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Dark Waters(27)

By:Cathy MacPhail


And how could he blame them for that?

He realised something else, too, He could never ask Mr Sampson to help Klaus now.





Chapter Sixteen


Mungo was sitting by the fire reading his paper when Col went in. As soon as he saw his younger brother he leapt to his feet, beaming. ‘Hey, bro, missed you, pal.’

He couldn’t be guilty of anything, Col reassured himself, not smiling like that, not looking so pleased to see him back. Relief flooded over him and he dropped his case and ran to him.

Mungo ruffled his hair and punched him on the chin. ‘How’s the hero? Got a medal?’

‘Got a plaque. It’s in my case.’

Mungo began heading for the kitchen. ‘Mam’s still working.’ Col knew that already. ‘But she made up sandwiches for us. Ready for some?’

‘Am I ever?’ Col followed Mungo. Good old Mam, he thought. She probably thought he’d be starved down in London.

Mungo made tea and small talk while Col got stuck into the sandwiches – cheese and tomato, Col’s favourite. Col waited till Mungo was seated across from him at the table, hugging a mug of tea before he broached the subject of the Sampsons.

‘Something terrible happened …’ he began, dreading actually saying the words.

‘What? Tell me?’ Mungo looked genuinely concerned, puzzled.

It couldn’t have been anything to do with Mungo, Col told himself again. He was sure of it now.

‘The Sampsons’ house, it was broken into, trashed, while we were away.’

Mungo chewed on a sandwich, took a sip of tea before he spoke. ‘Cops got any idea who dunnit?’

Col watched him carefully. He could feel beads of cold sweat on his brow. ‘I thought you might be able to help.’

Mungo tensed. ‘Me?’

Col tumbled on nervously. ‘You know people. You hear things. Whoever it was made an awful mess. It was just awful and the furniture was ruined, totally.’

Mungo looked unconcerned. ‘Well, they’ve got plenty o’ cash. Can afford to buy more, eh?’

He sounded callous. Col had heard him like that many times before. And before, Col would probably have laughed. But this was different. This was the Sampsons.

‘They’ve got a really lovely place, Mungo.’

Mungo shrugged. ‘Ach, they can afford to replace everything. Buy your wee pal a new PlayStation. A better one.’ He laughed. ‘Who cares about them anyway, Col? You’re never goin’ to see them again.’

Col felt his blood go cold. A shiver was running very slowly all the way down his spine. He stared at his brother. ‘How did you know they took Dominic’s PlayStation, Mungo?’

Mungo’s neck went red. He swallowed. Col knew, then, knew beyond a doubt that it had been his brother and his mates who had broken into the Sampsons’.

‘That was why you changed your mind about me going? I should have known.’

He remembered now, Mungo staring hard at Mrs Sampson and her gold. It had been envy he had seen in Mungo’s gaze, nothing more. Col felt tears sting his eyes. ‘I didn’t want it to be you, Mungo.’ His voice was cracking. ‘I told them it couldn’t have been you.’

Mungo slammed the table with his fist. ‘You mentioned me! You put it into somebody’s napper that it could have been me?’

Col shouted back, just as angrily. ‘I didn’t have to say a word. You were the first one they suspected. I stuck up for you. I believed in you.’

‘Oh, stop blubberin’! You’re beginning to sound like them.’

‘How could you do that? How could you steal from them? Ruin all their stuff? They’re my friends, Mungo.’

‘’Cause it’s my job!’ He said it as if he was a heart surgeon, or an engineer. As if his ‘job’ was important, and saved lives rather than wrecked them. ‘It’s never bothered you before.’

No indeed. It hadn’t. Col remembered the CD centre that Mungo had given him. Had another boy, just like Dominic, broken his heart when that was stolen?

It was true. Col had never cared before. But he cared now.

Mungo stood up, towering above him. Col had never seen him look so arrogant. ‘You better no’ tell on me.’

Col stood up, too, so quickly his chair crashed to the floor. ‘How can I tell on ye, you’re my brother?’

He wanted to be away from Mungo, out of this house. ‘I hate you for doin’ this, Mungo. Do you hear me? I hate you!’

He left the house and headed for the hills, for the loch. It was where he’d always gone when he needed to think, needed to be alone. But he didn’t want to be alone now. He needed someone to talk to, someone to listen. Someone who, like him, had no one else to confide in. Klaus.