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The train arrived at Waverley station at three-thirty, ten minutes late. Da
Ten minutes later Da
"Where to?" asked the driver once he was back behind the wheel.
"Perhaps you can recommend a hotel?"
"There is only one," said the taxi driver.
"Well, that solves the problem," said Da
Three pounds fifty later, plus a tip, and Da
"I need a room for the night," he told the woman behind the counter.
"Just a single?"
"Yes, thank you."
"Would you please sign the booking form, sir?" Da
"But I don't…" began Da
"Of course, sir." She swiveled the form around, checked the name and tried to hide her surprise. She then disappeared into a back room without another word. A few moments later a middle-aged man wearing a plaid sweater and brown corduroys emerged from the office.
"Welcome home, Sir Nicholas. I'm Robert Kilbride, the hotel manager, and I do apologize, but we weren't expecting you. I'll transfer you to the Walter Scott suite."
Transfer is a word every prisoner dreads. "But-" began Da
"At no extra cost," added the manager.
"Thank you," said Nick.
"Will you be joining us for di
Yes, said Nick. "No," said Da
"Of course, Sir Nicholas. I'll have a porter take your case up to the room."
A young man accompanied Da
"My name's Andrew," he said as he unlocked the door. "If you need anything, just pick up the phone and let me know."
"I need a suit pressed and a shirt washed in time for a ten o'clock meeting tomorrow morning," said Da
"Of course, sir. You'll have them back well in time for your meeting."
"Thank you," said Da
Da
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
DANNY WOKE TO find he was fully dressed and the credits were ru
He stepped into a shower which sent down a steady stream of warm water that didn't turn itself off every few seconds. He washed himself with a bar of soap the size of a bread roll, and dried himself with a large fluffy towel. He felt clean for the first time in years.
He climbed into a bed with a thick comfortable mattress, clean sheets and more than one blanket before resting his head on a feather pillow. He fell into a deep sleep. He woke. The bed was too comfortable. It even changed shape when he moved. He peeled off one of the blankets and dumped it on the floor. He turned over and fell asleep again. He woke. The pillow was too soft, so it joined the blanket on the floor. He fell asleep again, and when the sun rose accompanied by a cacophony of unrecognizable bird tunes, he woke again. He looked around, expecting to see Mr. Pascoe standing in the doorway, but this door was different: it was wooden, not steel, and it had a handle on the inside that he could open whenever he pleased.
Da
There was a polite tap on the door, which remained closed, instead of being heaved open. Da
"Your clothes, sir."
"Thank you," said Da
"Breakfast will be served until ten o'clock in the dining room."
Da
Da
A large table in the center of the room was brimming over with a choice of cereals and juices, and the hotplate offered porridge, eggs, bacon, black pudding and even kippers to order. Da
He looked around, suddenly fearful that the staff might be commenting on the fact that he didn't have a Scottish accent. But Big Al had once told him that officers never do. Nick certainly didn't. A pair of kippers was placed in front of him. His father would have considered them a right treat. First thoughts of his father since he had been released.
"Would you care for anything else, sir?"
"No, thank you," said Da
"Of course, sir," came back the immediate reply.
He was just about to leave the dining room when he remembered he had no idea where Mr. Munro's office was. According to his business card it was 12 Argyll Street, but he couldn't ask the receptionist for directions, because everyone thought he'd been brought up in Dunbroath. Da