Dreams to Die For (15 page)

“The snow line starts at about 2000 feet,” Gordon shouted above the noise of the outboard. Cindy nodded but continued to stare all about her. To the east, a mile away, was the dam. In itself a massive structure, man-made and faced with large concrete slabs, it fitted in well with the scale of its surroundings but not their beauty. Sticking out from the centre of the dam was a thirty metre straight, steel walkway closely railed at either edge for safety which led to the dam's plain concrete valve tower that was perched on four, ugly thick steel legs that disappeared into the depths of the loch. The whole thing resembled an oversize observation post protecting a concentration camp wall. Despite all its blandness, Cindy's eyes kept returning to the dam.

“I'm looking forward to learning more about the dam, Gordon. Remember you promised. It's just colossal, isn't it? It looks so much larger now we are on the water than when you drive up to it, and it looked huge then.”

As Sandy turned the boat slightly to port, Cindy saw Mealag for the first time. Her eyes lit up. She could see how the deep bay had obscured the lodge from the road opposite, but she could now make out the full complex. Mealag was to her left, about fifty yards from the shore, and through the trees behind the lodge, were two separate buildings. One was Sandy and Margaret's bungalow and she remembered that the larger one was the Training Centre, Ruraich.

On the other side of the substantial lawn and garden area, well back from the loch, in two staggered rows and with plenty of space between each, were the nine separate lodge type chalets. She wondered which three were for the favoured or special visitors. Almost instantly, she felt a sense of unease. Had Gordon planned, albeit no doubt only for the start of her stay, that she should be given one these lodges?
Surely not,
she thought, and quickly reassured herself that any awkwardness or embarrassment she was feeling at the prospect of even being asked the question of which chalet she would prefer was unlikely to arise, as Mealag itself had a number of separate bedrooms if either she or Gordon wished to be coy. She was so absorbed in her thoughts and subsequent sense of relief at the conclusion she reached, that she let out a quite audible giggle. The harder she tried to quell her laugh, the more she chuckled.

“Are you going to share the joke?” asked Gordon, which made her laugh all the more.

“No, definitely not. At least not yet,” she teased.

“Probably saw the reflection of that daft hat you're wearing Gordon.” Sandy responded just as he drew the boat alongside a much larger landing stage than the one on the opposite shore. Made from heavy wooden railway sleepers and a thick reinforced steel frame that protruded thirty metres into the loch, this had been designed to provide a safe mooring for several boats. A shingle pathway traversed the lawn and directly into the complex where it divided into separate walkways to the chalets, lodge and beyond to the MacLeans bungalow and Ruraich.

The main house, Mealag Lodge, was far larger than Cindy had imagined and its name rather belied its impressive appearance. This was no ordinary A-frame type lodge of the type erected for the guests, but an extremely grand traditional stone house. Although of a unique design based upon more traditional shooting lodges, it had gables on three of its sides. The front of the house faced down and across the loch. The lounge had double floor-to-ceiling triple glazed patio doors and the room immediately above had another, slightly smaller, set of patio doors that led to a balustrade balcony which afforded a spectacular view. Cindy realised that this must be the main bedroom and her heart started to beat more rapidly. A thin stream of bluish smoke rose gently from one of the three chimneys and curled into the air. The closer she studied the house the more rooms she counted, and she wondered just why Gordon would need such a large home when he lived alone. As they passed a row of finely clipped miniature hedging to their left, Gordon said to Cindy that they would use the ‘Tradesman's Entrance', as he jokingly put it.

This was located at the side of the house and the plain entrance door was in marked contrast to the large main front oak doors. She followed as Gordon entered a lobby area, slab-floored and brightly lit. Various jackets hung from pegs on the near wall and an assortment of muddy and well-worn boots and wellingtons were kept untidily on the floor, though a few remained in the purpose-built boot racks. A whole shelf had been devoted to a wide range of moccasin type house shoes of various colours and a few pairs of conventional slippers. A large double stainless steel sink was immediately below the window and an assortment of clean towels hung close by. In the corner opposite to the entrance door was a small bathroom where one could shower and change without firstly having to go through the main house. Various cupboards and shelves filled most of the remaining spaces on the sparkling tiled walls, apart from two large steel fireproof gun cabinets that were fixed close to an inner door that led through to the kitchen.

“This is the boot room, or lobby as we call it, so get your boots and jacket off and put them wherever you want, and take a pair of the moccasins – there's bound to be a size that fits!” said Gordon. “Then we'll go through and meet Margaret.”

Margaret was in the kitchen and warmly welcomed Cindy giving her a hug and small kiss on the side of her cheek. “You must be frozen, my dear, the chill can get right through you on that water. Sit down and I'll get us all a hot drink and some soup.”

As with most things that Margaret MacLean undertook, contained in her offer of immediate refreshment was a great deal of understatement. Piping hot drinks were served at the large, centrally placed, pine table and Cindy was offered the choice of two soups plus bread from any of the three types of crusty loaves. This was followed by a simple serving of various hams, cheeses and homemade chutneys.

Cindy looked around her and was now able to appreciate the size of the kitchen and the quality of the fitments. It had been fitted out with a range of appliances that might be seen in exclusive luxury hotels, and under Margaret MacLean's stewardship was clearly capable of providing excellent cuisine. Near to the lobby door, a large cooking range stood against one wall with a steaming kettle simmering gently on one of the hot plates. There seemed to be several ovens and cooking hobs sited in various places, and at differing heights, and numerous electronic gadgets were sitting atop the granite worktops. Behind two half-height swing-doors was a recessed area that contained the fridges, freezers and drinks chiller.

After twenty minutes, Cindy felt completely reinvigorated and was keen to see the rest of the house but Gordon suggested he show her around after she had unpacked and changed. She was unaware that Sandy had removed her cases until she asked for them and Gordon started to lead her out of the kitchen. As he escorted her, Gordon did mention the location of some of the important rooms though she simply could not assimilate them all. She did, though, make a mental note every time he said there was a bathroom. Cindy had learnt from experience in other people's homes how embarrassing it can be gently trying to open a door to see what's behind it, when looking urgently for a toilet. She followed Gordon upstairs and saw that her cases had been diplomatically put down on the corridor carpet and not outside any particular room. Gordon picked up the cases, one in each hand, and opened a door. He started to speak but a little hesitantly at first.

“If you're agreeable, Cindy, this is the main bedroom of the house but, er… “, his speech faltered and Cindy smiled widely – her ruddy cheeks, fresh from the warmth of the house and the bracing journey, glowing from the light streaming in the window.

“If you're going to say it's already occupied that will suit me fine,” she paused, “as long as the occupant isn't likely to object to my cold feet.”

She jested with him. Every woman he had ever known seemed to suffer from that problem, but he did not tell Cindy that. Instead he laughed, hugged her gently and gave her a long, soft kiss before bringing the cases into the bedroom and leaving Cindy to arrange her clothes in the wardrobes and drawers he suggested.

She went over to the window. The house faced northwest and the setting winter sun cast a pale yellow glow on Loch Quoich and the mountains on the far shore. The bedroom was almost as stunning as the view. It had been fitted out with the most amazingly expensive, tasteful furnishings and was huge. Original paintings, mainly of the Highlands, hung from the fabric-lined walls and the super king-size bed was sumptuously covered. Two separate dressing areas led to a sizeable en-suite bathroom. She noticed the deep bath and its futuristic taps, plus a matching double shower decorated with wonderfully designed tiles on the sides and splash-back. Cindy lay back on the bed, her mind simply blown away by the day. It was everything and more she had dreamt about the night before at the hotel, and this was only the beginning.

Cindy changed into a different pair of jeans and sweater, then eagerly accepted Gordon's earlier offer of being shown around the house. In some rooms the art was contemporary whilst in others it was modern or fine. Watercolours and sculptures were tastefully placed to supplement the décor rather than overwhelm it. An estate agent would describe Mealag as possessing a 100% ‘wow factor'. Superior design consultants had been employed on every aspect of the house, but it was clear that Gordon had not given them free reign and had been very much part of their team rather than a remote client. Most of the downstairs rooms showed aged, but gleaming dark wood polished floors onto which were laid an assortment of Persian carpets and rugs, whilst the upstairs bedrooms and Gordon's computer room had fully-fitted carpets. There were two dining areas in addition to the kitchen. One was clearly for more formal dinners and set at the side of the house. Not only could this room comfortably seat fourteen around the splendid oval table, but leading off was a sitting room where easy sofas and chairs allowed guests to relax comfortably between or after courses. The other was a small dining room, adjoining the kitchen / bar used to make snacks and serve refreshments for those guests enjoying the cinema or snooker facilities. On the way to the gym and pool, Gordon pointed out the laundry room but it was the large, indoor pool that took Cindy's breath away. She was over-awed, and was sorely tempted to strip off and dive in. The cinema room was housed adjacent to the gym but its neat, red chairs had been carefully stacked against the walls to permit a full-sized snooker table to occupy the centre of the floor.

“Have you ever played?” enquired Gordon.

“No, never, but I'd like to have a go another day, maybe?”

Gordon smiled. “I expect that can be arranged!”

Lighting throughout the house was controlled by a variety of sophisticated switches and there were electronic systems that also controlled the heating, in-built music and televisions. Data outlets had been installed in nearly every room, large or small. As she went around the house what really impressed Cindy was that despite its size and the obvious expensive furnishings throughout, it was still very much a home. No room, with the possible exception of the main dining room, was overly tidy to the point of not looking lived in. Ornaments were not always in the correct place and the normal household accumulation of miscellaneous items that get put aside here or there was much in evidence. This was not an impersonal baronial type home where she might be frightened to break anything or leave a dirty fingermark on the light switch. She could relax here.

They finished in the drawing room – a truly magnificent room which she estimated to be about thirty-five feet long and almost as wide. The large glass patio doors that she saw from the path did indeed afford a wonderful view of the loch, now darkened to almost black as the last light faded. An ornate white and grey stone fireplace was the central feature of the room and housed a well burning log fire, the flames providing a welcome, intimate feel to the room and which supplemented the background heating system supplied by the two ranges in the main kitchen. Double, eighty-piece crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling but were not switched on. Obscured side lighting glowed discreetly upon the walls which coupled with the lights illuminating the various pictures provided a soft ambient glow. A Christmas tree with a few presents already placed underneath its spreading branches and lit by numerous single white miniature bulbs was placed in a corner. To Cindy it was like being in Wonderland, and she struggled to really believe this was really happening to her. It was just so perfect.

Their tour over they sat on one of the large sofas and started to talk about Mealag and Gordon's background. He added little to what she already knew. He started out writing various games programs but his big break came when he wrote a program based around owning an imaginary oil tanker. Evidently, the object was to send the tanker to various ports, buying and selling oil and overcoming hazards on the way and over time to enlarge ownership from a single vessel to a fleet of twenty tankers or other cargo carrying vessels. The program was quite sophisticated as to how the end user had to use the information held at the various ports and thereby select the most economical routes to the ports and what to purchase or sell. The speed of the ships and associated fuel running costs had to be factored in as well as the risks of sailing the slowest yet safest route versus the quickest more dangerous route. Various sub routines about the company's accounts and profitability added to the game's complexity. Random perils like storms or engine failure would occur to add to the game's authenticity. The program was so successful it resulted in Gordon being approached by an executive of a real international oil company who astounded Gordon by telling him that the program was more sophisticated than anything they had on their main frame computers, and invited Gordon to join his company and head up a team to write bespoke programs for use on their new PC's. Gordon's career took off, and within a short time, had his own business and a large team of analysts and programmers working for him on many varied commercial applications.