Chapter 12: The Fundamental Things Apply

I honestly believed that I had no prejudices until I was called on to arbitrate between two friends. After Penny dragged her father away, I was besieged by Hamish and Jim wanting to know what was going on. They stopped just short of calling me a liar when I pleaded ignorance. It was almost an hour before Pat emerged from the scrum of women and asked if I would walk with her in the garden. ‘Alone!’ she added when a retinue began to fall in behind us. She was clearly still upset but the tears had stopped, and she was thinking clearly.

She began with general criticism of Dave, expressing her disappointment that he had shown himself to be like all the rest, without going into much detail. We had reached the fort before she reached the crux of the matter. “He’s going to reconcile with that wife of his and he wants my approval. I can’t believe he had the nerve to ask me.” Dave, I thought, isn’t that stupid. “It certainly took balls to do that,” I suggested, hoping to lighten the atmosphere. “He won’t have them for long if I see him again,” Pat replied, with a little snigger.

I felt quite hopeful at that. There had been a misunderstanding, perhaps a badly phrased comment, but with goodwill on both sides we could surely find a solution. Then she exposed my prejudice. “What’s worst of all, Fred, is that you took his side. You hadn’t even heard my side of the story, but you sent him off to safety leaving me looking like an idiot.” I had acted to prevent two friends saying or doing something to hurt each other. I most emphatically did not take sides although I found myself shifting my opinion behind Dave in the face of this accusation.

It took a minute or two, but I said nothing until I had controlled the flare of anger. In the end, I asked her what she could recall of their conversation before his wife was mentioned. Pat had been quite flattered at first that he would approach her for advice on how to deal with Amber. She told him things that I don’t think Jim knows. Pat’s father did not attend her wedding, telling her that she would be better off as a single mum than marrying the man who had got her pregnant. She was about the same age then as Amber is now and had only been married a couple of months longer.

Her own father had taken her back without recriminations when she turned up with an infant, so she had a great deal of sympathy with Dave wanting to rebuild a relationship with his daughter. “I never said anything as nasty to dad as Amber said to Dave, but I could stretch a point. Then he said something about that, meaning he would have to rethink his dealings with Helen. That’s when I lost it.” I suggested that he probably meant that he could not prevent the girls having a relationship with their mother. If they still saw her, he could not totally ignore the woman.

“Her lover has dumped her, Fred. Take my word for it: she’ll want Dave back and those bitches of daughters will wear him down until he agrees. Better for him and me to split now before we get too involved.” I pointed out that they would both get hungry and share a taste in movies, so perhaps they could still meet as friends. “Sometimes, Fred, I think you’re as stupid as you look.” I took that as my cue to leave the cooling corpse of the housewarming party.

Back at the farm, Dave was sitting with his head in his hands, while Penny strode up and down the lounge firing salvos at everyone with any interest in the case, including her father. He suffered less than most, except Penny herself who had justifications for all her actions – it seems her biggest fault is an excess of tolerance towards others. I somehow missed that about her. I’m not sure if I was the worst culprit or just the most accessible, but I took the brunt of her criticism, until I got another half bottle of wine into her. We finally got her on the couch resting her eyes, so Dave and I could talk.

He was bewildered, and it got worse when I asked if he had considered reconciling with Helen. “I’d rather cut my wrists,” was his succinct reply. Since our discussion on Wednesday, he had spent a lot of time talking to Amber. She was living with her mother but was about to start counselling with Hugo, her husband, paid for by his mother. Dave was not happy with Amber’s attitude to him, to her husband, or, in fact, to anything. He wanted to talk things out with a friend.

“You had made your views very clear on a couple of occasions, so I ruled you out. Richard Douglas is out of the country and unreachable. That just left Pat. I didn’t want to talk to her for fear that it would change how she felt about me, but I knew she would understand. After all, her own history isn’t too different to Amber’s. I think I maybe picked the wrong words when I said that I couldn’t leave Helen out of the loop the way she did her husband. All I meant was that Jim was a baby while my daughters are grown women. I could hardly forbid them to talk to their own mother, could I?”

Then my prejudice kicked in again. Dave sounded so reasonable. I would have behaved exactly as he had if I had been in his shoes. Pat, on the other hand, was all womanly and irrational. Between us, we got Penny settled on the couch, before we went to our separate rooms in companionable silence. Lying in bed, I began to feel guilty. I have only known Dave for a few weeks, and I have not met most of the other players in his family drama. Pat is the mother of my best friend who has nurtured me for half my life. I only got to sleep after resolving to choose Pat if she and Dave stopped talking to each other. To Hell with right and wrong, loyalty is more important.

The next morning, I was up early, afraid to make myself a coffee in case it wakened Penny. Flubber and I spent a wonderful hour on the moors before hunger drove me back. Penny was up and subdued, whether as a result of remorse or a hangover I cannot say. Dave came down when she announced breakfast was ready. We talked about Amber’s counselling as we ate, and I left on a note of cautious optimism to return to Sturach. There, everyone but Pat and the children treated me as if I was an envoy from the enemy. They were eating in the kitchen when I arrived, but I walked through after a polite greeting to join the kids at the fort.

It might have been ten minutes before Jim joined me. “How did that job go on Friday?” We talked about it, and I remembered to tell him that Jock McTavish wanted a job. Jim knows he is a great mechanic but, like the old Fred, he keeps his thoughts about anything else to himself. When he heard his mother’s anguish, he knelt at her feet offering comfort. Two months ago, I would have been kneeling beside him. I think this is what she meant when she said he could never be The Man.

Jock joined us, looking a little apprehensive but soon relaxed enough to remind us that quarrels did happen in families. He then wandered off with Jim to talk about hours of work and rates of pay. I wasn’t alone for long before Hamish turned up wanting to know how many sheep we might put on the hill with two full-time shepherds. I took this as a back-handed acceptance that there was still a place in his life for Dave. I talked meaningless numbers mentioning the use of drones and quadbikes. Neither of us paid much attention to what we were saying.

An image of the bullring came to mind, except that I was now the bull. The men were sent out to soften me up, prodding me with their lances to weaken my resistance. The kids, laughing and screeching amongst the ropes and planks, were the excited crowd and I was the bewildered sacrificial victim. Right on cue, Jessica appeared, ignoring me and ordering the children in for milk and cakes. The three men left barely a ripple as they departed. Seconds later, Pat stepped into the arena. I was relieved to see her wearing jeans and a jumper instead of the suit of lights of a matador.

“How’s Dave?” she asked, hugging my arm as she kissed my cheek. “Remorseful, bewildered, sad. He would cut his wrists rather than go back to that woman, you know. He was troubled, needing advice and he couldn’t come to me. Richard is out of the country, so that left you as his only other true friend.” She sighed, gave me another kiss, and we got down to discussing the terms of the peace treaty. An hour later, they were talking on the telephone. I had talked to the men and had no wish to talk to the women, so I slipped round the side of the house to drive back to the cottage.

Dave and Pat will make up their own minds about whatever future they may have together. I have undone the suggestion that I had taken sides in their argument. I was so sure that I could leave everything to them, that I stopped at Mary’s door since the Land Rover was nowhere to be seen. I hadn’t seen her to talk to since I returned to Cuadh a week before. My phone had been pinging with incoming traffic almost since I left Sturoch. I had ignored the calls since I was driving but a fresh one came through just as I got out the van.

Perhaps I expected warm congratulations for bringing the war between Pat and Dave to an early end. What I got was abuse from Jessica; the kindest thing she called me was a rat. I learned a valuable lesson that day: it can be harder to appease the allies than the principals when you draft a peace treaty. Mary wasn’t in the house, so I drove the last kilometre in a thoughtful mood. Penny was every bit as angry with me as Jess. I let her get it all off her chest while I had a cup of coffee. Dave came out with me when Flubber and I left again to tramp the moors. Once we were well out of earshot, he smilingly confessed that he and Pat had another dinner and movie date for the next evening. “Don’t tell Penny,” he implored me.

He and Penny went to her flat where the phone signal was stronger to continue talking to Amber. Flubber and I enjoyed the peace and quiet, although I had cramp in my foot at bedtime from the dog insisting on resting her chin on it all evening. I think she had been upset by the high emotions amongst the humans. It must be confusing for a dog and unimaginable for a sheep. Its probably blasphemous to envy a dumb animal, but I do sometimes wonder.

On Monday, I was out at first light, my plan to make a grand tour of the flock. There is very little daylight this far north towards the end of November, so it would take two days. I had considered leaving my phone on the table, but common sense made me put it in my pocket. I was strongly tempted to switch it off, spending several minutes debating the issue with myself. As you might expect, I suffered the penalty for indecision. The phone rang, and I answered it.

“Phil has tabled a motion at the AGM,” Ellen announced, her voice betraying her concern. “How do you know?” was my first, unintelligent comment. I was setting off, you must remember, on an idyllic day communing with nature, only to have the cup dashed from my lips, so to speak, by the almost forgotten problems of Robinson Engineering. My first uncharitable thought was to let someone else deal with the issue. My question actually proved useful. Ellen had calmed down considerably by the time she explained that she had been minute secretary to the board for thirty years, so all motions were addressed to her for inclusion on the agenda.

Any shareholder can propose a motion. The draft is sent to Ellen who directs it to the appropriate board members for vetting. For example, GG Graham will check that anything proposed would be legal. I was less concerned at the contents of Philip’s motion than with his right to propose it. My crafty cousin had retained just five shares out of the thousands he inherited, but that was enough to give him access to the board. The name he used on his petition is Philip Crichton-Robinson, the first time, so far as I know, that he had used the family name on an official document.

It turned out that Phil’s intervention triggered Ellen’s unease. It was as if the legendary little Dutch boy pulled his thumb out the dyke and went home for tea. Ellen let all her problems flood through in the wake of Phil’s motion. It took some time to establish a clear picture. Ellen had spent almost thirty years observing what was wrong with the management of Robinson’s. Since she took command, she has pruned and tweaked; it is with great pride that she promised me an efficient, streamlined operation before the AGM. Her problem is that in all those years she hasn’t given a thought to what she would do with the improved administration.

She excused herself, quoting her age and lack of the most basic understanding of engineering, but she could not hide the truth: she is a secretary. She is probably the best secretary there has ever been, but she cannot exceed her design limits. Six weeks ago, I used to argue that everyone deserved a chance to succeed. Now I would change that slightly to recognise that not everyone is cut-out to be a leader. When you are deciding if the building will be a kirk or a mill, you should consider who is available to run it. There is no point in fitting machinery to grind flour if the only man available is a vicar.

Ellen, after telling me how wonderful he had been, proposed that Paddy should be asked to be managing director after the AGM. I told her I would think about it, admitting that I had no other candidate in mind. “He’s practically given up drinking. Doctor Sheila read him the riot act and he’s really sorted himself out. She would be such a good influence and the challenge of the job would bring out the best in him.” That was what Albert thought when he pushed my father into the same role - and look how that turned out.

I had turned in my tracks as soon as Ellen told me there was a problem and I was now back at the cottage, giving me an excuse to cut short the call. I promised her I would pack a bag and be on the road within an hour. It took a little longer, because Mary waylaid me as I passed her house. Andrew had crashed the car and, although not badly hurt, had signed himself into a closed clinic to be treated for alcohol abuse. She was feeling guilty that her affair with Adrian the tailor had driven Andrew to drink. I told her that, on the contrary, it was the drink that had driven her into the arms of another man.

On the road south, I thought about dad, Andrew and Paddy. All three had the same response to obstacles appearing in their path; they all dived into a bottle. The only relevant case was that of Paddy. I am sure that Ellen is right to say that he would make an excellent chief executive, perhaps leading Robinson’s to new heights over a number of years. What I feared, however, was his response to the obstacles that would not be smoothed away by his boyish charm. I could not forget his subservience to GG at our meeting in the office of the great man.

It was true enough that I had no one in mind to immediately replace Ellen in charge of the company but I was not without options. In ten years, perhaps less, Madelaine Fraser will be the perfect person to carry the company forward into the next century. I was unaware at the time of the irony of protecting her from the pressures of promotion before she is ready. In the meantime, I remembered a remark by Richard Douglas about an associate of his who could fill the post. I didn’t pay much attention at the time since I was deeply suspicious of Richard’s motives.

I called him when I stopped for coffee at the head of the M74, forgetting that he was out of the country. I needn’t have worried; after a series of clicks, his voice came through loud and clear, boasting that he was lying by a pool in summer temperatures. I told him that I needed someone to run Robinson’s until Madelaine was ready to take the job. Richard asked where I would be the following day, promising that his man would contact me. He added, before I had a chance to, that the final choice would be mine.

“Why did you take my call when your minion told Dave you were unavailable?” He chuckled. “I knew yours was a business call and I guessed that Dave wanted advice on that dysfunctional family of his. I really like Dave but, a) I know nothing about families, never having had one, and b) I’m too cowardly to get involved.” I told him how Pat and Dave were arranging a date at the same time as Jessica was blaming me for ruining their relationship. “What do you think of her?” Richard asked. “Her dad’s an judge and she broke off her engagement to one of his proteges to marry Hamish.”

We were interrupted by one of his minions at that point, so I was left wondering at the significance of his enquiry about Jess. I was thoughtful during the remainder of the journey. It would need some fancy footwork to keep Ellen believing that her nominated successor was still in the frame. I was fairly sure that she would agree to remain in the post until after Bob and I got back from the sales trip to Europe. All things considered; I would have to resign myself to remaining in Dumfries until after the AGM. It would be no hardship to escape from the coven of women at Sturoch.

I drove straight to the factory so that Ellen and I could consider the agenda for the forthcoming meeting, paying special attention to Philip’s contribution. Paddy had spent a day considering the implications, giving a clear account of the background, concluding with a recommendation. In essence, Robinson’s owned a substantial tract of ground zoned for industrial development. Central government had denied the local authority direct access to the motorway which cast a planning blight over the land. In essence, Philip’s proposal was to offload everything, leasing back the land on which the factory buildings stood. It was Paddy’s opinion that the proposal had been prepared by GG Graham.