Dark Waters(32)

Mungo took a threatening step towards him and Col stepped back.

For the first time, apart from in his dream, he was afraid of his brother. Afraid he’d … what? Did he really believe Mungo would hurt him?

‘You never should have went with them!’

‘Do you know what they asked me for? To show people they trusted me. They know you did it – everybody knows you did it – but they wanted to show they still trusted me! They’re nice people, Mungo. And you … you should never have done what you did!’

Mungo’s voice was a sneer. ‘They’re nice people … wi’ money!’

‘They work hard for it,’ Col snapped back.

‘Ach well, they can work harder then.’

Col realised he could never make Mungo understand. ‘What would you know about work? You’ve never worked in your life.’

Mungo’s eyes flashed with rage. ‘Don’t you dare talk to me like that. You better show me some respect.’

‘Respect for you!’ Col was every bit as angry. ‘What respect did you show me? Look at the position you’ve put me in!’

‘What position?’ Mungo threw the words at him. ‘You’re my brother. You don’t tell on a brother. End of story. You stick to that and you’ve not got a problem.’

In that second Col hated his brother, and all he stood for. Mostly because he knew he was right. He could never betray him. ‘Don’t worry yourself. I’m never going to see them again anyway.’ And he knew this time it was true. He’d known it since Mrs Sampson had hugged him so tightly outside the restaurant. She was saying goodbye.

Mungo relaxed. ‘Good. That’s what I wanted to hear.’ He said it as if he’d won, as if Col had done exactly what he wanted.

‘I hate you, Mungo!’ Col yelled at him.

But Mungo only laughed and called after him as he pounded upstairs to his room. ‘You’ll feel better in the mornin’, bruv.’


He thought he would never sleep. His mind was too full of the Sampsons, and Mungo. He’d never felt such misery in all his life.

Even when he did drop into a troubled doze another crack of thunder would awaken him with a start. The room would light up and the rain seemed to be battering its way through the windows.

He did finally sleep. But it brought him no rest.

Dreams.

Dreams of rain and thunder and ice.

Once again, he was trapped in that dark icy loch, going under, the waters closing round him like a shroud. He tried to call out but no sound came and water filled his mouth and made him choke. He could see the ice above him closing over his head. He tried to reach up, break through, but it was too far. Dominic’s face appeared, dim and hazy, calling to him. And Mrs Sampson, reaching down, wanting to help, to drag him to safety but the ice was between them.

And then, from nowhere, Mungo appeared, towering over them, a nightmare grin on his face. Col tried to shout to them, to warn them, but no sound came. Deeper and deeper he swirled into the silent depths of the loch. Reeds tangled round his ankles, like snakes dragging him down. The faces above him were growing ever more distant, and long icy ferns touched his face. He wanted to live so much.

He thrashed and turned and saw dark eerie shapes coming towards him through the dark water. He tried to turn away, didn’t want to see what he dreaded. He wanted to wake up.

Then, in the silent depths he felt something behind him, something he’d shut out so many times before. Closer it came, touching his shoulder, edging him round. He didn’t want to look. He wanted to surge to the surface, but he was held in a nightmare trance.

He turned, he couldn’t stop himself. And there, rising in the water before him, a face … a body …

A body.

Col screamed himself awake as yet another crack of thunder rent the air.

A body!

It wasn’t a nightmare. It was a memory. A memory he had been pushing away from him all this time. Waking up always before he had to confront it.

It hadn’t been the face of Death he had seen so long ago in the water. It had been a human face.

There had been a body in the loch.

He had glimpsed it that day, so close he could have reached out and touched it. The terror of that vision was what had sent him hurtling to the surface.

He jumped out of his bed. His pyjamas clung to his body with sweat. He had to tell Mungo. Mungo would know what to do.

Mungo was sitting by the fire, watching the late night boxing on TV. He turned as Col stumbled into the room, sat up when he saw his ashen face. ‘What’s wrong?’

Col’s voice trembled. ‘I was dreaming. A nightmare. But it was worse this time, Mungo. And it wasn’t a nightmare. It was real. Mungo … that day in the loch.’ He let out a sob. ‘There was a body down there. I saw it. It … touched me, Mungo.’ He ran to his brother, clutched at his shirt. ‘Mungo, it must still be there.’