‘Atholl will be pleased,’ said Kitty.
Beatrice caught Gene’s eyes flicker briefly towards her own, and she was glad to see the look of shame.
‘That reminds me, I’ve a bone to pick with you, Eugene Fergusson.’
‘There’s no need. Atholl came storming in here an hour ago looking for ye, said you hurt yourself on the rocks. I’m sorry, I didnae mean you any harm directing you over Rother Path. It is a braw walk and safe, usually. I think it was just his wee joke, really. Are you all right now?’
After the dulling effects of her torrent of tears, the fresh air and summer warmth and her deliciously satisfying feast of salty, yummy fat and carbs there was no fight left in her.
‘You’re both lucky I didn’t get flattened, but I am all right. Echo saved me, just like you said, though I never called for him. He found me.’
Gene was shaking his head. ‘Atholl sent him ahead. He’d watched the whole thing happening from the But n’ Ben window and he set the mutt running, knowing his own feet wouldn’t carry him as fast. But my brother reached you all right, in the end, I hear?’
‘That’s right.’ Beatrice fought the colour rising in her cheeks, hoping she was still blotchy and pink enough from the morning’s excitement and tearfulness to mask her blushes.
‘On the house.’ Gene set two tall glasses on the bar, breaking the buzz of tension in the air, and reminding Beatrice she had a favour to ask.
‘Gene, do you mind if I use the inn computer, just for a second?’ she asked.
‘Go right ahead, the reception machine is on.’
‘No password or anything?’
‘Eh, no. Should there be?’ He shrugged as though the suggestion were an odd one.
‘OK, back in a sec. Thanks, Gene.’ Beatrice hopped off the stool, taking her drink with her.
The reception was empty – no sign of any guests, or Atholl, thank goodness. So he’d come looking for her, had he? She wondered if the warmth in her chest was caused by the first few sips of gin or the knowledge that he’d wanted to see her, no doubt to apologise.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the need to concentrate on remembering her Facebook password. Angela was far more likely to log in to her social media accounts than she was to check emails during her cosy days at home with baby Clara. She thought hard, searching her memory and taking the opportunity to straighten the antlers hanging on the wall behind her. ‘That’s better. Right, password, password…’ It had been many months since she’d had to log in but after two failed attempts she struck upon the right one. ‘Ah, there, I’m in,’ she told the empty room.
And there on the screen was her profile picture, posted back in the spring and unchanged since that happy, relief-filled day when she’d had the early scan and all had been well. There was Rich, grinning and proud, holding the sonographer’s wand, and Beatrice, her stomach bare and glistening from the gel, caught gazing at the moving image on the screen.
‘Oh, no.’ Beatrice felt the blood draining from her face and clicked frantically at the little cross in the corner of the pane, trying to close the page but finding the screen frozen. ‘The damn thing’s crashed! Does nothing work in this bloody place?’
‘Very little,’ came a soft voice from the door. ‘’Ow do?’ said Seth, making his way for the bar room. ‘That thing’s always on the blink, best to shut it down and try again later, that’s what Atholl always does.’
‘Good idea.’ She powered down the machine, and listened to its noisy fan and clicking hard drive die away into silence. She was suddenly aware of the gulls cawing from the bay outside.
‘Come on, lassie. I see ye have a drink, let’s get settled at the bar.’
With one last dismayed glance at the blank monitor, Beatrice lifted her glass and followed Seth. Just before they passed into the room where Gene and Kitty were deep in conversation, Beatrice reached for Seth’s arm, stopping him in his tracks, and she lowered her voice when she spoke.
‘Seth, does Kitty know Atholl and Gene, then? From before the Gaelic lessons thing, I mean?’ Beatrice asked.
‘Atholl and Kitty have been friends for years. She first holidayed here with her family way back in the eighties and that’s how they met. They’d fly their kites together on the beach.’
They both glanced towards Gene who was wiping the bar down and nodding as Kitty spoke animatedly to him. Seth’s eyes sparkled and he led Beatrice into the room.
‘My usual please, Eugene. Beatrice here was just asking me if you two played together as children.’
‘Oh, well… I was just wondering…’ Beatrice flustered, throwing Seth a wide-eyed glare. What was he playing at?
‘Och, no, it was Atholl that Kitty always played with. I was older than the pair of them,’ Gene replied, seemingly unfazed by Beatrice’s curiosity and the fact she’d been asking about what kind of relationships the three of them had.
‘Too cool to play with his wee brother and his pals,’ Kitty teased.
‘There’s nine years between me and Atholl,’ Gene explained.
