In the next instant he realised he couldn’t involve the Sampsons. Mungo would take his revenge on them, would feel he had a right to.
No. Col couldn’t involve anyone else.
It was then that Dominic appeared on the stairs, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
‘You all right, Col?’
Col looked up at him, and in Dominic’s eyes all he could see was admiration. To him, Col was the best person who had ever lived, the big brother he didn’t have.
‘Dominic,’ he asked, ‘would you ever betray me?’
Dominic’s eyes went wide with horror. ‘Never, Col. Never.’
‘No matter what I did?’
No hesitation from Dominic. ‘I’d die before I’d turn against you. No matter what you did.’
Col was reminded of another stormy night – so long ago – when he had said the same thing to his brother. ‘I’d die before I’d turn against you.’
And he realised he didn’t want Dominic to be the same as he was. He didn’t ever want him to face this kind of dilemma. He wanted him to be his own person. Do the right thing. Always.
He pulled away from the Sampsons. ‘It’s OK,’ he muttered, ‘I’m all right now.’
He ran through the doorway and out into the night. The Sampsons shouted after him, but he didn’t stop. He knew what he had to do now.
Chapter Twenty-One
He almost collapsed with exhaustion when he burst through his front door an hour later.
His mother, frantic with worry, ran to him in tears. ‘Col, what have you been doing, for heaven’s sake?’ She hauled him to his feet. ‘You’re shivering. You’ve probably caught double pneumonia. Oh son! Come to the fire.’ She glared into the living room where Mungo stood watching Col closely, his face stern.
‘That Mrs Samspon phoned. Said you’d been there. In a state, she said.’ Mungo’s voice was barely holding in his fury.
‘She was that worried about you.’ His mother was leading him gently towards the fire. ‘What’s wrong, son? What’s happened?’
She caught the look that passed between the brothers. ‘Has something happened wi’ you two?’ Her eyes settled on Mungo. ‘What have you done now?’
Even Col was surprised at her tone. He’d seldom heard his mother talk like that to Mungo. Accusing him.
Mungo snapped at her. ‘Me? Ask him what he’s done!’
‘In the mornin’. In the mornin’.’ Mam was on the edge of tears. ‘I can’t handle this now.’
She settled Col in a chair by the roaring fire. ‘I’m going to run a bath for you. Get you out of those wet clothes.’ She took a step back and looked at him, and the realisation that he’d been running through the storm in his pyjamas and slippers hit her again. ‘Why, son? Why?’
She didn’t wait for his answer. She didn’t want to hear it. She was too aware it had something to do with Mungo. As she left the brothers alone the dark look she shot at her elder son warned him not to make more trouble. Col shivering in the chair. Mungo standing over him. Col couldn’t stop shaking. The cold, the rain, the shock, had all seeped into his bones.
‘Right. You’ve been to the Sampsons. Probably told them everything. Where else have you been, ya wee grass? The cops? You told the cops?’
Col looked up at him. How could he ever tell him what he had just done? Why couldn’t he talk to him the way he used to? Or, had he ever really talked to Mungo? Had he only ever listened – in awe at his exploits? Never questioning, never going against him – until now.
Col’s voice wavered when finally he did speak. ‘I didn’t tell the Sampsons anything. I promise.’
Mungo looked as if he wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not.
‘And the cops?’
Col’s hesitation told him all he needed to know. ‘You grassed me up! My brother grassed me up!’ He looked as if he was ready to take a swipe at him.
Col shook his head. ‘No, I didn’t. Nobody could connect you or me with that body. Honest, Mungo … I just made a phone call. An anonymous phone call.’
He saw himself back in the vandalised call box. Dialling 999, telling a snotty-voiced woman there was a body in the loch, deep in the loch, telling her exactly where to find it. Telling her all about Klaus. What his name was, where he came from. Remembering every detail that Klaus had told him that cold night in the air-raid shelter.
Finally, telling her to send him home.
He had refused to answer any of her questions.
‘How do you know about this body?’
‘What is your name?’
None of that mattered, his quivering voice told her. Just get the body out. He wants to go home.