Page 26 of Highland Games
Rory took her phone. ‘Man-bear, yeti, mutant-redneck-hobbit, hobo?’
‘You should be pleased that I left off attempted murderer.’
Rory shook his head, and typed in his number before passing her phone back. He then made a big show of putting her contact details into his phone, occasionally pausing and pretending to think.
Zoe held her hand out to receive it, tapping her foot on the ground impatiently.
He eventually handed it over. He’d only typed one word – Zoe.
She looked up at him and he shrugged. For a moment she seemed disappointed. She put in her number, then handed it back.
‘So, you’ll message me when the shingles are done?’ she asked briskly. He nodded. ‘Okay, bye then, have a nice day.’ She turned on her heel to walk back down the road towards the cabin.
Rory watched her go until she disappeared from sight.
10
Back at the cabin, Zoe let Basil out of his cage and checked on the Rayburn. The morning sun was melting the frost outside, but unless the clouds came back it would be sub-zero again that night. The logs were diminishing faster than she had anticipated and she mentally recalculated how much it would cost to live here through the winter.
With her back to the Rayburn, she stared at the inside of the cabin. She wanted to sit down on a sofa, put her feet up and read a book. Despite what she had told Rory earlier, she yearned for her bed. As soon as the roof was fixed, she was collecting her furniture.
She got out a bag and filled it with her dirty clothes. Morag had insisted she took her laundry to do at hers and Zoe wasn’t going to argue. She was also going to go early for a big long soak in a bubble bath and to wash her hair before being fed. She was more excited about the bath than the food. She may have had a lot in common with her great-uncle, but did not share his scant regard for personal hygiene.
As she gathered up Fiona’s finished accounts, Basil scampered onto her shoulder to play with her hair. She nuzzled him. ‘I’m sorry, darling, but there are actually people in this world who are immune to your charms, so you can’t come with me. I’ll see what treats I can bring back, and I promise I’ll get you a friend to play with. I know it isn’t fair leaving you here on your own. Have a lovely sleep and I’ll be back soon.’
A little later, Zoe knocked on the back door to Morag’s house, loaded down with laundry, a bag of her toiletries, Fiona’s accounts, and a bottle of Prosecco. She was enveloped in steam and the aroma of cabbage as a red-faced Morag opened the door and beckoned her in. ‘Come in, love, I’m going to give you a feast! I hope you haven’t had any breakfast?’
Zoe shook her head. ‘Fi told me to come prepared.’
Morag laughed. ‘Rightly so! Ah, you brought your dirties. Well done, lass, I’ll pop them on now and have them clean and dry for you before you leave.’
‘Oh, I can’t have you sorting through it, Morag! I’ll do it.’
But Morag was having none of it and grabbed the bag. ‘Nonsense, love, it’ll be roses compared to Liam’s nappies, and besides, the machine is a bit temperamental. You have to have the knack and a strong right foot.’ She exited the kitchen yelling into the passageway. ‘Fi! Fi love, it’s our Zoe, come through and give her something to drink.’
Fiona came into the kitchen and Zoe handed her the accounts and the Prosecco.
‘What? You’ve finished them? Already? I only gave you them last night. And Prosecco. We are going up in the world.’ She hugged Zoe. ‘You’re the absolute best. Thank you. I’ll get you cash in a bit or do you want me to send it via bank transfer?’
‘Either’s fine, whatever’s easier.’
‘Let’s get us both a drink, and you can meet Duncan. Jamie’s not here but he’ll be along in a bit.’
Fiona poured out three enormous glasses of Prosecco and handed the third one to her mother as she re-entered the kitchen. Morag took the glass and necked half of it. ‘Woohoo! Now the party’s started! Now off with you both.’ She shooed them out of her kitchen. ‘Go and chillax, or whatever it is young people do nowadays, and make sure Zoe gets the comfiest seat.’
Fiona led the way into the living room where a man with deep auburn hair was bouncing a delighted Liam up and down. He stood as Zoe entered, holding his free hand out to greet her. Fiona did the introductions, shining with pride. ‘Duncan, this is Zoe. Zoe, Duncan.’
Zoe saw with relief her own open smile mirrored back at her from him. He took her hand and shook it firmly, as if a promise was being made. ‘You won’t believe it, but I’ve heard your name spoken for years. It’s great to finally meet you, Zoe, and I’m happy for Fi’s sake that you’re back.’
Zoe felt a lump form in her throat. ‘It’s so lovely to meet you, Fi described you perfectly.’
Duncan looked at Fiona who blushed. He was tall, lean and handsome, with deep brown eyes that were full of love for his wife and son. But Zoe could also see shrewdness, a maturity, born from working offshore. She knew immediately this was a man who could be counted on, one who would always put Fiona and Liam first.
Fiona ushered Zoe into the biggest armchair and they chatted about the cabin, about Willie, and about Duncan’s work on the rigs. He was an electrician and rope access specialist, which meant he was the person hanging off the platform in the middle of the North Sea fixing things that no one else could get to. He downplayed the dangers, but Zoe could see Fiona’s gaze drifting to the sideboard where an old photo was framed in pride of place. It was of a young and handsome man, a two-year-old girl held in one arm, the other wrapped proudly around his beaming pregnant wife. It was a photo Zoe knew as well as she knew this family. It was of Robert MacDougall, Morag’s husband and Fiona and Jamie’s dad, with the family he held in his arms all too briefly.
There had been a fire on the rig shortly after the photo was taken. A series of small and preventable errors had cascaded into one, fatal tipping point. Robert, an electrician, like Duncan and Jamie, had been one of three men to lose their lives that night. Zoe didn’t need to ask to know that Jamie had not followed Duncan offshore because of his mum. The money was way better on the rigs, but he was too good a son to make his mother live out her nightmares each time the helicopter took off from Aberdeen with him in it.
Fiona shook herself as if to shrug off bad memories and fear fantasies. ‘Zoe, your bath.’
