by Trisha Telep
“I’ll go home. Who will you go home to?”
“To my work. To remembering the beautiful American woman with hair that gleamed like the autumn fields at sunset, and amber eyes, and the patience of a saint. A very provocative, lusty saint in silk stockings.”
“How did you know they’re silk?”
“I’m a man who knows quality, Kat. You’re quality.”
They slumbered for an hour and then woke up touching each other. This time she was the one who reached over to the night table and opened the drawer. It was filled with dozens of condom packets.
Calder saw her expression and said, “My friend’s idea of a joke for the guest room.”
“Funny friend,” she said, taking a packet and handing it to Calder. She climbed atop him and said, “My turn to be in charge.” She moved against him slowly at first, then hurrying as he held her hips and guided her up and down. The pleasure in her built again, and she was crying out as sensation flooded through her.
When Kat collapsed atop him, she laughed and said, “Next time, I’ll do it at a glacier’s pace, I’ll kiss and lick and nip and suck you until you’re begging me, please, please, please, but this time was still good.”
“It was bloody brilliant.” His breathing became slow and even, and he murmured, “Sorry, I was up very early. Tomorrow we’ll have all day and all night. Tomorrow you’ll make me beg. Sweet dreams, wild Kat.”
In a few minutes, he was asleep. Kat got up and went to the bathroom to wash up. She put toothpaste on her finger to brush her teeth. Seeing herself naked, with her crazy tumbled hair, her lips red from kissing, and pale violet love bites, her bare full breasts, Kat had never felt more beautiful or womanly.
She went to the kitchen and got a glass of water. She drank it as she walked back to the bedroom. A door off the entryway was ajar and she pushed it open out of curiosity. It was a small office with spare Scandinavian furniture. She flicked on the light and saw a desktop with a large monitor, neat files, and a silver cup filled with pens.
She looked at the framed photo beside the monitor and saw Calder and the blonde woman, his arm over her shoulder, smiling to the camera. Calder was heartbreakingly handsome in his evening jacket and kilt, and the woman was radiantly beautiful in an ivory wedding dress.
Calder was Emma’s man in the kilt.
Suddenly responsible Kathy returned. What had she just done, and whom had she done it with?
She was quiet as she gathered her clothes from the bedroom. She took one last look at gorgeous, lying, cheating Calder. Then she blew out the candles, quickly dressed in the hallway, picked up her purse, and left the flat.
It was late, but she remembered the direction of the main street and walked there. A few people chatted in groups on the street, and Kathy stood shivering until a taxi approached.
When she returned to her hotel, she thought the night clerk was leering at her. She went to her room and showered under the hottest water she could endure. She got in bed, pulled the blankets up to her neck, and began crying.
It was both the best and the worst birthday she’d ever had and she wished she’d never left home.
When the grey light of morning came, Kathy opened her eyes and remembered where she was and what had happened. Her thighs ached from the night before and her head was heavy from guilt and alcohol. She listened to the rain outside and the city noises: delivery trucks, raised voices, horns, construction sounds from a renovation nearby. She didn’t want to go downstairs to the usual complimentary English breakfast so she drank tea while staring out the window.
Kathy alone was responsible for going with a strange man to his “friend’s” place. She wondered if Calder was awake yet, or if he wondered where she’d gone.
Kathy dressed in jeans, one of her knitted sweaters, and tennis shoes, and went downstairs to the business centre. She checked her email and saw that Emma had, as promised, sent an invitation to stay at a “magnificent castle”: “I’ve made all the arrangements with the housekeeper, Jemma. The laird, Humphrey MacNeil, is some kind of workaholic, obsessed with saving his village from becoming more lost than Atlantis. Supposedly, there are sheep, so at least you can talk about wool if you can comprehend his brogue. Have you found your man in a kilt yet? Did you buy a blue coat?”
Emma said that Kathy could show up anytime in the next week and suggested she take an afternoon train that went north before proceeding on to the small atoll in Orkney.
Kathy remembered the painting she’d loved and wanted to be in that landscape right now. She sent back a note to Emma saying, “Thank you! Can’t wait to get home!”
Packing took only a few minutes, and she was glad the manager wasn’t at the front desk when she checked out. She left the stained blue coat there. Maybe someone could salvage the fabric.
Before walking outside, she put on a long scarf and tucked all her hair into a brown hat, because she didn’t want to be recognized in case … But he wouldn’t be looking for her. When she saw her reflection in a mirror, she looked like her old ordinary self.
Before she went to the train station, she stopped at a small knitting shop and bought fine merino yarn and needles. Her mother had always said that idle hands were the devil’s plaything, and her hands had never been idler than when she lay still while Calder stroked and kissed her.
When the train left, Kathy began making a scarf for Humphrey. She hoped he wouldn’t be like young Calder, disdaining handmade things, things made with care.
Her yarn was wrapped in an orderly sphere, but her thoughts were a tangle of regrets, anger, and the memories of Calder’s touch, his taste, that smile, the scent of him, the sound of his voice and his laughter. The way he gazed at her and murmured, “Kat”.
Although it was raining and cold when she finally arrived in St Margaret’s Hope, her spirits lifted as she looked with wonder at the peaceful cove and the brick buildings of the old town.
The housekeeper’s husband met Kathy at the ferry landing. Mike was a taciturn raw-boned and middle-aged man, but gave her a thermos of hot tea and a thick wool blanket once she was in his motorboat.
He had ignored her initial pleasantries about the weather and the scenery, and after several minutes of silence, Kathy said, “My friend, Emma MacNeil, says you have sheep.”
He barked out a laugh and when he spoke she worked to interpret what he was saying, the gist being, “Aye, sheep and cows are all we have, though Humphrey – that’s Mr MacNeil – is chuffed with some ‘brilliant’ new scheme for a business. He’s got us clearing rooms as if anyone would want to come and stay. No use telling him, because he’s so contermashious.”
“It’s a castle, right? Everyone wants to stay in castles.”
Mike turned his grey eyes on her and said, “It isn’t Balfour, lass, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Oh, no, I didn’t expect Balfour.” She didn’t.
He docked the boat at a small weathered pier. Gulls cawed overhead and the cold wind whipped at Kathy’s clothes, but she didn’t mind because she was staring at the green island. Mike handed her up, and she could see the tiny village ahead; buildings made of pale stone lined a street. Beyond were fields and hills with outcroppings of stone.
The briny air was invigorating and Kathy felt an unexpected thrill. “It’s so beautiful.”
“Aye, Miss, it may be a rock, but it’s a gem.”
He carried her bags to a car parked nearby, rusty from the salty air. “I’ll take you up to the castle and then you can meet the missus.”
He put her bags in the back of the car and then drove over a hill and on a gently curving road leading to a cliff. He parked on a gravel circle and said, “It’s here.”
Kathy didn’t see any buildings and had a sudden fear that Mike was going to push her over the edge in some barbaric ancient folk sacrifice. She walked very cautiously after him on the path that led to the precipice. She could see the deep blue-green water below, crashing into white foam against the layered sandstone face
of the cliff.
“There’s Old Humphrey’s Castle,” Mike said as he pointed to a tall column of rock that rose perilously from the water’s surface.
“Where?”
“That sea stack, that’s Old Humphrey. It’s one of the best around. Let’s get you to the house, so ye can get settled. How long is it you’re staying?”
“Two days,” she said as they went to the car. Then she would return to London.
Mike said, “You can see the whole place in ten minutes. Will you want to have a look about the town? Not that there’s much to see but the women knitting, especially since most of us got made redundant when the management company consolidated in Glasgow.”
“I’d love to see women knitting, Mike.”
She got back in the car and said, “I feel rather foolish. I thought I was going to stay in a castle.”
He grinned. “Local joke, miss. Your Emma said you were a good sport.”
Kathy burst out laughing. “Emma! She’s been the cause of all my troubles. She says she has the gift of second sight.”
“Some do, you know. What else has she seen?”
“Mostly lotto numbers that are wrong. She swore that I would meet a man in a kilt, but all I met was a wicked trow.”
Mike grinned. “We’ve got both of those here.”
He steered the car around a bend and she looked down the hill to a grand building built in a cove. It was three storeys high of pale stone, with a slate roof and many chimneys. It faced a serene inlet and was surrounded by an emerald lawn.
Kathy felt a strange sense of déjà vu, as if she knew this place. Maybe Emma had shown her a photo, or she’d seen it in a guidebook, because it was so very familiar. On a hillock beyond she spotted sheep grazing against the grey sky, just like the painting.
Mike drove down to the house and parked around the side. An old yellow lab ambled up to greet him, and then a middle-aged woman in corduroys and a sweater came out. “Welcome, welcome!”
“Hi, I’m Kathy.”
“I’m Janna. Hope your trip was good.”
“It was, and Mike showed me the castle.”
She looked at her husband and they both laughed. Janna said, “There was a castle here once, but we like this place fine. Come in out of the cold.”
Mike excused himself, saying, “The boss gave me a list of tasks. He’s coming in this evening.”
Janna took Kathy into the house through the front entrance, which led to a marbled entry and huge room with pale grey walls, a mix of modern and antique furniture and paintings that made it seem both timeless and contemporary. “The Great Hall,” she said. “Mr MacNeil keeps saying that he’s to sell off all the valuables, so enjoy them now.”
“Why would he do that? It’s perfect.”
“It is, but he thinks he can save all of us from going hungry. I keep telling him to look out for himself, and the rest of us will manage. It’s no wonder he doesn’t have time for a wife.”
Janna led Kathy up a wide staircase with carved wood banisters. “Your friend said you have a knitting business.”
“Yes, a small one. Trying to meet my bills is always a challenge. Your sweater is lovely. Is the pale green a natural dye?”
“You’ve an eye. The wool is from our own herd and I made the dye from kelp, which is also what the sheep eat.”
“I’ve never heard of that!”
“Even our local sheep are odd,” Janna said, leading Kathy down a panelled hallway with a faded carpet. “Them that eat the kelp are an old breed, and the laird’s parents raised other old breeds. As if anyone wants to see a sheep museum.” Janna opened a door at the end of the hallway. “The furnace here works, so you’ll be warm, and you’ve got the afternoon sun.”
The large comfortably furnished room had pretty chintz wallpaper and a fireplace. “Thank you. It’s very nice.”
“If you come to the morning room, we’ll have tea and then I’ll give you a tour of the house and grounds.”
Kathy put away her things and then looked out the tall narrow window. The rain had let up and golden rays of sun beamed out between the slate clouds. This place might not be a castle, but it was fantastic.
She washed up in the adjoining bathroom and thought that she’d enjoy a leisurely soak tonight in the deep tub. The image of Calder’s long body in the bath came to her unbidden and she felt a throb of something between lust and loss. Her mind kept returning to him, not just what they’d done, but what she wanted to do with him, to him.
However, another woman, the blonde woman, had exclusive rights to those pleasures.
Kathy washed her hands, smoothed on tinted lip-gloss and followed Janna’s directions to the morning room. Tea was set up, but Janna was nowhere around. Kathy sat and waited. After a few minutes, she poured a cup and drank it. Then she went to find Janna.
She searched the ground level and discovered a dining room, a wing of empty bedrooms, and a snooker room. There was a long library with french windows looking out to a stone terrace … but no kitchen. Then she found a staircase leading down and went to the basement. She followed the scent of cooking food to an expansive, out of date kitchen.
Janna was talking on an old wall phone and cursing a blue streak. Her source of aggravation was the sink. When she saw Kathy, she tempered her voice and continued her conversation: “I would appreciate it if you could fix it as soon as possible. Thank you.” She hung up and looked at Kathy. “Everything goes wrong in an old house.”
“Maybe I can help. I know a little about plumbing.”
“You’re a guest.”
“Guests can help. I like to feel useful.”
“The main sink won’t drain and it’s a bother using the others.” Janna waved towards a deep sink that was filled with murky water.
“Do the other sinks drain? Because if it’s only the one, then it’s a local clog. Do you have any tools and a bucket?”
Ten minutes later, Kathy was under the sink removing the U-trap. When she finished and turned on the water, it swirled quickly down the drain. “There,” she said, smiling at Janna. “If you pour a kettle of boiling water down the drain monthly, it helps prevent buildups.”
“You’re a very practical young lady. I hate to have you work on your vacation.”
“My parents always taught me to take care of things myself so I wouldn’t have to pay others to do them for me.” Kathy washed her hands and dried them on a kitchen towel. “Being on vacation is exhausting. I like doing things, being useful.”
Janna laughed. “You may regret saying that.” She made a new pot of tea and told Kathy about the local sights, and said, “You’ll be bored by this evening. This is why we can’t get tourists, although Humphrey’s concocted a grand plan to lure them here. Bless that man, but …”
“But?”
“He should have left when he was young and he could have had a real life.” Janna smiled a little sadly. “But we love him for staying.” She glanced out the window and said, “There’s a break in the rain. Would you like to borrow wellies for a tramp?”
Kathy bundled up and walked across to the inlet, then up a hill to enjoy the views. She snapped photos of sheep, trees, storm clouds, rocks. When she returned to the house, Janna had prepared lunch: a salad made from homegrown greens and locally made feta with warm bread. It was eerily like the setting Kathy had imagined for her fantasy business.
Janna sighed and said, “Well, I’ve got to sort out the furniture in storage, because Humphrey wants the bedrooms set up for guests.
“Can I help?”
Janna didn’t take much convincing and Kathy spent the rest of the afternoon helping pull old furniture out of piles in the basement storage rooms. She fixed wobbly legs and polished the pieces with Janna’s homemade beeswax paste.
In the evening, Janna went home, leaving Kathy alone with the old dog and her knitting. The next day Kathy went into the tiny village. Everyone was friendly and asked if she’d met Humphrey MacNeil.
“Not yet. He�
�s very kind to let me stay.”
The owner of the cheese shop winked and said, “He must have heard how pretty you are. He’s not married, you know, and quite a catch – as smart and kind as he is handsome.”
Kathy didn’t believe for a second that anyone named Humphrey was handsome. He must be very peculiar if everyone was so desperate to find a wife for him. “I’m sure some girl will snatch him up.”
“He’d have no problem if he was willing to leave us. He’s too loyal, Humphrey is.”
Kathy smiled, but she wasn’t interested in some ancient workaholic. She returned to the house and helped Janna sweep, polish and wash linens for the guest rooms. They chattered away and shared tips and recipes.
Jenna said, “You sound very close to your parents. Do you live near them?”
“I used to, but my mother passed away several years ago and my father remarried and moved, because he kept remembering how difficult it was for her at the end. Now it’s just me.”
“You’re always welcome here, Kathy.”
“Thank you. I really like it here.” Kathy paused and then said, “Janna, I was going to return to London tomorrow. Would it be all right if I stayed until the end of the week?”
Janna grinned. “Of course, you can! You’re a dream, Kathy, and if Humphrey could see what a hard working lass you are … well, he complains about those who are only interested in being coddled and spoilt.”
Kathy didn’t say anything, but she thought that Humphrey was probably more interested in a servant than a wife.
Her last full day at the island came too quickly and Kathy already felt a pang of nostalgia for this lovely place and the friendly locals.
Before she took her last visit to the sights, Kathy wanted to finish putting up drapes in one of the bedrooms. She was standing on a ladder, facing the window with its views of verdant hills, while she tried to balance a long rod with heavy brocade drapes. At the sound of footsteps behind her, she said, “I’ve almost got this.”
As a rule, Kathy was careful. But she was caught up in her sadness about leaving this place and she stretched farther than she should. When the ladder rocked, she shifted her weight … but the rod was too long and heavy.
