Sign of the Times

by Susan Buchanan

  They met in a pub on Clarkston Rd. She arrived intentionally ten minutes late. He looked agitated. She wondered if he thought perhaps she had stood him up. When Robbie saw her, his face lit up. He kissed her on the cheek. She knew he was restraining himself, as they were in public. They looked at each other and read so much simply from each other’s expressions.

  “We’re leaving,” Lucy said.

  Wordlessly Robbie picked up his jacket and followed her.

  “Where are we going?” he asked.

  “Anywhere we can be alone,” growled Lucy.

  “Any ideas?”

  “Do you know the Muirend Hotel?”

  “No.”

  “Well, it’s the closest place I can think of.” She shut out of her mind that it seemed a little sordid.

  The receptionist looked at them oddly when they checked in without any luggage. They tore up the stairs, kissing and fumbling. They didn’t notice anything about the room. It was enough that they found the bed and then they were lost in each other again, all thoughts of the outside world gone.

  *

  Over the next few months, they returned to the Muirend Hotel many times. It began to bother them that they couldn’t stay overnight. Carl was at a critical phase with the restaurant. The run-up to Robert’s wedding and his father’s seventieth, both of which had also kept him very busy, had alleviated the possibility of discovery. Lucy began to grudge the time she spent apart from Robbie and the feeling was mutual. Although she was still cautious of their being seen together, they started to take more and more risks. Sex had become a secondary factor in their relationship, as Lucy and Robbie opened up to each other, sharing their hopes and expectations for the future.

  The start of term was almost upon them, when Robbie would in all likelihood become Lucy’s student. He was already her student, Lucy thought, the irony not lost on her. She was distancing herself more and more from Carl. She made excuses not to have sex with him. He seemed glad, tired from the long hours he was working. Did she love Robbie? She thought she did, but he was so much younger than her. He was so laid-back and fun. She hated having to keep things secret. Mind-blowing sex and room service wasn’t enough for them anymore.

  Robbie stroked Lucy’s back as they lay in bed together. “Luce?”

  “Mmm,” she sighed contentedly.

  “I want to spend the night with you again.”

  Turning to him, she said, “You know I can’t.”

  “Not tonight. I’d like us to plan a weekend away. Can you think about it?”

  “Of course.”

  Lucy was busy with work. She had been lucky after her holiday. She hadn’t had any other lectures to do outwith the UK for some time. Now, however, the circuit was recommencing. Her US tour would take in Duke University in North Carolina, the University of South Dakota, Harvard and University of Texas, Galveston, among others. It was an intensive tour and she knew she would be exhausted when she got back, but more than anything, she didn’t want to be apart from Robbie. She’d decided to tell Carl she had a conference down south the weekend before she left. She and Robbie were booked into Stobo Castle in the Borders. They would eat well, maybe do a little mountain biking at nearby Glentress, but most importantly they would be free to be a couple. No more hiding.

  On the Friday morning, Lucy finished slinging her luggage into the boot of her TT and padded back into the flat. “Bye Carl. I should be back around ten on Sunday,” Lucy shouted to Carl who was in the shower.

  “OK, have fun,” Carl said.

  “I’ll do my best,” Lucy almost felt guilty.

  Lucy had arranged to pick Robbie up at Buchanan St Bus Station. She had been dying to go to Stobo for ages. She was particularly looking forward to spending quality time with Robbie, but also simply enjoying being at the spa. It was expensive and at first Robbie had baulked at the cost, but Lucy had waved it off, saying she didn’t expect him to pay for it.

  “Hey you,” he clambered into the car and kissed her.

  “Hi,” she smiled at him. “Ready?”

  “You bet.”

  Lucy had booked a suite. It was heaven. Rich claret coloured, cashmere walls in the bedroom, with two seven feet by five feet Italian, hand-painted, his and hers beds. A dressing room, decked out in American black walnut, nestled just off the bedroom. There were matching flat screen TVs in the bedroom and the absolutely enormous bathroom. At its centre stood a cream, limestone, round bath. They looked at one another. Robbie started unbuttoning his shirt.

  “Let’s see the rest first,” Lucy begged.

  “Ooh, the floor is lovely and warm,” Robbie cooed.

  “Under floor heating,” Lucy said sagely, taking in her surroundings.

  “Now, about that bath,” Robbie nuzzled her ear.

  “Right, we can’t lie around here all day,” said Lucy. “There’s pampering to be done.”

  “OK. What do you want to do first?”

  “Well, it’s all booked. We’re free for another half hour and then we have treatments booked, so we can be done simultaneously.”

  Robbie raised an eyebrow.

  “Dirty mind you have there, boy.”

  “Ooh, this is fantastic. Yes, there, just there. Robbie isn’t this the best?”

  Robbie groaned softly, “Yes. Yep, that bit’s always in knots,” he said, as the masseuse manipulated his shoulder. Tomorrow they would make use of the leisure facilities, but today they wanted to relax and maybe have a walk before dinner.

  “This wine’s gorgeous,” said Lucy.

  “I know. It’s difficult to work out what’s the best, the food or the wine. Not all students feast like this you know.”

  “I wouldn’t have thought so. How’s your crayfish roulade?”

  “Divine, Madam. How is one’s roast tomato and mozzarella salad?” Robbie joked.

  “Rubbish. I could have made it better myself,” said Lucy.

  “Really?” Robbie was surprised.

  “No, of course not. I can’t cook. I just wanted to see the look on your face,” Lucy laughed, putting one hand to his cheek and stroking it, the other surreptitiously pinching a piece of Robbie’s crayfish.

  “Bitch!”

  “Lucy?”

  Lucy turned and wasn’t quick enough to disguise her look of horror. One of her neighbours stood in front of her. Lucy’s hand flew to her side.

  “Veronica, how lovely to see you,” although clearly it wasn’t.

  “Yes, you too. I’m here with my sister. It’s my birthday,” she said.

  “Happy birthday,” Lucy tried to keep her voice steady.

  Robbie didn’t know what was going on, but the undercurrent wasn’t good.

  Lucy chatted politely with the older woman for a few minutes and then Veronica said pointedly, “I’ll see you and Carl when I get back.”

  Robbie looked at Lucy for an explanation. “Luce?” but Lucy was lost in thought.

  “How could I have been so stupid?” she said under her breath. “Shit!”

  “What?” Robbie was lost.

  “She’s only the nosiest busy-body you could ever meet and she lives three doors down from us and loves Carl. Robbie digested this and said “OK, so what are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know. She’ll tell Carl she bumped into me at Stobo, when I’m meant to be at a conference in Hampshire.”

  Robbie was silent. Secretly he wondered if this wasn’t the best thing that could have happened.

  “There’s only one thing we can do. Leave. Now,” said Lucy.

  “But we still have one more day.”

  “We’ll have to do it another time. C’mon.”

  “But we’ve been drinking.”

  “I’ve only had two glasses,” and Lucy turned on her heel and left the dining room.

  “I can’t believe that old bitch,” Lucy fumed, as she sped along the country lane.

  “She knew exactly what was going on.”

  “What if she doesn’t tell Carl?”

&
nbsp; “She will. She’s a vindictive old cow. She’s spread rumours with less substance.”

  “What are you going to say to Carl?”

  “I don’t know, but I… aargh!” Lucy screamed, as a deer bounded out of the undergrowth. She swerved, but it wasn’t enough. With a sickening thump the deer hit the windscreen, and she lost control of the car.

  Chapter Thirty Five

  Carl – CANCER

  Caring, emotional, sensitive, resistant to change, home-loving. Family is all-important to them and they seek security. Withdraw into themselves. Find it difficult to be objective and are easily crushed by criticism. Worry too much.

  Carl stepped out of his Volkswagen Passat and was heading towards the restaurant, when he heard a voice calling him.

  “Carl! Over here!”

  Turning he saw the foreman from Tom’s company waving at him. At thirty-nine, Carl Summers was a handsome man, although perhaps a little chunkier than in previous years. But with his very fine, sandy hair and wide set, piercing blue eyes, he still had something about him. As he trudged over the muck towards the construction site, he caught sight of Lucy’s brother-in-law to be. Tom owned the building company, which was overhauling the old restaurant for him.

  “What is it, Alex?” Carl asked.

  “Just wanted to show you your foundations,” grinned Alex. “We’re through.”

  “Really?” Carl was amazed. They’d said at least another week.

  “Yeah, we managed to break through quicker than expected,” Alex explained.

  “So what’s next?”

  “Well, we have to review the foundations and then we’ll need to sit down and see what your next priority is.”

  It was a daunting task trying to organise all the tradesmen and Carl felt relief that he was working with Tom’s company. His previous business venture hadn’t taken off and it had all been down to unreliable workmen. Thinking back on it now, Carl shook his head and turned to Alex.

  “Do you guys have enough work for today?”

  “Yeah, we need to take all this stone away.”

  Carl wanted to take away the extension, as it wasn’t in keeping with the beautiful exterior of the building. He’d rather have a smaller restaurant than a larger, hideous one. He intended The Steadings, Strathblane to be the centrepiece of the village.

  Carl had spent an incalculable amount of time, deciding on the look for his restaurant. He wanted it to be relaxed, but still upmarket. Locals should feel they could pop in for a light supper. There would be different eating areas. Lunches would be held in the brasserie. The restaurant would be à la carte. There would be a small snug. It wouldn’t be a proper bar, although guests could drink with their meals. His target market wasn’t men coming in for a drinking session until dinnertime. The snug would be like those he’d seen in the Highlands; dark grey stone, roughly hewn walls, and a roaring log fire. However, instead of uncomfortable wooden benches, his would house ruby red armchairs, interspersed with mahogany coffee tables and chocolate, leather sofas. Quality newspapers and classy magazines would be provided. No matter what the pensioners said, those in this area tended to be monied and they were his principal target market.

  The floor would be oak, some of it remaining from the original structure. The restaurant would be Scottish in theme, but without any concession to tartan. A few tasteful prints would be dotted around the snug. The brasserie would be bright, with terracotta and cream fabric wall hangings. Carl also wanted to include some period pieces, an old barometer maybe, or an eighteenth century clock. There would be pictures of Scotland’s great inventors.

  It irked Carl that children nowadays often didn’t know their own history. It was a shame, which meant it was left to the family to pass on the knowledge. Carl was lucky. He had a very large, extremely close family. Carl was fourth, after Fraser, Agnes and Robert. He was followed by Hilary, Flora, Gillian, Grant and Izzy or Ishbel.

  Carl roamed around the main dining room. It would be predominately cream and vermilion and Carl was aiming for clean, understated lines. Nothing but the best for The Steadings. It had a real country feel to it and rightly so, as a century ago, it had formed part of a merchant’s mansion.

  At college Carl had studied Cookery and Business. Cooking was his first love, but fortunately he also had a good business head. The failure of his first venture had simply been bad luck. His natural flair for cooking had been first discovered helping in his parents’ pub. The Jedburgh Tavern was a roaring concern and Carl was anxious to prove to his father that his business could be as successful. Carl had used his father as a sounding board when his previous business had failed and now hoped to prove himself to girlfriend Lucy and perhaps coax her to settle down. Lucy was wild. She liked to be able to spread her wings at a moment’s notice. Next week it was Switzerland. They really needed to make a concerted effort to spend some time together before she left. It had been crazy recently, trying to get everything organised for the restaurant.

  Carl’s mobile rang.

  “Carl. It’s me,” his sister said.

  “Izzy. Hi.”

  “Listen, have you done anything about Dad’s seventieth?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Do you remember that place we stayed in near Onich?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, it would hold all of us. It would be different from just having a meal. I’ve checked, we can book just for the weekend and the rates are reasonable between all of us.”

  “Listen Izzy, I’m really busy but I’m coming down tonight.”

  “OK. I’ll see if the others are free.”

  He’d achieved a lot today, Carl reflected, as he dialled Lucy’s number. Voicemail.

  “Luce, I’m going down to my parents’ for a bit. Izzy has some idea for Dad’s seventieth.”

  It was always difficult to get a hold of Lucy. She was always so busy. She made a packet, but was never home. If they wanted to have kids, they’d have to stop working so much. At thirty-seven, Lucy wasn’t getting any younger. And they’d need a house, not the three bedroom flat they had in Bearsden. When he’d bought it, it had been the area to live in, but a third floor flat wasn’t suitable for children. Carl wanted kids and lots of them.

  “Hello?” Carl answered his mobile.

  “Carl, it’s Tom.”

  “All right?”

  “Just wondered if you fancied a pint later?”

  “We-ell,” Carl dithered.

  “Oh go on. I’m on my own, with Holly away.”

  “OK, but it’ll need to be later. I’m going to Jedburgh.”

  “See you in The Bruce at eight?”

  “OK.”

  Carl wondered what that was about. He liked Tom but they didn’t socialise together much, unless Holly was around.

  “I don’t know why you lot bothered moving out,” Mrs Summers chastised them. Sheepishly, Carl, Izzy, Grant and Flora looked at their mum. Only Izzy had called. “Sorry,” they muttered.

  “Consideration, that’s all I ask.” Their mum wasn’t quite the battleaxe she made out to be, Carl thought. She simply liked to fuss.

  “I like the car, Grant,” Carl changed the subject.

  Grant grinned. He’d just bought an Audi R8. A stockbroker in the City, he had no kids, no girlfriend worth mentioning and was into boys’ toys.

  “You can have a go later,” said his brother magnanimously.

  “Really?” Carl perked up, then remembered he was meeting Tom.

  “Maybe another time. I have something on later.”

  “Dinner’s ready,” their mother called. They all clattered through to the dining room.

  “Where are the wee ones, Flora?” Carl’s father, Gordon asked.

  “With their dad.”

  “Ah,” Gordon chewed his meat. “You know, I like to see them, now and again.”

  “Dad, they’re never out of here!” Flora burst out. “Bryce never sees them.”

  “Well, if you’d let us look after Katie and Jacob, inste
ad of childminders, I’d get to see my grandchildren,” Gordon huffed.

  “Well actually, the reason we’re here is so we can all spend more time together,” Izzy said.

  “Oh?”

  “That’s right,” Carl joined in, “Izzy’s been researching your birthday do.”

  His father looked at his youngest daughter fondly. “So what is it this time? Paragliding, white water rafting, scuba diving?” he joked.

  “No. It’s a place called Ardrhu House…” She filled them in. Carl watched the others, gauging their reaction.

  The response was favourable and in the absence of their other siblings, motion was carried. They were already behind in booking somewhere. Izzy appointed herself as correspondent to the absent family members, with the exception of Fraser, the eldest, who lived in Queensland. He was coming back for their father’s birthday celebrations. The rest of the siblings were dotted around Scotland. Izzy and Fraser didn’t get on. The age difference probably didn’t help. Fraser had left home before Izzy could even walk. Carl would email Fraser.

  “Hi Tom. Sorry I’m late.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ve been watching the snooker.”

  They chatted about the restaurant, but Carl knew that could have been done on-site. Something’s troubling him, he thought. He left the pub an hour later, none the wiser as to what was eating Tom. Maybe he was missing Holly.

  As he parked, he noticed Lucy’s Audi was missing. If he’d known she wouldn’t be home, he could have stayed at the pub.

  Carl sank into his recliner and flicking on the TV, channel-hopped until bored, he fell asleep.

  He woke up when Lucy’s key turned in the lock. Disorientated, he noticed the digital clock read 2:39. Lucy was creeping up the stairs, when Carl’s voice broke through the silence,

  “You don’t need to tiptoe. I’m in here.”

  “Carl! Don’t do that to me!” Lucy’s hand flew to her cleavage. “You almost gave me a heart attack,” she slurred. Hiccupping she sat down on the sofa beside him.

  “Were you waiting up for me?” she asked. He was unsure if she was flattered or annoyed, so decided to forego any brownie points and tell the truth.