Bonnie Jack

by Ian Hamilton

  The bedroom door opened and Anne came back into the living area. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to nap,” she said.

  “We’re going to dinner soon enough anyway.”

  “Did you reach Ross?”

  “I did.”

  “What did he want?”

  “He’d just seen a preview of the last quarter’s results and was thrilled with them. He called me to pass along his congratulations.”

  “That’s wonderful, Jack. You’re certainly leaving with a bang, but anyone who knows you wouldn’t expect it to be any other way.”

  19

  When Jack stepped through the front doors of the Bannockburn, he immediately thought of the Locke-Ober restaurant in Boston. Locke-Ober was more than a hundred years old, and its mahogany panelling, ornate French furniture, sculptures, oil paintings, silver cutlery, English china, starched white tablecloths, and traditional, beef-heavy menu had made it a favourite among Boston bankers, who could walk there from the nearby financial district. The Bannockburn’s furniture was somewhat plainer, but otherwise it compared favourably.

  It was ten minutes to seven. As the hosts, Jack and Anne had arrived early. There were going to be six of them for dinner; Georgie had called at six-fifteen to say Liz would be joining them.

  The maître d’ welcomed them at the door.

  “We’ll be six, not five,” Jack said. “I assume that’s fine.”

  “Not a problem, sir,” the maître d’ said.

  Their table was against a wall near the middle of the restaurant. They had no sooner sat down when Georgie and a tall, auburn-haired young woman appeared at the door. Anne and Jack stood to meet them, and Anne noticed that Georgie was smiling broadly. When they reached the table, Anne held out her hands. “You must be Liz. It’s so nice to meet you. You are a gorgeous young woman.”

  “Why, thank you,” Liz said, blushing.

  Anne turned to Jack. “Doesn’t she look like Allison? The same auburn hair, and those beautiful blue eyes.”

  “I’m Jack, by the way, and she’s Anne,” he said to Liz. “Forgive my wife’s enthusiasm. She’s excited to meet you.”

  “The same goes for me. You’re all I’ve heard about for the past two days.”

  “Allison is Jack and Anne’s daughter,” Georgie said to Liz. “As I remember, she’s the oldest of their children and lives in Los Angeles with someone who’s in the film industry.”

  “That’s absolutely correct,” Anne said.

  “There are Harry and Barbara,” Jack said suddenly. “Everyone is so punctual.”

  “It must be a family trait,” Anne said.

  After a round of greetings, everyone settled into their chairs and a waiter arrived with the drinks menu. “Now, this dinner is on me, and I want you to have whatever you want to drink,” Jack said.

  “Actually, I want us to share a bottle of Champagne to start, but I want to pay for it,” Georgie said. “This is an evening to celebrate. Liz had some very good news today.”

  “Mum!” Liz said. “You promised you wouldn’t.”

  “I said I’d think about it. I did, and now I want everyone to know. We haven’t had much to celebrate lately, but then Jack and Anne show up on our doorstep, and the day after, you hear from Pitlochry. I think fate has decided to be kind to us. It would be inviting bad luck not to acknowledge it,” Georgie said.

  “Pitlochry? The festival?” Barbara said to Liz.

  “Aye, Aunt Barbara, the festival.”

  “That’s so wonderful!”

  “Tell us what happened,” Harry said.

  “Liz has been offered a position in the coming season’s ensemble cast,” Georgie said.

  “You’ll be there for the entire season?” Harry asked.

  “I will.”

  “I’m so happy for you,” he said.

  “Pardon my ignorance, but what is the Pitlochry Festival?” Anne asked.

  “Pitlochry is a charming little town about an hour and a half north of here. It’s a major entry point to the Highlands and attracts tourists from all over the world. They built a theatre there, right next to the River Tummel, about thirty years ago. It’s a repertory company that rotates four or five shows throughout the summer. Some people claim that in the U.K. only Stratford is more important in terms of festival theatre.”

  “That’s very impressive,” Anne said, smiling at Liz. “How many shows will you be in?”

  “I think I’ll be the ingenue in a couple and a supporting cast member in two more,” she said. “I won’t know all the details until I meet with the artistic director.”

  “Will you live in Pitlochry?” Barbara asked.

  “Of course she will,” Georgie said. “The season runs from May to October, and with rehearsals starting very soon, my girl is going to be gone for more than six months.”

  “Has all this been finalized?” asked Harry.

  “I go to Pitlochry tomorrow to sign my contract.”

  “You’ll take the train?” he asked.

  “That’s my plan.”

  “Why don’t we drive you?” Anne suggested. “We have no plans for tomorrow, and if Pitlochry is as nice as you say, it will give us a chance to see it and at least part of the Highlands.”

  “I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Liz said.

  “You didn’t ask. We offered,” Anne said. “It will also give us a chance to get to know you better.”

  “I think that’s a great idea,” Jack said.

  “I do too,” Georgie said. “And if no one objects, I’ll come along. I know Pitlochry and can show you some of the sights.”

  “I think that settles things,” Jack said, raising his arm to attract the attention of the waiter.

  “Jack, I insist on paying for the bottle of Champagne,” Georgie said.

  “That isn’t going to happen, and there’s no point in arguing with me,” he said as the waiter arrived. Jack glanced quickly at the menu. “Two bottles of the Pommery Champagne, please.”

  When the waiter left, Harry said to Jack, “If you don’t mind me saying, you seem especially cheery tonight. Did something happen today in Glasgow?”

  Jack turned to Georgie. “Did you tell Harry about our day at the Tartan Rover?”

  “I haven’t had a chance.”

  “We found McPherson. We didn’t see him, but we were told he’s still alive,” Jack said to Harry.

  “That is a surprise. I was expecting — or maybe I should say hoping — that he was dead. Did you find out where he lives?”

  “No, but we learned he’s a regular at the pub, and the owner has promised to call me when he shows up.”

  “You want to meet him?”

  “Georgie isn’t interested, but I am,” Jack said. “I have some questions for him.”

  “I imagine you do.”

  “Have you seen the photo of him that Georgie has?”

  “I have.”

  “The family resemblance is unmistakable.”

  “That may be true, but Georgie and I didn’t actually exist when our mother left him. There’s nothing about the man that holds the slightest interest for me. He has no connection to my life,” said Harry.

  “So I can’t convince you to come with me to the Tartan Rover?”

  “No.”

  “Then I’ll stop talking about it.”

  “Jack, I don’t want you to think I’m being insensitive. I do understand there are things you want to know,” Harry said, and then paused. “Look, if you don’t want to do it alone, I’ll go with you. But I’ll do it as your brother and not as McPherson’s son. I don’t even want to be introduced to him.”

  “That’s extraordinarily considerate of you,” Jack said. “I may take you up on that offer.”

  The waiter arrived with the two bottles of Champagne, which
halted that conversation. They watched in silence as he opened the first bottle with a loud pop and then poured six glasses. “Shall I open the second bottle and leave it on ice?” he asked.

  “Excellent idea,” Jack said.

  Anne raised her glass. “Here’s to a wonderful summer for Liz, and a brilliant start to a long and successful career.”

  After they drank, Jack picked up the menu. “We should decide what to have for dinner,” he said.

  As they were reading the menu and chatting about the options, Jack noticed that Anne kept staring at Liz. He was about to say something when she said, “Liz, I don’t mean to be nosy, but tell me, is that your natural hair texture or do you straighten it?”

  “I straighten it as much as I can.” Liz laughed. “Why do you ask?”

  “I told you earlier that you remind me of our Allison, except her hair is curly and can get frizzy.”

  “So is mine unless I work on it.”

  “My other children don’t look anything like her; they all resemble Jack. I always thought there had to be someone in my background with curly auburn hair, but when I look at you . . .”

  “Mum was long and lean, exactly like Liz. She also had dark blue eyes, and I have some old colour snaps of her that show a wild mop of auburn hair,” Georgie said. “She was a real beauty.”

  Anne glanced at Jack and then turned back to Georgie. “I think I’d like to see some of those photos, and Allison might too.”

  “I’ll bring them with me tomorrow. You can have a look at them and let me know if you’d like copies.”

  “That would be lovely.”

  “Let’s order,” Jack interrupted. “I’m hungry enough to eat a horse.”

  “It that’s your way of trying to change the subject, I do wish you would be more subtle,” Anne said.

  He started to protest but then smiled. “I apologize. All I’ve had to eat today was a Scotch pie. Any subtlety I might have has been overtaken by hunger.”

  20

  They arrived in Pitlochry at five to eleven the next morning, after a ninety-minute drive from Edinburgh. It was slightly overcast when Jack pulled into the parking lot of the Festival Theatre, but the sky seemed to be clearing. The clean, crisp air felt like the prelude to a beautiful day.

  It had been past ten when they finished dinner the night before. After the Champagne, two bottles of red wine, and after-dinner drinks, no one was feeling any pain. The conversation hadn’t returned to either Jessie or Douglas McPherson, instead focusing on lighter topics, such as the plays Liz was going to be in that summer.

  Anne had expected Jack to say something about Georgie and their mother’s photos as they walked back to the hotel, but he hadn’t raised the subject and instead talked about the possibility of inviting their new Scottish family to visit them in the United States. The idea had caught Anne so off guard that she stopped walking and looked up at her husband to see if he was serious. “What’s happened to you?” she asked. “You’ve been in such a good mood this evening.”

  “I really like Harry and Georgina, and Liz is a sweetheart. If Harry and Barbara’s kids are anything like her, they’ll fit in with our gang very well.”

  “Let’s get to the end of the week before we start thinking about issuing invitations,” she said.

  They had gone to bed as soon as they reached their room, and within a few minutes they were asleep. Jack had wakened at six and spent two hours answering Pam’s faxes. He had been rigorous in the previous days, but somehow his work this morning took on an extra edge. He wondered how Pam and the rest of his support team were going to react to the news that he was staying on as CEO. They had expressed what he had thought was genuine, deeply felt regret when he announced his decision to retire. Would they be pleased to learn he wasn’t going anywhere? He thought they would, but he had learned you could never take for granted how staff really felt about a boss until he was out the door and it was safe to express a true opinion.

  Jack ordered coffee and toast at seven and woke Anne when it arrived. At five to nine they made their way downstairs to find Georgie and Liz waiting for them in the lobby.

  “Another day, another adventure,” Anne said as the women exchanged hugs.

  “Good morning, ladies. I ordered the car for nine, so I think it should be here,” Jack said.

  “Do you need help with directions?” Georgie asked.

  “No, I went over the map with the concierge. It seems to be a pretty straight run.”

  “Good. Then I can nap.”

  There wasn’t much conversation during the car ride. Georgie slept, Liz read a script, and Anne took in the scenery.

  They got out of the car in the Festival Theatre’s parking lot. “How much time do you need?” Georgie asked Liz.

  “Signing the contract won’t take long, but I don’t know how involved things will be with the artistic director. It could be several hours. What do you plan to do?”

  Georgie checked her watch. “I thought we’d take a walk through the town and then visit Blair Castle. We could check back here after that. If you’re not done, we’ll take a tour at the Edradour Distillery. And I thought it would be nice to end the day with tea at the Green Park Hotel.”

  “Why don’t I meet you at the Green Park around three? I can’t imagine I’ll be much later than that. If I’m early, I’ll sit in the bar and look out at Loch Faskally.”

  “That’s it then, we’re set,” Georgie said, and held out her arms for a hug. “Good luck, my love. I’m sure it will all go very well.”

  Liz smiled at them all. “Have a great visit. We used to come here all the time. It’s one of my favourite places in Scotland.”

  “How far is it from here to the town?” Jack asked.

  “About a mile. It’s an easy walk. See that small collection of houses down there by the river? The area is called Port-na-Craig, and there’s a wee footbridge that leads directly into town,” Georgie said. “But if you want to see Blair Castle, we’ll have to drive. It’s in Blair Atholl, about seven miles away.”

  “Blair Atholl? Moira mentioned that name when she told us your husband’s,” said Jack.

  “It’s a village, and there is a connection — in a way that only the Scots can conjure up,” she said. “Atholl’s mother’s family name was Murray. Blair Castle has been the ancestral home of the Murray clan for more than seven hundred years, and the head of the clan carries the title Duke of Atholl.”

  “Despite — or maybe because of — the connection, I’m not sure I’m up for another castle tour,” Jack said. “The distillery interests me, though.”

  “After all that we drank last night, how can you even think about alcohol?” Anne asked.

  “It’s actually far more interesting than you would think,” Georgie said. “The distillery is a hundred and fifty years old and is the smallest in Scotland.”

  “How small is that?”

  “Three employees. It’s owned by a French liquor conglomerate now, but they haven’t changed the way it operates.”

  “How can they turn a profit with an operation that small?” Jack asked.

  “They specialize. As I recall, they have a ten-year-old single malt that’s expensive and always in demand.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Jack said.

  Georgie looked at Anne, who was frowning. “We can walk to the distillery from here. It’s about three miles, with a lot uphill. It’s a beautiful day for a walk, and when we’re finished there, we can walk back through town to the Green Park Hotel. There are a few stores along the way that sell Scottish goods you might find interesting.”

  “I like the idea of a good walk,” Anne said.

  “Then let’s do it,” Jack said.

  It took close to an hour to get to Edradour, and by the time they reached the white-painted wrought-iron fence that enclosed it, Anne had worked up a sw
eat. They stood at the entrance, looking up the driveway at a whitewashed brick building surrounded by cottages, all with red doors. Georgie pushed open the gate and walked towards the main building.

  “Can I help you?” a man asked, appearing out of nowhere.

  “We’re here for a tour,” Georgie said.

  “Sorry, but you’re a few weeks too early. The season hasn’t started yet.”

  “That’s too bad. I was boasting about your single malt to my brother and his wife, who are here from the United States. He’s rather rich and famous, and he loves whisky,” Georgie said. “Besides, we’ve walked all the way from Port-na-Craig.”

  The man smiled and said, “How can I possibly say no when you put it like that?”

  An hour later they began the downhill walk from the distillery to Pitlochry’s main street. Jack now knew everything imaginable about distilling and ageing whisky. He was also the new owner of two cases of ten-year-old single malt, which were scheduled to arrive in Wellesley sometime later in the year, after the whisky had been uncasked and bottled.

  They took their time getting to town and then made their leisurely way from store to store until they reached the Green Park Hotel. Georgie and Anne shopped as they went. Jack occasionally poked his head into a store but most often stayed outside on the sidewalk, watching people go by. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so relaxed.

  With Anne carrying three shopping bags, they left the commercial part of town and walked past rows of houses separated from the road by a narrow sidewalk. Ahead on their left, Jack spotted the sign for the Green Park.

  “This hotel was a country house roughly a hundred years ago,” Georgie said. “They’ve added to it, but the new buildings are completely in tune with the old house.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Anne said, admiring the whitewashed brick structures with their grey slate roofs.