‘I’ll have a beer, thank you very much,’ Dougie said and JB limped over to the fridge. ‘How are you boys feeling? The marathon is the day after tomorrow, aye?’
It was the first time that this marathon of theirs had not been met with laughter or disbelief.
‘I run,’ Dougie shrugged. ‘I’ve done eighteen marathons and counting.’
‘We’re going to do your official half marathon route – and then back again,’ Taylor said.
‘Have you run it, Sir?’
‘Dougie – please.’
‘Have you run it, Dougie?’
‘My parents always said I could run before I could walk,’ he told them. ‘I’ve runallthe island’s roads and paths countless times over the years. I’ve run the mountains and the beaches and my own routes cross country. Aye, so it’s a beautiful run, the Harris Half, but adding a return—?’ he whistled slowly. ‘May the wind be at your back, boys.’ He took a thoughtful sip of beer and turned to JB. ‘How’s that leg of yours?’
‘Yeah,’ JB shrugged, ‘you know.’
‘Idoknow,’ Dougie said. ‘It happened to me two days before the London Marathon. I’m fair gutted for you. You must be pretty upset not to be running?’
‘Yes sir,’ JB said quietly, running his fingers around the pattern of the table mat. ‘I sure am.’
Taylor and Drew shared a millisecond’s glance. JB had told his father he was running. If anyone could tune in to the power of determination, it was JB. But of course he wasn’t running. They’d been blithely overlooking the fact all day.
‘So,’ Dougie was saying. ‘How about I pick you up first thing Friday and drop you two at Borve. Then JB you and I could stop various places along the route, cheer these twomeaban– scallywags – on? The weather’s set to be fair – which is more than can be said for tomorrow. After all, thisisspring in Harris.’ And with that, Dougie finished his beer and stood. ‘Well, I’ll leave you to your evening. I’m just over the way there, if you need anything. And I’m only teasing – it’s just a cheap kettle. And the muddy pillow? Well, as my wife says, things always come out in the wash.’
They sat as they were, long after Dougie had left.
‘Perhaps Flora is Dougie’s mom?’ JB said. ‘At least he was cool about the cottage, thankChrist.’ He paused. ‘Nice guy.’ He performed a quick drum solo on the table edge with his index fingers. ‘Andhe took the recycling.’
‘JB—’ Taylor said and he wondered how best to proceed.
‘Harris in springtime!’ JB whistled a little tune.
‘It’s ok, you know,’ Taylor said. ‘Everything’s ok, buddy. Just make some shit up for your father.’
JB stared at Taylor and looked to Drew.
‘You know what – give your fathermytime,’ said Drew. ‘Whatever time I do – you can have it.’
‘He doesn’t need to know,’ Taylor said. ‘We’re on an island in the middle of the sea.’
‘And a different time zone,’ said Drew. ‘We’ll back you. That’s what friends are for, right?’
JB however stared at the pair of them; a steady look of disbelief underscored with offence and, lurking behind it all like the hiss of a rattlesnake, fury.
‘There is no marathon,’ JB announced, calm and cold. ‘So screwyou– andyou!’
He stood, clenched down on the pain, balanced his weight. ‘What happened to team spirit? To brotherhood? Toall for one and one for alland all that crap? I can’t believe it, seriously, I cannot believe it. If I’m not running, you’re not running – simple as. If the shoe was on the other foot, would I run? Would I? I need to spell that out to you? Would I hell!’ Then he wheeled on Drew. ‘Nowaywould I give my father your finish time, Drew. I’m no cheat! Yeah I may lie to him, time to time. Sure, I might invent a hurricane or landslide or a blizzard or some fucking war between the clans, I haven’t decided – but that’s for me to do. So don’t you tell me what to do.’
JB limped away from them, took the stairs gingerly, yelled over his shoulder. ‘The marathon is cancelled. Get over it.’
Chapter 9
Thursday
Thesneachd nan uanhad its sport with the island, arriving overnight in playful flurries nestling on the hills, gambolling over the garden, wisping about on the sand; fluffs of the stuff not unlike the lambs themselves after whom this springtime snow was named. Under a turquoise sky striated with diaphanous clouds, the scene was enchanting. Could it have lifted the moods of the inhabitants of Flora’s House? Who knows. None of them had looked through the windows to the day outside.
Messages had ricochetted between Drew and Taylor via their phones late into the night, mostly denigrating JB as a selfish bastard, and they’d gone to sleep feeling wounded and justifiably resentful as well as belittled by their so-called friend. But now, the next morning, that ire and frustration was misdirected at one another, with agitated whispers hissing through the air while the kettle boiled.
