Beatrice walked into the cold street, her lips still savouring the delicious scallops she had just eaten. The quality of the Glaswegian food was as surprising as the friendly reception she had received everywhere she had been since arriving in the city. It made up for the weather...
The sound of helicopters overhead brought her back to her reason for being in the city. She held up the street map the solicitous hotel receptionist had given her. She traced her finger along a main thoroughfare, which led straight back to the hotel.
She looked up to see police officers swarming everywhere, blocking her intended route. She caught the attention of one, thrusting the map at him. 'Excuse me,' she said, 'can you help? I'm trying to get here...' She pointed to a spot on the map the receptionist had circled.
The police officer - nowhere near as shapely as Caspian she thought briefly - shook his head. 'Sorry miss,' he drawled in reply. 'I'm not from here. Just driven up from Norwich this morning. But I think you can go that way.' He pointed down to his right.
Beatrice looked towards the trees he was gesturing at, and saw another couple of people entering the darkness of the park. She gulped, gathered her coat around her, and searched for the 'torch' function on her phone.
YOU ARE READING
The COP26 Kabuff: A Beatrice Deft Short
Short StoryThe world of international book fairs has ground to a halt for over a year and a half. But when Beatrice Deft, International Publishing Consultant, receives a summons to Scotland to attend an even bigger and - some might argue - even more urgent eve...
