‘Three? No four. I’ve lost count.’ Beatrice had no idea how many of the curiously strong but easily gluggable cups of Highland punch she’d drunk. She blanched when Kitty told her the ingredients.
‘Rum, ginger ale, gin, honey, oranges and lemons. The stuff’s lethal, but perfect for a ceilidh. Highland folks would visit friends for a party and pour their own bottle – whatever it might be – into the shared punch bowl, so it would vary in strength and taste over the evening. There’s isn’t one definitive recipe. I made this one following Gene’s instructions.’
Kitty and Beatrice were talking behind the bar during a lull in the music. Mrs Mair had only moments ago carried out trays of sandwiches, black bun and shortbread to the sounds of cheering and everyone had set upon the food. It was only seconds until midnight and sure enough the crowds looked as though they were refuelling for another wild bout of dancing.
Beatrice had been introduced to an army of red-headed Fergussons over the course of the evening, including Atholl’s littlest sister, Kelly, but the names of the children, all now playing on the dancefloor in a noisy rabble, had escaped her.
‘Things seem to be going better with Atholl, then?’ Kitty whispered loudly.
‘We’re being friendly. It’s nice.’
‘Flirty, you mean?’
‘Not at all.’ Beatrice glanced across at Atholl behind the bar where he was trying to regain order and tidy up as people ate. He caught her looking and smiled. ‘You think he’s flirting?’
Kitty rolled her eyes. Their conversation was interrupted by tapping at the microphone and Seth, a little worse for wear and giggling to himself like a school boy, addressed the audience, trying not to slur.
‘And now for shhum poetry.’
‘Oh no,’ Atholl hissed.
Seth cleared his throat, holding up his splashing whisky glass. All eyes were upon him as he began his rhyme.
‘There was a keen cyclist from Port Willow,
Whose heart was aflame for his bride…’
Atholl slapped a palm to his face, shaking his head. The same silversmithing women who’d whispered about Beatrice and Atholl over breakfast that morning were loudly wondering what was happening.
‘What’s he saying, Philippa? Is it a traditional Highland poem?’
‘Perhaps it’s Robert Burns, Georgina?’
Atholl was hastily making for the stage as Seth pressed on, thoroughly enjoying himself, while the young farmers at the bar made bawdy calls and whistles.
‘His cheeks burned bright red as she lay on the bed,
And asked if he fancied a ri—’
‘Riii-ght, thank you, Seth!’ Atholl snatched the microphone from him as half the room sniggered and booed at the interruption; the Scottish half.
Fixing the microphone into place on its stand, Atholl reached for the fiddle case that had lain untouched on stage all evening.
Beatrice’s eyes shone as she watched him settle the instrument in the nook under his jaw, teasing out the first long, sweet note, one eyebrow lowered, surveying the audience, before jolting the bow in fast movements and starting a speedy reel. Soon everyone was clapping, even Seth, who performed a dramatic sword dance – minus the swords – in front of the stage.
‘Maybe Icanunderstand how Seth’s wife preferred to live on the other side of the village away from him,’ Beatrice joked to Kitty. But Kitty only smiled thinly.
‘How are you holding up?’ Beatrice asked. ‘I can take over with the punch now and let you get to bed, you look tired. And this isn’t your job, is it?’
‘I’m fine and it’s not for much longer, an hour maybe, given the state of some of these farm labourers. And I should earn my keep. I haven’t a single Gaelic lesson booked in yet, thanks to Gene’s computer errors.’
‘You’ve done well tonight,’ Beatrice said. ‘Putting on a brave face.’
‘I wish I could shake this maudlin feeling, Bea. I’m thinking of telling Atholl in the morning I can’t stay. I might head home to uni.’
‘Really? Oh Kitty, I’m sorry…’ Beatrice began, but she was stopped mid-sentence by a growing awareness that the fiddle music had suddenly stopped and an uncanny silence had fallen over the whisky-soaked crowd.
‘Kitty Wake,’ a voice called from the doorway. ‘Kitty Wake!’
