by L G Dickson
‘Right, let’s get this show on the road.’
‘Do we know where the meat comes from?’ Virginia gently enquired.
‘Killed a lot of it myself, Gin – killed a lot of it myself.’ Duncan thumped the large tray down next to Gordon.
Virginia and Gordon exchanged startled looks and Annie knew they were struggling to decide if that was acceptable in terms of sustainable food production. Kirsty ended their torture by once more replenishing the drinks.
Duncan was throwing venison, fillet steaks and bits of pheasant onto the hot grill. He was a serious marinade man and the tempting aromas of thyme, garlic and homemade barbecue sauce all being brought to life by smoky charcoal was making Annie salivate. The gin and tonics had been discarded in favour of chilled Sancerre or ice-cold beers and those in the group not actively involved in the cooking process had left their relaxing recliners and were now standing round the little party of basters and grillers, ready to jump on the first morsel that might be thrown their way, like hungry lions. All thoughts of badminton had been erased from their collective minds.
‘Oh, salad, I forgot the salad,’ Virginia shrieked as she broke away and skipped towards the kitchen. ‘All done, just need to make the dressing.’ Her words were lost to the friends who stayed rooted to the spot. Salad wasn’t quite the unwanted guest at the party but it certainly wasn’t the main attraction.
Kirsty rejoined the group having put Johnny to bed and the pride was finally sitting around gorging itself on heaped plates of protein. Some were in the sun, some lying out under the shade of a tree, meat juices slowly trailing down their chins. Gordon and Virginia seemed to have abandoned any further questions regarding the provenance of their supper and were ripping into barbecued flesh with uncharacteristic ferocity. The neglected salad was starting to wilt under the sun’s still warm rays.
‘So, Hugo. How’s school?’ Duncan barked. Just the thing a sixteen-year-old boy wants to talk about when he’s on his holidays.
‘Oh, it’s good. Yes, good.’ He took another bite out of his blackened piece of deer. ‘Thank you.’
‘Any ideas what you might like to do? Your sister says you’re a very bright young lad.’
Oh thanks, Duncan, thought Annie. He doesn’t want to know that I speak about his academic progress to all and sundry.
Hugo didn’t look up. ‘I’m going to come to Edinburgh. I want to go to university in Edinburgh.’
Annie looked at James who merely lifted his eyebrows. Everyone else looked questioningly at Annie. What did they want her to say for goodness’ sake? He was perfectly capable of deciding what he wanted to do with his life.
‘Well, that would be lovely, Hugo, having you in Edinburgh, wouldn’t it, James?’
Annie was staring in a way that demanded a positive response. Now all heads turned toward James.
‘Yes, of course, great. You’ll have to work hard though, Hugo – to get in.’
‘I know.’
He was beyond nonchalant. Annie smiled and reached across to gently squeeze his arm. She liked the thought of her little brother coming to live near her. What Céline would make of it she had no idea but it was a nice thought to end this holiday on. Hugo looked up at her and smiled.
CHAPTER 13
A referendum on whether a Scottish Parliament should be reconvened in Edinburgh after 290 years filled the newspapers and daily news bulletins. James was enthused and had become engaged in the local campaign to vote For. That was good up to a point but she didn’t really want the subject dominating every conversation. She was already reaching saturation point from every media outlet.
‘Why don’t you come along to a meeting?’ James was sitting at the writing desk in the lounge, folding campaign letters and stuffing them into envelopes.
Annie was interested and, as she had promised, read every piece of literature that came through the door but that was enough as far as she was concerned.
‘No, honestly, James. I’ll be glad when the thing’s over. I know how I’m going to vote and that’s that. Are you out again tonight?’
‘Yup. But won’t be late – honest.’
He gathered up his bundles of envelopes and stuffed them into a carrier bag before dropping down onto the sofa.
‘What are you going to do?’ He pulled her back away from the comfort of the sofa cushion to put his arm round her and kiss the side of her cheek.
‘Kirsty’s bringing round photos of Johnny’s first day at school. We’ll just have a blether, bit of a catch up.’ She turned to look at him. ‘How are you going to feel when this is all over?’
‘When what’s all over?’ He used her knee as a lever and pushed himself back up again.
‘The campaign. You’ve got awfully political all of a sudden.’ She rubbed her knee. Age-related wear and tear meant her joints didn’t cope well with heavy loads.
‘Really? I don’t think so. I guess most of the stuff I’ve worked on, been interested in has been political – at some level anyway. Actually, I’m thinking I might join the Green Party. Virginia and Gordon have joined.’
‘Well, yes. But they’re all knitted cardigans and grow your own bean sprouts. That’s not really you, darling.’
‘That’s a bit rough, Annie.’
‘Sorry. No, I love them to bits, you know that. They just don’t always inhabit the real world. Well, not the one I seem to have to encounter every day.’
He was putting on his jacket and looking round for his keys, all the while wittering on about a broad church, something else about it takes all sorts, and finally ending on the imminent demise of traditional politics as we knew it.
‘Don’t close your mind to these things, Annie.’
‘I haven’t closed my mind to anything.’ She suddenly worried that she’d appeared just a bit too flippant. ‘I know there’s much more to Green politics than bean sprouts.’
He blew her a kiss and then was off – apparently to create a new legislature and save the planet.
For the next hour or so, Annie looked at seemingly endless photographs of Johnny in his pristine little uniform. He was being privately educated in a Perthshire establishment that placed as much value on a robust regime of outdoor pursuits as it did academic excellence – all very Duncan. The choice of schooling had not met with James’s approval but Annie had gently advised him to zip it. Johnny was not their child. It might feel like co-parenting sometimes but he was entirely the Drummonds’ responsibility and they had to make the educational choices that they felt were right for him. Such choices were of course beyond the reach of lesser mortals, well, at least those mortals who didn’t have the Drummonds’ financial wherewithal, but they remained theirs alone to make.
‘Isn’t he darling?’ Kirsty was beaming.
The little sumo was, for the first time, not bulging out of his clothes. He had a blazer on, the length of which completely covered his shorts and was nearly at his knees. The sleeves stopped way beyond his hands and the shiny brown satchel strapped to his back was almost the same size as the sturdy wee chap himself. He wore a cap with a large peak under which glowed a round chubby face. Pleased as punch with himself, Annie thought.
‘Yes, he is.’ Annie remembered the first time she had seen Hugo in his school uniform. He’d been a few years older but there was that same look of impending mischief; an uncanny likeness perhaps or more likely a look of small boys the world over.
Kirsty wasn’t down in Edinburgh much these days. The Drummonds had bought a tiny mews flat as their new ‘crash pad’ (Kirsty’s description) and Great King Street was going on the market soon. James pointed out that the money spent on the mere crash pad could have housed two families somewhere on the outskirts of Edinburgh. Why would anyone want to live on the outskirts, thought Annie, but then she knew how insensitive that sounded, so kept her New Town thoughts to hers
elf.
‘We’re going to have a last hurrah at No. 92.’ Kirsty gathered up the photographs and put them in her bag. ‘You know, just to say goodbye to the old place.’
Annie noticed the tears in her friend’s eyes.
‘Silly really. I mean it’s just an old flat but oh, when I think of it, so much has happened there – good and bad.’ She pulled herself together, let out a laugh and put her arm round Annie. ‘Anyway, let me know if a week on Saturday suits you both. Couldn’t possibly have the final shindig without you, Annie.’
Annie was in bed when James finally got in.
‘So how did Johnny get on?’ He was undressing slowly, with his eyes almost shut.
‘Great. Charging about on his first day, so no surprise there, and knocked some kid into the sandpit. Complete accident but created a bit of a rumpus. Some little Spanish boy in the class called him “Torito” and it seems to have stuck.’
‘Torito? What does that mean?’
‘“Little Bull”, according to Kirsty. She was mortified but Duncan thinks it’s great. Thinks he’ll gain a lot of respect with a name like that.’
James let out a tired laugh. ‘Oh my. The Drummonds. You just couldn’t make them up, could you?’
‘No, indeed you couldn’t. By the way, we’re invited to their last party at No. 92. Week on Saturday.’ She put down her book and watched him finish undressing. He was tanned and lean after a long hot summer spent mostly outdoors.
‘Week on Saturday. Okay. Oh, I can’t wait to get into bed. I’m knackered.’ James threw back the bedclothes and climbed in. He yawned loudly and reached across for her hand.
‘Night, night, Annie.’
She’d hoped her flickering embers of desire might just have been stoked into life by a passionate embrace or kiss but the embers, such as they were, had been quickly doused by those tired little words.
‘Night, night, darling.’
The next morning she was up early, showered and dressed quickly. She came back into the bedroom to pick up her bag and found James stretching sleepily, showing no signs of joining the day.
‘How’s it going? The merger, I mean.’ He spoke while yawning. Unfortunately it made him sound as though he was merely feigning interest.
‘Buy-out more than merger.’ Where were those packs of tissues? ‘It’s going well. Hope it’ll all be done and dusted in the next week or so.’
Annie had been asked by Bryce to lead the buy-out of a smaller rival. Law was a competitive business in Edinburgh and too many companies were chasing too little work; Ogilvie’s was a good fit. She was really enjoying the process and with a small capable team around her she led the negotiations like an old pro. The trick appeared to be to sound utterly confident in everything you were offering and absolutely resolute when the same offers were thrown back at you. Yes, you needed to give things away but you needed to make them sound far more critical than they actually were. She knew Saunders and MacKay had the potential to be one of the ‘Big Three’, she knew what it would take and most importantly how the business needed to grow to keep them there.
‘How about you? What are you up to today?’
‘Oh, just a meeting – with a client – in the office – later today.’ He stretched again, his long, lean, muscular arms hitting the headboard before finally dropping onto the duvet. ‘Meant to say, I met a really interesting chap last night.’
‘Oh really?’ She wanted to sound interested but she wanted to get away. Her head was filled with spreadsheets. She wasn’t sure it could absorb anything else.
‘Yes. He’s just been made Branch Secretary.’
Branch Secretary? she asked herself. Oh there they are, the tissues. Oh yes the Green Party. Branch Secretary of the Green Party.
‘Anyway, he runs a small publishing company.’
Annie’s ears pricked up at the word ‘publishing’. She stopped what she was doing and turned to him. ‘Really?’
‘Yup. Little independent focusing on nature and the environment. Anyway he’d heard my name and we ended up having a little chat.’
‘And so what do you think to that?’
‘Well, two things really.’ He’d emerged from his soporific state and was sitting bolt upright now. ‘He’s interested in my thoughts on Assynt and land management in general. Wonders about me writing something but more than that, Annie – he thinks I might have something to offer on the business. They’re really just starting out and keen to grow. Might be because of Dad’s name, I don’t know, but even if it is, I might just be able to prove my worth.’
She put her bag down and went over to sit on the bed. He had seemed to be dipping into things since he left the Scottish Office, nothing that seemed to hold him for any length of time. This might be different, something that might just work for him on a number of different levels. Is that what he was thinking?
‘You don’t have to prove anything, darling. But it does sound as though it might be worth looking into.’
He smiled. ‘For some reason, the thought of it has really excited me – the thought of being part of a publishing house. I could use what I’d gained from Dad, maybe with a bit of investment but also some of his know-how, contacts. I know it’s not the same thing but it would feel that maybe I was doing what he wanted me to, finally. But not just for him – it would be on my terms too, in areas that really interest me.’
Yes, that was what he was thinking. His enthusiasm was filling the room. Annie could feel it.
‘Well, it looks like you might just be about to take him up on his offer, whoever he is.’ She smiled at him.
‘Jack. Jack Chalmers. Well, I hadn’t thought but just then, talking it out like that, with you, well, I think I just might. I just might.’ He’d screwed up his face and she knew the possibilities were all starting to take shape. ‘See how good you are for me?’ And with that he grabbed her round the waist and pulled her onto the bed.
The party at the Drummonds’ was two days after the Scottish people decided that they would indeed like to have their Parliament back. The result was broadcast to the nation with just the right level of gravitas for the occasion; no American-style hoopla save for a few cheering politicians and groups of campaigners who had gathered at the count; all reasonably dignified. Certainly everyone Annie knew declared themselves satisfied with the outcome. Well, everyone that was apart from Duncan who voiced some vague concerns about being ‘dangerously overgoverned’. James tried to get him to explain what that might look like but he merely muttered something under his breath and stomped off to the kitchen. The subject was then quickly put to bed and they all started to reminisce about favourite times at No. 92.
‘Oh, James, remember that first dinner when you droned on about Yugoslavia crumbling while we tucked into our crab and avocado?’ Kirsty laughed. They were sitting round in the big bay-windowed lounge with James taking up his customary position in the old leather armchair in the corner.
‘Oh, I don’t think he droned on, Kirst. He was quite right – we were all talking nonsense while really terrible things were happening in the world.’ Virginia had perched on the arm of James’s chair and was right in there supporting him. For a brief moment Annie thought she should perhaps have been filling that role but it was only fleeting. Her attention had been diverted by Johnny who had rushed in and dumped two lumps of Play-Doh in her lap.
‘Well, maybe I took life just a bit too seriously back then. Think I’m also slightly better behaved at the dinner table these days.’
‘I’ll say. And you know, we can’t always do much about all these terrible things that happen in the world.’ Kirsty looked serious. ‘We just crack on and do our best with what we’ve got here. Well, at least I think we try to.’ She suddenly looked embarrassed and the friends started to look around at each other. Kirsty wasn’t prone to being philosophical about anything.
Annie knew James wanted to say something in reply but to her surprise he suddenly stood up.
‘Well, this is all very serious. Come on now – I’m only here because the Drummonds usually know how to throw a good party. Come on, Duncan, let’s get the drinks topped up.’ Duncan had only just reappeared after his minor strop and happily marched back into the kitchen.
Annie felt the awkwardness evaporate. She knew he still didn’t always feel comfortable in group situations, even with friends as close as they were. He was always battling something – his notion of snobbery, ignorance even. Whatever it was it hadn’t gone but he had found better ways to deal with people; discuss rather than berate; offer up a view rather than lecture on the basis of a predetermined position.
Some point later in the evening, the three girls found themselves in the master bedroom. Kirsty let out a sigh that seemed laden with sadness as she pulled out a small leather book from one of the side tables.
‘Look what Duncan made me.’ She opened up what Annie then realised was a photo album.
‘He’s put together photos from our time here. Fourteen years of memories.’
She quickly closed the album and started to stroke the shiny new leather.
‘It was lovely of him but it just made me realise how much I’m going to miss the place. Silly really.’
‘No, it’s not. It’s been your home. Your first home together. It’s natural.’ Annie tried to sound reassuring. Virginia said nothing but just sat down on the big sleigh bed at Kirsty’s side and put her arm round her friend.
‘It’s just, it is my home. I know who I am here. Drummond House – well, it’s lovely of course and brilliant for Johnny but I have no idea who I am there. How to behave. When to stay in one room and when to move into another. Maybe because there’s so bloody many of them.’ She let out an unconvincing laugh.
‘Sometimes I feel like the house is laughing at me. No. 92 never laughs at me. It knows me, everything about me.’ Suddenly she dropped the album onto the bed. ‘Oh God, listen to me. I sound like I’m losing my marbles.’ She moved gently out of Virginia’s embrace, signalling a return to customary stoicism and fortitude.