Chapter 2: Its Still the Same Old Story

I can spot a single periwinkle in a field of clover, but I don’t take much notice of buildings. It was only when a shaft of sunlight hit the farmhouse that I paid attention to the fact that it was freshly whitewashed and that the two small windows in the gable wall were treble glazed. Dave led the way round to the back door and he spotted my awakening interest. “The new windows cost a fortune. The building was completed in 1887 when they took no heed of standard sizes. Every window and door is unique, which doubles the price of replacements, even if there are no problems.”

“I wondered about the age when I noticed the rowan at the front.” He laughed. “They call it witch-hazel in these parts. I used to mock the locals for their gullibility but, after a few nights alone up here at the end of the world, it’s not so hard to believe in witches and goblins and things that go bump in the night.” He laughed again adding, “I’ll take the protection of the rowan tree and I’ve taken to attending the kirk about once a month.” He was laughing at himself, but I could share his underlying unease: this mountain fastness was not part of conventional civilization.

When I mentioned that he told us at the café that he had recently purchased the property, he coloured. “That was the truth but not the whole truth. The farm belonged to Helen, my ex-wife’s, wicked Uncle Ted. Her mother, his sister, was the only member of the family who would talk to the black sheep.” Helen and her brother spent happy holidays on the farm, and she continued to visit the old man as an adult. About ten years before Ted moved to a Home where Helen kept up her visits until his death five years ago.

“Our own two kids are urban brats who have no interest in the farm, but we decided to keep the property as a holiday home since it held such good memories for Helen. What we did not realise, was the neglect; no one had even looked at the property in five years and Ted had clearly been struggling for several years before that.” It was Dave who met the surveyor and he could not convince Helen of the true state of the house. Biting the bullet, he spent a fortune to bring the farmhouse up to modern standards.

It had just been decorated with minimal furnishings when Helen sat Dave down in their suburban mansion to tell him that their plans for retirement had changed. She no longer wanted to keep a nest egg for their old age. Instead, she wanted her share now so she could live a little while she was young enough to enjoy it. Dave offered to take early retirement so he could share her adventure, but she shot him down. He was, she insisted, the main reason she wanted out. Dave considered fighting, but quickly decided that saving his marriage probably wasn’t worth the effort.

He insisted that the divorce was more or less amicable, without going into much detail. During the discussion on the split of their assets, he decided that he would take the opportunity to change his life. He negotiated sole ownership of the farmhouse in return for his rights to the family home in suburban Petswood. “At the time it was partly pique. Both my children took the view that their mother was right to demand her freedom and I knew that they were unlikely to visit me if I moved to the hated farm.”

By the time the asset sharing was complete, he had returned to a careful consideration of his life. He felt obliged to move to the farmhouse to avoid losing face, so he set about making his new life a success. He negotiated terms to rent the land on which the cottage stood before he contacted an old client to ask for help to become a shepherd. “Richard owns square kilometres of real estate including several farms. He sent me to Fergus, the most experienced sheep farmer in Scotland, to spend two months learning my new trade.

Dave spent his days being cajoled by the doughty old farmer. At the end of the exhausting day, he returned to Richard’s mansion where he was treated as an honoured guest. During the day he wore work boots and scruffy jeans, going back to dress in a dinner suit to eat with the family. Fergus selected the hundred pregnant ewes that were now enclosed in the pen close to the house. “I was a desk jockey all my working life, barely able to change a light bulb. Now I’m a partly trained shepherd but I still have no mechanical skills. You’re an answer to a prayer, Fred.”

Before I could reply to that, he had a phone call from Mary, whose husband Andrew had come to survey the flock. We were invited for dinner and no excuse would be accepted. “Andrew was a police inspector,” Dave told me. “He served twenty-five years on the force but sent in his papers when Mary’s father died.” He was, however, brought up to shepherding; his older brother, James, now runs the family farm in Glen Dars, the next glen going north from Coudh.

Dave explained that I had fixed the problem with the fanbelt on the lorry. Andrew was apologetic, having forgotten to mention that he was aware of the dicey condition of the belt. If we had only known, there was a replacement belt in the toolbox behind the cab. I asked what Andrew had been doing to the tractor when we drove past earlier, and we went out to inspect the situation while Dave set the table for dinner.

It was clear that a gasket had blown. I offered to fix it if Andrew could get the spare parts. Despite it being eight o’clock on a Sunday evening, he immediately lifted his phone and called a number. While he waited for a reply, he told me that the garage owner he was calling owed him a favour. “I’m taking some lambs to Stirling tomorrow; can I pick it up on the way back?” I had been rummaging through his toolbox while he spoke, and now I signalled for his attention. “Ask him if he can lend me a torque wrench, please.”

That settled, we returned to the warmth of the house where Mary was serving the meal. “What kind of mechanic doesn’t have his own tools,” he asked, smiling broadly to remove any offence. “The kind of mechanic who beat a hasty retreat when he saw his life collapse before his eyes.” Mary patted my shoulder as she heaped my plate with savoury stew. “Woman trouble, I suppose.”

I’m not good with people. I find it hard to describe their heights or ages, unless they have some glaringly obvious characteristic. Andrew had seemed an ordinary bloke and Mary I would not have remarked if I had met her alone. Together, however, they made a memorable couple. He is on the small side of average height and is very slim, while his wife is tall for a woman and sturdily built with broad shoulders. In age, I would guess midway between Dave and me. The warmth I was feeling came not only from the surroundings but emanated directly from the husband and wife.

Andrew didn’t say very much, and Mary mostly spoke in platitudes, but she had the knack of making them sound like universal truths, which I suppose they are. ‘Nothing is ever as bad as it seems.’ she would say, and you knew that she had met and overcome some great tragedy in her life. The glances she and her husband exchanged when she told me that. ‘Time is a great healer,’ spoke volumes. Most of all, she surrounded me with a feeling that she cared about my troubles. Andrew nodded his head in vigorous agreement when she touched my hand as she served coffee at the end of the meal, promising that they were there for me. “We’re in your corner,” he added.

All three turned away when the tears slowly and silently ran down my cheeks. This was the second time on this remarkable Sunday that I had felt wanted, loved even. I knew before that Pat and Anne liked me, but the warmth of the support from the other members of the study group caught me by surprise. I had thought of myself as a sort of walking encyclopedia, no more interesting than a printed page; it hadn’t occurred to me that they cared for all the other pages with information they did not need. “I’m really glad Dave brought you,” Mary concluded after I had myself back under control.

“I wanted him to avoid the terrible mistake I made.” All eyes now turned to Dave, who gave a great sigh: “I owe you guys an explanation.” Our hosts had heard some of the story before, but he began at the beginning for my sake. Quite early in his career, his skill in finding irregularities in accounting systems was recognised. His bosses at the time used him to check on the work of others, sometimes people that he had known and liked. “It’s bad enough to find an honest mistake made by a colleague, but much of my work uncovered deliberate attempts to conceal what can only be described as theft.”

As he became more experienced, the routine discovery of accidental errors was handed to junior staff and, by the end of his career, Dave was involved almost exclusively with major frauds. As the stakes increased, the attitude of the fraudsters hardened. “When Andrew caught a petty thief, he would mostly admit it was a fair cop and take his punishment with a shrug. I was dealing with men and women who felt entitled to take what they wanted from life. They deeply resented my attempts to uncover their actions. I was once very publicly snubbed by a man I was investigating at a charity dinner.” Andrew asked if he had nailed the bugger. “He was in prison in less than a year,” Dave grinned at the memory. “I handed his file to the Inland Revenue, and they nailed him for tax fraud. All the best forensic accountants are employed by the tax man.”

Dave mostly worked in the shadows, searching for irregularities. In the early stages, his investigations had to be kept quiet to avoid alerting the suspect. Later, when he had accumulated the evidence, it was usually agreed to handle the problem behind closed doors. A public trial not only exposed the criminal, but it was looked on as a declaration of incompetence by the victim. The commonly held view was that investors would be reluctant to trust their money to a company that hadn’t spotted the fraud

The effect on Dave’s social life was dramatic. He withdrew from casual friendships with his peers, conscious that he might have to examine their financial affairs. He had never been gregarious, seldom joining in the drinking sessions after work. He was driven back into his family, and there he considered himself especially fortunate. In Helen he had found a soulmate who gladly shared his interests. After the two girls were born, they formed a close family unit, happily spending time together without, on Dave’s part at least, the need for anyone else.

“Even when the girls grew up, the family home remained the hub of all our lives. Helen went back to work once the girls were settled in school, part time at first. Penny went to the other end of the country to university, but she brought back her new experiences to share with us. Even when she got married, it was her new husband who had to join our select little group. The strength at the core of the family enabled it to adapt to the changes.”

Dave gave a little sob, staring at his empty coffee cup for a few seconds. “At least, I believed that we were strong. I spent my days following the devious paths created to hide financial frauds, but I didn’t see that my marriage was a sham.” Mary rose, crossing to where Dave was sitting to envelop him in her sturdy arms. His head held to her motherly breasts, she rocked him as if he was her own infant son. In the silence I became conscious of the ticking of a long-case clock. I didn’t count the seconds, but it was some minutes before Andrew rose, went to a cupboard and poured whisky into a large, crystal glass which he thrust into Dave’s hand.

As he took a gulp of the fiery liquid, Mary told him that we had heard enough for one night. Dave took another sip of whisky and shook his head. “I’ve got this far, Mary. Let me finish it.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek as she rose to return to her seat beside her husband. Dave took a few more sips of whisky and then looked round the room with a rather watery smile.

Amanda, three years younger than her sister, had always been the less adventurous of the girls, so she chose a university that allowed her to live at home. In practice, that meant that she slept in her own bed most weekday nights but spent the weekends partying with friends. Her nights at home dwindled after she met the love of her life. Six months before her finals, she announced that she was engaged and that they planned to marry as soon as she graduated. Her fiancé had been offered a wonderful job in Italy and Amanda intended to go with him.

Dave was devastated since he saw Amanda’s move to Italy as the end of the family. Helen made no comment, choosing to immerse herself in plans for the wedding. Amanda and her mum had always been close while he had a closer tie to Penny, who shared his misgivings about the family. She took some trouble explaining to him that change is normal and that it was unhealthy to try to preserve something that had served its purpose. This fell well short of the support he expected from his favourite daughter. Growing more uneasy, Dave insisted on a conversation with Helen.

It was on a Saturday evening when both girls were unavailable. Amanda was in Italy with her fiancé visiting his parents who had retired to Tuscany, a short car journey from Milan where the young couple planned to live. Penny was in Newcastle watching Eric play rugby in the first national round of a cup competition; they had survived three rounds against local opposition. Helen fussed around for a time preparing drinks before she finally settled into an armchair, ignoring the place beside her husband on the couch. She waited quietly for him to speak.

He had prepared an introduction accepting that their master plan for the future required some adjustment. Helen interrupted, shaking her head and saying ‘no’ over and over again. Then she got on her knees in front of him, put her hands on his thighs and looked up into his eyes. “You’ve been a better husband than I could have hoped for and a wonderful father, but you must accept that the girls have gone. They need a different kind of father and I need a different kind of husband.” It was at this point that Dave realised he hadn’t taken a breath since she moved from her chair.

She went on to explain that the very qualities that had made him a wonderful father – she kept emphasising the word – were now working against him. She praised his calm response to crises and his ability to provide for all their needs. “The fact is, that what made you a wonderful father (that word again) was that you were a dull little man doing a boring job. You planned a future of cruises and coach tours for an old couple but I want my share of our savings so I can live. I intend to do things while I am young enough to enjoy them.”

Dave was shocked but found himself responding as he would when faced with an embezzler. He made the point that he responded to situations being dull and boring only when that was appropriate. He reminded her that he played squash twice a week in winter and tennis throughout the summer; in these sports he was active and involved. In the end, he promised that he could change. Her reply was that she loved him too much to ask him to change to satisfy her needs. She intended to be her own woman and he should grasp the opportunity to be his own man. Her final blow was to report a rumour that his long-time doubles partner was looking for a new man since he was too old.

“I asked several times in several different ways if she had found another man for herself. At the time, I thought she was making firm denials but, on reflection, I realised that she had not given me a straight answer. ‘Are you seeing someone else,’ brought a tearful response that I knew so little about her that I would suspect such a thing. Her final word was that men still found her attractive, and she was sure she could find another man if she was interested. “Read my lips, David: I am not interested.”

Dave spent the next few weeks learning to accept that you can win love and even buy love, but you cannot force someone to continue loving you when the spark has died. He questioned whether Helen had ever loved him, concluding that it hardly mattered; the vital fact was that she no longer wanted to share her life with him. They used the same solicitor to draw up an amicable division of their assets. There were still a number of issues troubling Dave.

Reviewing his whole life, he concluded that he didn’t enjoy his job at all. He had stayed with it because it paid very well, and he had a wife and daughters to support. His share of their savings would keep him in moderate comfort for the remainder of his life. He could get a job stacking shelves in the supermarket if he became bored – or boring. At some point, he began thinking of the farmhouse his wife had inherited which was in the final stages of refurbishment. The more he thought about becoming a country gentleman, the more attractive it sounded. When he offered a straight swap of the house in Petswood for the cottage on Loch Fuilteach, Helen was surprised but seized the offer.