“I see no restaurant, no tables, or benches,” Doreen said.
“There is a fine area to pull off where we can eat our lunches and admire the beauty of the Three Sisters:Aonach Dubh,Beinn Fhada, andGearr Aonach.” Mila gauged the murkiness of the sky. It looked to be lightening nicely, with the sun peeking through more and more. With their blankets on the large, flat boulders overlooking the glen, surely the women would be content or at least quiet for a wee bit.
“Speak English!”
Mila clenched her teeth and forced a smile. “Aonach Dubhmeans Dark Ridge.Beinn Fhadais for Long Hill, andGearr Aonachmeans Short Ridge. These peaks radiate fromBidean nam Bian’s ridges. But the Gaelic is more romantic. Do ye not think so?”
“No,” Rita said from her seat in front of Doreen’s. “I think it’s confusing. Everything should be in English.”
Robbie kicked the back of her seat again, but she ignored it. There was no way out of this. They were both trapped with these grumblers until Fort William. There the ladies would spend the night, then take the train back to Edinburgh.
“And here we are.” Mila halted the minibus alongside the stones intended to serve as their lunch tables and seats. If the rain returned, they could easily reload everything back inside. But if there was an ounce of mercy anywhere in the universe, the rain would hold off so she and Robbie could climb to their usual perch and have a few moments of peace while the others bickered and complained over their meal.
“Here? On those rocks?” Mildred bobbed her head up and down while squinting out the rain-spattered window.
“Aye.” Mila hopped up from her seat and smiled at them all. “Everyone grab yer blankets to spread across the stones. Ye will find them the perfect height for sitting. Robbie and I will bring out the sandwiches, fruit, and chips.” She knew better than to call the chipscrisps. It would only resurrect the ladies’ conversation of why Scots called so many things by stupid names.
Each of the grumbly grannies shot her a withering look as they ambled past. They hitched their way down the steps, then stood scowling at the boulders.
“Why did they even come to Scotland?” Robbie whispered while helping her slide the coolers of food and drink off the bus.
“I dinna ken, but mind yer tongue.” She shot a glance over her shoulder and quickly scanned the group. “They claim they canna hear, but I would lay odds they can pick up a mouse’s fart clear back in the States.”
Robbie laughed and nearly dropped the drink chest. “But we can still eat on our ledge, aye?”
“Definitely.” With his help, she placed the food coolers on top of the largest rock and opened the lids. “I shall leave ye to it, ladies. There are egg and cress sandwiches. Corned beef and pickle. Treacle. Even some ham, cheese, and ketchup pieces, too.” She grinned. “Sorry. Pieces are what we Scots call sandwiches. I am sure ye think that’s silly, too.” She pointed at the rest of the feast. “Fruit, chips, and wee fairy cakes in this box and nice, cool waters in the drink cooler.”
All of them stared at her with upturned noses and lips quirked into snarls.
“Disgusting,” came from somewhere in the back.
Mila didn’t catch which one said it. And it didn’t matter. She threw up her hands, unable to believe their level of ingratitude and rudeness. “This is all there is, ladies. If ye canna choose something, then ye will have to wait till we reach Fort William.” She couldn’t resist a bit of smugness as she added, “And ye have eaten all the snacks. So there will be nothing to nibble on during that wee jaunt of roughly thirty minutes.”
That spurred a few of them forward. The rest soon joined in, halfheartedly pawing through the food. Mila fully expected a brawl to break out at any moment, like dogs scuffling for a bone.
She turned to ask Robbie to fetch their packs, only to discover he had already done it. With a big grin, he handed over hers then slung his to his shoulder.
“Are ye that hungry?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
“Nah.” He took the lead. “Ready for a wee stretch of my legs and some quiet.”
“Ye have done well, my fine brat. I am proud of ye.”
He ducked his head. “I feel a mite sorry for them. They must be verra unhappy to be so sour all the time.”
“That they must,” she agreed.
“Where are you going?” Mildred shouted while shouldering her way deeper into the food chest.
Mila pointed up the ridge. “Higher ground to watch the weather. That way, we can warn ye before it hits. Dinna worry. We willna go far.”
“Watch the weather?” Robbie repeated with a snort.
“Hush it or ye can eat with the ladies, ye ken?”
He grinned and continued climbing.
They forged even higher than their usual spot, putting more space between themselves and the car park below. The trying day warranted it.
