Page 9 of Highland Games
‘Can you take a look outside and let me know when I’m out?’ he asked as he screwed more extensions to the brush.
Zoe ran outside, taking pictures with her phone, and yelled with delight as she saw the brush triumphantly exit the chimney, sending a bird’s nest catapulting up into the air, then rolling down the roof to the ground. She snatched it up and ran back inside.
‘We’ve made a family homeless!’
Jamie grinned, his face starting to blacken from the soot. ‘They’re long gone, it’s nearly winter now. But it’ll make good kindling.’
Zoe held the nest protectively to her body. ‘No! It’s my first piece of art for the cabin.’ She laid it down carefully on top of one of her plastic boxes and Jamie closed the flue.
‘That wasn’t bad you know, but let’s clean the rest out and get it lit.’
She helped him manhandle the heavy iron plate off the top and they set to work with brushes, cleaning out the vents and firebox whilst Jamie talked her through the complexities of a wood-fired Rayburn. Zoe listened to his deep Scottish voice talking about damping down, sliders and spin wheels.Thiswas what someone who lived in Scotland should sound like. His voice was a melodious lullaby and she let herself wander off into a daydream, walking through purple heather under a bright blue sky, her great-uncle at her side. She turned to look up at him and recoiled from herself as her mind conjured up the man-bear, shirtless in a kilt.
‘Zo? Zoe?’
She started as she realised Jamie was talking to her.
‘Er? What?’
‘A fireside companion. Do you have one?’
‘What? Like a cat?’
Jamie laughed. ‘No, a poker, tongs, shovel and the like. I’ll leave these here tonight and run you up one in the morning.’
Zoe flushed with embarrassment and gratitude. ‘Thank you, Jamie, thank you so much.’
The Rayburn was ready, so they made a little pile of paper and kindling in the firebox and Jamie gave the job of lighting it to Zoe. She felt a thrill seeing it catch. They grinned at each other and high fived.
‘Now for the door!’ Zoe cried.
They went outside to look at whether or not they could fix it. The frame had started to rot so the hinges had finally given out and the door itself was also warping.
Jamie shook his head. ‘This isn’t going to be a quick fix.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Zoe, ‘I’ve had an idea.’
She showed him a pile of plastic sheeting and wood.
‘My plan is to make a frame and staple sheeting to either side. What do you think?’
Jamie smiled and squinted out toward the mountains on the other side of the loch. ‘Well, I reckon we’ve got about an hour of light left so let’s see what we can do.’
They worked quickly to assemble the frame, then Jamie took the hinges off the old door and they hung the new one in its place. The fit was far from perfect but it would have to do for now.
‘Tomorrow I’ll run up a few old fleeces from Alan’s farm,’ Jamie said as he helped Zoe tidy up. ‘We can fix them between the plastic for insulation and you can use them as a draft excluder along the bottom. I’m afraid my skills don’t stretch much further than this, so you’ll have to find someone else to fix the door properly, but I can give you some names.’
‘Thank you so much, Jamie, you’ve been a lifesaver today.’
Zoe stoodon the porch waving him goodbye, smiling ruefully at Morag’s hopes they would be more than just friends. He was as wonderful as she remembered, but a brother, not a lover. And anyway, the last thing on her mind was finding a boyfriend. She hadn’t been in a relationship for years. Not since Joe, who had lasted through uni and a couple of years beyond. Things had always been plain sailing with Joe, apart from where his parents were concerned.
They were steadfastly upper-middle class, and after investing their money in the right education and social circle for their son, were supremely dissatisfied by his choice of lower-middle-class girlfriend. The fact Zoe’s father was a cashier in a bank, not a hedge fund manager from the city, and her mother worked in a charity shop rather than being on the board, was further proof Joe was wasting his time with the lower orders.
During the five years they were together, Zoe could never get them to accept her, and always experienced a gnawing sense of inferiority and anxiety around them. Joe was nice, but their relationship was no grand passion, and it was a relief for them both when his parents engineered a job for him in America and they could let it all come to an end. Since then, she’d tried internet dating but had been left disillusioned by the whole process. One liar after another. It didn’t matter what the lie was, it was always going to come to the surface sooner or later, like a boil.
Most men lied about their age and appearance. Using profile pictures from decades ago, or photos of their friends. Then they lied about their jobs, their families, their kids. They lied about smoking, they lied about how they felt. They were just incapable of telling the truth.
Zoe had been so optimistic, taking every man at his word, pouring her expectations, heart and soul into each date. She had even slept with one, who turned out to be married with three children and another on the way. Within six months of dating she was soiled by the whole experience. A boyfriend was at the bottom of her priority list. Top of the list was a good night’s sleep. An enormous yawn unfolded out of her, so big she couldn’t stifle it. She brushed her teeth, crawled into the sleeping bag, and listened.
