached. Col stopped dead. He was aware of all the eyes of the school turned towards him, from the playground, from teachers, from windows. Everyone.

And, suddenly, to his surprise, Mr Sampson smiled. ‘Hello, Col. How are you?’

Col couldn’t answer. His mouth was dry. He was too surprised. He glanced quickly back into the playground. The tension there seemed to have dropped. The headmaster was still heading for his car, still darting quick glances towards the school gates. But he seemed more relaxed now.

Col looked back at Mr Sampson. ‘Why did you come here?’ he asked, puzzled.

Dominic answered, bouncing with enthusiasm as usual. ‘We’re all going out for a meal. It’s my mum’s
birthday. You’re coming too. We’ve already phoned your mum. It’s OK.’

He stopped for breath and Mr Sampson smiled again. ‘He manages to tell a whole story in ten seconds.’

Col still couldn’t believe it. ‘You want
me
to go with you?’

Mr Sampson nodded. ‘If you’d like to. We’d like you to be there.’

They could have phoned to ask him. Picked him up at the house, or he could have met them at the restaurant. There were plenty of alternatives to actually coming to the school to ask him.

‘Why did you come …
here
?’ Col asked again.

But he knew why, even before Mr Sampson answered. ‘Because we don’t want anybody, here at school – anywhere – thinking we blame you. We don’t, Col.’

Dominic pulled at his sleeve. ‘You’re going to come, right? ’Cause I’m not going if you don’t come.’

It wasn’t going to be easy, spending time with the Sampsons, knowing what Mungo had done. But if they could suffer him, he would do it. It was the least he could do.

‘I’d like to come,’ Col said softly. ‘If you’re sure.’

Dominic had no doubts. ‘Of course we’re sure.’

‘We’ll pick you up then,’ Mr Sampson said. ‘About seven?’

‘No!’ Col said it too quickly. But he couldn’t have the Sampsons sitting in the car outside his house, and Mungo inside. Col in the middle of it all. No. He took a deep breath. ‘I’ll meet you at the restaurant, if that’s OK.’

Mr Sampson didn’t object. So it was decided, and Col wasn’t sure if he was doing the right thing or not.

It had begun to rain by the time he got home, and the rain became a storm as the afternoon darkened.

He had thought Mam would have objected to his going. She might pretend she didn’t suspect Mungo, but Col knew she was just as aware as he was of Mungo’s guilt.

Of course he soon found out why. Mungo hadn’t been in all day. He didn’t know a thing about it.

‘And there’s no need to tell him where you’ve been,’ she said, as she stood ironing Col’s shirt.

‘I did try to say no, Mam,’ he said.

She smiled. ‘I know, son. It’s awful hard to say no to that wee Dominic.’