‘Who?’ ‘Ye know fine. Him from along the road. Him that did auld Muncie in.’ ‘Oh him. Whit’s for dinner?’ ‘Ye’ll see when it’s ready!’ she snapped and charged through to the kitchenette, adding, ‘The trouble wi’ you is that you’re interested in nothin’ but yersel.’ ‘How should I be interested in McCluskie? He’s nothin’ but a heid-banger.’ ‘He’s no’ the only one.’ ‘Don’t gie me that fork,’ I instructed when she placed some chips and egg on the table. ‘It’s a’ rust.’ She studied the fork. ‘Nothin’ wrang wi’ it. It must be great tae have servants.’ ‘It must be great tae have cutlery.’ ‘Anyway, I think it’s terrible,’ she said. ‘Ye mean this fork?’ ‘I mean it’s terrible that McCluskie’s oot.’ ‘I thought ye were pally wi’ his auld wife.’ ‘I feel sorry for her right enough havin’ a son like that, but I’ve nae time for him.’ ‘I’m sure he’s worried.’ ‘Well, worried or no’, I hear folks are gettin’ up a petition tae put the McCluskies oot their hoose.’ ‘The trouble wi’ folk,’ I informed her, ‘is that they should mind their ain business, including yersel.’ ‘Oh sure, everybody should mind their ain business, then we could a’ get murdered in oor beds.’ ‘As far as I can remember the verdict was manslaughter.’ ‘It was murder.
