14
There were a few early-evening drinkers in the public bar, one or two of whom scowled as Richard and his father came in out of the cold. On their return walk from the deserted village of Little Lowland, the weather changed dramatically, driving rain forcing them to abandon their sandwiches. The wind whipped violently against the windows of the inn as they beat their arms and shook off the worst of the weather as they moved towards the bar.
“Hello again,” said the barmaid, giving her best smile.
Blowing into his hands, Stirling gave his best smile. “Bit of a blizzard out there. Is it possible to get two coffees?”
She nodded. “I think we’re in for a storm.” She busied herself with the coffee percolator whilst she spoke. “It’s often like this round here. One minute it’s fine, the next…
