Cape Wrath by Paul Finch

thought the whole thing was above board.”
    A moment passed, then Linda got on with her brushing. “It was.”
    â€œSo … what’s the problem?”
    â€œLike I say,” she replied, “forget it.”
    â€œHow can I?”
    â€œTry!”
    â€œI can’t.”
    â€œWell try harder!” she snapped, finally rounding on him. “ I have and it’s worked a treat. Because, do you know what? Nothing happened this morning, Alan. Nothing at all. I got up, you got up. The day commenced.”
    She made a show of getting to her feet, but he did the same and grabbed her by the wrist. “So now we’re in fucking denial, are we!”
    She yanked herself free, at last furious with him. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that! Ever!”
    And she stormed away over the top of the ridge, stopping only to plonk the idol down in the specimens tray. Alan followed her, no longer worried about drawing attention to himself.
    â€œLinda … come on,” he pleaded. “I’ve said I’m sorry. Just come back, eh. Come on.”
    â€œI’m busy,” she said through gritted teeth.
    â€œI’ll do anything …”
    â€œThen leave me alone,” she hissed. And with that she was gone, hurrying away down the hillside towards the outer cover of the pines, finally breaking into a run.
    Alan was left there like a spare part, staring after her, as bewildered as he was crestfallen. And then, suddenly, unexpectedly, there was a voice in his ear, murmuring quietly. “ Look … Alan, I don’t want to make a big thing out of this …” Alan turned sharply, to find Clive there, a disapproving frown on his broad, normally genial features. “But, listen, we’re going to be pretty busy over the next few days. So the last thing we need is stresses and strains in the ranks …”
    â€œYeah, well it’s fucking all right for you, isn’t it!” Alan retorted aggressively. “I mean you’re fixed up aren’t you, Clive. You’ve got Miss Bloody … Bloody …”
    And then it came back to him: reality , swimming around him as though a fog had suddenly lifted. This wasn’t just a tutor he was talking so rudely to, but a friend and colleague, someone who’d been with him, providing care and guidance, since pre-grad. On top of that, it was also someone who’d be marking his end-of-course papers, who’d be assessing his general performance, both in the class and in the field, someone who’d be making recommendations and references. In short, someone who was in a very good position to damage Alan’s prospects for further advancement, if he so desired. Not that this was Clive’s style, but beneath the cuddly, loveable exterior, they’d always suspected there’d be a bullish core, and now, briefly, it showed itself. The tutor’s expression hardened; his normally grinning mouth curled the other way for once. His private life was strictly off-limits. That was one area in which he notoriously took no prisoners, especially in relation to his out-of-hours contacts with Professor Mercy. He and she were the worst-kept secret on campus, but woe betide anyone who started blabbing about it.
    Hurriedly, Alan held up his hands. “Okay … okay. Sorry. Well out of order, and I know it. Just a bit stressed … All this excitement, you know.”
    Clive said nothing. Simply stared him out for a few seconds, then gave a curt nod and ambled away. When he’d gone, Alan glanced around worriedly, wondering who else’s cage he might have rattled. There was no sign of Barry; he was probably inside the barrow … which was something of a relief, no matter how unimportant Alan held him to be. Nug was leaning over a table up at the field-lab, studiously involved in something; his back was firmly turned. And of course, Craig and David hadn’t showed up yet from their