As Jennifer went to get her box of postcards, a noise startled her. Her mother must be awake. Sighing, she set down her magazine, jerked open the door and traipsed into the bedroom. Her mother lay with her eyes wide open, unable to pull herself up to a sitting position. Maggie adjusted her pillows and gently pulled her mother’s frail body upright.
“Thanks dear. Can you check my pad?”
Jennifer nodded grimly. She felt so guilty, but sometimes she hated the fact this was her lot. Pulling the blankets aside, she hoisted her mother’s nightgown upward and checked the incontinence pad. She knew from the smell of urine which emanated from her mother, even before checking the pad, that she needed changing. Taking the pad away, she bent down to get another from the bedside cabinet and grabbed a wipe too. When she got back up, she realised her mother was widdling once again, totally unaware, over the sheets she had just changed that morning. Blinking back tears and not wanting to humiliate her mother further, she waited until she’d finished, then wiped her, as you would a baby and put the new incontinence pad on. Thank God she wasn’t doubly incontinent. Jennifer dumped the sodden pad in the outside bin, washed her hands and retrieved some clean sheets from the linen cupboard. She manoeuvred her mother around the bed, took away the wet sheets, cleaned the rubber sheet with antiseptic wipes, dried it off and then slipped the fresh sheets under her mother and over the mattress, all the while clasping her mother’s skinny frame to her. Her mother, relaxed against the pillows, politely enquired of her daughter if she could have a cup of tea.
Jennifer headed back to the kitchen carrying the stinking sheets, which she bunged in the washing machine. Throwing some washing powder into the dispenser, she turned the machine on. Tea duly served to her mum, Jennifer retired to the living room to finish hers and enter some competitions.
“Here you go Mum. Your favourite, beef olives and roasters.”
“Oh thanks so much, dear.”
She sat companionably with her tray on her lap whilst her mother swallowed forkfuls of her meal.
“Can you turn on the TV? I’d like to watch the news.”
Jennifer got up from the rocking chair where she usually sat in her mother’s room when they ate together and switched on the TV. Instantly, the headlines began to zoom up in front of them, dead on six o’clock.
Jennifer cleared away the plates and noting that her mother was already asleep, settled down in the living room, after switching on the TV. She flicked through the channels, finally plumping for Who Wants to be a Millionaire and sat back to relax with a few chocolate digestives and her competition magazine. This was the only time she really got to unwind, after her mother had gone to sleep. It was just a pity she couldn’t do anything worthwhile, like go to a pub, or a disco, or the cinema, or anything really. She was stuck in here night after night. If she didn’t find a solution to all of this soon, she was going to go stark, raving mad.
“Twelve second class stamps please,” Jennifer handed over the money to the cashier. “Thanks,” she said, stuffing the stamps into her purse. It was a beautiful sunny day. She had a little time before she would have to go back and prepare her mother’s lunch. So she sat in the park, putting stamps on her postcards. After soaking up the sun’s rays and admiring some men out jogging, she picked up her shopping and dropped her postcards in the post-box. It had been a long time since she’d been with someone. She missed that affection, but when would she get the opportunity? It was hard enough to meet someone nowadays, even if you had a job and a social life and were used to meeting lots of new people. How on earth would she ever meet anyone if she never went anywhere?
The phone rang and Jennifer hastened to answer it.
“Hello?”
“Jennifer?”
“Maggie. How you doing?”
“OK thanks. You?”
“Ah, fair to middling.”
“Thought as much. I have the perfect cure.”
“Oh?”
“What are you doing on Saturday?”
When she came off the phone, she was flushed with excitement and prayed it would all work out. Maggie was going to Glencoe to campaign against a multi-million pound visitor centre and had decided Jennifer needed to get out of the house, so she wanted her to come too. When she had protested because of her mother, Maggie had the perfect solution. Her mum would look after her. She was phoning her to check.
The phone trilled a few minutes later.
“Jennifer. Mum says that’s fine. I’ll call you tomorrow, OK?”
“Thanks. You have no idea how much I appreciate it.”
Jennifer was ecstatic. She felt like skipping and whooping and shouting for joy. It was funny, she was going to a march, about what she couldn’t give two hoots, but the point was, she was going somewhere. She knew she would have to pick her moment with her mum so that she didn’t offend her.
“Mum?”
“Yes, dear.”
“Can I talk to you about something.”
“Oh? That sounds serious,”
“It’s not anything bad. I just wanted to ask you how you would feel about it, that’s all.”
“What is it?”
“Maggie asked me if I wanted to go to Glencoe with her this weekend. Her mum used to be a nurse at the Ailsa. She knows our situation and is happy to help out whilst I’m gone. Would you have any problem with that?”
“No, dear. If she’s a nurse, then she’ll know what to expect, won’t she?”
“Yes,” Jennifer breathed a sigh of relief.
“Well, that’s settled then. Would you mind bringing me some choccy biccies to go with my tea?”
“Sure,” Jennifer would have given her the moon and the stars at that point.
For the rest of the week Jennifer felt like a nervous schoolgirl. She was counting down the days, as if she were going on a long haul holiday. To her, going to Glencoe was just as good. It was the getting away from it all that she was looking forward to, being able to pretend she led a normal life. They were the longest four days of her life.
Saturday finally came and the doorbell rang. It was Maggie’s mum, a sweet woman, still very spry for her age. Jennifer showed her in, hung her coat on the pine coat stand behind them and gestured for Jean to follow her to her mother’s room, where she re-introduced them.
“Thanks so much, Jean. You have no idea what this means to Jennifer and I,” her mum said.
“It’s my pleasure. Let the young ones go away and wreak havoc for the weekend,” chuckled Jean. “Now Jennifer. Why don’t you show me where everything is. Hmm?” Jennifer promptly obeyed and was just showing Jean how to operate the sofa bed mechanism, when the bell rang again. Jean officiously said, “I’ll get it” and off she went. Jennifer looked in on her mum again and raised her eyebrows questioningly, to indicate “Well?” Her mum gave her the thumbs up. Relieved, she bent down and kissed her mother’s cheek and thought once again how unfair their situation was. Jean was able to bustle around better than most her age, whereas Jennifer’s mum was forced to lie in that bed every day. She tried to push these sad thoughts to the back of her mind and said goodbye to her mother
After Jennifer and Jeremy were introduced, they were off. Already Jennifer was thinking, I’ve met someone new today. She was sure Jeremy must think her completely mad as she kept beaming at him. They picked up Lee next, in Troon. He was a merry, jack the lad character, who never stopped talking. Jennifer instantly liked him, although she felt sure that his constant chattering would eventually exhaust her, but right now she loved chatter. Last stop was Susan and Henry’s semi-detached in Kilmarnock, before heading up the road towards Glasgow and then branching off up the A82 to Glencoe. Of course, they had to stop off at the Stag’s Head for some breakfast. The Stag’s Head, as the name suggested, greeted you with the eponymous stag mounted above the bar, with another in the toilets. The carpets were Buchanan tartan, garish yellow, green, red and orange, covered in stains, best not to ask of what.
There was a crowd of regulars at
the bar, who, you got the feeling, had been waiting outside for the bar to open. Jennifer noted that the giant behind the bar wore a kilt and was absolutely gorgeous. He looked like a younger version of the guy on the Scot’s Porage Oats packet, a big, strapping lad with thighs that would…She flushed at the thought. As she took her plate of sausages, fried egg, bacon and black and fruit pudding, he said, “I like a lassie who likes her grub,” and winked at her. Jennifer was mortified, wondering if he’d noticed her scoping him out. The others, who had witnessed it all from their table, laughed uproariously.
They chatted briefly about their jobs and their lives and Jennifer noticed that no-one asked her what her job was. She always wondered if she’d lie and say she was in Insurance, or whether she’d say she was a carer. Often carers were viewed as not particularly bright, with little or no qualifications.
Breakfast eaten, they bundled into the people carrier again and headed north. Jennifer wasn’t really sure what to expect at Glencoe, at the Black Watch centre, but when they arrived they saw about fifteen protestors, brandishing placards, with some bemused villagers looking on. Maggie soon rallied the troops and before long the numbers had swelled to more than thirty hardcore supporters. Jennifer didn’t include herself in this number. She was, at best, a half-hearted protestor, only here for the social scene.
When Maggie lay down in front of the JCB, Jennifer stood open-mouthed. She had always known Maggie was pretty radical, but she didn’t really think she’d go to such lengths. A larger crowd gathered as events unfolded and Jennifer whispered to Jeremy, “What’s she doing?”
“Whatever’s necessary.”
Meanwhile, he, Susan and Henry were waving their placards frantically in the air whilst Lee was leading the crowd in a chant of “No to the Visitor Centre”, “Save Black Watch”. The villagers occasionally joined in with a “Yay,” but you could tell some of them were uncomfortable. It occurred to Jennifer that perhaps some of the B&Bs and restaurants would get good temporary business, from the very contractors, who were about to tear down their beloved centre. She could hear the foreman’s voice rise as he stood gesticulating at Maggie, and Maggie’s own tone seemed to sharpen too. The foreman walked away in exasperation, flipping open his mobile as he did so. Maggie posed a ridiculous figure, prone on the dirt track in front of the centre. She sat up and addressed the crowd, who half- heartedly yelled and jeered at the workmen. Just then, a police car drew up. Oh dear, thought Jennifer. She stood, rooted to the spot, willing Maggie to get up. But Maggie just lay there expectantly.
The older policeman spoke briefly with the foreman, then headed towards Maggie. Jennifer couldn’t hear what was said. Lee stood shaking his head and Susan looked on in despair. Some of the onlookers started moving away, not wanting to get involved, if things were going to get serious. The policeman seemed agitated, but Maggie just smiled at him. Just then, a white van appeared, rounding the last bend at a higher than average speed. It braked sharply at the sight of the police car. The emblazoned logo of The Lochaber News meant that the press had come to join the circus. This would be big news around here, Jennifer felt, protestors for the centre actually protesting, but oh, how much better a story, a woman lying down in front of a wrecking ball, with the police standing over her. She found herself wondering if Maggie hadn’t engineered the press presence and resolved to ask her later. Right now she was in a bit of a predicament. Horrified, she looked on as Maggie was bodily removed and put in the back of the police car. She ran towards the car but was stopped by the younger constable.
“Where are you taking her?”
“Fort William police station.”
She looked at Maggie across the distance that separated them, giving her a despairing glance, but Maggie even in the back of a police car, handcuffed, was still smiling, albeit grimly. The car pulled away and the crowd started to disperse.
“They’ve taken her to Fort William,” she relayed to the others.
“OK then,” said Jeremy decisively, “Pile in. We’d better go and get her. She’ll be out soon I’m sure.”
Jennifer wasn’t so certain, but hoped Jeremy was right. Had she actually been arrested? Didn’t they usually read you your rights? Did they and she hadn’t noticed? She had been momentarily distracted by the arrival of the news team. Maybe they read you your rights down at the station. You’d think she’d know after years of watching The Bill. Jennifer allowed herself a small smile. How dreadful that her knowledge was gleaned almost solely from TV these days. She dutifully clambered into the Renault Espace along with the other four and they set off on the fifteen mile journey to Fort William.
Jennifer went in to the station to find out what was happening. The kind sergeant at the desk checked and told her Maggie would be interviewed in an hour or so. Jennifer informed the others and they decided they’d be better waiting over the road at The Lochaber.
Chapter Eighteen
“Oh Maggie! Thank God. Are you OK? Do you have to pay bail?” Jennifer whispered the last part, as the swing doors she had just burst through swung to and fro behind her until they finally settled.
“It’s not quite The Bill you know, Jennifer and yes, I’m fine, even if my pride is a little dented. I’m just upset about the centre. They let me off with a caution and told me to behave a bit more responsibly, if I really must protest at all.”
“Thank goodness.”
“Yeah. Where are the others?”
“In The Lochaber.”
“Good. Let’s go.”
“Hey. There’s the heroine of the hour,” Lee called.
“Hardly. They’ve already started demolishing the centre.”
“You did your best, Maggie,” Jeremy consoled her.
“It wasn’t good enough,” she said matter-of-factly.
“You can’t win them all,” Susan put in.
“I know. I really do,” Maggie admitted. “OK, let’s get moving. I’d like these tents up as soon as, so we can head over to the Aonach Inn? I’m starving.”
“That was a fab meal,” declared Henry.
“Yes, it was good, wasn’t it?” agreed Jeremy.
A band played in the background. Jennifer rather liked the blend of folk meets blues. Hoochy Coochy Man was the last rendition they’d given. They were all chattering animatedly, trying to think of the next song they should request. Irish Rover was top of most people’s list, not for the significance, but just because everyone knew it and it had a good rhythm. It wasn’t really the sort of thing the band was accustomed to. They were just finalising their vote on who was going to go up and ask for The Irish Rover, fully expecting to be refused, when Jeremy shouted,
“Ben! Ben! Over here!”
A tall, well-built guy of about twenty five to thirty, looked over, grinned in recognition and made his way towards them.
“I’m fine Jez and you, what you been up to?”
“Rescuing this one from being arrested,” he indicated Maggie. “You’ve been working too hard I hear. You’re never home any more.” Jez chastised. “No time for beers.
“I’ve time for beers now.”
“Are you on your own?”
“Yes, I’m supposed to be in Glasgow. I wasn’t meant to be working up here this weekend, but I’m covering for a mate who’s gone on holiday at the last minute.”
“Well, why don’t you join us? Make way for one more, guys. Budge up!”
As introductions were made, Jennifer felt as if her hormones were going haywire. When she’d shaken Ben’s hand, a tingle had shot right through her. A jolt of pure, unadulterated lust coursed through her. She’d almost forgotten what it felt like. As Jez and Ben brought themselves up to speed, she took advantage of the fact that Henry had the others’ attention captured by some tale he was telling, to study Ben a bit better. He wasn’t classically good looking. He had sex appeal. That’s what it was. He had presence. The way only people who’re sexy but don’t know it have. His hair, like his eyes, was dark brown and it was cropped short. He also spo
rted a significant five o’clock shadow. Jennifer hadn’t known she liked rugged types until now. Her heartbeat accelerated and parts of her, long dormant, reawakened. She could feel the heat rise in her and knew she had to get away from the table, before an intuitive Maggie noticed.
“Anyone for another?”
Unsurprisingly, everyone took her up on her offer.
“Ben, what are you having?”
“What are you having?” he smiled appealingly. Jeez, he had the most incredible smile and fairly white, even teeth, with just a little gap to the bottom left side. God, she sounded like a dentist!
“I-I’m having vodka and coke,” she stammered.
“Make that two.”
“OK” and she fled.
“Three vodkas and coke, a Baileys and ice, two pints of lager and a vodka and diet Irn Bru,” reeled off Jennifer.
“Coming up,” said the barman, eyeing her up. Jennifer felt a little uncomfortable. She wasn’t used to strange men eyeing her up. She wasn’t used to anyone eyeing her up anymore, man, woman, martian, anyone. But the barman could pass for her grandfather.
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