Chapter 15

 

   'And just where do you think you've been until this time of night?' demanded Jimmy angrily when his brother finally came home.
   'And since when are you our mother?' asked Jock, switching off the porch light and heading for the kitchen.
   Jimmy, dressed in heavy dark jacket and dark trousers, was ready for their trip out into the moors to recover the coffin and had been standing around for quite some time.
   'Have you been drinking?'
   'Come now brother,' soothed Jock amicably, 'we have work to be doing and we had better be getting on with it.'
   'We are not going digging up any coffins until you've had a large mug of coffee. And why is your cheek red? Have you been fighting?'
   'There is no need to be angry,' said Jock unconcernedly, as he opened the fridge and rummaged around inside. 'I've had a couple of drinks is all.'
   'What happened to your face?'
   'Mary slapped me.'
   'No doubt you deserved it.'
   'I couldn't help myself. Yes, a quick cup of coffee and let's get going. We have work to do.'
   'How can you be so calm about the whole thing?' asked Jimmy.
   Jock grabbed some cold leftover black pudding from a plate and stuffed it into his mouth, then wandered across the kitchen and stuck the kettle on before slumping into a chair at the table.
   'Ah Mary,' he sighed happily, nursing his reddened cheek where she had slapped him.

   Jimmy was in a pensive mood when he crunched their estate car into first gear and set off down the driveway. Jock had shaken off his tipsy feelings and had become very moody.
   'So?' said Jimmy heavily, in an attempt to get a conversation going. 'And why did Mary slap you?'
   'Oh, you know.'
   Jimmy lapsed into a thoughtful silence.
   'Are you going to see her again?'
   'I don't know. I think I'll leave her sitting by the phone for a few days, get her into the right mood, if you know what I mean.'
   'No brother, I don't know what you mean.'
   'Now now, Jimmy, don't go all emotional on me. I've just met the girl for heavens sake.'
   'Did you take her home?'
   'Yes, of course I did.'
   'And?'
   'And what?'
   'Well, did anything happen?'
   'Nothing worth talking about.'
   'Didn't she invite you in?'
   'Sort of.'
   'And what does that mean?'
   'Bad timing on my part,' said Jock, grabbing his door handle as the car lurched around a tight bend in the dark, 'and will you please keep your eyes on the road!'

   Jimmy parked in the same place as previously and they quickly set off into the moor at a good pace, one of them carrying the ropes and tarpaulin, the other carrying the spade. They said little as they stumbled through the dark heather. The onerous task of having to carry the coffin all the way back to the car was pressing heavily on them.
   When they reached the trees surrounding the grave, Jimmy got down on his hands and knees and crawled forward.
   'What are you doing?' whispered Jock.
   'Shhhh!' hissed Jimmy, a finger to his lips. 'I just want to make sure there is no one there.'
   'And just who do you think is going to be hanging around a grave at this time of the night?'
   'Maybe the police have set a trap and are waiting to catch us.'
   'Pah,' snorted Jock, marching boldly through the trees and down to the side of the grave. 'Let's just get this done. If we're caught, we're caught. We're up to our necks in this, so let's just get on with it and get home.'
   Reluctantly, Jimmy got to his feet and followed him.

   'Careful!' scolded Jock, when Jimmy jumped down into the hole and started quickly hacking out chunks of wet peat. 'We don't want to be damaging the lid of the coffin.'
   Jimmy leaned on the handle of the spade.
   'Um . . . and so what if we do?'
   'I'm not sure I like the tone of your voice,' said Jock, hauling up the tarpaulin and chucking a few chunks of peat onto the pile nearby.
   Jimmy snorted something unintelligible and thrust into the peat once more.
   It wasn't long before the spade scraped the coffin. They both froze and stood silently for a moment as the full realisation of what they were doing sank in.
   'Here,' said Jock, chucking down the ropes.
   'Give me a minute, will you,' groaned Jimmy miserably, nursing stinging blisters on the palms of his hands that hadn't healed properly from their earlier adventure.
   'We don't have a minute.'
   Jimmy wiped sweat from his face with a muddy sleeve which left a streak of peat across his forehead.
   'No, I suppose we don't,' he agreed, digging around the coffin to free it from the wet peat.
   'Is that it?' whispered Jock nervously.
   'No, that's not it,' said Jimmy despondently, sitting back on the coffin lid with the rope still in his hands.
   'Come on, come on! We haven't got all night.'
   Jimmy considered a few choice words, but instead valiantly picked up the spade and houghed out great lumps of peat from around both ends of the coffin. When he'd finally secured the ropes around each end, he climbed wearily out of the hole.
   'The damn thing is still stuck,' grunted Jock, who was pulling as hard as he could on one of the ropes.
   Jimmy joined him and added his strength. But the coffin didn't budge. After a few minutes of huffing and cursing, they both sat down to consider their next move.
   'It's the suction of the wet peat,' said Jimmy, as they dangled their legs over the edge of the grave.
   After a swig of whisky each, Jimmy jumped back down on top of the coffin. Planting a foot each side of it, he prised up one end with the spade as Jock hauled on the rope. Then, with a slurp, the coffin broke the suction.
   'Oh my!' said Jock in distress. 'I'm never going to make it back to the car. My arms are breaking already.'
   Jimmy clambered out of the hole and grabbed the rope. Digging his heels in, he heaved up, managing to raise his end of the coffin a couple of inches. Jock took courage from his brother's efforts and pulled, raising his end of the coffin a few inches. Steeled to the task and working together, they gradually hauled the coffin up out of the hole.
   'Well, that's the easy part over,' said Jimmy dismally, when they plumped down on the coffin lid for a well earned rest.
   Jock stared into the darkness. It was only a couple of hundred yards or so to the car, but in his heart, he didn't think they were going to make it.

   After a short rest, they quickly put the grave back in order.
   'How does that look?' asked Jock from the hole, smoothing down the sides with the flat of the spade.
   'It seems a lot deeper than it was.'
   'Can't be helped,' said Jock, struggling up with a hand from his brother.
   'John Brown is bound to notice.'
   'There is nothing we can do about it.'
   'He could report the matter to the police.'
   'What? File a complaint that someone has been stealing peat from his hole?'
   'You're such a smart arse sometimes.'
   With that, they piled all their equipment on top of the coffin, hoisted it from the ground, and with Jock leading, stumbled off into the darkness.
   The first touch of twilight was in the sky over the hills when, after a dozen lengthy rest stops, they eventually manhandled the coffin into the back of the car. Jimmy was too exhausted to care any longer about whether or not he was caught. He just wanted his bed and to hell with it all. Jock though, still had enough presence of mind to check all their equipment was in the car and they'd left nothing lying by the verge. Jimmy was already asleep in the passenger seat when Jock started the engine.

   Back at the house, Jock carefully backed the car up to the doors of their workshop. When he killed the engine, he lay his head back. He needed his sleep but there was still work to do. In obvious discomfort, he opened his door and lifted his aching legs out of the car.
   'Come on,' he said, shaking his brother awake.
   Jimmy blinked at him with doleful eyes.
   'What are we going to do with him now?'
   'I don't know,' said Jock. 'Let's put him in the workshop for now. We'll worry about him later.'
   Jimmy nodded and together they manhandled the heavy coffin into the workshop and laid it on the floor in a corner by itself.
   'Coffee?' asked Jock, filling the kettle with water.
   'Oh, please,' nodded Jimmy, sinking down into one of the armchairs at the back of the workshop that served as their tearoom.
   Jock spooned in some sugar and clinked the mugs as he stirred. After handing Jimmy his steaming mug, he plopped down into another armchair beside him.
   'Wow,' he sighed, 'best cup of coffee I've had in my whole life.'
   But Jimmy hadn't heard him. He was staring at the coffin as if he'd seen a ghost. Slowly, he raised a finger and pointed.
   'What is it?' asked Jock.
   'Don't you notice anything about it?'
   Jock studied it for a while.
   'What do you mean?'
   'Well, look at it!'
   'I AM looking at it.'
   'Look at the handles.'
   'What about them?'
   'Don't you recognise them?'
   'What the f—?'
   The two of them put their mugs down and jumped to their feet.
   'Are we going mad?' asked Jock at length.
   'There's no mistaking it,' said Jimmy.
   'You're right, it's our stolen coffin.'
   'So where the hell is the other one?'
   'More to the point, who is inside this one?'
   Jimmy turned pale as Jock wandered over to the workbench for a screwdriver.
   'What are you doing?' he asked in horror.
   'What does it look like?'
   'You can't . . . you can't . . .'
   Jock ignored him as he wiped the lid with a damp cloth. Jimmy seemed in a trance as he watched his brother laboriously unscrewing the lid.
   'Only one more to go,' said Jock, forcing the screwdriver towards the last hole.
   The screw was stubborn, but with a determined twist of his wrist, he finally got it moving. He stood for a while staring at the lid before lifting it, the screwdriver poised ready to stab anyone who might jump out.
   'Here,' said Jimmy, handing him a wooden mallet.
   Jock inserted the screwdriver between the coffin and the lid and gently tapped with the mallet until the lid creaked open a crack.
   'Who is it?' asked Jimmy, backing away.
   With a little grunt, Jock flung the lid back. With a cry of anguish, he jumped back. There in the coffin, as real as life, lay the very dead corpse of Roddy Morrison.

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