then hold her trophy while she blew her nose. Hard.
‘I don’t want it back,’ he said faintly, and she managed a smile through tears.
‘I’m sorry. I know guys hate tears. It’s only Ben…’ She motioned to where the old man was disappearing beerwards.
‘He was crying, too,’ Hamish said, and if he sounded a bit desperate then he couldn’t help it.
‘Aunty Susie! Aunty Susie!’ There were shrieks from behind them and he turned to see two pigtailed urchins bearing down on them. Two little girls aged about five, each liberally spattered with what looked like a mix of fairy floss and chocolate ice cream, raced up to them with excitement ‘Aunty Susie, Mummy’s got a baby for you.’
‘A baby?’ Susie stood stock still and the colour drained from her face. ‘I knew it. I knew…’
‘What’s wrong?’ Hamish asked before he could help himself.
‘She’s pregnant. I knew…’
‘Hi.’ Coming up behind the twins was a woman who was the mirror image of Susie. The likeness was so extraordinary that he blinked.
‘Kirsty, I presume,’ he said, because Susie had retired behind his handkerchief again. Oh, for heaven’s sake.
‘I’m Kirsty.’ A cool, firm hand was placed in his. She smiled and her smile was the same as Susie’s. Or maybe not. Maybe not quite as lovely?
That was a dumb thing to think. At least this woman wasn’t crying.
‘Why is Susie crying?’ she asked, and he looked exasperated.
‘Because her pumpkin won. I think.’
He expected sympathy and mutual confusion. Instead, Kirsty dropped his hand and enveloped Susie in a hug.
‘Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry. He couldn’t see…’
‘He did see,’ Susie said, hiccuping on a sob. ‘He knew. I told you. I snuck into Ben’s back yard before he died and I measured it and Angus knew his would be the winner. And I bet he can see us now.’
‘Then what-?’
‘The twins. They said…a baby.’
Kirsty let her arms drop. She looked exasperated. ‘They didn’t say a baby.’
‘They did.’
‘They meant a puppy.’
‘A puppy?’ Susie lowered the handkerchief and looked out cautiously from behind it. Ready to retire again at any minute. ‘What do you mean?’
‘This.’ Kirsty motioned behind her. ‘We want our Boris back, but we’ve decided you need a dog.’
A small boy was bringing up the rear. He was carrying… What was he carrying?
A puppy.
The puppy was just about the weirdest dog Hamish had ever seen. She was brown, white and tubby, with long, floppy ears, Boris’s expressive eyes, a stretched-out body with a puddingy tummy, a tail that added another twelve inches in length-and legs that were about three inches long.
‘What is it?’ Susie asked, cautious to say the least.
‘This is our gift to you,’ Kirsty said expansively and grinned. ‘To stop Rose being an only child.’ She motioned to the small boy holding the pup. ‘Susie, this is Adam, and Adam’s pup. Now she’s your pup.’
‘What…?’
‘She’s courtesy of Boris,’ she explained, sounding exasperated. ‘You know Jake inherited Boris from Miss Pritchard? Jake sort of assumed-as Boris was eight years old and Miss Pritchard was a civically responsible person- that Boris would have been neutered in the long distant past. OK, he should have checked, but he didn’t. He didn’t really think about it, until Adam’s dachshund came into season. We share a back fence and events took their course. Even then we didn’t realise until Daisy Dachshund produced one sad pup. Now that she’s a few weeks old, the father’s obvious.’
‘Sad pup?’ Susie said warily, while Hamish looked on, much as one might look through a time screen to another world.
‘Well, maybe she’s not exactly sad, are you, sweetheart?’ Kirsty said, lifting the pup from Adam’s hands and holding her up for inspection. ‘Maybe she’s more…loopy. She’s just won cutest puppy in show. Pup, meet Susie. Susie, meet pup.’
‘Hi, pup,’ Susie said, still cautious.
The pup wagged her tail. Her whole body wriggled, like a cute and furry eel.
‘Anyway, Jake and I were watching the puppy judging and it suddenly occurred to us that if you’re insisting on returning to America you need something to remember us by. And something to guard you. What better than a pup? We talked to Adam’s parents and, amazingly, they’re delighted. Even Adam’s cool with it. I don’t think this puppy fits what he thinks of as a real boy’s dog. I know there’ll be issues with quarantine but the dog-judging people say it’s possible to take pups into the US from here, and Jake and I will pay.’
Susie seemed almost overwhelmed. She sniffed. ‘Oh, Kirsty…’
‘I don’t have any more handkerchiefs,’ Jake said, desperate.
‘You need a truckload when Susie’s around,’ Kirsty said cheerfully. ‘What do you think, Suze?’
‘Oh,’ Susie said, taking the puppy and holding her close. ‘Oh…’
‘I think I hear a beer calling,’ Hamish said faintly. ‘Is Jake in the beer tent?’
Kirsty grinned at him, not unsympathetic. ‘We’re all a bit much, aren’t we? But your speech… All I had to do was look at you and I got teary.’
‘Susie!’ Harriet, the postmistress, was making her way determinedly through the crowd toward them, carrying Rose toward her mother. ‘I think your daughter needs a nappy change.’
Hamish was backing already but he backed a few more feet at that. Fast. ‘I can definitely hear a beer calling,’ he muttered.
But Harriet wasn’t about to let Hamish escape. ‘Ooh, look at you,’ she exclaimed, and thrust Rose at her mother, who proceeded to juggle toddler and puppy with aplomb. The elderly postmistress put an arm round Hamish’s shoulders and beamed in possessive enthusiasm. She was a big lady, buxom and beaming, with a tight frizzed perm and painted lips that seemed to have a life of their own. ‘Look at me,’ she crowed. ‘Me and Lord Hamish. Take a picture of us, someone, so I can put it up on the post-office wall.’
‘I need-’
‘Hey, but it shouldn’t be me.’ Harriet suddenly corrected herself, whisking herself out of his arms and thrusting Susie forward with an air of enormous personal sacrifice. ‘It should be you. Oh, Susie, wouldn’t that be something? You and the new laird. Two Douglases finally finding their place, side by side.’
Susie choked, but she had no say in the matter. She’d been thrust next to Hamish and cameras were flashing, just the same as they’d been yesterday on the beach, only worse.
Much worse.
Hamish Douglas was suddenly being photographed with Mrs Douglas, Rosie Douglas and dog.
Things were spiralling out of control here, Hamish thought desperately, and a man had to do what a man had to do.
He put Susie-and appendages-carefully away from him and took two more steps back. Two long steps back.
‘I need to find Jake,’ he said, in tones he hoped were careful and measured and nowhere as hysterical as he felt. ‘And then… I think it’s wise if I stop all conjecture about me and…me and Susie right now. I’m engaged to a young lady called Marcia Vinel and she’s arriving here the day after tomorrow.’
CHAPTER SIX
HAMISH spent the rest of the day being inspected. From every angle. Susie had been right when she’d said his presence would take everyone’s mind off their loss. He could not only hear the buzz his presence was making. He could feel it. He was whispered about, talked about, watched…
