A Large Measure of Snow
Welcome to our regular feature showcasing the talents of the nation’s best writers.
Kinloch, December 1967. The group of old men huddled in the shelter of the Mission to Seamen that stood sentinel before the harbour at Kinloch. For most of them, having plied their trade at the fishing for a lifetime, inclement weather was no obstacle to standing in the elements having a yarn. But today was different.
As they looked on from under screwed- down bunnets, Breton caps or the odd sou’wester, the scene before them could best be described as being unusual, in terms of the prevailing weather of the south Kintyre peninsula. Snow was falling, and it was falling hard. Not only that, it had the impertinence to have already coated just about everything in sight with a white blanket. The palm trees that sprouted along the pier road, testaments to the mighty Atlantic Drift that normally cosseted the inhabitants of Kinloch in an unnaturally benign climate, had been defiled. Now they stood like exotic Christmas trees, frosted by the adorning flakes.
The snowflakes were even fatter and more numerous now than they had been in the previous hour, and the rigging of boats hung heavy white, as did the roof of the harbour master’s office, the weigh house, fuel tanks and the fish buyer’s new Rover 2000. The latter had been denounced as flash by the maritime fraternity and, in any case, would soon be tainted by that particular scent peculiar to the fruits of the sea.
Being a practical man, Sandy Hoynes had squeezed his bulky frame into oilskins that would have been a perfect fit a decade ago. Now, he looked like a purposeful lemon as he trod gingerly from the Girl Maggie moored at the pier and headed towards the gathering by the Mission. However, their collective attention was not fixed on his progress, but on a seagull that was leaving marks with its webbed feet in the snow on the pavement before them.
Donald Mckirdy swore blind they were spelling out “The end is nigh”, though none of his companions could discern this. The gull eyed them all with disdain before taking off into the pearlescent sky with a loud squawk of derision, ejecting a watery deposit that landed on Hoynes’ left wellington boot. Fortunately, the silencing quality of snow disguised the profanity that issued from Hoynes’ mouth as he took to the road. ■
About the author
Denzil Meyrick was born in Glasgow and brought up in Campbeltown. After studying politics, he pursued a varied career including time spent as a police officer, freelance journalist and director of several companies. Previous novels in his bestselling DCI Daley thriller series include Whisky from Small Glasses, which was the Waterstones Scottish Book of the Year in 2015. A Large Measure of Snow: A Tale from Kinloch is published by Polygon, price £ 9.99.