Shrill through the roar	of the shrieking storm
The eagle screamed	with icy feathers.
Storms beat	the stone-cliffs.
Night fell black,	from the north it snowed
Frost froze the land,	hail fell on earth then
The coldest of corn

From The Seafarer in the Exeter Book

CHAPTER 6 THE STORM

“Constable MacPherson?”

“Aye. Aye that’s me. But that’s a voice I know. Is that Grace Dunbar?”

“Of course it’s me. I’m back in my old job again.”

“Oh aye. So how’s the wee bairn now?”

“Oh he’s fine, Fine and dandy. Started at the nursery school now.”

“Oh that’s good. That’s good. Now Grace, I was just calling to say the hippy commune people, they seem to have left. I asked at the hotel, and they said they all got their dole money. Then they all bought enough diesel, and they went away down south, to Glasgow for the winter.”

“OK. I’ve noted that down.”

“Aye. Now this weather is getting awful braw. Quite awful. And the wind. In this wind, the snow is coming sideways. And I don’t want to be stuck in the drifts.”

“Oh no, you don’t want that.”

“So I was thinking of heading back to Ullapool”

“Oh right enough. You’ll sign off when you get there.”

“That I will. That I will.”

“Constable MacPherson. Come in please. Constable MacPherson.”

“Aye it’s me. What’s up?”

“There’s some sort of problem at Loch Bravall.”

“Loch Bravall? But surely isn’t that all shut up for the winter?”

“No. It seems a few of

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