Read Online Duplicity by Doris Davidson - Free Book Online

Arthur did at last point out the ranges that could be seen in the distance, his grandson was rather disappointed. ‘They’re too far away. I can’t see them properly.’
    At Montrose, he was interested to see all the equipment lying around in the oil complexes. ‘Will my daddy be working with things like that?’
    ‘Like enough, lad, and he’ll be out on the oil rigs as well, I believe. Remember, I showed you a photo of one the other day?’
    When the train passed Stonehaven, with less than half an hour to go before it reached Aberdeen, Arthur started to dread their arrival. ‘I hope your mum and dad’ll be there in time to meet us.’
    ‘What’ll we do if they’re not there, Grandad?’
    A note of alarm sounded in the piping voice, and the old man regretted speaking his fears out loud. He had only succeeded in transmitting them to the boy. ‘No problem, son. We’ll just go in for a cup of char. There’s sure to be a tearoom there somewhere.’
    The problem was pushed to the back of the boy’s mind when they passed a range of low hills. ‘Are they mountains, Grandad?’
    ‘Only little ones, lad. They’re likely the foothills of the Grampian Mountains. I’ll show you on the map when your dad unpacks it.’
    They fastened up the duffel bag, took their coats off the rack and were standing at the door of the carriage as the train drew into the platform at Aberdeen Joint Station. It was a long walk to the ticket barrier and Sean was still tired. Even as he walked steadily forward, he surreptitiously wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. ‘Is it much farther, Grandad? I wish I could see Mummy.’
    ‘Come here, son, till I clean your face. It’s all sooty from poking your head out of the window on the Forth Bridge.’ The deep voice held a gruff note as Arthur took out his handkerchief, wet it at the boy’s tongue and scrubbed the greyish rivulets on the tear-stained face. ‘Your mum wouldn’t want to see you dirty, now, would she?’
    It wasn’t long until they could see the ticket collector, and just behind him were a smiling Marge and John Rouse. ‘Mummy! Daddy!’
    It was all Arthur could do to restrain Sean until they went through the gates. As they settled into the thankfully empty Capri, Marge took her son on her lap for the last stage of his daunting journey.
    ‘Mummy, where’s Susan?’
    ‘We left her with the lady next door. She was still very tired after yesterday. Did you enjoy being on the train, darling?’
    ‘Oh, yes! Me and Grandad saw all of Scotland.’ Then, rather wistfully, the boy added, ‘But we didn’t see any mountains near us. Grandad said there weren’t any near the railway line.’
    Marge Rouse winked at her husband. ‘Wait till you see our new house, Sean.’ She gave an odd laugh as if she were hiding a secret joke.
    The boy looked at his father, who was also laughing. ‘D’you understand what the Scotch people are saying, Daddy?’
    ‘We haven’t had time to speak to many of them,’ John began, but was interrupted by his father.
    ‘Scots people, Sean, not Scotch;’ Arthur felt obliged to correct him, because all the Scotsmen he had ever met during the war had always objected to anybody making the same mistake. ‘Scotch is either whisky or broth,’ they would say He didn’t give his grandson this explanation, however, and waited for him to ask, but Sean’s face had turned bright red with excitement.
    Arthur looked in the direction where the boy’s eyes were turned and nodded happily. ‘Yes, lad, that’s a mountain.’
    They had left the city well behind them and there was no mistaking the massive shape towering into the sky. ‘It’s called Benachie,’ John informed them, ‘and it’s not one of the highest mountains. Our home is just along this road.’ He turned off to the left, and in a few minutes drew the car to a halt in front of a modern villa.
    ‘That Bena-whatever-you-called-it looks like it’s right at the bottom of our garden,’ Sean