by Ali Carter
‘Because the water turns to ice and cracks the stone?’ said Minty.
‘Exactly.’
‘Suppose you have one of these an all?’ said Shane.
‘Yes,’ she snooted, although I think she was playing him for a fool.
Fergus marched on down the garden and Minty stuck right by his side.
Lianne turned to Shane. ‘It’s lucky my parents live in London, they’d probably have to turn their Jacuzzi off up here.’
‘Nah,’ he said, ‘a Jacuzzi’s hot.’
She giggled. ‘I just wanted to let you know they have one.’
We stepped across a paved area and onto a great big long lawn. There were neglected flower beds either side and as we made it to the end Fergus brought us to a halt. ‘This,’ he said as Haggis hovered over the edge of a vertical retaining brick wall, ‘is a ha-ha.’
‘Ha-ha?’ said Shane, peering into the ditch.
‘Yes,’ snapped Jane.
‘It was a common landscape feature in the eighteenth century,’ explained Fergus. ‘The point of it is to give the illusion from the house of an unbroken, continuous rolling view into the parkland with its lovely old oaks.’
‘But why do you need the ditch?’ said Felicity in an uncharacteristically perceptive state of mind.
‘If there were sheep or cows in the park, it would stop them from entering the garden.’
‘What an awfully clever design. I must have a better look from the terrace.’
‘It’s a shame you can’t see the river,’ said Rupert, looking towards the trees in the distance, ‘not that this isn’t a lovely view.’
‘When the house was first built you would have seen the river.’
‘But that wood’s ancient,’ said Giles.
‘Yes, Malcolm’s Wood, planted in 1762 to commemorate the birth of the 1st Earl’s first grandson, Malcolm Angus.’
‘But why there?’
‘To give a bit of privacy, shield the house from the drive.’
‘Trees shield every view,’ said Jane, looking to her left and right. We were enclosed by sinuous-edged woodlands. ‘But,’ she remembered herself, ‘I suppose to have the house encased in trees protects it from the weather?’
‘Exactly right. Although if you stand on the steps of the house you get a view of the Beinn Eighe hills in the distance.’
‘You’ve got a topping variety of trees here,’ said Giles.
‘That’s thanks to my ancestors’ good taste.’
‘What do you mean?’ said Shane.
‘The woods here have been carefully planned. They’re a range of specimen trees, both broadleaf and coniferous. Such a pleasure to look at, particularly in the autumn. Unlike our neighbouring estates,’ Fergus huffed. ‘Their blanketing Sitka spruce ruin the landscape.’
‘I quite agree,’ said Giles.
Fergus led us back across the lawns, admitting the flower beds needed some ‘TLC’.
‘Are you going to have a kitchen garden?’ said Minty.
‘Well, that bit of broken wall over there,’ he was pointing to his far left, ‘is all that remains of the early nineteenth-century one here. But Zoe and I have every intention of reinstating it.’
‘You’ve got a lot to do,’ said Lianne.
Fergus was amused. ‘We’re aiming high. Not to mention the tennis court we’d like to build in that large space off to the right-hand side of the house.’
Louis raised his eyebrows at me and I nodded – these Muchtons are going to have to rake in the cash.
‘I hope you all feel familiar with the setting now. I’ll be very interested to see your pictures later.’
‘You have such inspiring locations for us,’ said Felicity, all giddy.
‘I’m going to paint a picture of the house, for you,’ said Shane, ‘from the front garden, no, the back garden, no, the front…’
‘We just call it the garden,’ Fergus smiled. ‘I’ll see you all later. Haggis and I are going to stretch our legs, make sure the fishing huts are in order; the season’s about to pick up.’
‘Bye.’
‘Hey Louis,’ I called out. He was making his way round the side of the house. ‘Where are you going?’ I flapped my hand to get him back.
‘I’m getting my camera. I don’t want to paint.’
‘Okay. Fine, but you could have said.’
‘Sorry,’ he teased and off he went.
I started my rounds with Giles who was all the way down the far end of the garden looking out over the ha-ha.
‘Are you going to paint more trees?’
‘Yes, I thought I’d do a picture of this field with those ancient ones at the end.’
I helped him steady his canvas as he tightened the easel. ‘I hear from Minty you have friends in common?’
‘Yes,’ he beamed. ‘When I told Mummy who was here this week she knew all about the Froglan-Home-Mybridges.’
‘Has she met them?’
‘No but apparently they’re some sort of cousins with my godmother. Once we established that, we tied up connections left right and centre.’
‘How amusing.’
‘It’s funny, isn’t it. Like you bumping into your friend last night. Small world.’
I fell silent. So far today I’d managed to block Toby out of my mind. But now, thanks to Giles, I began to dread his turning up tonight. The only incy wincy consolation is he hasn’t been invited to dinner.
‘Susie, how long do we have?’
‘At least a couple of hours if the weather holds.’
I set off back towards the house.
‘All right, Shane? Nice spot here on the paving.’
‘Yes. All good, thanks, Miss.’
Minty was next, hovering by the fountain yet to put her easel up.
‘Have you decided what you’re going to paint?’
‘The fountain. But I don’t want to paint so I’m going to do a pen and ink wash drawing instead.’
‘What a nice idea. In sepia?’
‘Yes. I think the brown will work brilliantly with the stone.’
‘Would you like me to help you set up?’
‘No, I’ll be all right, thanks.’
‘You won’t mind if I disappear for a bit, will you?’
‘Where to?’
‘I have to take my car to the garage.’
‘What a bore for you. I hope it goes okay.’
‘Thanks. See you later.’
Rupert, Jane and Felicity were gathered in a little trio on the top step of the house; goodness knows what their plan was.
‘We’re all going to paint the Beinn Eighe hills,’ came a rush of enthusiasm from Felicity and Rupert.
‘Can you see them clearly enough?’
‘I think so, come up here and look for yourself.’
‘Just.’
Jane was leaning against the wall with a frown on her face.
‘Are you on board with this?’
‘Well,’ she said, ‘I was under the impression we’d be painting landscapes and, without putting too fine a point on it, the garden is not a landscape.’
‘You could join Giles down there and paint a picture of the field.’
‘I’m fine here,’ said Felicity. ‘I’m going to paint the sky.’
‘Jane?’ I wanted to make her happy again.
‘What?’
‘Why not head down the end of the garden? There’s a very nice view of some old oak trees.’
She looked at Felicity, who encouraged her to go. So, with Jane carrying her basket and me carrying her easel and canvas, we stomped across the lawns to join Giles.
‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘That is a pretty scene.’
‘And I bet you’ll do a good picture.’
‘I hope so as it’ll be my last.’
I felt winded. Was she giving up for good?
‘What about tomorrow,’ I said, ‘and Friday?’
‘I’m trying to change my flight. A week up here is such a long time and, just
between us, I’m ready to go home.’
‘Oh no, I’m sorry.’
‘Not your fault, Susie. I’ve enjoyed it enough to be glad I came.’
‘There are only two more days.’
‘I’ve made up my mind, so don’t try and persuade me otherwise.’ Her firm expression said it all: this woman was not for turning.
‘Haven’t you heard there’s more snow on the way?’ she said, and I realised since being here it hadn’t once crossed my mind to check the weather.
We’re in Scotland. Time’s only wasted looking up the forecast. Rain, sun, wind and (at this time of year) snow will all be on their way, interchangeable and wholly unpredictable. Not that natives take this attitude. Every Scottish household swears by a different weather app, and each time you visit they’ll have discovered another. Always assuming it’s better, rather than none of them being any good.
‘I assure you there’s more snow on the way,’ she said. ‘I should think you’ll all be leaving early.’
Jane had one thing right: there’s no way we’d ever be leaving late. For, as a visitor to a Scottish seat, lingering isn’t an option. Just look at the efficiency with which the Muchtons addressed my flat tyre. If bad weather looms, I have no doubt they, like others of their sort, will have an array of strings to pull. You see, Scottish gentry are as good at filling their houses as they are at emptying them. Come Friday night, Auchen Laggan Tosh will have waved us goodbye. There’s no such thing round here as outstaying your welcome. Invitations in advance give the dates, and most couples, however much they look forward to their friends arriving, always look forward to their departing more. You’ll know this if you’ve experienced a north-ofthe-border goodbye. The host family line up on the lawn in front of their house and frantically wave handkerchiefs as you sail down the drive. Then the moment before you lose them in your rear-view mirror, there’s a mad performance as with outstretched arms they swoop around each other loop-the-looping, almost as if in celebration of your departure. There’s nothing Scots enjoy more than having their ‘hoose to themselves’.
I watched Jane wipe a rag across her palette, making doubly sure it was as it looked – clean.
‘Are you happy painting here this afternoon?’
‘Oh yes. I can manage one more stint, Susie. You can leave me now. Thank you.’
‘Great.’
I turned and saw Louis, some distance away, pointing his camera straight at me. I rushed towards him. ‘Oi,’ I pushed my hand against his lens.
‘We’ve got to have a picture of the tutor for Zoe.’
‘Very funny, but there’s no way to tell I’m a tutor.’
‘You’re Susie Mahl, everyone knows the great artist Susie Mahl.’
‘I wish,’ I said with a smile. ‘Do you mind being in charge for a bit? I have to take my car to the garage. I won’t be long.’
‘Très bien.’ Louis blew me a kiss and off I went, breaking into a slow jog round the side of the house.
Bzzzz, my mobile vibrated. Four bars of reception just beyond the end of the Muchtons’ drive. What a surprise. I was not expecting that.
Desperate to know who had been in touch – I’m more a letter-writer than a telephone-chatterer – I pulled over into a passing place.
1 new message Toby Cropper.
I slid my thumb across the screen and deleted it. Why would I want to read a message from Toby? He’d done enough meddling with my mood. I could not stand any more.
But, now I have reception, I think I’ll give Dad a call. I know Mum will be out playing bridge and I want to ask him about ravens, so here goes.
Bring bring. Bring bring. Bring bring. Bring bring. Bring bring. Bring bring. It cut out.
I called back. Bring bring.
‘Hello?’
‘Dad.’
‘Susie, was it you a moment ago?’
‘Yes, I had to give you time to get to the phone.’
He chuckled.
‘Dad, I don’t have long…’
‘Everything okay?’
‘Yes.’
‘Your mother will want to know.’
‘All’s good but let’s keep this between us. I can fill her in at Easter. I want to know about Alec Ronaldsay.’
‘The Alec Ronaldsay? Don’t tell me you’ve met him? I wish I was with you right now.’
Dad loves anything to do with birds. Ronaldsay’s a hero of his.
‘I haven’t met him but I need to know if he lives near here.’
‘I’m not entirely sure where you are, dear.’
‘Auchen Laggan Tosh.’
‘Well, if Blah-di-Blah Tosh is anywhere near the river Trickle then yes, he certainly does.’
‘Dad, I knew you’d know.’
‘That all, love?’
‘What can you tell me about ravens swarming?’
‘How much time do you have?’
‘Not much.’
‘In that case let’s save it for when we see you. I can’t possibly cut my explanation short.’
‘Okay, Dad.’
Learning about ravens isn’t a key priority right now.
‘See you Saturday, Susie. Bye.’
I rang off and got going. Mike’s Motors was, as Mhàiri had told me, fifteen minutes from the end of the back drive. It was all alone, set back from the road. No houses and no sign of a village nearby. The makeshift reception was bolted onto the end of the garage and the bell on the entrance door tinged as I stepped inside.
‘Afternoon,’ said a sturdy little man. ‘Nice of yous to come.’ He wiped his brow with a very dirty sleeve and, leaving a great smudge of grease behind, he stuck out his hand. ‘Mike.’
‘Hello,’ I said, not knowing what to do other than grasp hold of his grubby mitt.
‘I’ve got the van round the back, all ready to go. New brake pads and all. It won’t let yous down. Only twelve thousand miles on the clock. Yous must return it here, though.’
‘I think there’s a misunderstanding. I’ve come to see if you can fit a new tyre on my car.’
‘Deerie deerie me. Thought yous were the woman hiring the Ford Transit. Said she’d be in to collect it this afternoon. Was certain I’d miss her so said I’d leave the keys round the back but then yous arrived. Not often I get a lady in here.’ Mike slapped his own hand. ‘Silly me ey.’
What a trustworthy place Scotland is; to leave keys and a hire van without feeling the need to meet the hirer is…staggering.
‘Rightie ho then, what was it you’re after?’
‘A new tyre on my car if you can.’
We went out the front. Mike repeated our conversation to himself under his breath as he bent down to take a look at my tyre.
‘Should nee be a problem. Got just the right yun round the back. Mind and drive round that wee corner there and I’ll fit it the noo.’
Behind the garage was a large concreted yard and as I navigated bits of rubber, plastic-bottle tops and old pieces of gutter, Mike guided me between a silver van and three shabby cars parked nose to tail.
‘Right yous are then,’ he said, giving me an unnecessary though thoughtful hand out of the driver’s seat.
‘It should nee take me long. Yous in a hurry?’
‘Not really.’
‘Is that a yes or a no?’ He winked at me. ‘Where are yous headed?’
‘I’m tutoring an art course at Auchen Laggan Tosh.’
‘Wee the Muchtons?’
‘Yes.’
‘Aye, I heard they were doing all sorts up there. Some gud, some bad.’
‘Really?’
‘They’re all at it. Raking in the money no matter whit.’
‘Such as?’
‘Not nice for the community. Divides people, yous ken.’
This was very much a one-way conversation…
‘I’m not saying I condone whit he did.’
‘Who did?’
‘No, no, it was definitely bad whit he did.’
‘Isn’t it terrible when pe
ople fall out?’
‘Oh aye. It’s the worst. Yous have to keep the community on side.’
Finally, I had a rapport.
‘It’s selfish if not.’
‘Shell fish? No, no, it’s birds not fish.’
Mike plonked my spare tyre in the boot.
‘So yous was saying it’s art yous are doing?’
‘Yes, it’s a week of painting and drawing.’
‘Oh aye, the lad Ewen’s an artist I seem to remember.’
‘Yes, he is.’
‘To be sure with yous I can never work out which is Ewen and which is Fergus. They look affuy alike that pair.’
Mike dipped into the garage and reappeared rolling a shiny new tyre.
‘This yun okay for yous?’ he asked, nodding at me.
‘It looks great.’
‘I’ve only ever been to the big hoose once. Not in it, mind you. It’s a stonking great thing, ain’t it?’
‘Yes, it’s a lovely place.’
‘Yous friends of theirs?’
‘No, I’m just the tutor for the week.’
‘Thank my lucky socks. I should nee have loosened my tongue. Yous a good girl, you won’t tell them whit I said.’
I smiled but he wasn’t watching, too busy tightening the wheel bolts to the tyre.
‘That’s a lovely job yous have, yous must be happy like me. Life’s too short to do something you dinee want to.’
‘I agree.’
‘No, this ain’t free.’
‘No, no, I was saying I agree.’
‘Acht youse English. There you go, lassie.’ Mike lowered my car off the jack. ‘All done fer yous.’
‘Thank you very much.’
‘On yous go and take it back round the front. I’ll meet yous at reception.’
If I was going to get a puncture anywhere, here was the place to get it. A new tyre in Scotland was half the price of down south, and with a grateful ‘Thank yous’ from Mike for my payment I was back at Auchen Laggan Tosh in time to catch the last hour of class.
‘Hi Minty, where’s Louis?’
‘I don’t know, he was taking photographs earlier but he’s actually been gone a while.’
Drat, I’d left him in charge. I bet he’s gone to see Ewen. Say goodbye before he leaves.
‘Oh well.’ I walked up to her easel. ‘Your picture’s really lovely.’
‘Do you like it?’ She stood back.
