Chapter Eighteen
After my stag sighting, we fell into a pattern that was as unwavering as it was stultifying. Ellis and Hank left with their equipment every day, presumably rowing to different vantage points around the loch, while I stayed behind and did nothing but grow increasingly depressed about the war and wait for my father to send for me. The weather was so remorselessly foul I didn’t even feel like walking.
Hank and Ellis returned each evening obscenely smashed, and arguing incessantly about whose fault it was that they hadn’t found the monster. It was like watching a snake try to eat itself from the tail up. One particular night, they arrived so sauced up it was hard to believe they were still on their feet. I was surprised they’d managed to row back, never mind climb out of the boat with all their gear.
Ellis was sure he’d seen the monster and Hank hadn’t even tried to film it because he was sure it was just another otter, and definitely not large enough to be the monster. Ellis said that maybe there was more than one monster, and although this one might have been a juvenile, it would have been just as useful for their purposes. Hank said he wasn’t going to waste film on yet another otter, and Ellis insisted again that it was a monster. An otter, a monster, an otter, a monster—on they went, round and round.
The next morning, I went downstairs and found the two of them sprawled next to each other on the couch. Hank hadn’t even gotten dressed. He’d just thrown a robe over his pajamas and stuffed his feet into slippers. He was unshaven and his hair stood in spiky tufts.
Ellis was in even worse shape. It appeared he hadn’t made it upstairs at all, because he was wearing the same clothes as the night before. His shirt was untucked and his collar open. His belt and shoes were missing.
Hank pried one eye partly open as I approached.
“Morning, sunshine,” he croaked.
“Good morning,” I said.
Ellis grunted.
“I’m warning you right now, I’m not rowing today,” said Hank. “I’m not even sure I can walk.”
“Me either,” said Ellis, draping an arm over his face.
They sat in silence for several minutes, not moving even as Anna set cups of weak tea in front of them.
She stood looking at them, and then shook her head. Her gaze moved to me.
“I’ll be back with your tea,” she said. “It’s still steeping.”
After she left, Ellis said, “I was thinking, maybe we’ve worn out that particular vantage point.” He neither lifted his head nor opened his eyes.
“Huh,” said Hank. “Very possible.”
“Maybe we should take the day off and regroup, so to speak.”
“I think you’re onto something,” said Hank.
“Let’s reconvene later then, shall we?”
“Absolutely,” said Hank. He climbed to his feet, wobbled for a few seconds, then lurched toward the stairwell.
Ellis followed. “Say, do you want to try some hair of the dog?”
“Can’t hurt,” said Hank.
Anna brought me a cup of strong, sweet tea and returned to the kitchen. I gulped it, collected my things, and headed for the door.
“And what do you think you’re doing?” she said, reappearing behind me. “I was just about to start your breakfast.”
“I’m sorry. I need to…not be here,” I said.
“They’ve gone back upstairs, have they?”
I nodded.
She tutted. “Foolish men. Where are you off to, then?”
“I thought I might go up to Craig Gairbh and have a look at the Big House.”
“You canna go there!”
I was stung by her tone. “I was just going to take a peek from a distance.”
“You canna go near it at all unless you want to get killed! It’s a battle school now, and they train with live ammunition! Many’s the morning I see tracer bullets crossing the sky when I’m out milking the cow.”
“Oh,” I said. “I wasn’t aware. In that case, I suppose I’ll just wander around.”
Anna’s outrage fell away. “You stay there a wee moment, and I mean it—no running off on me.”
A few minutes later, she was back. She handed me an umbrella and pressed a paper-wrapped packet into my hand. “It’s just a bit of Spam in a sandwich. I added some drippings to the bread. You need fattening up. And mind what I said about the estate. There’s a reason you don’t see any green berets around town. Even the men don’t get to come and go—except Angus, of course, but he knows the grounds like the back of his hand.”