‘But Drew?—’
‘—she must be so proud of you?’
‘She cried and cried she was so proud. Her determination to put me through college all by herself – hersacrifices- and then my stupid brain goes and takes that from her.’
The briefest look passed between Taylor and JB.
‘I told her to rent a bigger apartment, buy a new car, treat herself,’ Drew said. ‘But no, she’s still working all the hours and now she’s saving so I can buy a house someday.’
JB thought about how gamely his mother spent his father’s money-from-money on frippery. New stuff every day of the week. She’d made a career out of spending money. How many jackets does someone need? Well, if you’ve all that closet space just go ahead and fill it.
‘I don’t know what I want to do,’ JB suddenly said. ‘I’m all set to follow in my father’s footsteps – my grandfather’s footsteps. A golden road if ever there was one. But I’ve never really thought about what Iwantto do.’
‘I want to write a novel,’ Taylor said with quiet determination and Drew and JB let his dream float about the interior of the little hire car as it pootled along the Golden Road and onwards to Tarbert.
They parked at the Harris Hotel but didn’t get out. Although fairly sure that they hadn’t broken anything there, that they hadn’t thrown up or behaved too badly on that first night, in daylight and sober they felt a little embarrassed. Instead, they chose a small restaurant by the harbour and the man who brought the menu insisted on shaking their hands.
‘How’s it going, boys – ready for the big day?’
Was there anyone who didn’t know?
‘When is it?’
‘Two days’ time,’ Taylor told him.
‘I’m going to recommend that you have Lorna’s Cullen skink – it’s a traditional soup with smoked haddock, potatoes, onions – it’s like rocket fuel,’ he kissed his fingers and scribbled on his pad. ‘Then how about burger and chips – a good dollop of protein and carbs. Your legs’ll thank me. Any questions?’
‘Sir,’ Drew said. ‘Is it possible to swim over the water to Taransay? The short route – from Luskentyre? Obviously, if it’s a calm day. You know – like a kind of beach to beach challenge?’
The man looked at the three of them with their earnest faces, not unlike his dogs waiting for his say-so to leap into the water. Perhaps not quite as bright as his dogs.
‘Well now, why not try a wee run around our island first,’ he said, ‘and then we’ll chat about a paddle over to Taransay, hey?’
Drew nodded. He was happy with that.
‘And you’ll eat up everything I’m to bring you, aye?’ he said. ‘Rocket fuel, remember. You’re going to need it.’
‘Aye,’ said Taylor.
‘Aye,’ said Drew.
‘Sure thing, bud,’ said JB.
Once again, Taylor drove from the halfway point of the marathon near the distillery and, once again, the long, steep drag out of the town made itself known. Taylor shuddered a little; what a brutal final ten miles it would be. Drew, though, felt his legs twitch and yearn to be out there. Taylor suggested they drive on to Borve and check the lay-by where they’d be leaving their car. And then he said why didn’t they continue to Leverburgh, to the community shop and pick up some stuff? But Drew pointed out they had plenty of rice and chicken for their supper so there was no need. JB said he was tired, that he needed to elevate his foot and that he was done with junk food anyway. And Taylor just couldn’t find a way to say perhaps theycould go to the store anyhow, because there was a girl there and he just wanted to see her again. But he had no voice for it so he turned right for Luskentyre and the twisting lug back to Flora’s House.
When they arrived, there was a man inside and that man was vacuuming. The cushions had been picked up from the floor, plumped and returned to the sofas and chairs. The kitchen counter, which they’d left as a warzone, was now a place of peace. The three boys just stood in the threshold and stared. The man smiled over at them, held up a finger to signify just a minute please, and continued the last of his vacuuming. He picked up a pair of boxer shorts from the coffee table and held them aloft with a wry expression. Automatically, and a little shyly, JB raised his hand. He was maybe late forties, early fifties, but fit looking and friendly, with a ponytail which was actually pretty cool and not ironic. Finally, he unplugged the vacuum, stepped on its tab and the flex zipped its way back into the chamber, as if it was on best behaviour for the man.
‘Hey boys,’ he said and he approached with his hand outstretched. ‘I’m Dougie – and this is my place.’
They were mortified and shuffled in, made much of taking off their shoes and lining them up neatly, hanging their coats on hooks by the front door which they had not noticed until now. The truth was the place had been a bombsite, but Dougie had seen worse. He’d only popped by to say hello, to drop off some fresh towels and to check that they had everything they needed. But he wouldn’t be telling them that. Their discomfort was endearing.
‘Don’t worry lads, I only poked my head into the bedrooms – you know, check there were no women hidden up there,’ Dougie said. Oh the look on their faces! He chuckled. ‘I’m pulling your legs.’ He paused and regarded JB and the crutches. ‘Well, notyourleg, I wouldn’t be so cruel. But I did want to ask why thereare boot prints on one of the pillows?’ He let that hang and, after a while, a shamefaced Taylor tentatively raised his hand in confession. ‘But then I remembered my neighbour, Murdo, telling me that he’d brought you home after you drank the hotel bar dry. So I put two and two together.’
The boys flopped into the chairs around the table, unsure whether they were being reprimanded or whether this guy had a twisted sense of humour. Taylor glanced at the kettle.
‘We’ll not talk about the kettle,’ Dougie said.
‘Um, would you like a drink, Sir?’ JB asked. ‘We have coke, beer, juice?’
