But by this time, PC Isa Urquhart had been relieved as Control by the Gold Commander, DI Gordon Brevity who, along with his wife, Sergeant Goldy Brevity, was now co-ordinating the Search and Rescue operation in that part of Melrose which lay on the rising Dingleton Hill area, south of the town's bypass; vehicles, including diggers and trucks were run from the Borders General Hospital, where the Staff and Visitors car parks had been cleared of cars and a stream of casualties was arriving at A&E; many off-duty doctors, nurses and ancillary staff had already arrived to help deal with the influx and two extra HEMS helicopters were helping paramedics reach injured people who could not be accessed by ambulances; additional Police Scotland officers had come from Galashiels, Hawick and other towns to assist by the time PC Milly Millican, DI Isa Urquhart and PS Milly Millican reached Melrose Cop Shop with Sir Parlane MacFarlane – struggling against the handcuffs which joined his hands behind his back – and the three All-American journalists (Dominic Doubleday was at the hospital with a pair of armed guards) and a ferry system had already found and taken to the BGH a large number of Neanderthals and the two Heavies, pointed out by PS Millican, who were both debilitated by time-travel sickness; a couple of Mountain Rescue volunteers were searching the cave network, looking for Crystal Shann-Delyeer and another woman, also believed to have been abducted and held captive by MacFarlane and Doubleday; when I reached home by a circuitous route – as all the roads were closed to non-essential personnel, which inspired a riot as customers either couldn't drive to the Co-op, or couldn't bring their shipping home – by walking along the riverside path as far as the Waverley Hydro Hotel and then cutting through Darnick to High Cross Avenue (only being allowed through by proving to the Army Cadets manning a roadblock that I live here) where I found all of my Aunties, Father Mungo Macaneny and Lulu, crowded into the living-room and watching the operation on TV; the BBC had managed to set-up at the BGH and Border Television were based the Scottish Borders Council HQ in Newtown, both had their own drones providing aerial cover, although one had been shot down by a nervous Cadet who apparently thought it was part of a terrorist attack! apparently the conspiracy theories are already wide-spread and wildly off-the-mark, blaming what had happened on eco-terrorists, ISIS, leftover remnants of the Tartan Army, an earthquake – or volcano - English Nationalists resentful of Scotland daring to vote Remain, Christian Fundamentalists unhappy with Scotland's progressive Abortion Laws and Gay Marriage, a publicity stunt by Boris Johnson which mysteriously back-fired, or some disgruntled Teris (as citizens of Hawick are known for reasons which I don't have room to explain here and now) unhappy about a number of things I don't understand or can be bothered to ponder here and now; but it was Lulu who drew me into a corner and asked: "this is some Time Travellin stuff gone wrong, but, in'tit?" – and, although I don't know quite what has happened or why and can only guess, I nodded: "most likely; I wouldn't expect MacFarlane to come back here so publicly of his own accord," and Lulu gave me a hug, which was when I noticed her dangly earrings, girandole in fact, not at all what I would have expected, and I said so: "yepp," she replied, "surprises me tae, but Mungo gave them tae me; ye know, he comes across all brusque and irascible, but I saw another side to him when we went tae the Grapplers Convention – he wants me to tak ower as his Hoosekeeper when Sister Concepta retires, and now that there's only him, where there used to be three priests, the Diocese says he dusnae warrant a Housekeeper! they've no bin tae see it, so they think it's bairn's play, huv ye seen the state o the Parish Hoose? it's totally clarty, an fer ower much fer Sister Concepta – it's ower dark inside an she canny see hauf the time, puir sowell, she diz her best but it's like tryin tae brush back the waves at North Berwick, she husnae a Hope in Hell, oops! ach but ye ken am urny ane o thae Holy Wullies, Teri; onywey, when the Removals Business is quiet, ah pop in an gie her a haun – ah sit her doon wi a cuppie an dae sum o the werk maseel, an then we hae sum peeces an a blether – she cums fae the Gaeltacht, awa oan the West Coast o Ireland, whaur they aw speak Irish, jist like the Gaelic up oan Skye an the Western Islands, so that's whaur she's retirin tae, she's still goat cousins and nephews an nieces, an maybe a wee brither, ah think, bit he'll likely be eighty-five, cause she's near ninety – an thae measly, stingy, miserly bastards wudnae gie hur a helper, it's fifteen year syne Sister Immaculata died – it's a fukn Crime!"