Chapter 16

 

   John Brown's knuckles whitened on the steering wheel as the tractor lurched through the dark night towards the gravesite. There was no moonlight, so keeping the tractor out of bogs and ditches required his concentration. He shook his head, but managed a wry smile. Life sure was a funny thing at times, always throwing up the unexpected. All things considered though, he was fairly comfortable with their situation despite the macabre job ahead. They would rebury the body, call the police and they could sort it all out.
   Dugal, however, was anything but comfortable in the trailer as he hung on for grim death to the ropes securing the coffin. It wasn't just the bouncing of the trailer making him uncomfortable either. On more than one occasion he could have sworn he saw ghoulish eyes leering at him from the shadows in the dark moors.

   When they reached the gravesite, John parked up not far from the hole and gratefully eased himself to the ground. Dugal, the spade clutched tightly in both hands, jumped down from the trailer.
   'Dugal, that's a spade not a weapon,' said John.
   'If the murderers are around,' retorted Dugal, 'I won't go without a fight.'
   'Murderers you say?'
   'Why else would someone bury a body out in the moors?'
   'You could be right, I suppose,' replied John. 'What on earth is the world coming to?'
   Dugal looked up at the night sky and breathed deeply, and actually managed a smile.
   'You look almost happy, whispered John.'
   'I'll be much happier when the coffin is buried and we've called the police.'
   'Aye, let's get on with it!' said John out loud.
   'Will you keep your voice down!' hissed Dugal, 'they might hear us.'
   'Who?'
   'The murderers!'
   'Oh shut up, if they were around they would have heard the bleggardly tractor from miles away. Now hand me the spade.'
   'But—'
   No arguments, I'll do the digging.'
   Dugal was on the verge of arguing the point, but then it occurred to him that John might actually change his mind, so he thought better of it and said nothing. He walked over to the edge of the dark hole and looked around him at the shadows.
   'You seem all very relaxed about this whole thing John,' he said quietly. 'Are you not concerned about what might happen to us?'
   'I'm too old to be concerned about anything,' retorted John. 'My life is complete, and I am content. If I were to die right now, I would die with a smile on my face. Just remember to bury my head to the north when the time comes.'
   'Okay, you dig' agreed Dugal, handing him the spade while trying to sound like he had lost a lengthy argument over the matter. 'But always remember, digging him up was against my better judgement.'
   'Indeed.'
   'Was that sarcasm?'
   'Go and untie the coffin and get the ropes ready, will you.'

   When John was satisfied that Dugal was busy about his tasks, he let himself down into the grave and dug down into the peat. It wasn't long before the hole was deep enough to rebury the coffin and he stretched his back.
   'Man,' he said, 'these old bones of mine don't like hard work these days.'
   He clambered out of the hole, chucked the spade to one side, and glanced down at his handiwork. 'Aye Dugal,' he continued. 'That will do nicely. Now let's get yon squatter back into the hole and make sure he is snug and dry.'
   'I'll be glad when this is over,' replied Dugal, with more than a hint of relief in his voice. 'Corpses and coffins are not my thing.'
   'Funny man tonight, aren't you.'
   'I'm not laughing. I don't think I will ever laugh again.'
   'There's no sign of your murderers.'
   'Oh shut up.'

   In a short time they had manhandled the coffin roughly into position at the bottom of the grave, whereupon John began shovelling back in the peat. When he was finished, he jumped down and stamped around with his boots. When he climbed out again, he seemed pleased.
   'Everything looks in order,' he said almost in good humour.
   'Yes,' replied Dugal, much happier with everything. 'Now let's get back to the house and call the police.'
   'Now now,' said John, the bowl of his pipe glowing red in the darkness as he lit up. 'No need to be in a rush.'
   'How can you be so normal at a time like this?'
   John blew out a long stream of smoke.
   'Do you think we should say a few words for the man before we go?'
   'Words John?'
   'Well, it just doesn't seem right leaving him like this.'
   'He's a complete stranger. We have absolutely no idea who he is.'
   'I guess you're right. The power of the spoken word does seem insufficient at this late stage.'
   John looked down into the grave thoughtfully for a moment.
   'Rest you in peace man,' he said quietly. 'I don't suppose it is your fault you found yourself down there.'
   'Can we go now?'
   'Would you like a wee dram before bed?'
   'Oh well now,' said Dugal, brightening up a little, 'that would be welcome.'
   And with that, they climbed aboard the tractor and set off back across the moors.

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