I closed my eyes a moment and reached outwards with my thoughts, a little hesitant from being out of practice. Not that it would matter, I felt sure. He was better at this than I was, his own thoughts so strong that unless he were actively blocking me, it would be like hearing somebody shouting at me in a room full of whisperers. And even if he blocked me I would ‘feel’ the block – a solid wall of static.
I felt nothing. That might have discouraged me more had I not been aware of my limits. He might have been able to reach me in London, and do it without really trying, but I’d never managed that kind of a range.
I was trying again when the driver asked, ‘Where would you like me to drop you, then?’
I wasn’t altogether sure. Where did one get dropped off in Eyemouth, I wondered? It wasn’t a large place. On inspiration, I turned to him. ‘Do you know where the police station is?’
His eyebrows lifted higher but he gallantly said nothing, only took the necessary turns and stopped outside a cream-painted stucco house, trimmed with red brick, that looked just like an ordinary house till I noticed the blue ‘Police’ signs. The lights were on here, too, and my driver remarked, ‘You’re in luck. It’s not always manned.’
And that was all he said about it, as though it were commonplace for him to drive young women with no suitcases to places where they didn’t live, and drop them at police stations. I tipped him very generously.
The wind was fierce. It struck me full on as I climbed the few steps to the marked public entrance that bade me to ‘Please knock and enter’. Inside, the small reception room was clean and warm, with nobody in sight behind the glassed-in service counter. I felt ridiculously nervous, so much so that when a friendly young constable came out from the back room to see what I wanted, I stumbled on the words. ‘I’m looking for a man.’ Then, as his eyebrows started to rise, I collected myself and explained, ‘A policeman. He works here, I think.’
‘Oh, aye?’
‘Yes. Rob McMorran.’
The constable’s grin was good-natured. ‘And why are you looking for him, then? I’m clearly the better man.’ But through the teasing I knew the first part of his question was valid, and needed an answer before he would help me. After all, for all he knew, I might be intending to lodge a complaint.
I smiled back, in an effort to show I was harmless. ‘I’m a friend of his.’
‘Oh, aye?’ he asked me again. ‘Not a local one, though, or I’d surely have seen you.’
I said, ‘I’m from London.’
‘From London? A long way to travel to visit a friend. Did he ken you were coming?’
I shook my head. ‘That’s why I’m trying to find him.’
The constable studied me closely a moment, then seeming to reach a decision he picked up the phone. ‘He’s not working the day, but I’ll see if I can’t hunt him down for you.’
‘Thank you.’
I waited.
The first number he dialled got no answer. ‘He’s not got his mobile. I’ll just try the flat.’ When that didn’t work either, he frowned for a moment, then tried a third number, growing so purposely charming that I guessed it was a woman he was talking to. After exchanging a quick bit of banter that I couldn’t follow because of the accent, he said, ‘I’ve a lady from London here with me who’s wanting to find Robbie Keenan. Would ye ken where he might be?’
‘It’s McMorran,’ I corrected him. ‘Rob McMorran.’
He gave a nod to reassure me as he listened, then he thanked the woman and rang off. ‘He’s on a shout the now,’ he told me, ‘with the lifeboat, but Sheena says they’re on their way back in, they’ll not be long, and if you’ve a mind to go down to the Sole she can give you a meal while you’re waiting.’
I absorbed all this as best I could. ‘The Sole?’
‘Aye, the Contented Sole, down by the harbour. Just go down this road here, the Coldingham Road. There’s a church at the bottom. You keep to the left, it’ll take you right down to the harbour. The Sole’s at the far end of that, you’ll not miss it.’
‘Thank you.’
‘No problem. A word of advice, though,’ he said as I started to leave. ‘When you go into the Sole don’t use the same first line you used with me and tell them that you’re looking for a man.’ He flashed the friendly grin and said, ‘You’ll not get out again.’
I didn’t actually see that many men about when I reached the harbour.
Narrow and long, it still looked to be a working harbour, with several small fishing boats moored at the walls, but I remembered Rob telling me once that the fishing was done, or as good as; that government quotas and standards had killed off the whole way of life, and his father had sold his own boat to a big corporation and bought a much smaller boat so he could go for the lobster and crab, like the rest of the few men who’d clung to their trade here.
The seagulls had not given up, though. They wheeled and shrieked everywhere, hopeful, although at this hour of the night with the dark coming on there were probably no scraps around for them.
Even the long, covered building that must once have been the fish market had found a new purpose as part of a maritime centre which loomed overhead at the edge of the harbour and had been designed to look like an old seagoing frigate.
I passed a white pub with a sign that proclaimed it the Ship Hotel, and at the door of the public bar two men did turn from their talk to regard me with curious interest as I walked by, but I carried on briskly a few buildings further until I caught sight of the Contented Sole.