When James suggests a monster hunt, everyone cheers. Drunk, the lot of them – it would be a bad idea on any lake. I can’t allow it. I take Jim aside.
‘Chill, Mo, it’ll be a laugh.’
‘You ought to know better, Jimmy.’
‘Jimmy? The savages call you Jimmy,’ one of his new friends booms.
I wait for James to tell posh lad off. He doesn’t.
‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’
‘Don’t be so dour, Morag. You’re such a stereotype.’
I watch them row onto the Loch.
’All yours, but don’t hurt Jimmy too much,’ I whisper into the water.