‘Course we are, Charlie. I was surprised at meself.’
‘Why don’t you marry him?’
‘Because we come from diff’rent sides of the beach. It would never work.’
‘You’ve already lived together for ten years – some marriages don’t even last that long these days.’
‘If I say I’ll think about it can we change the subject, Charlie? Dieter passed all his exams and wants to speak to you . . .’
He had, and bubbled about it for five minutes. I felt a very odd emotion coming over me, and took a while to work out that it was pride.
‘You know I’m very proud of you, don’t you?’
He paused before he said, ‘Yes,’ and then, ‘You’re a pretty good dad, you know.’
I hate it when things get mushy.
‘How do you make that out? A few weeks ago you were telling me I didn’t get home often enough, and couldn’t keep hold of a girlfriend.’
‘You don’t make me do the things you would have liked to do. Most of the boys in my class are doing what their dads wanted to do.’
‘OK, Dieter. I’ll believe you. How’s Carly?’
‘Cubs tonight – he’ll be in the Scouts soon.’ Then he asked me, ‘Do you have a new girlfriend, Dad?’
‘Why do you ask?’
‘You sound different when you have a new girlfriend. I can always tell.’
I swallowed. ‘It isn’t going to work out with June, son. I know that will disappoint you and Carly, but she has a complicated arrangement with two other men. There’s not much room left for me.’
‘I knew a girl like that, Dad, so I understand. It’s a bit of a pisser, isn’t it?’ When had my son begun to speak like that? I let it pass, but we’d need a chat about that some time. ‘Where are you?’
‘Scotland. But don’t tell anyone. I’ll be back at the end of the week.’
‘Are you in trouble again?’
‘No, nothing like that – I’m just being careful.’
He could always tell when I was lying as well – but he never complained about it.
When I went back to the bar Doris was flirting with the Arran-knit, so I walked outside to look down on the loch, and smoke a pipe. Dozens of those little black insects that live on Scotsmen followed me, but they didn’t tuck into me. Probably the pipe smoke. Doris followed me immediately.
‘You the jealous type, Charlie?’
‘Truthfully, I don’t know. I didn’t mind you flirting with our host, if that’s what you mean.’
She looked doubtful.
‘I don’t know what’s come over me these last few days – I’ve been like a bitch in heat.’
‘I do . . .’
‘What?’
‘Freedom. It does odd things to all of us. George isn’t here to rattle your chain.’
Then something occurred to me. I don’t know why I remembered our conversation on the station platform, waiting for George not to get down from the train. She’d said, ‘He’s not my husband, Charlie.’ I said, ‘Hang on a mo’. I’ve just realized. You are married, aren’t you? Only not to George.’
She looked levelly at me, and just before she turned away she said, ‘Yes, Charlie, I’m married. How about you?’
I tried to make light of it.
‘No one will have me.’ It didn’t work.
A few seconds later the stones crunched under her feet, and all I had was her back. I hadn’t thought I could move that fast – faster than a speeding bullet. Isn’t that what they used to say in Superman films at Saturday Morning Pictures? I was behind her, and wrapped my arms around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides. She gasped.
My voice was muffled by her hair. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t wait to get into your bed, and stay there all night.’
I hadn’t realized that she had been holding her breath. She let it out in a long sigh, and we rocked gently from side to side. Then we began to laugh. I should have known better.
In the morning she broke the spell: gave me a ten-bob note to keep the relationship professional. They don’t value sex as highly in the US as we do over here. To be honest most of them aren’t as good at it either.
I’m remembering back fifty years here – but I think I could have had her to a band playing.
The next day was a corker, and immediately after breakfast I took my old briar pipe out to that seat looking down the loch. I’d eaten kippers, and sunk a couple of cups of coffee. Doris ate about eighteen bleeding courses, and then went back upstairs. Ean joined me outside, and produced a pipe and tobacco of his own.
He indicated the bench, and asked, ‘May I join you?’ It was his bloody hotel, and his bloody seat, wasn’t it? Probably his bloody loch as well. But it was nice of him to ask.
His accent was soft. If I’d come across him whilst I was still in the service I would have taken him for an officer immediately.
‘Help yourself. Have you kept this hotel for long?’
‘I was born here. My mother and father turned it into a hotel – before that it was a shooting lodge.’
‘Do you like being an innkeeper?’
He laughed and said, ‘No, I loathe it. What do you do?’
‘I manage a small airline, but it’s on ice at the moment. There’s not much work about.’
He’d got his pipe going. The tobacco was aromatic. I could smell the Latakia in it.
‘So, you’re taking a holiday?’
‘No. I’m taking a job. A couple of rich Americans hired me to hold their hands while they climbed one of your hills.’
‘You’re a mountaineer then?’
‘No, but I’ve done it once or twice before . . . and was in the mountains in Turkey a few years ago. I thought I’d try to recruit a local guide – it’s best to have someone who knows the terrain. I was
