Anne Douglas

by The Wardens Daughters

  ‘We’ll forgive you.’ Lynette smiled. ‘I’m Lynette – sister of Monnie you met this morning. We’re all hoping you’ve got something in that basket for our supper.’

  ‘What I have is hake.’ Torquil, removing the cloth cover from the basket, displayed several glistening white fish. ‘These are good – like haddock, if you do not know them.’

  ‘Oh, no, they’ve got heads on!’ Lynette cried. ‘Dad, what do we do?’

  ‘Bet they’ll be to clean as well, eh?’ asked Frank, grinning, as he took the fish, wrapped in paper from Torquil. ‘I’m afraid my girls are city girls, Mr MacLeod, not used to seeing fish straight from the sea.’

  ‘I’ll clean them for you,’ Torquil offered, his well-shaped mouth quivering in a smile he tried to hide. ‘Will not take me a minute.’

  ‘That’s all right, son, I did my share of cleaning fish for my mother when I was a lad, I can manage. How much do I owe you?’

  ‘Settle with me on Friday. I’ll be calling again then, if that’s all right.’ Putting on his cap, Torquil’s eyes went to Monnie and back to Frank.

  ‘That’ll be fine, Mr MacLeod.’

  ‘Please, call me Torquil.’

  ‘Unusual name, eh? At least, to me.’

  ‘It’s a MacLeod name. From Old Norse, I believe. Means kettle of Thor, the god of thunder.’

  ‘Wow, we’d better watch our step with you, then,’ Lynette said, mischief glinting in her eyes. ‘God of thunder, eh? Might smite us one.’

  ‘Do I look like smiting anyone?’ Torquil’s tone was light. ‘Anyway, my brother’s name is similar – Tormad. Mother called us after the sons of Leod, whose father was the King of the Isles.’

  ‘King of the Isles – wow again! Still, I think it’s nice that you have these fine old names, eh?’

  ‘Except Tormad calls himself Tony. Suits him better, he says.’ Torquil touched his cap and slightly inclined his head. ‘Good night to you. I will see you on Friday.’

  With one last look towards Monnie, he melted away into the dusk, his basket swinging on his arm, and Frank closed the door.

  ‘Come on, girls, let’s get started, then.’

  ‘Do you really know how to clean those fish?’ Lynette asked.

  ‘Of course I do. And cook ’em as well. All you need is some butter and grated cheese and a hot grill. Very tasty.’

  ‘You’re a man of hidden talents, Dad. First, porridge and bacon, now grilled fish. What next?’

  ‘Och, that’s my lot. Tomorrow, you girls can cook the chops we got from the butcher. Look, if I go and clean the fish, will you do the rest? I’ll have to be looking in on the hostellers pretty soon.’

  ‘And later on, can go you through what I might get asked at the interview?’ Monnie asked, taking potatoes and tomatoes from the vegetable rack. ‘I’m beginning to get nervous.’

  ‘Found your voice, though,’ Lynette whispered. ‘Thought you’d lost it when your Torquil was on the doorstep.’

  ‘My Torquil? He’s not my Torquil.’

  ‘He’s very handsome. I can see why you’re interested.’

  ‘Listen, all I’m interested in is getting through my interview on Thursday.’

  ‘OK, so maybe he’s interested in you. Certainly looked at you a lot. Still, like I said, you might have to watch your step. Seeing as he’s the god of thunder.’

  ‘Oh, Lynette, you’re impossible!’ In spite of herself, Monnie was laughing. ‘I’m going to find somebody to tease you about, but in the meantime, I’ll put some water on for these tatties. Think tomatoes would be nice as well?’

  ‘Sure, and I’ll grate some cheese. So, who are you going to find to tease me about, then? That old manager chap at the hotel?’

  ‘How do you know he’s old? He might be young and handsome.’

  ‘In my dreams!’ Lynette shook her head. ‘You know what, I probably won’t even get an interview, so it won’t matter what he’s like.’

  Monnie, finding a potato peeler, said nothing. She knew she had an interview, all right, and it was true she was keen to do well. But was it true to say it was all she was interested in? No, she had to admit, every time she thought of Friday she felt a sort of heady excitement which was quite new, and as much disturbing as pleasant. But that was the last thing she’d ever admit to Lynette.

  Twelve

  When Thursday came, however, the exciting thought of Friday had to go to the back of Monnie’s mind.

  This post of assistant warden she was trying for, it was important. There wouldn’t be too many jobs around up here in the Highlands – at least, not for girls like her, without specific qualifications. Lynette had her shorthand and typing, she would have better opportunities, even if she didn’t get the hotel post, whereas Monnie could only offer her experience in the bookshop. Still, she’d make the most of it, and the truth was, she’d really run the business for Mr Bryce, doing the accounts as well as everything else, and her dad had said that that would be worth stressing at her interview.

  They’d had a long session, she and Frank, the evening before the interview, going through all the duties of a warden, which would be hers too, at least to know about and be prepared to take over if need be. And heavens, what a load of duties there were! When her eyes went over the list, Monnie felt her brain reeling.

  Paying bills, working out budgets, booking in hostellers and telling them all they needed to know, preparing their accommodation and organizing catering and laundry arrangements, providing recreational facilities, dealing with enquiries and emergencies, providing tourist information and details of walks and climbs with advice on safety precautions, proper clothing, and so on.

  ‘Anything else?’ she’d cried. ‘Don’t tell me that’s all?’

  ‘Oh, yes, keeping discipline – suppose that goes without saying,’ Frank answered, pulling at his hair in the way he had. ‘And knowing first aid. That’s very important, Monnie. Be sure to tell ’em tomorrow that you once did a course.’

  ‘That was just from school, Dad!’

  ‘Never mind, everything counts.’ Frank had sat back, smiling. ‘But I think, quite honestly, it’ll all come down to personality. Don’t want to blow my own trumpet, but I think that’s why they appointed me.’

  ‘Personality?’ Monnie’s heart sank. ‘Lynette, you’d better go instead of me. I’m no great shakes as a personality, am I?’

  ‘Come on, you can put yourself across if you really try.’ Lynette nodded her head. ‘Just be definite, that’s the trick. Cut out all the “I thinks” and “not sures” and just say what you want to say with no messing about.’

  ‘That’ll be your technique if you get an interview at the hotel?’

  ‘You bet.’ Lynette sighed. ‘But you were right to say “if”. I’m sure they’ll want a Highland lassie.’

  Whether or not that was true remained to be seen, but just before Lynette left with Monnie, to keep her company on the bus to Kyle, she took a telephone call. A woman’s cool and rather haughty voice asked if Miss Forester would care to attend for interview, at the Talisman Hotel on the following Tuesday morning at eleven o’clock? Would she not! Oh, yes, Miss Forester would be there, and thank you, thank you very much.

  ‘Monnie, Dad! Guess what?’ Lynette had called out. ‘I’ve got an interview at the hotel! Next Tuesday!’

  They were as delighted as she, and whirled her around the office where Frank had his telephone, until she breathlessly pulled free and asked, now wasn’t this an omen?

  ‘An omen?’ Monnie repeated.

  ‘A good omen. For you. You’ll get this job now, Monnie. I know it.’

  ‘Oh, what a piece of nonsense! You can’t know it, Lynette.’

  ‘I do, then.’ Lynette’s eyes were dancing. ‘Just as I know I’m going to be wearing my red suit for my interview, even if it’s blowing a blizzard.’

  ‘And even if there’s only the old manager there?’ Monnie asked wickedly.

  ‘Why, didn’t you say he might be young and handso
me? Whatever he’s like, I want the job and I’m going to get it. And so will you get yours, Monnie. Just wait and see.’

  ‘She won’t even make the interview if you two don’t catch that bus,’ Frank told them, cheerfully, and away they ran, down the drive and out of the grounds of Conair House, just in time to flag down Tim MacLean’s bus to Kyle of Lochalsh as it wheezed towards the stop.

  Afterwards, Monnie was to say that Lynette must have had second sight or something, for after her first interview with the people from the Hostel Association, she was called back for what she thought would be a follow up, only to be offered the job.

  At first, she couldn’t believe it, and stared at the kindly man and woman who’d conducted the interview as though they must have made a mistake.

  ‘I-I thought you’d be writing to me,’ she stammered. ‘I mean, when you’d studied all the candidates.’

  ‘We have studied all the candidates,’ they told her. ‘And you were the most suitable.’

  ‘I was?’

  ‘Yes, that’s what we decided. You had a positive approach that we liked, and you’ve had experience in handling money and general business which will be useful. We did not take into account that there was a family relationship involved, but we believe you’ll be a great help to the warden, father or not.’

  After Monnie had recovered from her surprise and accepted the post, there’d been smiles and discussion of formalities, the promise of an official letter to come, and, finally, a shaking of hands and good wishes all round. Only then had she been able to leave the office and smile, in a rather embarrassed fashion, at the unsuccessful candidates still in the waiting room, and make her way to the café where she’d arranged to meet Lynette.

  ‘Well?’ Lynette asked at the door of the café as Monnie came bounding up, scarlet in the face and smiling. ‘Why does something tell me that you got the job? Could it be that Cheshire cat’s grin you’re wearing?’

  ‘It’s amazing, Lynette, but I did get it and I still don’t know why, but d’you know what they said?’

  ‘No, what?’

  ‘They said I had a positive approach. Me!’ Monnie flicked back her dark hair and shook her head. ‘I did just what you told me to – said everything as clearly as possible, with no ums and ahs, and all that – and it worked!’

  ‘That and all the rest you could offer. You just made it plain you could do the job. Oh, well done, Monnie!’

  The sisters hugged each other, smiling, until Lynette led the way from the chill of the outside air to a table.

  ‘You see any other candidates?’ she asked.

  ‘Some. Apparently, quite a few were interviewed this morning, but there were several women with me this afternoon.’ Monnie sighed. ‘They’ll be feeling disappointed, eh? There’s so little going in the job line. I reckon I’ve been lucky.’

  ‘Not lucky,’ Lynette said firmly. ‘You were the best. Come on, let’s order tea and cakes before the bus goes. Dad’ll be dying to hear how you got on.’

  ‘Your turn next, Lynette. You were right about me, you’ll be right about yourself.’

  Lynette, selecting a pastry from the cake stand the waitress brought, dabbed sugar from her fingers. ‘Hope so. I want to earn some money and as quickly as possible. The last thing I want is to be a drain on Dad.’

  ‘My feelings, too. He’s so happy here, eh?’

  ‘Early days, though.’

  ‘But we can be happy, too, can’t we? I feel better about it, now that I know what it’s like.’

  ‘And now, of course, you’ve got your job.’

  ‘As I said, your turn next.’

  Lynette poured more tea and raised her cup. ‘And I’ll drink to that.’

  ‘Here’s to us,’ Monnie said happily and as the girls chinked teacups, they collapsed into laughter, before paying the bill and once again running for the bus.

  Thirteen

  Friday was a lovely day.

  There was Frank bustling around, like a dog with two tails, as he put it, because Monnie had been successful and would be working with him. There was Lynette, deciding what to wear with her red suit for her interview – the cream shirt, or the black? The black one was very striking and would go with her bag and shoes, but then might not hit the right note with the manager, he, of course, being an unknown quantity. So, why not just wear her plain white blouse and look smart, but demure?

  And then there was Monnie, booking in new arrivals, making it clear what they could and couldn’t do, handing out bus timetables and leaflets about the local area, while appearing every inch the assistant warden, though she wasn’t due to start work for a fortnight. All the time simmering inside, of course, with that strange excitement which no one knew about, but would be with her, she knew, until the evening. When the fisherman called.

  Early in the afternoon, Jeannie Duthie, the cleaning lady, arrived for another battle with all that needed doing at the hostel, and, oh, yes, Monnie could see what Lynette had meant about her. ‘Not the size of a sixpence, but fizzing with energy like a bottle of pop.’ Yes, that was Mrs Duthie, flying round the house with her mop and dusters, clicking her tongue over the way the young hostellers had left their dormitories, flinging open windows, pushing furniture around, and sweeping down the staircase like a minor hurricane. Until Monnie called up that there was a cup of tea ready in the warden’s kitchen.

  ‘Well I will not be saying no,’ Mrs Duthie remarked, washing her hands at the sink and drying them as though her life depended on it. ‘Tis nice to take a break, then.’

  Sitting at the table, her raw little hands grasping her cup, she was only partly at rest for her dark brown eyes were busy, moving from Lynette who was now pressing the skirt of her red suit, to Monnie, who was taking shortbread from a tin.

  ‘Sisters, eh?’ she said, after her scrutiny. ‘One fair, one dark, but still alike. And come up to the Highlands to be with your dad? Very nice, that is, but what are you young ladies going to be doing, then?’

  ‘I’ve just been made assistant warden,’ Monnie told her, offering the biscuits. ‘I’ll be helping my father.’

  ‘Is that right?’ Mrs Duthie bit hard on her shortbread. ‘That is a very fine thing to be doing, then.’ Her eyes moved back to Lynette. ‘And are you looking for a job too, my dear? There’s little enough round here.’

  Monnie, watching, knew that Lynette was not taking kindly to the interrogation, but she replied politely enough that she was trying for a post as receptionist at the Talisman Hotel.

  ‘At the Talisman? Working for Mr Allan? Oh, my!’

  ‘Oh, my?’ Lynette repeated. ‘Oh, what, then?’

  ‘Not my place to speak of the manager, my dear, seeing as I once used to do some work at the hotel.’ Mrs Duthie was shaking her frizzy dark head. ‘But if you get that job – well – you will have to see how it goes.’

  ‘Of course I’ll see how it goes!’ Lynette cried. ‘I wish you wouldn’t talk in riddles, Mrs Duthie.’

  ‘There will be no riddles if you get to work there, that’s for sure,’ Mrs Duthie declared, rising. ‘All will be plain before you’ve been there five minutes. Mr Allan – he’s not an easy man.’

  She crossed to the sink, rinsed out her cup and again washed and dried her hands with fierce energy. ‘Handsome, though,’ she said from the door, snatching up her dusters again. ‘Very handsome.’

  And with that she went out, leaving them to listen to her clattering back to the main house, and exchanging wide-eyed stares.

  ‘Well,’ Lynette said softly, ‘that was interesting. First, she says she’ll say nothing, then she says plenty.’

  ‘Oh, Lynette,’ Monnie murmured. ‘Do you think you should still apply?’

  ‘Whatever do you mean?’

  ‘Well, if the hotel manager is like Mrs Duthie said, would you want to be working with him?’

  ‘I’d want to be working with him more than ever!’ Lynette tossed her head, her blue eyes glittering. ‘It’d be a challenge, eh? See if h
e could be difficult with me!’

  ‘But why work in an unpleasant atmosphere? I should think you’d rather look for something else.’

  ‘I’ve said, it’d be a challenge, and I like challenges. Can’t wait for that interview now. Think I’ll wear my black blouse, after all. Cut a dash, eh?’

  Monnie, shaking her head, took her cup to the sink and glanced at the kitchen clock. Time was moving on. When would Torquil call? How soon? How late? Why was she so interested, anyway? He’d probably just hand in the fish and that would be that. Except he’d need to be paid.

  ‘Think I’d better check with Dad about the money for the fish,’ she said aloud, and Lynette, dabbing a crumb from her lip, grinned.

  ‘Oh, yes, do that. Better have the cash ready, if you’re going to answer the door.’

  ‘Why, I don’t know who’s going to answer the door,’ Monnie retorted. ‘Doesn’t matter, does it?’

  ‘Not to me,’ Lynette said smoothly.

  In the event, it was Mrs Duthie who answered the door. Torquil was early. A whole hour earlier than on Tuesday, and Mrs Duthie was only just leaving, tying a headscarf over her hair, when his knock came at the warden’s door. Monnie, who had been hovering in the kitchen, wishing Mrs Duthie would be as quick at departing as she was at everything else, ran quickly forward. But Mrs Duthie was ahead of her, flinging open the door and fixing Torquil with a cold stare from her dark brown eyes.

  ‘Oh, it’s you, Torquil MacLeod. Got yourself in here, have you? I thought you would.’

  ‘Good evening, Mrs Duthie,’ he replied politely, his look already going to Monnie. ‘I am not sure of your meaning, but I am here, yes, with my fish, for Mr Forester. Just as for Mr MacKay. Why not?’

  Mrs Duthie shrugged. ‘I’m away,’ she cried to Monnie. ‘See your dad next week.’

  And with that, she squeezed her little body past Torquil’s tall frame and hurried away, while he stood with his fish basket, smiling.

  ‘Hello there, Monnie,’ he said softly. ‘I see your father has taken on the little dragon.’