by D K Bohlman
It had her attention, so she read it again.
She clicked the email shut and absentmindedly finished making the tea, spilling the milk over the edge of the mug as she thought about his offer.
It had her interested, of course. She’d loved working with him, especially on the more unusual stuff, although the Glenda Muir case had definitely been more than she’d bargained for.
But a missing girl, helping investigate the background here in Inverness?
It was an easy decision. Of course she would, she was sure she could work it around lectures and study.
The only real question was how hard to play hardball in agreeing to it … especially knowing she could wind him up a bit over it. This could be fun.
So, the first step would be to … not reply for a day. Let him fret over whether to chase her again. Her betting was weighted towards him doing just that. He’d probably put a read receipt on it too. So he’d know she’d seen it.
With a smile on her face, she took the cup of tea back to bed with her, plus a couple more digestives as a light breakfast, and promised herself she would get up and shower by eleven.
Calum waits
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It had been nearly twenty-four hours now and no reply. But she’d definitely seen the email. The day had dragged because it was full of drudgery and because he was waiting for her answer. He chided himself for having nothing more important to chase down, to fret over. But he knew they had a special relationship and it actually hurt a little to be ignored.
If she didn’t reply by breakfast the next day, he’d have to think up a spiky chaser, something to make her laugh and say yes. He reluctantly shut down his laptop and locked up the office, making for home.
He stopped on the way at the village store. He needed something for his evening meal and didn't fancy the pub tonight. He picked out some fish and veg. He had potatoes already. That would do. He handed them to Jackie, the shop assistant and pulled out his wallet. Overtaken by a sudden desire to allow himself something indulgent with his healthy dinner, he called a halt.
‘One second.’
He returned with two cans of full-fat lemonade. One for tonight. Only one, he promised. At least so far, he wasn’t showing any signs of his blood sugars getting to too high. He could afford to give himself a treat.
Jackie smiled as he put the cans on the counter. He knew why. She was aware he tried to eat healthily. And she knew he was weak sometimes, but she never said anything, just smiled at his bashful indiscretions. He paid her and left the shop, the doorbell tinkling gently behind him as he strode off up the loch-side.
Ten yards into his walk home, a hand grabbed his shoulder, with a gruff ‘Hey Calum’ behind it. He spun around. Gregor.
‘Hey, Greg. How're things?’
‘Not bad, you know, for this place.’ He looked across the harbour.
Calum knew what he meant. An idyllic place to live, on a loch, on the north-west coast of Scotland, but an existence which could get tedious if you worked here all the time: like Gregor did.
‘But I did have a good chat with Jenna after the wake. It went OK, by the way, didn’t it? I don’t know what else to say, Calum. Sorry.’
Calum smiled thinly back. ‘Yeah, I know. But it was great so many people came along. It’s done now. We’ve just got to move on, haven't we? Even though there’s something about it all that bugs me.’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘Well, not sure there’s any point going over it. It just makes me tense when I think about it. But it all happened so quickly, not expected, you know? And she’d been loads better the past year. I don’t know what I’m saying really, but I just think there’s something more to know, about why it happened the way it did. That’s it really.’
Gregor lowered his eyes, obviously unsure what to say.
‘I see. Yeah.’
Gregor’s awkwardness was saved by Calum’s phone warbling.
Cassie’s name was flashing on the display. He’d thought she might call. He wasn't sure what he’d do if she did. In the event, he looked at the screen for two seconds and panicked a bit, clicking off the call, delaying the inevitable tricky conversation. He couldn't face it right now.
Calum shook his head to clear his thoughts, then remembered Gregor had mentioned Jenna.
‘Anyway. Enough of that. You said you’d talked to Jenna. Any good come of it?’
An enigmatic smile and a twinkle in Gregor’s eyes told Calum maybe.
‘Yeah, could be. We’ll see. Going to talk to her again soon.’
Calum mock punched Gregor’s shoulder. ‘Hey, that’s good news, buddy. Hope it goes well.’
His brain made a quick connection and threw a proposal to his mouth, which he opened again.
‘Actually, I just sent Jenna an offer to do a little work for me.’
Gregor’s eyes lit up.
‘What, here? In Plockton? But how could she do that, what with her studies?’
‘No, not really, like you say that wouldn’t really work but, well, I can’t give away any of the case details, of course, but the work would be research, mostly in Inverness itself, I think. So it kind of works. Anyway, I was going to say, I need an answer from her. So if you speak to her before I do, use your charms on her, eh?’
Gregor gave him a rueful smile. ‘Wish it were that easy, mate. My charm doesn’t seem to work as well as it used to. But yeah, I’ll try if I get a chance. No problem. Got to go anyway, pick up my fiddle. I’m playing down the pub tonight and there’s a good few tourists in for this time of year, so better be on time.’
Gregor walked on down the street, with a back-handed wave. Calum looked on after him for a moment. They both missed Jenna, it was a little bond between them. Maybe together, their persuasion would be strong enough to get her back into both their lives.
With a hopeful sigh, Calum walked on home up the damp street, wondering whether he’d bake or grill his fish. He took a glance at his new Apple watch. His heart traces all looked fine. He promised himself he’d try not to check every day. Maybe every other day to start with.
A reply
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OK, maybe I’ve kept him hanging on long enough, she thought.
Jenna was staring out of her bedroom window, which had a side view of the street. Grey skies and a steady drizzle confronted her this morning. A damp runner wearing a beanie hat and a small dog in tow pounded across her vista.
She had an hour before lectures, so with a slice of toast in hand, she flipped open her laptop and started to type. Play hard to get? That would be a bit obvious with Calum. He knew her too well.
The brown painted chip wallpaper ahead of her wasn’t inspiring her. It wasn’t only Calum who was on her mind. Gregor. Gregor of the fast fiddle and easy smile. Gregor with her sense of humour and his lack of adventure. Should she stay or should she go (now)? That song lyric stuck in her head. She was sure she was doing what she wanted, starting her degree course here, on the opposite side of Scotland to her two male ‘problems’. Well, she was when she started a month or so back.
She fidgeted around, made a coffee and came back to her seat, with half a reply in mind, for Calum at least.
Hmm sorry, this went into my spam mail for some reason. Must be telling me something? Anyway, a something I’m going to ignore. I’d love/jump at the chance/be ecstatic to work with you again. Great idea. Fantastic. When can I get started?? What’s her flatmate’s address?? Tell me her course at the uni too?? I’ll need paying a fortune, of course. And no dressing up as Robinette. Or coffee service. Or admin. And I want some juicy bits on this one.
Jenna x
Well, that would make him read it twice for sure.
A few seconds after she’d pressed the send key, she thought about Calum’s daughter, Ellie. Maybe the tone of that email had been a bit too bright right now. Or maybe that was what he needed. No point worrying about it now, though. And she had to get moving to her
first lecture. And as for Gregor, well, that needed some thought before she got around to talking to him. She needed to think through that one a bit more carefully.
She brushed her teeth, stuffed a couple of texts she’d been reading last night into her rucksack and pulled on her orange cagoule as she locked the flat door behind her.
*
Calum almost spat out a whole mouthful of his coffee in a mirthful fit. A fleck or two of froth did escape onto the screen and he wiped it off with his shirt cuff.
Well, well, she never failed to surprise him. She’d made his morning, afternoon and week.
Wonderful! I’ll call with all the details tonight so you can get started. Great to have you back on board.
He didn’t click send. He thought he’d wait an hour or so …
Sarah McTeer
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Sarah McTeer felt a bit crowded by the busy departures lounge, squashed into a seat between a hen-party group on one side and an overweight businessman with coffee-breath on the other.
She pulled out her iPhone in an attempt to leave that unpleasant reality and scanned Facebook and Twitter for something interesting. There wasn't anything in that category. It took a few minutes of flicking through the usual dross her feeds threw up each day before she admitted the truth she’d known for a while. Social media was really quite dull. When did you ever get an intense experience, a job offer, a pay rise, a hot date through Twitter?
Yet every day she read her feeds. Many times a day. It was just a more modern version of leafing through the post every day, all the fliers, junk mail and rubbish, hoping for the letter that said you’d won a prize in a raffle you’d forgotten you’d entered. It never happened. Maybe on this trip, she’d give it up … when was Lent?
She was hoping there’d be more diversions to keep her amused when she got to her destination. She felt that warm pulse of excitement that rose up whenever she was researching something new, something interesting. In this case, it might just be publishable too. It all depended on finding people who’d had some involvement. Without them, it would most likely be hard going.
Finally, her flight was called to board. She picked up her canvas rucksack and set off for gate ten, hoping the hen party and the businessman were on a different flight.
*
She had one wish granted. The businessman, unfortunately, had a seat allocated right next to her. She thought business types flew in business class. Maybe this guy was a cheapskate or not making much money. Either way, his left arm was taking up the armrest between them, forcing her to lean into the window recess. She pushed a pillow into it and resigned herself to an uncomfortable few hours.
Once drinks were served, her unwanted companion decided to start a conversation. She’d avoided eye contact up to that point, but when the flight attendant asked her if she wanted a drink, she had to turn her head that way: and that was his opportunity. He smiled and helped pass her Diet Coke over.
His name was Stephen. Seemed he was exporting some kind of electrical products and visiting a new customer. Sarah feigned only the slightest interest and gave away as little as possible when questioned about her own plans.
It was tiresome, but she finally managed to create a break in the chat and get on to eat her meal when it arrived, pretending to get involved in reading an article in the flight magazine. A couple of small bottles of red wine helped her escape to a more soporific state, which turned into a post-prandial doze.
It was some unknown amount of time later when she felt something fluttering around her ankles.
She opened her right eye, her eyelid sticking slightly and presenting her with a blurred image. Not an image she wanted to see. Her neighbour had his head hovering over her lap and his hands somewhere lower. She froze momentarily, then in a decisive explosion, thrust her left hand upwards and pressed the attendant call button whilst grabbing the man’s head under her right arm, locking it tightly, elbow curled around his neck.
Pandemonium broke out.
He sort of snorted and gasped simultaneously, creating an unnaturally good impression of a boar in rut. The passengers across the aisle turned their gaze at the flurry of activity and elbowed and poked their neighbours, encouraging them to have a look.
Meanwhile, the flight attendant was moving slowly down the gangway towards them until she realised what was going on, at which point she broke into a wobbly gallop.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ the man squawked hoarsely through his grunts, still unable, despite his considerable size, to get enough leverage to free himself from the perfumery of Sarah’s armpit.
‘That’s what I want to know, matey.’
The attendant perused the scene: a middle-aged man with his head locked against his neighbour’s breast, and his hands all over her, squawking loudly, whilst the woman looked calmly determined to hold onto him.
‘Maybe it would be better if you let him go, madam, then we can sort this out.’
Sarah released her hold, leaning away from him, locking him with a suspicious glare instead.
For his part, he went quiet for a moment, composing his body, clothes and mind.
‘I was trying to pick my napkin up. It fell down near your feet. I did say excuse me.’
Damn.
His eyes told her he was telling the truth.
‘Really? I didn’t hear you.’
‘Well, I said it twice and then went ahead to pick it up when you didn’t answer. Maybe you’d dozed off.’
He spoke in a clipped voice but a remarkably calm one, given what she’d just put him through.
‘I guess I was dozing a bit.’ She felt an unwelcome surge of blood flush into her face.
‘Yeah. Maybe so. I guess it must have looked odd if you woke up to see me doing that.’
She couldn’t resist a little laugh at that. It was comical really, now she was fully awake and realised he wasn’t actually trying to grope her.
‘So did you get the napkin?’
‘With that headlock on? No chance.’
She looked down at the floor, couldn’t see any napkin, leant further forward and down, so she could see under the seats a bit. There it was, further back, in between them. She plucked it out from its resting place and offered it to him.
‘I guess this is a white flag too. Sorry. My mistake.’
‘No problem. You can buy me a beer to make up for it.’
She nodded, without a sign of the exasperation that he’d just inflicted on her. Stretching back into her seat, she looked out the window and wondered how she was going to be simultaneously apologetic and stand-offish for the rest of the flight.
*
A few strained hours later, Sarah fell backwards, arms out wide, caught by the welcoming ‘oomph’ of a soft mattress topped by a thick quilt. The curtains were still open, dusk settling around the old capital’s streets. She turned her head sideways.
From the fifth floor of the Grand Danubius hotel, she could see the river, coursing strongly through the heart of Budapest. Tourist boats lit with strings of bulbs stretched down both sides of their length, drifted past her vantage point, sparsely filled with diners on a routine circuit up and down the main sights. The vast illuminated bulk of Buda castle looked down over it all, a reminder of the city’s occupied past.
She was too weary from the flight and the strain of being pleasant to her temporary travelling companion, to go out to eat. She picked up the room service menu, scanning for comfort food. A hamburger and fries sounded just right. She dialled the number and got a thirty-minute wait time. That would be perfect. Time to laze and have a quick wash.
An hour and a half later she put the dirty plates outside her door and went back into her room, wondering what to do with the rest of the evening. Read or walk were the choices. Nothing arranged on the research until tomorrow. She took a look out of the tall window. The hotel had a faded charm about it, an imposing building, probably very grand a while back, but not so upmarket anymore. If it
had been, she wouldn’t have been able to afford it.
Outside, she could see a few people walking along the riverside, thick coats on. It turned cool quite quickly at this time of the year in Budapest.
A good brisk walk was quite appealing. She grabbed her coat and made her way out to the riverside. The tables outside the cafes on the elevated walkway next to the river were mostly deserted, too cold for the diners and drinkers. She skipped down some steps onto the waterfront and started to walk, sucking in the fresh air and exhaling slowly, relaxing.
There were a few boats moored along here, some were music bars and restaurants, some looked like river dwellings, large modern houseboats. She loved seeing how people in other countries lived. Twenty minutes was enough, though. She looked at her watch, turned around and headed back to the hotel. It was fully dark now and this stretch of the road wasn’t well lit. She shivered against the cold and the occasional person loitering against the dull brick and steelwork that held up the tram line beside the river. Something … and nothing … suddenly spooked her and she quickened her step.
Ten minutes later, she arrived back in the hotel lobby and headed to the bar, ready to sink a good slug of whatever passed for the local spirit in Hungary.
The swarthy and very friendly barman suggested cherry palinka. A strong fruit brandy. After half an hour and a couple of what looked like pretty liberal measures, she realised he wasn't joking about its strength. The barman had suddenly become worryingly attractive in her soft-focus vision. That wasn’t really her scene.
Dropping her frame carefully down from the barstool, she made her way slowly to the lift, hit the fifth-floor button heavily and didn't really remember getting into bed.
Ervin Szabo
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Sarah’s breakfast was a slow affair, her metabolism shockingly dulled by the palinka from the night before. Three cups of coffee and a pile of fried eggs and local sausage later, she felt she could brave the day.