Highland Fling (19 page)

‘Oh, laddie. I remember you when you were a pretty wee boy, not the great ugly brute you are now, and a father to boot. We can still teach you a thing or two.’

Iain accepted this compliment with grace. ‘I’d have thought they’d have pensioned you off long since,’ he said, his slight brogue becoming very broad. ‘You were here before Methuselah retired.’

‘It does your heart good to see the old machines in use again. I don’t know why young Philip got rid of them in the first place.’ Alistair was ecstatic to think the mill could be saved by reverting to old technology.
Sotto voce
(which, because he was deaf, was quite loud) he said, ‘Iain always had the better idea of how to go about things. But the laird wanted Philip to take over. There was a bit of a falling-out between the lads, and Iain took to fixing cars.’

Glad to have this information, Jenny nodded, and was about to ask another question, when Iain put up a hand. ‘Enough gossiping. I’ve a wife and child to support now. Let’s see if these machines actually work.’

Later, back in the office, she was surprised to find Kirsty less enthusiastic.

‘The trouble is,’ said Kirsty, ‘Alistair and his lot should have been retired years ago. There’s enough young men going to lose their jobs; we shouldn’t be keeping on old timers like them.’

Jenny sighed. ‘On the other hand, the young men have got a much better chance of finding other work. Alistair and his like would just fade away.’

‘We’re not a charitable institution, as your client keeps reminding us.’

‘We are until next week,’ said Jenny. ‘And if the plans for the building conversion ever go ahead, some of the younger men might get work doing that.’

‘Not unless they happen to be skilled bricklayers, carpenters or electricians,’ said Kirsty.

Jenny subsided into despair for a few moments. Being Pollyanna all the time was so tiring. ‘I know!’ she said, looking up, after putting her head in her hands for a minute or so. ‘I’II tell himself he must pay for the young men to be retrained! I am sure there’d be grants for things like that.’

‘A snowflake’s chance in hell you’ve got of pulling that one off,’ said Kirsty. ‘Why do you think an organisation like Grant-Dempsey would bother with retraining workers to go and work for someone else?’

‘To make themselves look good?’

‘Away with ye, lassie!’

Subdued, Jenny ‘awayed’.

It was four days later and Jenny went to see Meggie and Anna. She needed cheering up. The visit from her client was scheduled for the Monday morning, and she
had another weekend at Dalmain House to look forward to. She planned to retreat to The Homely Haggis. There was nothing else she could do to prepare for the visit, anyway. And at The Homely Haggis there was a chance, albeit a faint one, of seeing Ross Grant. He hadn’t reappeared since she’d turned down his drink invitation.

‘Hello, Jenny! How lovely to see you!’ Meggie was up and dressed, carrying Anna as if she’d been a mother for years, not days.

‘Should you be up and about? Shouldn’t you be
lying in?
’

Meggie pshawed dismissively. ‘None of that nowadays. Could you do a cuppa?’

‘Only if I make you one. Lying in might be out of date, but lying on the sofa with your feet up’s all the rage. Ask any student.’

Meggie laughed. ‘OK. You make the tea. I’ve got a wee favour to ask.’

‘Well, I warn you, I’ll say no. Doing you favours last time got me nothing but grief.’

Too late, Jenny realised that Meggie knew nothing of Ross Grant and his effect on her knees.

Meggie frowned. ‘I thought you liked The Homely Haggis!’

‘I do, but it got me started on cooking at Dalmain House, because of the flapjack and the gingerbread. And now I share the ordinary cooking too.’

Meggie laughed. ‘That’s just self-interest. Go and make the tea, and can I have a glass of water too? Then I’ll tell you my plan.’

When Jenny came back with tea and water, and had produced a bag of flapjack from her bag, she grasped
the nettle. ‘So, what’s this plan then? And how am I involved? I’m really pushed for time. We’ve got my client coming to the mill on Monday.’

‘You’ve worked very hard for that place. You’re seen as an angel down at the mill, Iain tells me.’

Jenny found herself blushing. ‘I don’t know about that.’

‘Well, I’ll think you’re an angel too, if you agree to help me.’

‘What? What can you possibly be hatching up now? I would have thought Anna would have kept you out of mischief, if not out of energy.’

‘Come with Anna and me and do a Highland show tomorrow. It’s a real miracle it’s happening, as it’s far too late in the season for them. This is a sort of extra one, a memorial for the person who ran it for ever. He told everyone he didn’t want a service, just that this year’s games would be held in his memory. Then he didn’t die.’

‘But I thought you said –’

‘Sorry, I’m not making myself clear. He did die, but not in time for them to have the games at the ordinary time. When he realised he wasn’t going by August, he said they were to try and fit it in this year, even if it was really late, because by next year he reckoned everyone would have forgotten about him. They wouldn’t have, of course.’

‘You’re rambling, woman.’

‘I know, it’s because I’m so pleased I’m able to go. I’ve missed all the others – seeing the games, I mean. Of course, I couldn’t do the Dalmain Games, what with Lady D. objecting to family members earning a decent living at it, but these games are always lovely.’ She
joggled Anna, who was now settled in the crook of her arm.

‘Hang on! You’re only just out of hospital! Having had a baby! You couldn’t possibly spend all day behind the counter of The Homely Haggis!’

‘I know, that’s why I want you to help me. Come on, Jenny! It’ll be extra Scottish and everything, because it’s in Hamish’s memory, full of pipers and tossing cabers, all that stuff. Everyone will come, so we’ll be really busy, which is always fun. The head of one of the other clans will open it, and the speeches will go on for ever, but as it’s not our clan, we can relax.’

Diverted for a moment from the enormity of Meggie’s suggestion and the struggle to keep up with her explanations, Jenny said, ‘What do you mean? Are you telling me that Lady Dalmain opens Highland games?’

‘Oh yes. The Dalmain Games were earlier this year. Philip is the local chieftain, so he’s really the big cheese, but Lady D. did the honours, presenting prizes, patronising everyone like mad. These games will be much nicer. You’ll have to get Kirsty to make a double batch of shortbread.’

‘Meggie, this is madness! What does Iain think about this crazy idea?’

‘Haven’t told him. But I reckon if you’re there, Anna and I can go and rest in the car whenever we need to. I need to get back out into the world! I’ve been cut off from it too long. I’ve got a friend who’ll tow the van there tonight. Oh come on, Jen! It’ll stop me getting weepy! They say you can get terribly depressed when you’ve just had a baby.’

‘Only one condition,’ said Jenny, to whom the idea
of swapping a day at Dalmain House, with nothing much to do except listen to Lady Dalmain complain, for some short-order cheffing, was very attractive. ‘That you clear it with Iain. In fact, I’ll ask him myself. Where will you feed Anna?’

‘Oh just behind the counter. Breast-feeding is dead easy, now I’ve got the hang of it.’

‘That’s not quite what I meant,’ said Jenny, observing Anna having a snack. She sounded like a pig sucking on a melting ice lolly. Even Meggie noticed.

‘She has no idea how to be discreet, that’s her trouble.’

‘Small wonder, considering who her role model is.’

Chapter Twelve

Even the most hard-hearted Sassenach would have been moved by the sight of the showground. Next to a peat-coloured river, which gurgled merrily over the rocks, surrounded by heather-covered hills, bathed in sunlight, it could have been a Medieval jousting ground. The sky was a deep blue, reminding everyone to enjoy this last, brief, spell of fine weather before winter swept in and drove the warmth away.

Jenny was enchanted. ‘This is all so pretty!’ she exclaimed to Meggie, as she accepted the various bags and baskets without which Anna couldn’t travel.

‘Aye. Hamish must have arranged for it to be this fine, and it’s always a grand occasion, even though it’s small. All the big throwers will be here, and we should hear some good piping too.’ Meggie unbuckled Anna and swept her into her arms. ‘Although you might not like that so much, being from England.’

‘Actually, I love the sound of bagpipes,’ admitted Jenny. ‘Perhaps I’ve got Scots blood in me I’m not aware of.’

‘Can you manage that bag as well? I think I can see the van over there. We should make our fortunes today.’

‘You can only make your fortune if you can do it sitting down,’ said Jenny, trying to keep up with
Meggie and Anna. ‘Talking of which, do you think there might be a palm reader?’

‘Now why would you want one of them? Looking for a handsome stranger? I thought your future was assured with a boyfriend at home.’

‘I have; I’m just not sure he’s the right one.’

‘Well, if you’ve thought that out for yourself, you don’t need a palm reader. But there might very well be one here.’

The van was in a circle of similar vehicles. There were stalls selling old-fashioned sweeties, tablet, cinder toffee, humbugs and Edinburgh rock. A horn carver offered horn-handled knives, spoons especially for boiled eggs, walking sticks, thumb sticks and shepherds’ crooks.

Similar tents and stalls sold all sorts of Caledonalia, everything tartan covered, thistle embossed, Highland laddie-painted. From tea towels to tartan bed jackets, it was all available. There was a man selling fishing tackle, amazing waders, which looked as if you could cross the Atlantic in them, deer-stalker hats, tam-o’-shanters, berets, and bonnets.

‘I might do my Christmas shopping while I’m here. I won’t be able to get anything like this down south,’ said Jenny, when she had finally forced Meggie to sit down with Anna and they were waiting for customers.

‘I hope you’re not being sarcastic,’ said Meggie, then leapt up. ‘Hello, what can I do for you?’ she said to the woman who was carrying a baby, a few months older than Anna, who was crying loudly.

‘A cup of tea, please. And would you have any way of heating up a bottle? They told us in the hospital it
was all right to give it to them cold, but it doesn’t seem right, does it?’

‘It does seem a bit brutal,’ said Meggie. ‘I’ll put it in a pan of boiling water. It’ll take a wee while, but not too long, I hope.’

‘Actually,’ said Jenny, pushing Meggie back down into her seat. ‘I’ll do it. My friend,’ she said, pouring milk, ‘shouldn’t be here. She’s hardly out of hospital.’

Expecting support, she was disappointed when the woman snorted, ‘Huh! I was in the hospital for six hours and then sent home to look after the other weans.’

‘You see,’ said Meggie.

‘Shut up and sit down,’ said Jenny.

There was a small rush of people, and Meggie served flapjack one handed, while Jenny dealt with boiling water and change. Then, when Anna finally went to sleep, and there was a lull, Meggie insisted that Jenny went for a wander round.

She did this with one eye constantly on The Homely Haggis so she could dash back, should a customer appear. She was slightly put out to discover a stall that sold, among other things, alpaca jumpers. The feel of them was wonderful, but, she decided, the designs were dull and they were all imported. There was such an enthusiasm for home-grown products, the Scots would surely accept local alpaca fibre with open arms. Provided it wasn’t too expensive, of course. She bought a pair of walking boots, not quite knowing why. It wasn’t as if she’d use them much in Surrey, after all.

Jenny had minded the sleeping Anna while Meggie went round herself, and they were all beginning to feel
tired when Meggie, resting Anna’s weight on the counter while she fed her, suddenly squeaked, causing Anna to do likewise.

‘I don’t believe it! Is that who I think it is? The Matriarch, and some man I’ve never seen before. They’re coming this way! What on earth is she doing here? Oh fuck!’

Jenny followed Meggie’s gaze. ‘Oh my God! This is awful! What are we to do? Can I hide?’

‘Why would
you
want to? You’re not feeding your baby in front of your mother-in-law. Come on, Anna, we’ll have to shift.’

Anna, still sucking hard, took no notice. ‘I don’t know if I should unplug her, or just move. What’s bothering you? You’re not frightened of the old bitch, are you?’

Jenny shook her head, still wondering if she could duck under the counter and stay there until Lady Dalmain and her companion went away. ‘It’s not her, it’s the man with her. It’s bloody Henry!’

‘Who’s Henry?’

Jenny didn’t have time to explain before the pair were on them.

‘Hello, Lady Dalmain,’ said Jenny quickly, aware that Meggie was still tucking shawls about her loudly sucking child. ‘And hello, Henry!’

She had to raise her voice, several entrants to the piping competition having begun practising behind the row of tents and stalls. ‘What on earth are you doing here? There’s nothing wrong at home, is there?’ She started to panic – there must be something wrong with her mother. ‘It can’t just be a social call, can it?’