CHRISSY
The place wasn’t quite as I remembered it, having mutated from a typical YHA hostel into some sort of geology study centre, but they had a bunk, at a price I could afford. The menu for the pub next door looked a little less affordable, but, hell; only three nights. I’d make it up by living on scampi fries for a week. At least they had decent parking.

I wasn’t sure about the etiquette, nor the tunes list. As far as I knew, Debbie Prosser’s little ceremony had been done years before, but at least I had one tune for her that I knew she liked. This Strachan guy, not a clue. Ah well; the sun was almost back round to the wrong side of the yard arm, or so my stomach was telling me, so I tapped in the number Candice had given me. A man answered, which was at least a good start.

“Is that Neil Strachan?”

“Who’s calling?”

“It’s Chrissy, Neil. Chrissy Morgan. Diane’s friend. Musician”

“Oh! Sorry. I’d forgotten about you”

Oopsies.

“Easy done, or so my critics say. I had that talk with Mike Rhodes, remember?”

“Oh. Yes”

Like pulling bloody teeth, this.

“I’m in the hostel next to the pub. Where are you?”

“In the pub”

“Sensible man. Can you get me a pint? I’m on my way”

“I don’t know what you drink”

Too much, if you keep this up.

“Alcohol. Something like an IPA will do. See you in five minutes”

I pulled together a little bundle of necessities, including a torch, and set off on the expedition from one car park to the other, along all of fifty metres or so of footpath. I’d made sure I had a notepad and pen, as well as my tablet, on the basis that if he didn’t know any particular tune, I could play him some of my video (thanks, Siw!) and see what rattled his cage.

There was only one person fitting the bill, but I sort of recognised him. Well over six feet, a little flabby, in an odd mix of leather bike trousers, souvenir Aussie T-shirt and unlaced plimsolls. I waved and smiled, pointing to one of the two pints in front of him.

“That one mine, then?”

“You Chrissy?”

“Guilty! What’s good to eat?”

“I don’t know. I had the fish. That was good”

Just as I was about to despair, he turned to the bar and called out to the lad behind it.

“Anth?”

“Aye?”

“Anything special in the specials?”

“Carnivore or not?”

I took that as my cue.

“Depends on what it is. Don’t do stuff like foie gras or veal, if you get me”

“Venison and wild mushroom stew’s popular. Comes with cheddar mash or meat-free pernackity”

“Panhagglety?”

“Aye, that’s what I said. Just the tatties, onions and cheese”

“That sounds up my street, or rather onto my plate. How many pints am I behind?”

“That’s his third, pet. Noo, Ah knaa ye from somewhere”

Neil looked up sharply.

“She’s a musician, Anth”

I nodded.

“I used to live in Northumberland, as a kid, but well before I was old enough for pubs”

“Got it! Chrissy Morgan, am Ah reet? Ah! Here to, well, help this lad?”

He took a look over his shoulder before pulling out a couple of chairs for the two of us.

“Jacka’s fine for the moment, like, so time for that bit catch-up, I think. Hoo d’ye knaa Neil here?”

“Mutual friends, really. Some coppers, initially, to be honest, and I suppose that’s a good idea, with coppers. Being honest, I mean”

“Ah winnat be opening old wounds, pet, but Ah knew Neil’s Maddy, aye? They were regulars here, until things happened. Would these be the same polis that sorted out that…”

He paused, just for a breath or two, then smiled, awkwardly.

“Ah normally try not to say ‘cunt’ in front of lasses, but that Nigel, aye? Those polis?”

“I believe so, as well as some other friends of mine”

He nodded, mouth twisting.

“Aye. Mike and Maz and their bairns?”

He obviously saw something in my expression, for he quickly added, “They were staying up here for a bit. Brought this’un back to us, and made him smile again. You can smile, can’t you, Neil?”

He rose, giving me the upwards eyebrows.

“The stew, with the pernackity?”

“Yes please”

“I’ll get yez some more chairs”

“My arse isn’t that wide, even after a meal!”

“Na; this lot look like they’re with you. Yez are, aren’t yez? With these two? How many?”

It was Debbie, with a little army of attendants.

“There’s twelve of us, butt”

“Reet. Can ye gie’s a hand, Jacka? Sort some tables, aye? Are yez eating, you lot? Just so Ah knaa how much space to gie yez””

Debbie shook her head.

“We cooked our own earlier, so we should be fine”

“Well, let us knaa, and we can always do yez a sandwich or some chips later. Ah’m Anth, the lad dragging that table across is Jacka, And Neil here is an old, old friend. Yez’ll be here for Maddy, aye?”

Debbie’s husband looked across from the bar, where he was checking the ales out.

“You knew her, er, Anth?”

“We did, marra. Loved her, aye? Not too strong a word, that. It’s… Jacka? Going to be a while here. Can you watch the bar after we get this lot sorted?”

He turned back to Debbie, with the gentlest of smiles.

“De us a favour, and introduce this lot, and then wuz can do the ‘how we met’ bit”

Debbie nodded, as Frank did a quick drinks census, and once they were all issued, first sips down, Debbie waved at her backing crew.

“In no particular order, My husband Frank, three of my girls Nell, Cathy and Kim, their husbands Leo, Scott and Phil, Clara, another of my girls, and my sister Rosie, and two other friends, Candice and Lexie”

I waved across the table.

“That’s two of my friends as well, Debbie”

Neil looked up from his hands for the first time since we were swarmed.

“My friends too”

Anth was nodding, then looked directly at ‘Rosie’.

“No bike this time, pet?”

He got the hardest of hard stares, but fielded it nicely.

“Ah met Neil and Maddy the same day Ah think Ah might have met you. Before Ah took on the pub, Ah wes running a snacks and coffee van. Lot younger back then. We aal were, Ah suppose. Ah could see what yeez lot were about, Rosie, Debbie, if Ah have yez right”

Rosie nodded, slowly.

“I believe you do, butt.”

“Weeeel, Ah picked that pitch for the atmosphere, like. Mair trade at somewhere like Housesteads, or Chesters, but the people at that spot tend te hev a bit mair, like, discernment? Soul? And there yeez were, and Ah knew what it was for, so Ah left yez alone for it. Next thing, it’s Neil and Maddy, and, shite, what a cunt that Nigel is. What Ah saw that day, Ah remember telling Neil he should play the lottery. Ah still got years of seeing them smile at each other, so if… Neil?”

“Yes, mate?”

“Okay with me coming along for your little event? Ah’d like a chance to say so long to her as well”

Neil was more upright now, and moved across to hug the man. It was like the best of folk clubs, offering me a hard act to follow.

“I’ll put my oar in here, then, if I may. I’m Chrissy Morgan. I play music, and that’s my offering for Maddy”

Clara whispered something to Debbie, and that woman’s eyes widened.

“Clara says you were the one who passed on that request to the other Maddy, at that folk festival”

“Yup. Had to be done. I said that if Maddy couldn’t fit it in, I would. Now, I hear Frank sings a bit, and knows the song, so if you want, I can include it, either singing or just playing the twangly side. Oh, and I have some friends of my own coming to join in. Two of them live close by, but two more have taken that cottage up the lane”

Debbie looked at her husband, slightly puzzled, and Candice spoke up.

“We’re in the sort of lodge place next door, so even closer. Oh, and while I am, as you can see, blonde, I think both Lexie and me, having met Nigel Forbes, can confirm that Anth here was spot on. He is indeed a cunt”