by C. Litka
Chapter 21: Sunday 21 July
01
Glasgow is the industrial heart of Scotland. We passed sprawling salvage yards, one soot stained workshop after another, and long lines of goods carriages as we slowly swayed and clattered over the points to reach Queen Street Station. These days Glasgow is known for new and rebuilt steam engines, rail cars, modern electric ultra-light vehicles (ULV) platforms, breaking and building ships, wind generators, plus repairing and recycling appliances made redundant by the Storms. Environmental restrains are still enforced so old Glasgow's pall of smoke was missing, but in the misty gloom of the day, you could easily be forgiven for thinking you'd slipped through a crack in time two hundred years back.
Professor Reginald, Red Stuart was waiting for me on the platform and greeted me with a loud 'What'ya say Say?' as was his long custom – still more student than professor, as we both were. I've known Red since I went up to Cambridge, where he was a year ahead of me in the nano materials physics program. We spent many an hour in the lab and outside of it as well – time permitting. He's now an associate professor at Glasgow University in their New Sciences department, a plum job, and well earned.
He chattered non-stop, as was also his custom, as we threaded our way down the platform, collected my bike, and joined the stream of bike traffic flowing between horse drawn drays and carriages, electric trams and the rare electric taxis and ULVs that filled the city's bustling streets.
In broad strokes, Glasgow is similar to London, differing only in the details. Like London, it smells of damp stones and horse apples. Its streets echoed the chatter of the pedestrians, the low hiss of bike tires, the clatter of hooves, the creaking of the wagons and the warning bells of trolleys. The streets, however, seemed less cosmopolitan and more conservative than London. The clerks and professionals of both sexes mostly dressed tra – men in dark suits, wide brimmed homburgs or porkpie hats and kid gloves, the women in long dresses with long sleeves or long gloves and wide bonnets. The trade and labourers, men and women, dressed much alike in dusty, sweat stained slouch hats, loose shirts or blouses in blues and tans, and occasional stained suede vest, wide cargo trousers and boots. They all sported work gloves that reached halfway to their elbows, either worn, or if they were strolling, hands in pockets, flopping out of their back pockets. Sparrow like, they chatted cheerily as they made their way to their second shift jobs – the marks of their station in life worn proudly, for in Scotland, all workers are owners. England is only now catching up – despite the efforts of the Learmonte's of the Kingdom. In addition to the local inhabitants, there were also many sailors about since Glasgow is Scotland's major seaport, though the flocks of continental tourists found about London seemed largely missing.
The city was built in grey stone and glass, and today it seemed a mere extension of the sky. The shop windows, however, were brightly lit and the damp street shimmered in their cheery light. Red pointed out every landmark and semi-demi historical site on the way from the station to his flat with great pride. He'd been here over a year now. And he was, after all, either 138th, or 114th in line for throne of Scotland, depending on whom the government finally determined to be the True King, a quest that has taken them decades, with the end only dimly in sight. (Word is they're waiting for some undesirable would-be-King(s) to die off before making their final decision.)
After I'd stowed my bike and saddlebags in his flat, washed the soot of travel off my face and brushed it off my clothes, we walked to the uni where he proudly showed me around his office, his lab, and his New Sciences & Engineering Department. He introduced me to his colleagues and his grad students who were lounging about his lab, all of which took the better part of the afternoon. After this extensive tour we returned to the flat to get ready for a dinner he was hosting at the college for a group of remote readers, as they are known in Scotland, i.e. “extended college students” or ECS's in England, which is to say, students who are reading for a program at home or in an institute other than the uni they're enrolled in. These students view all the lectures and Q & A sessions and communicate with their tutors over the fibre communications network. During regular uni vacations, they spend a few weeks at the uni, meeting face to face with their tutors and supervising professors, and work in the labs.
There were six remote readers in the various NS & E programs, two grad students and four undergrads who'd just completed a four-week stint on campus. Having packed only what I expected to need – clothes to travel in and clothes to bike in – I didn't have anything for a dinner party, but Red assured me it was all quite informal, just the remote readers, a pack of shiftless grad students, and a few fellow professors, all very jolly.
'I say, Say,' Red said, as we were walking to the college hall where the binge was being held, 'if you don't mind, I'm going to sit you on the off side of Molly Reevers, the remote grad student I'm supervising. Very nice girl. You'll like her. Very bright, a whiz in thermoelectricity. Your task is to keep her whole, undivided attention whenever I'm off doing my hosting duties. Turn on that famous charm of yours – just don't go overboard. Merely keep her momentarily enthralled while I'm off and about.'
'My famous charm?' I asked.
'Well, whatever it was that snagged Penny Lee,' he replied. 'Just don't snag Ms Reevers. Keep Penny Lee firmly in mind while you charm Molly. Your job is to keep that threadbare pack of shiftless grad students from annoying her.'
'And precisely why am I to keep the pack of shiftless grad students from annoying her?' I asked – not that I hadn't already suspected, but more to watch him wiggle.
Red stood up a little straighter, 'Listen, Say, Ms Reevers is a very fine and brave young lady who comes to us all the way from the Dalchork Subterranean Society all alone…'
'Ah, a Morlock,' I said.
'The proper term is a “subterranean”.'
'Right. Just so. My apologies. So this Reevers girl is a brave subterranean, who's here in Glasgow all alone and far from her caves...'
'She's far from alone and that's the problem,' he replied darkly. 'That's where you come in. I want her alone with you. You, I believe I can trust. We go back a'ways, don't we, Say?'
'A'ways, Red, a'ways. Far enough back to see where this is heading.'
'Listen, Say. It's nothing like that. I'm a professor these days, not some lowly grad student and she's a student I'm supervising. There are hard and fast ethical constraints that prevent me from being anything more than a friendly, cheerful and helpful supervising professor. And that's exactly what I am and no more. However, these ethical considerations don't apply to the worthless pack of grad students I've been inflicted with. They wouldn't recognize restraint if it hopped up and bit'em on the ankle. I can't trust them not to annoy Molly with their unwanted attention when out of my sight, which is where you come in. Fascinate her. Keep her entertained while I'm off making speeches or whatever. Surely, that's not beyond your ability is it, Say?'
I knew Red, and though he was trying to keep this all light and breezy, he was serious as well. So, being my host and all, I decided to play my assigned part. 'Right. Fascinate Ms Reevers. Keep the shiftless grad students at bay. Any suggestions as to what fascinates Ms Reevers?'
'Truth be told, I haven't stumbled upon anything myself. Use your imagination or just talk shop if you must. That's what I do and I know you can do that until the cows come home.'
'And that'll fascinate her?'
He ran his fingers through his hair. 'Lord, Say, I hope so. Trust me, that pack of grad students are not the brightest lights on a test board, so you shouldn't have a problem...'
02
Molly Reevers proved to be a quiet, rather shy and pretty girl that I found I could just about make small talk with without resorting to interrogating her, though when Red was on the other side of her, I didn't have to do any talking at all. Still, without Red about, I found shop talk to be easier, and while I rather think I fell well short of fascinating her, we got along comfortably. As predicted, as soon
as Red was off doing whatever he had to do as host, looking after the catering, introducing people and trying to establish some sort of order, three or four grad students would drift over and begin chatting with Molly. Since these were fellows she'd been working with in the lab for the last month, they had plenty to chat about, so there was little I could do about it. Even if I actually cared too. Which I didn't. Even on my short acquaintance, I didn't think Molly was a fool. While she was certainly worth clustering around, I could see that part of their fun was simply annoying Professor Stuart, which it did. In any event, there was nothing I could do to distract Molly, and simply had to shrug when I caught Red glaring at them and me.
Red did, however, introduce me as an honoured guest – a distinguished doctor of physics from Cambridge University and the Cavendish Lab, co-author of several well received papers regarding the theoretical creation, arrangement and application of single atom layer null structures in energy storage devices, and a co-inventor of a revolutionary battery currently in prototype testing. I don't expect to be introduced along those lines again for several decades.
The dinner went well. It got cheery very fast, and lasted longer than I would've liked with a two day 150 km of bike ride ahead of me. However, it did offer an opportunity to become better acquainted with a number of the grad students (who clustered around Molly throughout the evening) who'd also be riding with Red and me the following morning. Molly would be riding with us too, which Red assured me was a very brave thing for her to do, since she was a first generation subterranean who had lived her whole life underground. So he claimed anyway. Going down to Glasgow and braving the wide open sky was something outside her experience. She was very brave just to come to Glasgow all alone like she did... A very fine and brave girl, Red assured me as we weaved our way home from the dinner.
03
'Oh, quit sulking,' I said to Red as I pulled up next to him.
'I'm not,' he replied, sulkily.
He was. He wasn't rattling on about something, which means he was sulking. And the reason being that Molly was riding with a group of gaily chattering girls a hundred metres behind us. Red had no doubt envisioned riding side by side with Molly the whole way, seeing as he was her supervising professor and all. All the while he'd be pointing out things to educate her – Alongside of us is a river. The River Clyde, in fact. See how the river bends, up ahead. And above us is the sky. It's cloudy now, but above that is the sun. You can't see it, but it's perfectly harmless if you take common sense precautions like... As I said, Molly's no fool and had enough common sense to avoid Red's guided tour of the outside world. At least for now.
I, on the other hand, was enjoying myself. Having met most of the group we were riding with at the dinner, I was able to participate in the banter and fellowship of the group as we followed the Clyde through the suburbs and into the hills. I was enjoying, once again, the refreshing company of a bunch of larking students, something I'd been missing for the last year as I laboured to finish my research and dissertation. And as much as I enjoyed the quiet company of Nesta, I was enjoying the boisterous freedom riding out in a pack of free spirited youth.
'She's only doing you a favour,' I said. 'She's simply trying to be discrete. You've told me about the ethical restraints you're operating under.' (Constraints which seemed largely confined to refraining from saying the obvious out loud.) 'No doubt she's trying to keep you on the straight and narrow.'
'You think so?' he asked, glancing at me.
'I'm positive,' I replied. However shy and provincial Molly may be, growing up in a cave in the Highlands, she struck me, as I may have already mentioned, as no fool. Whatever she thought of Red, she treated him as a professor – which can be hard at times because of his school boy enthusiasm about just about everything – and anything – which can be both charming and annoying. And not very professor like.
'Besides,' I continued. 'She has to look after her professional integrity. I'm sure she wouldn't care to have her work tainted by whispers of a romantic relationship with her supervising professor. She's just being discrete, Red. As should you.'
'Damn you Say, you're right,' he exclaimed. 'Always knew you'd be good for something more than cleaning up my lab bench. Luckily these wretched grad students think it's all a lark, so they'll never do more than laugh at me behind my back. And I promise you they'll rue the coming days of term...'
I already knew his students well enough to know that they'd taken the measure of Professor Stuart and knew enough to discount his bark entirely. Indeed, Red and his students were pretty much a band of brothers and sisters, though I suppose that will change as the age gap grows and Professor Reginald Stuart becomes a more imposing figure in time. If Professor Reginald Steward becomes something more imposing in time.
We were in a group of two dozen or so riders. There were almost a hundred riders on the ride, broken down into various groups. Several small groups biking for speed and distance had started off early and would make the whole 150 km ride today. Others behind us were only doing a day trip to Lanark and back. We were a leisurely group making the circuit in two days. We had a 50 km ride mostly along the Clyde to Lanark this morning. We'd have lunch in Lanark and then take a roundabout route of 50 some km to Muirkirk where we'd spend the night in a youth hostel before returning to Glasgow Sunday morning.
The hazy overcast of the morning lifted by ten, after which we rode in bright sunlight and under shadows dragged along by the drifting white clouds sailing slowly overhead. On the first leg of our ride we rode alongside the Clyde, and then out into the countryside down the valley of the Clyde at the foot of the steep hills lining the sparkling river often glimpsed through the screen of trees lining the lane. Like London, many of the cottages and suburban homes we passed were abandoned and overgrown. Unlike London, there seemed much less of an effort reclaiming these abandoned suburbs and small hamlets, though the countryside has been put to the plough to grow grains. Many of the farms also had rows of barrow hot houses to raise early vegetables for the Glasgow market, along with chicken, swine and sheep for market as well. We passed several paddocks with large draft horses for the drays and wagons.
The morning flew by, and I found I was in good enough shape to feel pretty confident that I'd not be left behind somewhere in a ditch. Even as we reached Lanark I still had breath to talk, more or less.
We and the day trippers picnicked together in the Lanark park where a hot lunch of hearty bean and bacon soup, thick sandwiches, and tea had been prepared for us. We took an hour and a half break before setting out on the second leg of the ride. Molly joined the circle of Red's grad students for lunch and I noted that Red played it more or less cool, the almighty professor amongst the rabble, all of whom found it quite amusing. By the time we were ready to be off again, my body had stiffened, and I had to grit my teeth as I climbed to my feet and set out again.
The second leg took us out of the valley and up and over the hills, which boasted sweeping panoramas of the patchwork green and golden fields sprawling across the broad hills and away to the distant moorlands, purple in the summer haze.
We had the road mostly to ourselves, only the occasional bike, dog cart or horse drawn wagon piled high with chopped hay or big round bales. Farmers were working in their fields with a bewildering array of equipment – from hulking pre-Storm petrol powered combines, to 200-year-old horse drawn hay rakes and 100-year-old hay balers fitted with battery powered electric motors that were being drawn by a team of horses. The wind in the trees and the song of birds, the distant putt-putt of pre-Storm tractors, the bleating of sheep and the barking of dogs as we passed the farms were the only sounds in the world, save the cheerful chatter of our riders as we glided along the narrow tree shaded lanes. Pedalling up the long hills reduced our chatter a bit. I certainly had to save my breath to pedal rather than banter, even with my electric motor equipped bike.
I did get to ride with Molly for a while.
'How do you like this?' I asked.
/> 'Oh, it's grand,' she replied.
'Are you as sore as I am?'
'That depends on how sore you are, Dr Say,' she replied, adding with a laugh. 'And where.'
'How did you get so in shape? I'd have thought living underground would offer few opportunities to go bike riding.'
'Oh, though my house is in the cave, I get out and about often enough. We have a village at the cave entrance, with gardens and farm fields as well as workshops. I rode quite a bit in the hills and around the loch.'
'I apologize for making a stupid assumption, it's just that Red described you as a first generation subterranean, freshly emerged into the outside world.'
'Professor Stuart has a lot of funny ideas,' she replied with a smile. 'You see, Dr Say, we're not all afraid that the sky is falling, not at the moment anyway. We just think that it's a prudent idea to make preparations should it fall someday. Right now most of our communities are test beds for technologies and societies that could be scaled up and built, if or when, the need arises.
'In my case, I'm not so much a subterranean, but a young girl who's never been far from the nest. This is my first time out in the wide world alone and I'm sure I'm no different than any other person who's lived all their lives in a small and remote village exploring big, crowded and bustling cities. Professor Stuart and all the students I've met have made it easy for me to adjust to this new world. I'm quite grateful.'
'I think you're a girl with a great deal of common sense, as well as courage. I'm certain that has much to do with it as well,' I said, and meant it.
Later on I fell into conversation with a nano tech engineering student by the name of Bill Bruce.
'I understand you're working on a project near Inverness this summer,' he said.
'Aye. Mostly as a favour for my supervising professor. Well, truth be told, I was pretty much blackmailed into it. I was supposed to be starting my year's post doc when he discovered that he hadn't a place for me in the lab until fall... And so here I am,' I said.
'What sort of research would bring you to Inverness?' he asked.
'Ah, that I can't say,' I replied. 'I'm bound by an ironclad non-disclosure agreement with a party that I assure you, I don't care to cross. Suffice to say, it's not anything I'd be doing by choice.'
He laughed. 'I rather suspected that. You must be the chap who's deciphering the Rhymer's Papers.'
I gave him a startled look. But then again, if the shepherd knew, why wouldn't everyone else in Scotland? 'Well, you realize I can't say one way or the other?'
'Aye. You see, I'm a Strayfeller lad, so you don't have to say anything. It's common knowledge. I was just curious if I was right in guessing I've met the chap working on the papers.'
'Ah, just so. I met a shepherd on the road before I even arrived who knew all about the Rhymer's Papers as well. It seems everyone knows, though if a certain person should ever find out, I'm sure I'll be blamed for that,' I laughed.
'I'll not get you in trouble by mentioning it again, but tell me, have you seen the Riders?'
'I have. And I can tell you that the Riders from the Otherworld are, in fact, deer, who under certain atmospheric conditions, have St Elmo's fires clinging to the tips of their antlers,' I replied after deciding that those Riders lay outside my NDA.
'A theory or fact?' he asked, intrigued.
'A fact.' I replied and went on to describe my two encounters with the Riders.
'And the Rhymer's Gate to the Otherworld?' he asked after I'd finished my story. 'Have you seen that too?'
That, I decided was covered by my NDA, so I said, 'Given that the Riders are the local deer herds, I'd say that the gate to the Otherworld is myth as well.'
'That's not what I hear,' Bill said with a shrewd glance, 'But then I suppose that might be more in your ken...'
I shrugged, 'Hardly. I sometimes think anything is possible in the Highlands,' and we left it at that.
We staggered into the hostel yard after five o'clock and lay scattered on the lawn staring at the sky and aching (at least I did) until called for supper. We talked lazily until eleven and fell asleep in the hard bunks within minutes.
04
Sunday dawned bright and we headed out right after breakfast, slowly working out yesterday's aches and pains, arriving back at our checkpoint in Glasgow's Kelvingrove Park a little before eleven. We said goodbye to our comrades and went on to Red's flat to collect my gear for my return journey.
'I can trust you, can't I Say?' Red asked over a scratch lunch.
'I believe you can,' I replied cautiously. 'Trust me to do what?'
'To travel with Molly,' he replied.
I sighed. Red had arranged for Molly to travel with me to Inverness, where she'd have a ride waiting to take her on to Dalchork. I'd been entrusted to seeing her safely to Inverness.
'I'll try not to lose her,' I replied guardedly.
Red glared at me, 'I know you're being sarcastic, and I know Molly puts on a very brave front, but this is the first time she's been out in the wide world alone. I gather, she has not travelled further than Inverness even as a child before now, so I believe it will be a comfort for her to have a traveling companion.'
'Trust me, I'll do everything in my power to make her journey to Inverness a memory she'll treasure forever,' I said with a soft sigh, playing the game.
'Don't do that,' he admonished. 'You already have Penny Lee. Keep that fact fixed firmly in your mind. Keep your charm or whatever strange power you have, to yourself. She's shy and innocent and I want you to be a shining pillar of shyness and innocence as well. You're to act merely as a guide and body guard. I'd go myself but I've a staff conference tomorrow. Damn it.'
I didn't have Penny Lee now, though friends tend to overlook that since we're still so close.
I laughed, 'Kidding aside, do you actually believe I'm any danger to your romantic dreams?' I asked.
'First off, I do not admit to any romantic dreams, and secondly, you'd be no danger if I had any. But then, who'd have thought you'd hook up with Penny Lee? Lord knows, you must have something... In any event, you just keep whatever it is you have to yourself.'
'Just out of curiosity, Red. How serious are you about Molly? I've known you long enough to know that these ideas generally pass within a week or two.'
'Strictly between you and me, I don't know. She's sweet tempered, as brilliant as I am, and lovely...
'As brilliant and as lovely too?' I asked.
'Modesty, Say, is also one of our shared virtues,' he replied looking down his nose at me. 'So I'll say no more on that subject. However, what I was trying to say before you interrupted, was that I'm hoping that her casual indifference to me is her way of warding off my charm until the right time, which we both know, this isn't. However, when I imagine the perfect mate for life, she seems, admittedly on only a brief acquaintance to fit it to a 5 sigma standard' said Red, as seriously as I'd ever seen him.
'Well, I can't advise you on that aspect of the affair, but I will say, from personal experience, don't confuse liking with loving. Don't build dream futures merely on just how you feel today. You can't possibly know how she feels about you until she's no longer a student. Take it slow and don't make a bigger fool of yourself than you naturally do, Reginald Stuart.'
'Thanks, my dear Say, for being so brutally honest. Still, I know what I feel, so don't be shy when it comes to talking about me. You've known me for ages. Tell her what a solid fellow I am behind my colourful persona, and you needn't be all that subtle about it. Assure her I'm not quite the fool I might appear to be.
'But enough of this foolishness, you've gotten your marching orders, lay off the charm, keep your hands off, and build me up, but be subtle about it,' he said shaking himself free of this rare bout of momentary seriousness.'
'Right,' I said and took another bite of my sandwich. I'd had a number of chances over the long weekend to talk with Molly and I was sure we'd travel comfortably together, and if, or rather when, we ran out of sm
all talk, we could talk nano-materials. I wouldn't mind learning more about her special study of their use in thermoelectric systems. Actually, I was looking forward to learning more on that subject...
05
Molly was waiting outside her flat, her bike packed with a large gladstone bag strapped to its rack with two well stuffed saddlebags alongside.
'I hope all this baggage isn't going to be too much of a problem,' she said after she'd greeted us.
'I don't think you've overdone it,' I said. 'Hardly excessive for a month's visit. I've two saddlebags for a weekend.'
'Well, I arrived in Glasgow with little more than the dress on my back. Seeing all this, you'd think this trip has been little more than a shopping spree,' she laughed. 'But it was my first, and likely a very rare, opportunity to shop with more than a catalogue on a screen.'
'Then you must come more often,' said Red, adding quickly, 'I'm certain Annie McKee or Bonnie Blyth would be glad to put you up.'
'We had talked about just that,' she replied, adding archly, 'Professor.'
They cautiously talked vaguely about making such plans as we rode through the quiet Sunday city streets to the station. The shops were closed and the streets were mostly hollow, a few strollers and a few bikes, and a rare, mostly empty trolley. The station was, however, busy with arriving trains releasing their returning holiday makers, weary parents, crying babies, and whining children.
We made our way through the station, found our platform and used the eticket on our watsons to pass the barrier. After seeing our bikes loaded on luggage car, we stood about, talking rather disjointedly in the steam filtered sunlight of the platform to pass the fifteen minutes before we had to board the train.
Red, mindful of having to act properly, could actually find little to say. A first for Red. Molly was also mindful of acting properly as well, and, unless I'm hopelessly romantic, seemed to be also feeling more reluctant to leave than she'd admit to by going on about how much she enjoyed all the experiences of the last month, all the wonderful things she learned and all the wonderful students, and professors, she met. Red thanked her and again brought up the possibility – indeed, desirability – of more frequent meetings now that she was so close to embarking on writing her dissertation. It was all rather funny, and sweet until he proceeded to annoy her by telling her how to carefully board a rail carriage – essentially by taking hold of that handrail and avoiding stepping into that gap between the platform and the carriage step.
'Thank goodness Dr Say will be along to tell me how to step off of this contraption when it reaches Perth,' she said turning to him from the carriage step. 'Who knows where I'd have ended up if I couldn't figure it out all by myself?'
'Dundee,' replied Red, recovering brilliantly, I thought. 'You wouldn't want to end up in Dundee. Yes, from all accounts, avoid Dundee by all means.'
She smiled. 'I'll keep that in mind.'
'And I'll see you next week, Say,' said Red. 'No excuses.'
'Right,' I replied. It seems that late Friday night I had agreed to join Red's boating and camping expedition on Loch Lomond this coming weekend. I wouldn't have touched it with a barge pole if I'd been strictly sober. I've been on half-a-dozen of Red's expeditions. That I survived them is about all I can say. Even if not strictly sober I should've had enough wits to decline. It was, however, either adrift with Red or explaining to Lord Learmonte why I wasn't done yet, neither very inviting prospects.
We found our seats by the time the steam engine's (a blue liveried 4-6-0, didn't get the number) whistle blew and the train made its first tentative jerk and clang to begin its journey. Red found us and waved like an idiot.
As we pulled out of the station into the bright sunlight, I felt compelled to say, per Red's final instructions, 'He's not a complete idiot.'
'I'll have to take your word on that,' she replied, but not too unkindly.
As I expected, Molly and I got along quite comfortably. In fact, we talked the afternoon away, changing trains at Perth, to successfully avoid Dundee, and were still talking, deep into nano technology and thermoelectricity, when our train sighed “journey's end” and came to a clanging rest in Inverness. We collected our bikes and were walking them down the platform with a thin crowd of fellow passengers when I saw Nesta waiting beyond the gate.
I smiled when she saw me and held up Molly's gladstone which I was carrying for her in one hand while steering my bike with the other. She nodded. She looked tired, and rather grim.
'My friend, Nesta, Dr Mackenzie,' I said to Molly as we approached, carrying her carpet bag, deciding not to introduce a title to avoid questions.
'Hello Nesta,' I said as we cleared the gate and came to stand before her. 'This is a delightful surprise. I hadn't expected to see you here.'
'Hello Say,' she replied without much enthusiasm, or any, really. 'I was in town dropping off some of the guests for the last train south, and since I've a patient I want to look in on at the hospital, I decided I could afford to stay another fifteen minutes and save you a long ride back.'
'Can't tell you how much I appreciate that,' I replied. 'Allow me to introduce a new friend, Molly Reevers. She's a grad student, a remote reader in thermoelectric nano-tech, who's on her way home to the Dalchork subterranean community from her campus semester.'
'How do you do, Doctor,' said Molly tentatively extending her hand and with an apologetic smile, quickly added, 'Dr Say's friend, Professor Stuart, pressed him into service. Professor Stuart is under the impression that because I live in a cave I'm unable to manage getting on and off trains at the proper stations to find my way home. Dr Say was kind enough to accept this imposition.'
Nesta took that in with a faint smile. 'Oh, you mustn't mind my grim looks,' she said shaking hands with Molly. 'Say's in no trouble. I'm simply worn out from people, noise and constant activity. I've had to host a large weekend house party for the Highland Games, and even though they were all family or old friends, I seem to have neither the talent nor the desire to be a host. You two, must be tired after your journey. Shall we find a quiet place to have a bite to eat, or a cup of tea?'
'Thank you, but I spy my brother lingering in the shadows. He'll have brought a car down for the final leg of my journey, so I won't keep you,' she said, waving a rather shy and lanky youth forward.
She introduced him, had him take the gladstone bag from me and we exchanged goodbyes. Nesta and I walked them out into the courtyard and watched them load up the pre-Storm electric rover and with a final wave, saw them off.
'You do look tired, Nesta. Did everything go well?' I asked, turning to Nesta as we started off for her ULV estate wagon parked in the lot.
'Well enough. It was all family and the old clan, so I really didn't have much to do. It's just that the houses were full and I've not had a minute to myself until now,' she replied. 'You don't mind if I stop at the hospital for a moment, and then if you want to eat or something, we can do that.'
'Of course I don't mind. As for a meal or tea, if you want, I'd be glad to keep you company, but if you're offering it just for me, well, I'd just as soon get home. It's been a long weekend for me too.'
I may have dozed for a moment or two while I waited in the brand new E-Rover ULV estate wagon (a graduation present from her father, she explained) while she visited her patient, but we talked all the way to Maryfield, recounting our weekend activities. After passing through Maryfield we sat in silence for a time as she drove down the now rather dark, tree lined lane into the even darker, forest bound lane of the Lonon glen, lost in our thoughts.
'Sandy,' she said quietly.
'Yes?' I asked, turning to her, her face grey in the gloom.
'What I'm about to tell you, you must keep absolutely secret,' she continued, with a glance in my direction.
'Yes, of course,' I said, watching her closely.
'I'm only telling you because you'd likely find out anyway – I'm sure the staff will know soon enough. And well, you're likely to find yourself the
father of the mythical baby.'
Mythical or not, I knew I wasn't the father. 'This doesn't sound good,' I said. 'What's wrong?'
'Oh, nothing's wrong,' she said, without conviction. 'It's just that Father, Sir Lonsdale, and my sister rather ganged up on Renny and me this morning after breakfast, and well, long story, short. I agreed to a wedding date. To be precise, 23rd of this coming August. I just want it over, Sandy, so we're going to semi-elope. Have the ceremony at the registers office on Friday afternoon, and I suppose a reception at the house afterwards. My one condition to agreeing to the wedding is that it remains an absolute secret. Nearly everyone important in our lives will be up for the last two weeks of August anyway. We'll invite Renny's friends from university for the weekend, so no one needs to know our plans. I don't want a fuss; I simply want the deed done.'
'I don't know what to say,' I admitted. 'It shouldn't be like that, though I think Renny a lucky man, and I'm sure you and Renny will make a go of it. It's simply too bad it has to be under such pressure.'
'I always give in, Say. Always. It always seems simpler than standing firm. It's not that I don't want to marry Renny, it's just that I would've hoped to do it on our own terms, not those of our parents. But I'd have no peace until I set the date, and once I start at the clinic I'll not have time to deal with all the details of a big wedding. It is simpler this way, but only our fathers, Flora and Ham officially know of our plans. And now you, and you only because you'll no doubt hear rumours, and will be suspected of being the father of the baby that everyone will assume is precipitating this hasty wedding.'
'But if the servants and staff know...'
'They'll keep it to themselves. It will be their position if they don't.'
'Like the Gate.'
'Exactly. This is the way it has to be. Renny has his work and I'll have mine, and we'll be hundreds of miles apart, but we'll have fulfilled our promise, and I suspect being hundreds of miles apart will make the transition easier for both of us...'
'For how long?' I ventured. 'Renny mentioned a business plan which doesn't end with just a marriage.'
She glanced at me again, 'He did, did he? Well, that can be put off for a while.'
I rather doubted it, but decided not to pursue that. As far as I could see, this wedding got them out of the pot, but not out of the fire.
'I'm sure everything will work out since you not only love each other, but know each other so well. That'll make it so much easier.'
'That, Sandy, is why I decided to go ahead and marry Renny. We've looked after each other all our lives and we'll continue to look after each other after we're married. I know we'll make it work, someway, somehow. I'm certain I can trust Renny with my life and my happiness. I just hope I can make him happy as well.'
'I'm certain you can,' I said. I hoped, anyway, for both their sakes.
We'd reached the drive down to Hidden Garden, and pulled up near the door.
'Thanks for the lift, Nesta. And, of course, my lips are sealed,' I added as I climbed out of the car.
'We can talk more tomorrow,' she said as I lifted my bike and saddle bags out of the boot.
'Tomorrow then, good evening Nesta,' I said and mounting the bike, peddled slowly down the gloomy lane to the Groom's Cottage.
06
I deliberately excluded my feeling in the account of meeting Nesta at the station and the ride home. My thoughts would have buried the narration in a tangle of contradictory and unresolved lines of thinking. Even now, after setting down this account, I could turn this into a dear diary ramble, if I allowed myself free reign. Instead, I'll trust everything will be clearer in the morning.
Yet, for the record, finding Nesta waiting at the station did cause my heart to skip a beat or two, even with my concern seeing her looking so worn and weary. It's one thing to think rationally, it's another to apply rationality to one's feelings. Still, she's just a dear friend, that's my story and I'm sticking with it. My heart skipped anyway.
Her wedding announcement came out of the blue. And my heart skipped again, this time with a dart of despair. But I knew it shouldn't have. She's been engaged all the time I've known her – to a fellow I've come to like. My heart had no business skipping like that when she set the date. Hopefully the fact that she's set the date will remind my heart that we're just friends. I know Nesta well enough to know that no amount of badgering by her father could make her do something she really didn't want to do. She loves Renny and though marriage would be inconvenient for them at this point, it was something that would've happened sooner or later. All her father managed to do was to move it forward.
I made myself a scratch meal and spent the rest of the evening writing the account of the weekend to keep busy, adding a note to Penny that I'd send out the next time I had a chance to get to market or Maryfield. By eleven, I couldn't keep my eyes open so I wearily climbed the ladder to the attic and fell asleep, mercifully, in short order.
