No Place Like Home by Jane Renshaw (top 10 non fiction books of all time .TXT) 📕

Willie’s lips quirked. ‘No need, Bram. No need. It was a blast.’ A sound that might have been a chuckle left his throat. ‘So what’ll it be, gents?’

‘Mineral water, please,’ said Bram.

‘Pint of Stella for me and the same for the lad,’ said David.

Bram frowned. ‘Maybe Max should just have a half.’

‘Dad!’ hissed Max.

‘What an embarrassment, eh?’ David laughed, but the look he flashed at Bram was contemptuous. ‘The lad can handle a pint. And are you wanting crisps? You got crisps, Willie? What flavour do you like, Max? Cheese and onion? Good old ready salted?’

‘If this is us living life on the edge, Grandad, we should maybe be a bit more adventurous. What more exotic flavours have you got?’

Willie sighed and, as if with a huge effort, turned to contemplate the open boxes of crisps behind him. ‘Salt and vinegar, prawn cocktail, pickled onion–’

‘Pickled onion, please,’ said Max.

Willie fished out a packet and dropped it onto the bar. ‘You folks drowning your sorrows, then?’

‘I wouldn’t say that,’ Bram objected.

As Willie got their drinks, he began to enumerate: ‘First a crow gets shot and tied to your clothesline. Then your dog. Then more crows, and Bram here has a narrow escape. Then some bastard breaks in and–’

David held up a hand to stop him. ‘They didn’t break in. Bram left the door open.’

‘Not open,’ Max corrected.

‘Unlocked.’

Willie flicked a look at Bram. ‘Some bastard gets in and leaves a bloody great chunk of offal in the chanterelle risotto. Writes “Your next” in blood on the worktop.’ He sucked air through his teeth. ‘Classic escalation.’

How the hell did Willie know all this? Presumably some of the police officers who’d attended the incident were local, and it was all round Grantown and environs by now.

‘And the mandala was vandalised at the party,’ Max put in. ‘They wrote “Stupid hippy shit” on it. Well, we don’t know if it was the same person…’

Willie shook his head, setting the first pint on the drip tray. ‘And the water failing – that’s surely no coincidence. Someone has got it in for you, no question. And I don’t suppose the police are doing anything about it.’

‘Got that right,’ said David, and turned round to lean back against the bar and contemplate the room. He raised his voice: ‘But if that toe-rag thinks the McKechnies are waiting around on their arses for the police to get their finger out, he can think again.’

Max was looking at David with his mouth open.

‘Aye, that bastard needs to watch himself,’ David boomed. ‘We’ve got his number.’

‘David,’ Bram hissed. ‘Please! This isn’t helping. Antagonising people–’

David turned back round and lifted the first pint, took a long gulp, and wiped his lips. ‘Oh no, Bram. No. They’re not the ones antagonised here. Not – at – all.’

‘Remember your suspended sentence,’ Bram said in his ear.

‘Aye, I’ve previous convictions for assault,’ David shouted. ‘They call me Mad McKechnie for a reason, eh, Max? Mad McKechnie and Mad Max, that’s us! Ha!’

Max was shaking his head, but he was laughing. ‘Grandad, you’re incorrigible.’ He lifted his own pint and took a long swallow.

‘Pace yourself, Max.’ Bram opened the packet of crisps. ‘Can we have some more crisps, Willie?’ Hopefully they would soak up some of the alcohol.

‘And what about Bram?’ said David. ‘Mad McKechnie, Mad Max and Bricking-It Bram? A-hahahahahahaa!’

‘If you mean I’m going to let the police deal with the situation and not do anything stupid, then yes. Bricking-It Bram, if you like.’

David had sunk half his pint already. He leant over and hissed at Bram: ‘No, Bram, in fact I don’t like. You need to step up. You need to get your head down out of the clouds, son. My daughter and grandkids are depending on you to keep them safe. Right? As the man of the family, the most important job you have is to keep them safe.’

‘I’m well aware of that, David, thank you.’

‘So what are you proposing to do about this yob, eh? I’m talking reality here, not airy-fairy-skipping-through-the-daisies Bram world.’

‘As I said, the police–’

‘Christ almighty! What have the police done so far?’

Max, who’d been pretending not to listen, ate a handful of crisps, shooting furtive sideways looks at them.

‘Scott’s as anxious about all this as any of us. He’s on top of it, I’m sure.’

‘Aye, Scott’s a good lad, but they don’t have the resources to throw at it that we need. It’s down to us to sort this.’

‘No it’s not. It’s–’

‘Heeeeey, Maximilian!’ came a shout from the door.

Finn Taylor and his little gang. They loped over to the bar and Finn slung an arm across Max’s shoulders. He was wearing a shiny blue football shirt with ‘Taylor’ across the back. ‘Not going to have us thrown out, are you, Grandad? You can search us for marker pens if you want!’

‘Ah, yes, Finn, um.’ Bram needed to offer an olive branch here. ‘We’re sorry about that. We didn’t mean to accuse any of you–’

‘Oh, you know, I think that’s just what you did, though, isn’t it? My old man’s thinking of suing you for slander. Reputational damage, you know what I’m saying? I can’t walk down the street now without people whispering and pointing.’ He jigged backwards. ‘There’s the guy that writes on walls!’ He ran in slow-motion down the length of the bar and back.

The other lads whooped encouragement.

‘Hey, Maximilian,’ said Finn, coming back and draping his arm round Max again. ‘You don’t think I’m guilty of…’ He gasped. ‘… wall mutilation, do you?’

Bram was in a quandary. Should he intervene? Tell Finn to go and sit down and leave them to have their drinks in peace? But after what had happened at the party, that would probably do more harm than good. He looked at David.

And found David staring back at him, a challenge in his eyes.

Oh, bloody Nora. David was leaving this situation to Bram to deal with, as a sort of test?

So what should he do?

‘Is your full