house smells of tablet,' said Christopher. 'And if I see Big Dave cuddling Jemima again I'll probably throw up.'
'You know what?' said Amaryllis. 'I think we're a good influence on each other.'
Chapter 11 Recriminations from all angles
Jock McLean had planned to have a leisurely day, ambling to the newsagents - or dashing, if the weather was wet and windy as it had been every other spring day for almost as long as he could remember - then reading the paper while providing his own running commentary about the news, especially as it related to education. He would quite possibly eat lots of toast. At some point he might take himself to the Queen of Scots to see if his friends were about. If not, then he would have a couple of solitary pints and wander home to watch something trivial on television.
First thing in the morning he was just contemplating this packed programme while looking out of the window to try and determine the outside temperature without actually going outside, when the door-bell rang. What happened next drove a coach and horses through all his plans.
'Mr McLean?' said one police officer, looking stern.
He had a wee girl in police uniform with him too. She looked fragile, but Jock had learned from experience that the fragile ones were the toughest. It was as if they had steel wires running through them where the muscles should be. But surely this one wasn't old enough to be a policewoman?
'We'd like you to accompany us to the police station, please. We have some questions to ask you regarding a serious matter.'
'Karen Whitefield!' exclaimed Jock.
The wee girl in uniform blushed.
'That's Sergeant Whitefield of West Fife Constabulary, sir,' said the policeman, looking even sterner.
'I thought you were going on to university to study sociology or one of these other new-fangled things,' said Jock to Karen, whom he had recognised as a former pupil of his. 'What made you throw it all away for this?'
'Don't you worry, Mr McLean,' said Karen, beaming at him. 'I got my sociology degree first and then joined the police. It's longer than you think since I left school. And police work's a good career nowadays.'
'Hmph,' said Jock sceptically. 'I'll have to get my coat on. It feels a bit chilly out here.'
'As long as you don't try and make a getaway out the back,' said the policeman, whose sternness was now starting to sound like a bit of an act.
'I suppose you've got snipers positioned round there,' said Jock, putting on his winter coat and taking his time over finding a scarf and gloves. It wasn't like him to worry about those details, but for some reason he felt like buying a bit of time to think.
The two of them smiled politely and escorted him out to their car. He was alarmed to see they hadn't sent an unmarked car for him. He hoped they wouldn't put on the siren as they went along. His neighbours, if they were watching - which they almost certainly were, if they were as nosy as he had always imagined - would already be speculating about what he was in trouble for.
'Can I phone my son?' he asked as they drove down the road.
'We can't stop you,' said Karen Whitefield casually. He relaxed a little. However serious the matter was, they probably weren't going to arrest him for it just yet. He would save the phone call until he really needed it.
They arrived at the police station, and the first people he saw when he went inside were Amaryllis and Christopher.
'So they've caught up with you as well,' he said to them jovially. 'Not before time.'
'If we're going down, we're taking you with us,' responded Amaryllis. He was glad to see her looking more like herself. She had been showing signs of settling into middle age the last time he saw her, and that idea depressed him enormously.
Mr Smith came out of an office. He didn't seem very pleased to see them all.
'I thought I said they were to be kept apart,' he grumbled to Karen Whitefield. 'We don't want them comparing notes.'
'Sorry, sir, it
'You know what?' said Amaryllis. 'I think we're a good influence on each other.'
Chapter 11 Recriminations from all angles
Jock McLean had planned to have a leisurely day, ambling to the newsagents - or dashing, if the weather was wet and windy as it had been every other spring day for almost as long as he could remember - then reading the paper while providing his own running commentary about the news, especially as it related to education. He would quite possibly eat lots of toast. At some point he might take himself to the Queen of Scots to see if his friends were about. If not, then he would have a couple of solitary pints and wander home to watch something trivial on television.
First thing in the morning he was just contemplating this packed programme while looking out of the window to try and determine the outside temperature without actually going outside, when the door-bell rang. What happened next drove a coach and horses through all his plans.
'Mr McLean?' said one police officer, looking stern.
He had a wee girl in police uniform with him too. She looked fragile, but Jock had learned from experience that the fragile ones were the toughest. It was as if they had steel wires running through them where the muscles should be. But surely this one wasn't old enough to be a policewoman?
'We'd like you to accompany us to the police station, please. We have some questions to ask you regarding a serious matter.'
'Karen Whitefield!' exclaimed Jock.
The wee girl in uniform blushed.
'That's Sergeant Whitefield of West Fife Constabulary, sir,' said the policeman, looking even sterner.
'I thought you were going on to university to study sociology or one of these other new-fangled things,' said Jock to Karen, whom he had recognised as a former pupil of his. 'What made you throw it all away for this?'
'Don't you worry, Mr McLean,' said Karen, beaming at him. 'I got my sociology degree first and then joined the police. It's longer than you think since I left school. And police work's a good career nowadays.'
'Hmph,' said Jock sceptically. 'I'll have to get my coat on. It feels a bit chilly out here.'
'As long as you don't try and make a getaway out the back,' said the policeman, whose sternness was now starting to sound like a bit of an act.
'I suppose you've got snipers positioned round there,' said Jock, putting on his winter coat and taking his time over finding a scarf and gloves. It wasn't like him to worry about those details, but for some reason he felt like buying a bit of time to think.
The two of them smiled politely and escorted him out to their car. He was alarmed to see they hadn't sent an unmarked car for him. He hoped they wouldn't put on the siren as they went along. His neighbours, if they were watching - which they almost certainly were, if they were as nosy as he had always imagined - would already be speculating about what he was in trouble for.
'Can I phone my son?' he asked as they drove down the road.
'We can't stop you,' said Karen Whitefield casually. He relaxed a little. However serious the matter was, they probably weren't going to arrest him for it just yet. He would save the phone call until he really needed it.
They arrived at the police station, and the first people he saw when he went inside were Amaryllis and Christopher.
'So they've caught up with you as well,' he said to them jovially. 'Not before time.'
'If we're going down, we're taking you with us,' responded Amaryllis. He was glad to see her looking more like herself. She had been showing signs of settling into middle age the last time he saw her, and that idea depressed him enormously.
Mr Smith came out of an office. He didn't seem very pleased to see them all.
'I thought I said they were to be kept apart,' he grumbled to Karen Whitefield. 'We don't want them comparing notes.'
'Sorry, sir, it
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