Page 8 of Highland Games
‘What should I do, Bandit?’
Bandit’s warm body pushed against his leg. Old memories clung to his skin. They tightened and itched.
His childhood had been nasty, brutish and short. The only moment of colour had come one summer, when his parents brought him to Kinloch and left him to his own devices. He’d set off the first morning to explore, armed with sandwiches and his grandfather’s walking stick. Coming from Edinburgh, the mountains of his homeland were always set behind the grey stone of the city. Now he was immersed in nature. When the sun was high in the sky, he found the cabin and Willie. It was the first time in his life he’d ever felt like he belonged. In those two short months, Willie had been more of a father to him than his own, and each day had been full of discovery and fascination. Willie taught him how to set a fire, stalk a deer, and run naked into the loch roaring like a lion.
And now, after over twenty years, he was back. Some responsibilities couldn’t be put off forever. Joining the military had been the ultimate escape from a domineering father. But when his father died, he had to come home; first to Edinburgh, and now here. He owed it to his mother to take care of her, but couldn’t live with her in the small flat forever. He wanted to be like Willie. To live in the cabin, free of materialism, complications, stress, and other people. Three months ago when they returned to Kinloch, he’d gone straight to the cabin, finding it derelict and abandoned. He’d cleared out the rotting furniture, leaving only the table and a couple of chairs, and had started making a new door and new window frames. By Christmas he had wanted to be in.
But first, he had to get this Zoe person out.
Last night it had been a surprise to see a car by the edge of the road by the track, and a shock to see the cabin occupied by someone other than him. Someone drunk, but still sober enough to be a dead shot with a can of baked beans. In daylight she was even more chaotic. Tall, with gangly limbs, an unruly mass of bright red curls, and freckles thrown haphazardly across her face. She looked like a firework mid-explosion, every part of her shooting out, defying gravity and coherence. Despite not having any wood, she was full of fire, he’d give her that. But the fire would go out. She’d be just like all the other city people with bagpipes for brains. The fantasy of life in the Scottish Highlands wouldn’t last when they realised Starbucks wasn’t at the end of the road, and they couldn’t get quinoa at the corner shop. He needed to hasten her inevitable departure but didn’t know how.
Rory looked at the pale grey sky, then at his watch.
‘Time to go, buddy. Any ideas of how to get shot of crazy lady?’
Bandit tilted his head to one side, then set off, tail wagging, down the side of the glen. ‘Race you!’ yelled Rory.
They thundered down the mountain, whooping and barking. It was always a foregone conclusion who would win, even though Bandit was getting older, but he waited patiently for Rory to catch up every few hundred yards. They were soon back at the truck, and Rory recovered, leaning on the gate to the field with the Highland cattle. He practically knew them by name. They were such placid animals. They were clustered around the new bale of hay inside the gate, tearing mouthfuls off, their hot breath condensing in the cold air.
Had she really thought bears lived in the Highlands? He shook his head. She’d probably think these cattle were woolly mammoths. He looked down the track towards the main road. The cabin wasn’t far from here. Maybe the cattle needed a change of scene?
The lackof mobile signal and electricity at the cabin meant Zoe needed to stay in town. Fortunately there was a small library attached to the community centre off the high street. It had three computer terminals, a printer, and signs in VERY large letters informing the older generation that help was always on hand. Zoe sank gratefully into a plastic chair and opened up her portal to all the knowledge she would ever need. Within five minutes, her phone and extra battery packs were on charge, she knew where to buy wood locally, how to fix and use a Rayburn, and had a plan for the lack of a front door.
Accountancy may not have been her dream career but she was the queen of spreadsheets, the empress of organisation, and within an hour had drawn up a battle plan for the cabin. She placed bids on a back boiler to fit her Rayburn that would provide the cabin with a supply of hot water. There was only one available that was the right model, and it looked even older than the castle. She only hoped if she won it, it worked.
She would show that smug arse – the one with theincrediblearse – she had no intention of leaving. She would succeed as much for herself as to spite him. It was easier to hate him than to dwell on the turbulence he’d created within her. That was a weird, one-off reaction to someone who was clearly the village idiot with ideas above their station and it wasn’t going to happen again. No. Definitely not. Not ever.
It was three o’clock by the time she left the library, and even though her stomach was calling, the sun was already starting its descent to bed and she needed light. She drove back to the cabin and unloaded her supplies.
The outhouse got a glittery toilet seat, chrome toilet roll holder, and a powerful battery-powered camping light. The cabin got solar and battery-powered lights, cleaning tools and products, plastic boxes for her clothes, and the pièce de résistance, a tent, which she put up in the far corner of the cabin. The cabin may not have had a front door, but it did now have a bedroom.
She then filled her empty plastic bottles from the stream. This was where Willie had got his water supply, but she needed to fix the gutters and drainpipes he had put up when she stayed so she could collect rainfall and have it closer to the cabin. Drinking water was a different problem. She didn’t want to keep buying bottles; it wasn’t so much the cost as the plastic. As she mentally added a filtration system to the long list of things the cabin needed, she heard a car pull up. She walked out to see a familiar, yet unfamiliar, man getting out. He gave her a friendly wave. ‘Hey, Zoe.’
‘Jamie!’ Without a second thought, she barrelled herself towards him with her arms outstretched.
He stood, an embarrassed smile on his face, his cheeks pink, as she gave him the same treatment she had received from his mum and sister.
‘Look at you! You’re all grown up. You’re taller than me now. It’s so amazing to see you again. Thank you so much for coming. Your mum tells me you’re an electrician? Come see the cabin!’
Zoe dragged him by the hand, exactly as she’d always done, but this time with a strapping man, whilst he also reverted to the past and followed without a word like the little boy he had been, always following his elder sister and her best friend around.
‘Ta-da!’ Zoe dropped his hand and used hers to present the interior of the cabin. ‘As we enter the majestic building, with its unique entrance, we move onto the kitchen – perfectly formed if yet not functional.’ She sashayed around as if presenting a property show on TV. Jamie was grinning at her but a knot of anxiety was tying tighter in her stomach. He was the first person, apart from the man-bear, to have seen the true state of the cabin and she was dreading him having the same reaction. ‘We move onto the open-plan living area. Here we have a brand-new invention – not a walk-in closet, but a pick-up-and-walk-off closet.’ She lifted the plastic boxes containing her clothes and ceremoniously placed them down again, a few inches away. ‘And finally, the master bedroom! Bathroom currently non-en suite, but definitely on property.’ She presented the tent with arms spread and jazz hands as if showing off the latest toaster on a home shopping channel.
There was a pause and Jamie cleared his throat.
‘Well, Zoe, I think you’ve got a palace on your hands. Nothing a bit of graft and a door can’t fix.’
Zoe leapt forward and grabbed his upper arms as if clinging onto the life raft of his optimism for dear life. ‘You think so? Oh, Jamie, everyone thinks I’m mad, but I have to make it work.’
His smile was warm. ‘You’ll be fine, Zo, but we won’t have light for long, so let’s see about the stove, then if there’s time, we can look at the door.’
Zoe followed him back to the car like an obedient puppy and gamely held onto sticks and brushes as they walked back into the cabin.
‘Now, this could get a little messy, so just clear as much room as you can,’ he said, laying newspaper over the top of the Rayburn. Zoe moved everything to the far side of the cabin and Jamie opened the cleaning door to the flue pipe.
‘Pass me the first brush, would you?’
Zoe complied, feeling like she was a surgical assistant at an operation. Jamie had brought ash shovels of various sizes and was soon scooping out black soot into a bag.
