I.RANKIN. STANDING IN ANOTHER MAN'S GRAVE
Из серии 'REBUS IS BACK'
31
He was awake early and first into
the breakfast room. A fry-up (a
meal consisting of fried meat, eggs, and vegetables),
two glasses of orange juice and
couple of cups of coffee dealt with a head thickened by one whisky too many. There had been a slight frost overnight, and a
milky sun was doing its best to penetrate thin layers of cloud. The citizens of
Dornoch were readying for the day's business or returning home with their
newspapers of choice. Rebus dumped (to put down)
his overnight bag in the Saab, scrapped the frost form the windscreen with his
credit card and started the engine.
The A836 started off as a two-lane road,
busy with local traffic but few tourists. Heavily laden logging (the work of cutting down trees and transporting the
logs to sawmills) lorries squeezed past Rebus's car as they headed south.
He refilled the fuel tank at the first petrol station he saw, unsure when there
might be another. The attendant (someone
whose job is to be in a place and help visitors)
didn’t seem to know either.
'Depends which roads you're taking.'
'True enough,' Rebus responded, unable to
fault the young man's logic. Then, realising how much each litre was costing,
he requested a receipt (a piece of paper
that proves that money have been received). Back in
the car, he looked at the map book again.
The peaks all had Gaelic (a
group of languages spoken in parts of Ireland, Scotland and in the past the
Isle of Man) names, none of which he 'd heard of: Cnoc a Ghiubhais;
Meall an Fhuarain ; Cnoc an Daimh Mor. There was a whisky called anCnoc, so
'Cnoc' had to mean something. Maybe next time he would take the trouble to read
the label on the bottle.
After the village of Lairg
(is a village in Sutherland Highland. It has
population about 900 and is situated at the south-eastern end of Loch Shin),
the road narrowed to a single lane with passing places and the terrain (an area of land, when considering its natural
features) become more desolate (describes a place that is empty and not attractive).
Cloud covered the tops of peaks whose steep slopes were dusted with snow. He
passed conifer (one of evergreen
trees that produce fruits in the form of cones)
plantations and the
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remains of such plantations, stumps
(remains, the part of
something such as a tree, tooth, arm, or leg that
is left after
most of it has been removed) like
tombstones in a vast (extremely big)
cemetery. The sky was leaden (dark grey), and weathered (to change in
color or form over a period of time because of the effects of sun, wind or
other weather conditions) signs warned of lambs on the road. At Altnaharra (is a small
hamlet or village in Sutherland in the Highland of northern Scotland, it is on
the A836 road) the hotel
(Altnaharra
is famous for the Altnaharra Hotel, which opened in 1820 and quickly become
popular place for anglers to stay while visiting nearby lochs)
was open all year round.
He saw that a few cars had parked
up, walkers and climbers prepping (to
prepare yourself to do something) for the rigors (difficult conditions)
ahead. He pulled over (if vehicles pulled
over it moves to the side of the road and stops)
and sat for a few minutes with the windows down, overhearing (to hear what other
people are saying without intending to and without their knowledge)
snatches (a short part of
something) of conversation and watching as they set out
(to start a journey) for the
day. Some had Ordnance Survey (the
official cartography agency of the British government)
maps strung (string, rope)
around their necks, protected from the elements (bad weather) by clear plastic pouches
(a bag or soft container).
Their backpacks (a large bag used to
carry things on your back) bulged (to stick out in a round shape)
with provisions and waterproofs, and most carried a long pole (a long thin stick) - and
sometimes two - to help take the strain (pressure
caused by difficult situation).
He waited until the last one had
clambered (to climb with
difficulty) over the stile (a fence, vertical member of a
panel or frame)
and had their back to him before
he lit a cigarette , blowing smoke into the crisp (cold , dry and
bright), unpolluted air.
Half an hour later, he was driving into
the village of Tongue (the nearest village
to Altnaharra), where he would join the road west along the coast to
Durness.
But he had one detour to make.
There was a photograph in his jacket pocket. It had been sent to him a few
years back, and he used it to find where he was looking for. The village itself
was off to the left of the road, but Rebus headed for the causeway (a raised path, especially across a wet area)
across the Kyle of Tongue (is
a shallow sea loch).
The bungalow was next door to a
youth hostel. There were no names next to the doorbell. He pressed and waited,
then pressed again. The view was breathtaking, but the house had been buttered
by the elements and would be again. He peered in through the living room
window, then walk around to the back. No fence separated the property from the
field behind it. The kitchen showed signs that someone had been home earlier: cereal
(a food that is made from grain and eaten with milk)
packet next to the table, milk waiting to be returned to the fridge. Rebus went
back to the Saab and sat there wondering what to do now. He could hear seabirds and gusts (a sudden string wind)
of wind, but nothing else. He tore a page from his notebook and jotted (to make a quick short note)
a message, returning to the front door to push it through the letter box.
He drove off again in silence, not in the
mood for a CD or whatever radio reception could be mustered. Soon he was
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entering something calling itself
'North-West Highland Geopark ( Is
a Geopark awarded UNESCO Geopark status in 2004, it features some of the oldest
rocks in Europe, around 3,000 million years old and many other notable
geological objects) .
The landscape grew more alien,
almost lunar, rocks barely (by smallest amount)
covered by any form of vegetation. But now and then (sometimes but not often)
there would be a spectacular cove (a
curved part of coast, bay) with pristine white sand and
blue sea. Rebus began to wonder if he'd ever been further from a pub in his
life. He checked petrol gauge and
cigarette packet both.
Durness was still some miles off,
and he had no idea what he would find there. He skirted (to go around the edge)
Loch Eriboll (Eriboll is a
village on the south eastern shore of Loch Eriboll and A838 coast road connects
it with the village Tonque and Durness) and headed north again. Durness
wasn't quite at the tip of Scotland - if you reckoned your vehicle up to the
task, you could follow a track all the way to Cape Wrath (is a cape in the parish of Durness in the county of
Sutherland).
Rebus had a phone number of one
of the locals, but no signal as yet. Durness itself, when he reached it,
consists of a few cottages and larger modern houses, plus a smattering (a very small amount)
of shops. There were even a couple of venerable patrol pumps. He stopped next
to them and crossed the road to the Spar, where he asked the shopkeeper if she
knew where Anthony Greenwood lived.
'He went to Smoo (Smoo Cave is located at the eastern edge of the
village Durness) this morning,' she told him. 'I'm not sure if he's
back.'
Rebus then showed her the photo.
'You're the police?' she surmised (to guess). 'From Edinburgh? Anthony told
us all about it. The spot you're looking for is just by Keoldale (a small hamlet of Keoldale 2,5 km southwest of
Durness).'
Two minutes later, armed with a fresh pack
of cigarettes, he was back in the Saab and driving a further couple of miles,
following her precise - almost too precise - instructions. But as he neared the
site, he knew it was wrong. Not all wrong; just wrong enough. Gusts
snapped (a photograph taken
without professional equipment) at him as he gazed down towards
the Kyle of Durness (is a coastal inlet,
it extends 8,9 km inland and divides the Cape of Wrath peninsula from the
mainland. The nearest village is Durness), then up the slope towards the
bare hillside beyond a row of embattled (having
a lot of problems and difficulties) trees, some of which looked
permanently stooped (to bend the top
forward and down).
'No,' he said. The hillside was too steep.
But then he'd known that all along, and
even more so since Edderton. He drove slowly up and down the road, just in case
he was missing something, but the shopkeeper in Durness had sent him to the
right place.
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It just wasn't the right place.
He consulted his map again. He could go
back the way he'd come or keep going. The road made a circuit of sorts before
joining the A836 again. Rebus had never
been one to retrace his steps, so
headed south-west towards Laxford (is
a remote area in the far Northwest of Scotland around the river Laxford. A road
bridge Laxford Bridge crosses the river adjacent to the A838 and A894 roads)
Bridge. The route was still narrow, dotted with passing places, but there was
no traffic. Rebus reckoned he'd come a hundred miles or more since leaving
Dornoch and not once had he been stuck behind a vehicle of any kind. There was sporadic
(happening sometimes, not regular or continuous)
tourist traffic, along with a few delivery vans. But everyone was very polite,
flashing their headlights to let him know they had pulled over (if vehicle pulls over, it moves to the side of the
road and stops) and he didn't need to, or acknowledging (to accept or admit) him with a
wave whenever the roles were reversed. Having crossed to the west coast, he
found himself heading inland again, south and east past miles and miles of
nothing but scenery (the general
appearance of the natural environment) and sheep. Twice he had to stop
for ewes (a female sheep,
especially an adult one) on the road, and ones he caught
a sight of a large bird of prey (a bird, such as an eagle or hawk)
gliding (to fly by floating
on air currents instead of using power from wings)
over one of the distance summits. There were patches of snow (a small area that is different in some way from the
area that surrounds it) up there, and a huge greasy
(resembling grease) sky. He passed lochs with wildfowl (birds that people shoot for sport, especially ones
such as ducks that live near water) resting on the glassy
surface (smooth and shiny),
and his tyres pressed ancient roadkill ( an
animals killed by motor vehicle) further into the tarmac
(a paving material used to surfacing roads).
He had just reached a narrow, dog-leg-shaped loch when his phone sounded. He
had one missed call. He pulled over and
returned it. The signal was fine.
'Dad?' It was Samantha's voice. 'Where are
you? I got back and saw your note…'
Rebus had got out of the car. The air was
clear and sharp as he inhaled. 'Would you believe I was just passing?'
'No.' She was stifling (to prevent happening)
a laugh.
'Happens to be the truth. There was
something I had to check in Durness.'
'How did you find the right house?'
'That picture you sent.' He held it up.
Samantha was standing in front of her bungalow, arm around the waist of the
tall young man next to her.
'So where are you now?' she asked.
'Nowhere (not anywhere, a remote or unknown place). Quite literally (used to emphasize what you are saying).'
He looked around him, saw
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the hillside reflected in the
still surface of the loch. 'If I remembered any of my geography classes, I
might be able to describe it.'
'Too far south to turn around?'
'I'd say so. I think I'm about sixty miles
from Tongue.'
'That's a shame (it is disappointing or not satisfactory).'
'Next time, eh?' he said, rubbing at his forehead with the meat of his
thumb (the short, thick finger
on the side of your hand).
'Or maybe if you're ever in
Edinburgh. How are things anyway? It's a beautiful location…'
'You looked in the windows, didn't you?'
Place is a right tip (peace and quiet).'
'No worse that mine. How's
Keith doing?'
'He's okay. Got some work on the decommissioning
(to take equipment out of use)
project at Dounreay (place name, the
site in N Scotland of a nuclear power station).'
'Do
you checked him for radioactivity?'
'I don't need a bedside light any more,'
she joked. Then: 'You should have told
me you were coming.'
'It was more of an impulse thing,' he
lied. 'Sorry I've not phoned for a while (for
a short time).'
'You're kept busy. I saw that woman
mention you on the news.' Meaning Nina Hazlitt. 'Is that why you were in
Durness?'
'Sort of (somewhat, rather).'
'So that means you might be back?'
'I don't think so. But everything's all
right with you and Keith?'
'We… we're trying IVF (in vitro fertilization).'
'Oh, aye?'
'At the Raigmore Hospital (in Inverness, is the main hospital in the South East
Highland Community). First one didn't take.'
'Sorry to hear that.'
'We're not giving up - not yet.'
'Good for
you.' He closed his eyes and opened them again. The scenery took its
time coming back into focus.
'I wish I'd been here. I was only out
seeing a friend. Her baby's nine months…'
'At least I know where you are now. When
we're on the
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phone like this in future, I can
picture the view from your window.'
'It's a nice view.'
'It really is.' Rebus cleared his throat.
'I'd better get going (to
start to go or move). This is supposed
to be me working.'
'Take care, Dad.'
'You too, Samantha.'
'I'm touched you came to visit. Really I am.'
He ended the call and stood there staring
ahead of him without taking any of it in (to
understand completely the meaning or importance of something).
Why hadn't he told her he'd be dropping by (to visit someone)? Did he
want to see the look of her face so he could judge whether she was pleased or
not? Probably. But then there was the other possibility: that he'd not
wanted her to be home. That way they couldn't end up falling out
(to argue with someone and stop being friendly).
He had made the effort, without any of the possible repercussions. Ever since
Durness had been mentioned, he'd thought about Samantha, seeing an excuse to
visit her without it looking as though he had gone out of his way
(to travel somewhere by an indirect or circuitous route).
Just passing.
'You're a basket case (someone too nervous to do anything),
John,' he told himself as he headed back to the idling car (if the engine or machine idles, it runs slowly but
does not move or do any work). 'And who wants a basket case
as a grandad (grandfather)?'
IVF: she'd not mentioned it before, never
really talked about kinds. He wandered what the problem was. She'd been hit by
a car a decade or so back - could that have caused complications (an extra medical problem)?
Or maybe it was Keith and his job. They'd already had a shot (an attempt
to do or achieve something) at IVF without telling him. Wanting to surprise him
maybe? Or did he just not figure in (to
include, as in making an account) their lives to that extent?
At Bonar Bridge (is a bridge and a village on bank of the Kyle of
Sutherland in the Highland council area),
instead of taking a right and
passing through Edderton (is a village near
Tain) again, he headed along the northern side of the Dornoch
Firth (is a Firth on the
east coast of Highland in northern Scotland), picking up (to come upon and
follow) the A9 at Glashmore.
'Hello again,' he told the road. He was
driving south now, through Tain and Inverness and Aviemore and Pitlochry. No
room in his stomach for a late lunch, but he refilled the Saab's tank at a
petrol station and bought a paper and a bottle of water. There was a veritable
(so called) convoy (a group of vehicles)
on
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the opposite carriageway, led by
a transporter with earthmoving equipment on its trailer. The traffic on Rebus's
side of the road was moving more freely, for which he was grateful. Just south
of Aviemore, he pulled into a lay-by (a
place at the side of a road where a vehicle can stop for a short time)
behind the articulated lorry (describes
a vehicle that consists of two or more parts) and a
delivery van, getting out for a stretch and a rolling of the shoulders. Busy as
the route was, he got the feeling he could walk a few dozen yards (approximately 91,4 sm.)
into the hills and be stepping where no feet had ever passed. The wilderness
remained wilderness precisely because nobody bothered to stop. He turned at the
sound of the vans door opening, the driver jumping down.
'Any chance of sparking me up?' the man
said, waving a cigarette.
Rebus obliged.
'The dashboard (a panel under the windshield of a vehicle)
lighter's buggered (broken),'
the man explained, nodding his gratitude before inhaling greedily.
'What about the HGV (heavy goods vehicle)?'
Rebus asked.
'Driver's dead to the world. Curtains shut
and everything. We could be in the back, emptying the container, and he 'd
still be snoring (breathing during the sleep with snoring noises caused
by vibration of soft palate) .'
Rebus managed the smile. 'Sounds
like you've given it some thought.'
'Not really. Dutch number plate, meaning
you're more likely to get a few buckets of flowers than a flat screen
television.'
'You really have thought about it.'
The man laughed and took another drag
(the action of taking in air through a cigarette)
on his cigarette.
'How do you know he is all right?' Rebus
asked, meaning the lorry driver.
'If he drives those things every day ,
he's far from all right.' The man tapped a finger to his temple, then asked
Rebus if he was in sales.
'Just had to go up north,' Rebus answered,
keeping it vague (not clear
expressed, described or decided).
'Inverness?'
'Further.'
'Wick (is
an estuary town and a royal burg in the north of the Highland council area of
Scotland)?'
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'North-west, towards Cape Wrath (is a Cape in the parish of Durness in the county of
Sutherland. Most of the Cape is owned by the Ministry of Defense and is used as
a military training area).'
'I didn't think there was anything up that
way.'
'You're well informed.' Rebus paused as an
artic (articulated lorry)
rattled (to make a noise
like a series of knocks) by, followed by a stream of
cars. There was a change of air pressure, as if some force were trying to suck
him to the carriageway.
'It's worse on motorways,' the van driver
said. 'Try taking a piss on the M8 hard shoulder (an area at the side of a main road where a driver
can stop if there is a serious problem).'
'Duly noted. You use this road a lot?'
'Like clockwork (very regularly): Inverness
- Perth - Dundee - Aberdeen. I could drive it blind.'
'Maybe not when I'm in the vicinity (in the surrounding area),
eh?'
'Worried I'd dunt (a blow, to hit or strike)
your Saab?'
Rebus shook his head. 'Worried I'd have to
arrest you…'
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