Chapter 14: The World Will Always Welcome Lovers

When I checked my emails while I waited for my flight to Glasgow, there was a message from Dave promising lots of news and confirming that someone would be there to collect me. I had dozed on the plane, so I was not at my brightest when I emerged from the customs area. I recognised Penny an instant before she engulfed me in a warm embrace. “Is it too late for a New Year kiss?” were her first words, as she explored my tonsils with her tongue before I could reply. She took my arm and urged me out of the arrival’s hall and straight round to the departure area.

“Mummy is having a brainstorm,” she explained. “She’s threatening to sell the house and Amber is going nuts. She’s been living with me for a week – Amber, that is – and she’s driving me round the bend. We’re going down to talk some sense into mummy, but Daddy absolutely refuses to come with us, not that I blame him. I wish I didn’t have to go, if you want to know the truth.” This was the most Penny had ever said to me without blaming me for something. Taken together with the kiss, I wondered if I had landed in an alternative reality.

We had just sat down with our coffees, when a female cyclone arrived, closely followed by Dave. There were enough similarities to identify Amber; she looked like a slightly out of focus version of her older sister. Penny’s features are clear-cut, even a little sharp, whereas Amber had rounder cheeks and fuller lips. The chief difference, however, was in the expression on the faces of the two women. Penny has a calm demeanour, except when I am reminding her of her faults, while Amber just looks sulky.

Dave had turned off to the serving area after giving me a welcoming nod, leaving Amber glaring at her sister. “Come on, Stinky! We need to get through security.” Dave had come back in time to hear this remark, and he shrugged when I mouthed ‘Stinky?’ at him. Amber spotted my response. “Penelope – Pen – pen and ink – stink – so, Stinky.” I raised my eyebrows at her father. “She was only eight at the time,” he explained. “So, not much chance that she’ll grow out of it now,” I speculated.

Dave interrupted to ask if she wanted a pastry with her coffee, but Amber had me in her sights, although she addressed her remarks to Penny. “Is this the yokel you’ve been raving about? If this is the best example of the men up here its high time we got you back to London. You don’t even have a proper job.” She sat down with a groan. “How can you stand it? It’s like living in one of those Siberian Gulags you used to read about.”

Penny’s expression was no longer bland. “I grant you that the weather is nothing to boast about, but the people are warm and caring. I worked sixty hours a week making idiots look good in what you describe as a proper job. Up here I’m one of a handful of people specialising in Scottish and English law. Instead of being a minnow avoiding predatory sharks, I’m a big fish. And even if the pond is smaller, the other fish appreciate my worth; they stop what they’re doing and smile at me when I meet them.

“Whatever! Forget the coffee, dad, I don’t want to risk missing my flight. C’mon sis, time to bid a fond farewell to the bumpkin.” Amber was clearly trying to make a lasting impression. I assured Dave that I needed to make a number of phone calls, giving Penny another warm embrace and a lingering kiss – let me just say that I liked the way she had defended Scotland, and leave it at that. “Why not give what’s-his-name your car keys and come with us daddy?” Amber was whining as they walked away. “Mummy will listen to you,” was the last I heard.

I called Dominique to reassure her that my feet were safely back on the ground. She told me that Madelaine was missing me, which seemed strange since she had not bothered to leave her bed to see me off when her mum drove me to the airport. After the unpleasantness with Amber came this reminder of Madelaine’s hostility towards me and I was afraid that Ellen would have some criticism of her own to launch at me. Postponing the inevitable, I first called Jim who had happily coped with a succession of minor problems while I was absent.

It was like a balm to listen to him recount arguments with the local authority about storing propane cylinders, and young William’s fight on his first day at his new school; the cause of the fight was still in dispute, but Jim was happy that his son came out the winner. Liz took the phone. She made me promise to join them for Sunday lunch when the whole family would be there.

“Jess and Hamish will be there with their four, and of course Dave. I suppose we’ll have to invite that daughter of his – not Penny, the other one.” And so, Liz went on for twenty minutes, filling me in on the gossip. “I’m the one that might miss lunch,” she concluded with a giggle. “I’m nine months on Friday but I don’t think anything’s happening yet. Jim’s hoping that you’ll be available to cover for him during the birth. Old Jock’s fine but he’d rather have you in charge.”

It was a minor jolt to be reminded that Liz was so close to giving birth. I had been away for over a month and knew that life had moved on both at Coudh and with Robinson’s. Time enough for matters of life and death to have occurred. My first thought was of my hundred pregnant sheep, now within two months of their own accouchement. It was only later that I thought about Great Uncle Albert, but he seems to be indestructible. The thought of the ninety-three-year-old was enough, however, to prod me into calling Ellen as soon as Liz rang off.

Uncle Albert’s new wife completely restored my faith in the ultimate goodness of humanity. Her first concern was the wellbeing of all the participants before she was willing to discuss business. She is a woman with her priorities right. Her report on Robinson Engineering, when she finally delivered it, was optimistic. She recognised Iain’s ability and liked him as a man – I suspect that he will have a number of her female friends paraded in front of him in the coming months. It was particularly gratifying when she praised the efforts Bob and I had made in finding new business.

I drove home since Dave was still upset by the departure of his daughters. He talked about Amber in a dull, resigned voice until we passed Balloch. The tale unfolded as a series of anecdotes, and it was clear that he had difficulty finding his perspective. I was an outsider hearing the story for the first time and had no problem reaching facile conclusions. Too many people had jumped to conclusions about me in the past, so I confined myself to odd words and grunts to show I was still listening, letting Dave talk mostly undisturbed.

Amber has always been a nightmare. I don’t know much about babies; I imagine they yell and keep yelling until some adult figures out the cause and applies a remedy. At some stage they stop yelling and simply tell their significant grown-up what is troubling them. It appears that Amber never moved out of the first phase. It may be a man thing, but Dave took the line I would have done, putting his foot firmly down and demanding better behaviour from the child. His wife took the opposite view, choosing to give in to the demands. This difference of opinion certainly contributed to the break-up of their marriage.

The child did not learn how to behave even after she started school. That, at least, is what I infer from her history of moving from one school to another. Dave, naturally enough, put much of the blame on the other, bullying pupils or the teachers who could have prevented the attacks. I knew something about surviving bullying, and I could have told Amber that yelling for help from the staff was absolutely the worst thing to do. Plan your activities so that you are always within sight of an adult, I would have told her.

In Amber’s case, it all came to a head when she was fifteen. She, with the enthusiastic backing of her mother, wanted to be tutored at home, since she had alienated the last school in the district that would have her. Dave put his foot down, arguing that Penny, who was sitting A-levels, would suffer from the strain Amber’s demand would place on the family resources. Helen bluntly told him to increase his hours at work to make up the shortfall. The matter was resolved when Penny passed her driving test and both girls transferred to a private school some distance from home. It was clear from what Dave was saying that the dispute still rankled.

Dave was quiet for a few kilometres and I thought how easy it must have been for ‘Uncle Peter’ to insinuate himself into the family. Helen saw her husband as intransigent, ungrateful for all her efforts; a slightly overripe peach ready to be plucked. Amber would be even easier to win to his side. Her dad had stood as the obstacle to her desires for as long as she could remember. All Uncle Peter had to offer was to give her everything she wanted when he had replaced Dave. Little wonder that she was his first choice to walk her down the aisle at her wedding.

“Penny driving her sister to school was our revenge,” Dave laughed, after a couple of minutes of silence. “I suppose I always spoiled Penny a bit to compensate for Helen giving Amber everything she wanted.” Helen was opposed to her older daughter having a car of her own, especially the new vehicle that Dave insisted on for reliability. On the other hand, she was wasting most of the levers she had devised to move her husband to do as she wanted, in the lost cause of employing a tutor.

Now he was talking about his favourite child, Dave’s voice became warmer and his expression happier. It was clear that the reconciliation between Penny and her father was complete. Certainly, she seemed to have changed in my absence on the sales trip. I can’t imagine myself hugging and kissing the Penny I left in December the way I had twice done today. “You and she seemed to have a bit of a thing going,” Dave read my thoughts. We agreed that she had changed; the woman I saw today is the adult version of the girl he adores. “Perhaps Amber held up a mirror and she saw in it the hurt and disrespect she had shown you,” I suggested.

He said no more about the kiss, which was just as well since I was conflicted. Until I met Dave, the only woman who wanted to kiss me was Glenda, my wife, and even she preferred to kiss my cousin Philip. Now I had Penny seeking my embrace while I could still feel the scorching kiss Dominique had planted on my mouth before I left Lyon. I had no romantic feelings for either woman, but I had certainly enjoyed their embraces. I was feeling guilty because I was developing feelings for Marika, who had also kissed me several times with increasing passion.

The passion reached its height on both sides when we arrived at the farmhouse, and I was reunited with Flubber. She was as ecstatic to see me as I was to see her. The following morning, she was dizzy with excitement when I pulled on my hiking boots, and she could finally believe that we would be spending the day on the moors. The weather was damp, and the light was poor, but nothing could dampen our spirits. I was exhausted by the time we had returned from where Anne presided over the advance guard of my flock.

She had moved no further from the cottage during my absence, and she seemed to have an instinctive understanding when Flubber and I eased her and her companions towards the pen that would give them shelter during lambing. I wanted them closer before the weather turned nasty, so it would be easier to supplement their food supply with hay. By the end of the second day, we had accounted for all of the hundred ladies Dave and I brought to the moor. They all looked well to me, and I was reassured when Flubber showed no signs of concern.

On Saturday, the third day after returning from Europe, the weather changed. The first thing I knew of it was when my clock radio woke me with the forecast. I might argue that I was still groggy with sleep, but the truth is that I understood the words perfectly clearly – what I didn’t understand was their import. ‘Scattered snow flurries with some drifting on higher ground,’ didn’t sound too bad. I missed the detail, and I didn’t even know where Drumochter was, so I was unconcerned that the pass might be closed later. I certainly heard nothing that caused me any alarm.

After two full days on the moor, my plan was to walk briskly over to where I had last seen Anne to check on her progress. Like her human prototype, the professor of botany, my Anne had a mind of her own; she could be persuaded but not forced. I had promised Dave I would be back in time for lunch. Pat was coming to discuss the business plan for her new tearoom, and he didn’t want to risk being alone with her. “We promised each other to take things slow, Fred, but I’m struggling to behave as a gentleman should.” In my opinion, Pat was more than able to take care of herself.

Outside, the air was cold and there were gleams of sunshine, although the sky to the south-west was rapidly clouding over. Looking north-east, however, the sky was so black with menacing clouds that it appeared purple. There was a strong wind tugging at the hems of my parka and I stuffed my cap in my pocket when it was whisked off my head. I was wondering, not for the first time, why I was now the object of female interest, totally unaware of the conditions in which Flubber and I set off across the familiar moor.

The wind was behind us, so we made good time to the declivity where Anne and four other mothers-to-be were quietly grazing. I don’t know if it was because I had reached my goal or Flubber’s increasing agitation, but I suddenly became aware of my situation, quickly realisng that it was a predicament – I was in trouble. It was as dark as night and the wind had risen to gale force. Partially sheltered as I was by the shallow valley the sheep had chosen, I had to lean forward into the wind, staggering because it was gusting fitfully.

I knew that I was barely a kilometre from the cottage, and I would have sworn that I knew this section of moorland so well that I could have walked it blindfold. Now I was, to all intents and purposes being put to the test and I quickly discovered that I was hopelessly lost. As soon as I stepped out of the little shelter the buffeting of the wind destroyed my sense of direction. What little horizon there was suddenly disappeared when the snow started. These were no soft flakes gently settling but needles of ice striking every bit of exposed skin. I pulled the hood of my parka tightly closed about my cheeks, but my lips and nose were bombarded.

The worst thing of all was that I did not dare to open my eyes to see where I was going, without turning my back to the tempest; I could see where I had been but not where I was going. Putting my hand up to shield my eye simply reminded me that I had not brought gloves. The pain of the needles of ice penetrating deep into my skin was swiftly replaced by numbness and I began to worry about frostbite. Even looking behind me with my back to the wind, all I could see was a whirling maelstrom of white.

It was at that point, after I had taken no more than a dozen paces in what I hoped was the direction of home, that I first began to wonder if I could survive. I was thirty-one years old and hadn’t given death a thought until that moment. Three days before, I had laughed at Dominique when she worried about me flying home. She has a fear of flying, but I had never considered the possibility. Albert was likely to die soon, I understood that, but I pictured him falling asleep with a smile on his face never to wake. I was being battered to death by forces beyond anything I had ever imagined.

It was Flubber who saved me. She really did know the moor well enough to navigate it blind. She led me when the snow flurries eased and nudged me when I could not open my eyes. I needed frequent pauses, turning my back so I could breathe without the wind forcing its way past my clenched teeth. It lasted a lifetime, the dog dancing around while I concentrated all my energy on putting one foot in front of the other. They say your life flashes before your eyes when you are drowning, but there was no space in my mind for anything other than a determination not to let my faithful dog down by dying.

Eventually, the wind eased, and I remember pausing to take a deep breath of the cold air. It took a moment for me to realise that it was the wall of the fank, the sheep pen, that was cutting off the wind which still whistled above our heads. Gradually, all my senses returned. I wiped my face and shook the snow covering my parka; I even became conscious that my trousers were saturated. Flubber shook herself but the snow still clung to her fur. She was anxious for us to keep moving, making little darts towards the back door of the cottage which I could now clearly see.