Chapter 8: Never Out of Date

It wasn’t until we were sitting across the kitchen table from each other sipping a single malt whisky Dave brought down from his room, that I noticed the time was only half-past nine. I would have guessed midnight or later. “You know, Penny’s not a bad sort. I can see where you were coming from, but you were a bit harsh on her.” That made sense, and it took me a few moments to work out why. “You knew your wife was selfish and Amanda took after her mum. I think you were prepared for their rejection, but you were shocked to your core by Penny’s attitude.”

He had lost confidence in his own judgement, quitting his job to father a hundred pregnant sheep. If he had misjudged his own daughter so badly, how could he rely on his appraisal of clients. He had to find an occupation where he could not be expected to make assessments. Any mistakes he made in caring for the sheep would be expected and excused. In the last couple of weeks, he has been recovering; he was prepared to recommend the purchase of the garage to a former client, and he had gone through the Robinson accounts on my behalf.

“None of this was about you.” Ideas were clicking into place as I spoke. “Penny’s marriage has been in trouble for a long time. She’s lost faith in her judgement and took it out on you. Her husband, her carefully chosen mate, had proved to be a disaster. If she got that important choice so badly wrong, perhaps she was wrong about everything else, even her darling daddy.” I had been looking at my glass, but now I looked up to find Dave watching me with a strange expression.

“Eric’s gay. He only married Penny to cover his interest in other men.” Dave poured more whisky into our glasses. “That doesn’t make sense.” I was shocked. “Fifty years ago, maybe, but nobody cares nowadays.” Eric’s father is a preacher in a strange sect, and he does care, even sending his teenage son to a church school that claimed success in ‘curing’ homosexuality. No wonder Penny was a bit confused, I thought.

“Penny discovered the full truth just at the time her mother began spreading propaganda to the girls about the hard life I led her and her need for another, better man. Eric had been a big disappointment and now her mum, who knew him best, was telling her that her dad was a hopeless husband. I should have spotted the signs, but I never did like Eric, so I deliberately distanced myself from the young couple to give them a chance to bond. Thanks to your outburst, Penny and I have sorted out the misunderstandings.”

I was pleased at the outcome, of course, but I felt guilty since it had not been my intent to reconcile father and daughter. I had to face the fact that it was my growing unease with the part Dave was playing in my life that had fueled the rage triggered by Penny’s innocent remark. It was my job to provide for my best friend, but it was Dave who had assessed the garage, talked Richard into buying and offered Jim a secure future for his family. I had naively put it down to friendship, but Hamish had me doubting myself.

Now, Dave knew more than I did about the financial affairs of Robinson’s, and we were summoned to meet Richard who had bought almost five per cent of the stock behind my back. In vino veritas, they say. The whisky was the first spirits I had consumed in a decade, and it loosened my tongue. “What’s Richard’s game, Dave? He’s got more money than God, so what does he want with a piddly little garage in Deirlain and shares in a run-down engineering works?”

Dave was smiling broadly. “I thought there was more to your anger than you were letting on.” He was at his lowest ebb after Penny told him she would never speak to him again. He was ready to give up when Richard talked him into learning about sheep and introduced him to Fergus, a sadist with a sheep-crook. Dave spent his days slogging through the heather and his evenings in the guest suite of Richard’s stately home, being pampered. “I discovered later that not only does Richard spend a week with Fergus every year being bullied, but he also consults the old man on the character of the people who approach the billionaire with money-making schemes.”

Dave passed Fergus’ examination, so Richard was prepared to back almost anything that Dave recommended. While I was being conned by Ellen and Albert, he was having a thorough look at McTavish’s garage. Even before he had seen the financials I brought back with me, he was ready to support me in turning Robinson’s round. It was a bonus to discover that Richard already knew me and even recalled a job I had done for him fifteen years before. I was still a bit suspicious.

“Jim’s coming up this weekend and I’m wondering if Richard’s demand for a meeting is to prevent me talking to my best friend.” Dave picked up his phone and pressed a stored number. “Can we change the venue for the meeting, Richard? Jim’s coming up this weekend and it would make more sense to meet here rather than at your place.” There was a brief pause before he said ‘Ok’ and ended the connection. “His cousin owns about half of Devonshire Place. Richard will be there from lunchtime on Friday, at our disposal. He’s really serious about supporting you, Fred.”

I spent Thursday with the sheep, mulling over everything that had happened to me since I caught Glenda and Philip in the throes of passion. I considered the impact of Hamish on my thinking; he is a sceptic, as befits a solicitor. I am impulsive and perhaps I am too trusting. It is clear that I have allowed myself to become unbalanced in the last few days; I took too much notice of my new solicitor, losing confidence in my older friends. It was only when I looked down at Flubber, grinning up at me, that I realised that the kiss that ended my marriage occurred less than a month before, at which point I had not met Dave and Mary; nor did I understand Ellen and Great Uncle Albert. I chortled inside when I thought that I will need all of Hamish’s cynicism to keep ahead of that pair.

The plan for the weekend, drawn up by a solicitor and an accountant, was sound but it could not survive erosion by a pregnant woman and an exuberant billionaire. My role was peripheral, the worried friend who attends the wedding of a couple he introduced to each other. Pat had asked me to help Jim when his business failed. She expected me, I’m sure, to use my influence to get him a position at Robinson’s. Instead, I had a half-baked scheme which I left for Dave to implement. I was certain that Jim would see the benefits of the move to Deirlian, but I now had to face the fact that Liz has more brains than her husband and I put together.

I could talk Jim into believing that I had done him a favour, but his wife will make up her own mind based on what is best for her family and nothing I can say will then sway her. There was dread in my heart that Saturday morning when I drove my van to Sturach for eight o’clock. There was a costly all-terrain vehicle in Andrew’s steading as I passed but I paid no heed except to note that it had a vanity number plate. When I arrived at the new house, Jim had pulled up just ahead of me, so I witnessed the collapse of the plan at first hand.

No sooner had his car stopped, than the passenger door opened, and a flash of bright silk dashed up to the open door of the house where old McTavish was smiling a welcome. Liz, as I now identified the moving target, pushed past him yelling: “Where’s the loo?” She and the old man disappeared indoors, while Jim got out the driver’s seat to assist Elaine, his mother-in-law from the rear of the car. “She was the same with William,” Elaine explained. “I think the baba must have moved on the drive yesterday, because she needs to spend a penny every five minutes. I don’t know how we’re going to get her to Hamish’s place.”

The plan called for Liz, after viewing the house, to drive to Balfron where Jess was planning a family feast. Mothers are the most amazing and underrated people in the world. Jess, hearing of the problem, packed the raw ingredients and her four children and moved the location of the feast. Mr. McTavish was delighted to offer his kitchen in return for an invitation to join us. He was already under Liz’s spell by the time Jim, Elaine and I entered his property. Her first words after she left the downstairs toilet were to ask him how he could bear to leave such a wonderful home.

He had a tear in his eyes when he described the way the life went out of the house after his wife died. Liz held both his hands as she spoke from the heart. “Jim and me have a boy, twin girls and this little fellow,” patting her tummy. “Will you trust us to bring your beautiful home back to life?” When she refused to call him ‘mister’ he said that everyone called him ‘Jock’ or ‘Old.’ He even confided his actual given name but swore her to secrecy – only his late wife had been allowed to use that name. After she and her mum made tea for everyone, she sent the three men off to the workshop, giving Jock and me a kiss on the cheek and Jim a full-blown snog.

We actually got back on plan for the next couple of hours. The workshop had suffered some neglect, as was apparent as soon as we drove through the outer gate. It took a little longer to discover that the essentials had been carefully preserved. In particular, the racks of tools were in pristine condition, even although many of the pieces were in old imperial sizes that had not been in common use for thirty years. “Hill farmers don’t throw much away,” Jock explained. “You must have noticed that half the gates around here are cobbled together from old bedsteads and almost all the drinking troughs were once bathtubs.”

Jim and I were like two schoolboys being shown someone’s collection of treasures. We listened in awe while the old man told us the stories of where he had found this wrench or that peening hammer. “You’ll be asked to repair things that should properly be in a museum,” he chortled. You could see from his expression that Jim could hardly wait to get started. It was thirsty work, and we were considering visiting the nearby hotel when a vehicle pulled into the yard. It was the monstrosity that I had seen earlier in Andrew’s yard.

Out of the driver’s seat bounced a little, rolly-polly man with a beaming smile. I had just translated the vanity plate RHD 1 as Richard Holmes Douglas, when he bounded towards us with his hand stretched out for a shake. “I’m Richard, and I remember you, young man; Fred, isn’t it? How’s the arthritis, Eugene?” This last was addressed to Jock McTavish who looked mortified at the revelation of his Christian name. “And you must be Jim. Your reputation precedes you, my boy. I look forward to a long and fruitful friendship. I’m glad your wife likes the house. How did you ever capture the heart of such a beguiling woman?”

I’m not tall but Richard barely reached my chin. What he lacked in inches, he more than made up for in exuberance. He was a bundle of energy, taking almost incessantly. It was only long afterwards that I realised that for all his chatter, he never revealed secrets. He sounded open and ingenuous but there was a very sharp mind at work even if it was surrounded by blubber. At that first meeting it appeared that everything happened by chance. He had clearly been round the workshop before and had remembered everything he saw.

Strolling towards a neglected area, he appeared to stumble over a pipe protruding from the weeds. “Isn’t this where the tearoom used to be, Jock?” That led, naturally, to the information that the foundations were sound, and that electricity, water and sewage were all available. “We could use propane gas cylinders for cooking. I wonder if that would be cheaper than electricity?” Jim was standing paying very little attention to the interchange between Richard and Jock when he was shaken out of his indifference. “I understand your mum runs a very successful café, Jim,” Richard beamed at him. “I have friends who swear that her sole bonne femme is the best they’ve ever tasted.”

Hold the phone! Jim was saying that he would be sure to pass on the compliment, but I tuned out. Pat runs a trucker’s café. The food is great, and I know people drive a long way to eat there but Richard is talking gourmet, cordon bleu. I tuned back into Jim explaining where she got her recipes. “The sole is one of Marc’s dishes. His family is from the Camargue and his mother knows a thousand ways to cook seafood. Truckers know they’ll get a free meal if they bring a new recipe for mum to try. I don’t think Marc has had to pay for the last five years. Brexit has killed that, I’m sorry to say.”

“The road to Europe runs both ways,” was Richard’s cryptic response. “Your mum could travel around gathering recipes on her travels.” Jim laughed. “Easy for you to say, but mum hasn’t been further than Dumfries in years. The last thing she wants is to travel to Europe.” By that point we had wandered back to the little hut Jock used as an office, where he offered to put the kettle on for tea. Richard had another surprise for us. “The ladies want us back for early lunch since they need time to prepare the family dinner.” That was the first time I knew of the change of venue.

Jim and I were alone on the short trip back to the house. He thanked me profusely for finding this wonderful opportunity for him and I had, in all honesty, to tell him that it was Dave who had found the place, done the searches of the financial records and talked Richard into investing. “Why would Dave do that for someone he doesn’t know?” I could hardly tell him it was because Dave fancied Pat, so I let Jim believe that there were Good Samarians wherever you went.

We had just started on soup and sandwiches when Jess arrived with her tribe. It took some time to bring the ensuing chaos under control. Jock and Hamish took the four kids through the neglected kitchen garden into the woods to visit the fort, whatever that was. I gathered that it was a relic from the days when the McTavish children brought the house to life. Jim and Richard closeted themselves in the study to discuss employment details, while Jess and Elaine, armed with pencil, paper and measuring tapes went round the windows and floors. “We did the kitchen and bathrooms,” Jock had sighed, “But then Peg took sick, and I lost interest before we got round to the curtains and carpets.”

That left Liz and I in the kitchen, sitting facing each other across the table. “Who’s Dave and what is he to Pat?” As I said, Liz is smarter than Jim and me together, so I told her about the brief meeting in the café that resulted in Pat giving Dave her telephone number. I told Liz about the dance at the Invermor Inn and the Saturday Dave and Pat spent together. “They feel something for each other but neither of them will talk until they know more. They’ve both been badly hurt in the past.” Liz didn’t need my clumsy explanation of their feelings. “Can you get him here for dinner tonight?”

He was spending the day with Penny, helping her to buy things to personalise the flat and advising her on the steps she needed to take towards divorce. “Invite them both,” was Liz’s response. “We want to see how he behaves in a family setting. I don’t know if you and Jim really understand what a special person Pat is. She left an abusive husband with a ten-month old infant; not only did she bring him up on her own, she turned a coffee urn in a workshop into a successful business.” Not to mention that she found the time to give me more mothering than I got from my own, poor mum.