A Raucous Time

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

   

  They waited for ten minutes before realising no-one was coming. Fur coated the inside of Rhyllann’s mouth. The only sensation he could feel from the neck down was the cold clamminess of his combats. He needed a hot scented bubble bath followed by a fluffy dressing gown and a home cooked meal. But more than anything Rhyllann longed for a glass of cool clear water. He looked round at the rain drenched moor – like a sponge unable to absorb anymore – surface water formed shallow boggy lakes. Undrinkable water surrounded him and he was thirsty, thirstier than he had ever been in his life. Bugger this Rhyllann thought. Stumbling to the nearest puddle he scooped water with his hands, swirling the first few gulps round his mouth to spit out, then scooping up more to swallow. It reeked of rotting cabbage and tasted gritty – an image of Wren splashing water over his face then drinking gleefully returned.

  ‘Son, don’t drink that. You’ll be ill.’

  Rhyllann didn’t care. Anything to get this foul taste from his mouth.

  ‘No-one’s coming.’ It sounded like a sob. ‘No-one’s coming.’ He repeated, pushing himself upright.

  This wasn’t fair. The RAF should be overhead in a victory fly-pass. Police cars and ambulances should have roared up, sirens screaming. Maybe even a fire engine. To carry him and Crombie shoulder high then race to Wren’s rescue. Instead if they didn’t get off this bog no one would even know about the crazy stunt they’d managed to pull off. The train driver might report two lunatics trying to free their jeep from the rails. Might.

  ‘Give it time son. Holden’s gotta convince Bates.’

  Rhyllann prodded him with a foot. ‘What if Bates won’t believe him?’

  Crombie had already cried wolf once.

  Still the detective huddled on the ground hugging his knees, eyes scanning the horizon, expecting the cavalry to show up. Rhyllann shook him.

  ‘Crombie!’

  Using Rhyllann’s arm as a ladder, Crombie struggled upright. ‘Okay. Okay. We’d better start walking.’

  Rhyllann shook him again. ‘Walking? We’ve gotta go after Wren! Crombie!’

  For a moment he thought Crombie was going to refuse. A rush of arguments raced through his mind as he watched Crombie glance at the plane, at him, then the plane again. But something told him to keep his mouth shut. After an eon, Crombie spoke.

  ‘The kid knew the score. He bartered … gambling on you.’ He stooped suddenly to scoop muddy water into his mouth. Rhyllann’s hopes grew.

  ‘Crombie?’ Spitting the water out, Crombie stomped towards the plane.

  ‘Come on son. What are you waiting for?’