Greater Expectations (5 page)

8

Caught Between “Rocky” And A Hard Place

Sunday 11th January

Perhaps I had taken Mum’s boxing advice a little too literally by changing my mobile phone ring tone to “Gonna Fly Now” from “Rocky”. Not that it made any sense to anyone else but I liked that it reminded me both of my mum’s fully committed support and that I should never “let the bastards get me down” to coin a phrase. Also, I liked the whole notion that it was a private joke between Mum and me. In reality, only me as Mum doesn’t actually know and, even if she did, the relevance would be completely lost on her.

So an intensely private joke to be shared only with myself–the very best kind.

I had given no thought nor heed to the actual volume that may be reached from my mobile phone when set in the “loud” mode. This issue was compounded when considered that I often prefer to drive trucks without the radio playing, especially in and around ye olde London Town. This is due in no small part to the fact that my concentration needs to be at such a level that I cannot properly focus on the music and so it soon merges into white noise. That and the other fact that it’s so difficult to find the actual music in between the adverts, news bulletins, weather reports, and whatever “fantastic” competitions they happen to be running that day.

Therefore, it should come as no surprise that I very nearly had an accident–both with the truck and in my pants–when the punchy tones of what seemed to be the complete Brass Section of the Philadelphian Philharmonic Orchestra came blasting out from my phone. This, combined with the ringing in the earpiece of my Bluetooth headset, ensured that the “Gonna Fly Now” ring tone was only ever used that once. My own joke had backfired on me and I somehow felt betrayed.

I was becoming paranoid.

It was an unlisted number, rather strange for a Sunday afternoon. Instinctively, my first thought was that this must be Gemma calling. That would have just completed my misery. It could also be work related. I answered without fully thinking it through, I just needed to stop the bloody cacophony echoing through the cab. “Hello?”

Surprisingly, an elegant and sophisticated female voice responded. “May I speak with Mr MacLeod please?”

“This is Mr MacLeod” I responded in a tone that relayed my confusion.

“Mr MacLeod, good afternoon. I am Lady Munro of the Auchtershinnan estate and I am so very sorry to bother you on a Sunday afternoon but I’m afraid that I have some unfortunate news.” It transpired that the lodge house that I had booked was now no longer available for our stay. There had been two men from Glasgow who had been staying there until today and, last night, they had both gotten drunk and had a fight. One man had pushed the other through the glass coffee table and so there was blood all over the living room, rendering the lodge house unfit for the purpose of our visit. Bloody typical. Quite literally.

“So I guess this means my mini break is now cancelled your Ladyship?” My exasperation must have been palpable.

“Oh good heavens no. I am ever so sorry to have given you that impression Mr MacLeod. No, what I was rather hoping would be agreeable with you would be if we could instead entertain you as our guests in the main house? We have ample accommodation and this would ensure that you are nearer the facilities being that the lodge house is at the estate entrance and we are some two miles further down the glen.”

More agreeable? Was she joking? This was fantastic news! Obviously only to me and not so much to her Ladyship nor the Glaswegian man who had taken the dive through the coffee table. There were bound to be others within the house and so I wouldn’t be left with Richie all on my own. I told her that this would be just fine and l very much looked forward to meeting her in person.

“Oh that is most gracious of you. By way of apology for the inconvenience, we shall send a car to the airport to collect and return you. Is it only yourself we can expect or do you have any guests?” I confirmed Richie for a second room at the inn and found myself falling under the spell of her vernacular and silently
thought,
“chin up old boy”
as we said our goodbyes.

Now to c
hange that crazy ass ring tone.

9

To The Manor Born

Monday 12th January

Ours was a late afternoon flight and everything had gone well enough with Richie offering to pick me up and paying for the car parking at the airport. It was the least he could do, apparently. Well, one less thing for me to concern myself with.

As promised, the estate car was there to meet us upon our arrival and a thoroughly enjoyable drive down to the estate ensued. I parked myself in the passenger seat and proceeded to enjoy a thoroughly decent blether with our chauffeur. He was, after all, a fellow professional driver. He was a worldly wise older gentleman who told me that he would ordinarily introduce himself as “Jamieson” to his normal clientele, but we could call him “Andy”.

It was Richie’s first time in Scotland and he seemed truly hypnotised by it all. It always makes me proud to see others enjoy my country and appreciate its delights as much as I do. As such, he was unusually quiet for the duration, focussing more on the scenery. This was particularly true as we were passing Loch Ness. I caught him in my peripheral vision staring quite intently, scanning the length and breadth of the loch, searching for the “Beastie” as she is known to the locals.

I simply couldn’t resist.

“You know Richard, it’s a well known fact around these parts that the monster makes an appearance twice every single day?” I surreptitiously winked at Andy in response to the quizzical look he had shot at me. Not that it mattered as Richie hadn’t taken his eyes from the loch and so would never have noticed anyway. Instantly understanding, Andy took my cue and followed my lead.

“Aye, that’s true right enough laddie” he said, in a casual yet wonderfully wearied matter of fact manner, the way a grandparent does and that leaves no room for doubt.

“Really? Twice every single day?” Richie had taken the bait and thrust his head between our seats, as if we were co-conspirators about to reveal the secret of the loch.

“Oh aye Richie boy, twice…
every…single…day
.” I drew the sentence out as much as I could and left a pregnant pause that was just long enough to build up the punch line, “5 minutes before you get here and 5 minutes after you leave!”

It seems that only old Andy and I thought this funny. Richie’s mood took a turn that would probably be best described as a proper “huff” and he never said another word for the rest of the journey.

We passed the lodge as we entered the estate. It was quite beautiful and obviously old. It was easy to see that its original purpose was as a gatehouse to ensure no unwelcome visitors made it down to the main house. It looked more like a cottage from a fairy tale with its quaint little windows and crooked chimney. I knew from the website that it had wonderful views but only now could I properly appreciate just how idyllic it actually was. I felt a sense of sadness to be passing rather than stopping here. To make matters worse, there had been a pub a mere mile before that was now out of our scope. No real chance to drown my sorrows and truly wallow in my own misery.

Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

My gloom lifted the further we drove down the glen. It felt great to be enveloped within the rolling hills and moody skies that makes my country “home”. The incessant drizzle merely added to the ambiance and somehow made it just perfect.

Somewhere deep down inside, my heart began to sing.

As we sneaked around the final lazy bend, the house came into view. There had been no pictures of this on the website and so it was a pleasant surprise to see what could only be described as more like a “castle” than a “house”. It had turrets on its four corners and each one rose to a point, way higher than that of the main roof, giving the rather fitting impression of a crown sat upon the splendid structure. Instead of the usual white or weather beaten grey that these buildings tend to favour, this was a softer and altogether more feminine cream.

Somehow it made the house look like a home.

As we approached, Andy told us that this was her Ladyship herself that had opened the front door and was now stood there ready to greet us as we exited the car. My best guess would be that she was maybe early 30’s, but experience dictates that I really am hopeless at that sort of thing. However, she had an undeniable beauty combined with a wonderful elegance that made me suddenly feel somewhat self-conscious. She confidently strode forward and proffered a perfectly manicured hand and introduced herself. “Mr MacLeod, I am her Ladyship Penelope Munro but, please, call me Penny. One really cannot be bothered with all the pomp and grandeur of the title.”

It was not lost on me that she said this
after
using the title in her introduction.

She continued. “Please let me take this opportunity to apologise once again for the inconvenience and allow me to formally welcome you to the Auchtershinnan Estate.” Her hand worked in unison with her words and swept dismissively in an arc from left to right in the general direction of the horizon. The inference being that all we could see fell under the purview of the Estate.

I tried to quickly skip through the formalities of our own introductions. If her grandiose introduction was intended to intimidate me, I found that it was working, suddenly feeling both awkward and uncomfortable. It certainly put me “off kilter”, as my old mum would say. I introduced Richard as “Richie” to save any further upset to my travelling companion, foolishly believing that he would take my lead and let me introduce myself as simply “Z”. Oh how wrong I was. After making fun of him in the car, this was his ideal opportunity to exact revenge–no matter how small or insignificant it may be.

As is always the case when I introduce myself as a plain “Z”, people are intrigued and so enquire further. It is somewhat understandable and Penny was no different. However, under normal circumstances, I simply stick to my guns and obstinately restate my initial as my name without the embarrassing explanation. So it began, “Your name is ‘Z’? A simple ‘Z’, like in the alphabetical letter ‘Z’?” I merely nodded lazily to each of her successive questions, hoping the frown that adorned my face relayed my exasperation. “How wonderfully enigmatic. Forgive me, I had assumed that it was an initial that stood for a longer name when I saw your booking form?”

Well this was awkward. I stood, rocking on my heels and still nodding almost apologetically, pursing and throwing my lips from side to side and fighting the urge to whistle, looking in every direction but hers. The blood rushed to my head and I could feel myself blushing like an acne riddled pre-pubescent teenager. My face felt like it was suddenly on fire and I desperately yearned for the sanctuary of my room. Ordinarily, I would have rudely and indignantly demanded to be shown to our rooms.

However, that was certainly not the behaviour a lady expects from a gentleman.

Lost as I was in the moment, it was Richie who seized the initiative. “It stands for ‘Zacchaeus’ Penny.” His look of triumph made me cringe even more, if that were at all possible. Not content with this small victory, he continued “Don’t worry though, I never thought it was a real name either. I had always thought that a ‘Zacchaeus’ was some sort of tropical fruit.” He roared with laughter at his own joke that was, admittedly, rather funny although it only served to further increase my own discomfort.

There was no denying that he had his revenge and it was no more than I deserved.

As the laughter died away and I was about to suggest–more plead–to be shown to our rooms, Penny responded in a way far better than ever I could have hoped for. “Ah Richie, how London must have seduced you with her heathen ways. Unless I am very much mistaken, it’s Luke 19: 1-10 is it not?” She looked at me for some sort of clarification. I had no clue if she was correct or not but I was enjoying the crestfallen look on Richie’s face at being so openly mocked with a fact. Here was yet another attempt at ridicule that had backfired on him. I made a mental note to give the poor fella a break–obviously not just now–as Penny continued. “If memory serves, ‘Zacchaeus’ was a tax collector in the time of our Lord. A man short on stature but of considerable wealth, he lay high in a tree waiting to see Jesus. He was actually called down by name by the good Lord himself whereupon he repented for his sins. Something like that anyway.”

Turning her attention to me, she concluded “I can see why you prefer simply ‘Z’, ‘Zacchaeus’ really is quite a mouthful.”

Now, under any other circumstances, I would not have been able to resist the obvious joke. I had to, quite literally, bite my tongue and was actually quite proud of my own unusual restraint. Richie, on the other hand, not so much. He seemed determined to recover some modicum of dignity, even if it meant trawling the depths of the seediest barrel and being completely inappropriate given the present company.

“It says on many a toilet wall that our own Zacchaeus here
is
quite a mouthful Penny!”

Oh my dear God in Heaven, take me now!
I could have died with embarrassment. He really was as much use as tits on a fish. Miraculously, I managed to compose myself enough to fire him a furious look that told him not to say another bloody word.

Not…another…fucking…word.

“I’m sure it does and why would I have any reason to doubt it?” I could not believe Penny had actually said it. Immediately my eyes shot from Richie to her and, in that moment, I am all but certain that I actually caught her take a quick look at my crotch, a wry smile complimenting the twinkle in her eye.

How wonderfully bizarre.

“Did you write it Richie? Jealousy is such a curse you know.” She winked at me as she said it. This woman is quite the minx. At long last, Richie took the hint and stood quietly, suddenly finding a fascinating spot on the floor that demanded his full attention. Penny also let it go and continued. “So, gentlemen, here are your choices. We have 8 free bedrooms. 2 are double en suite, there are 2 twin rooms, a double, and the rest are singles. Take your pick.”

I didn’t need much time to think as it was so obvious to me as to not even constitute a choice. I jumped straight on it. “Well I’m sure I speak for us both when I say we would each like a double en suite if that’s okay?”

Penny started to reply. “Certainly Z. Let’s show you where…”

Suddenly Richie interrupted her mid sentence. “Here, Z, lets think about this. You see, that’s 2 big rooms that we would each occupy. That’s an awful lot of work for the cleaner. So, what I’m thinking is, we should just share a twin room. Then the cleaner only has one room to worry about.”

It wasn’t lost on me that I was back to being good old “Z”. However, I had no clue what the fuck he was talking about? The cleaner? I turned to Penny. “There’s no issue for the cleaner if we have an en suite each, is there?”

“Not at all. Please, feel free to use the en suites. Rest assured gentlemen, there is no issue with the cleaner nor anything otherwise.” She moved to get our respective keys.

For some reason, Richie couldn’t, or wouldn’t, let it go. “Z, you’re just being selfish now and Penny is just being kind. Realistically, for the sake of the cleaner, lets just share a twin and be done with it. No more said.” There was a firmness to his tone that I wasn’t liking. He was also embarrassing us both in front of Penny, who had turned back with a quizzical look on her face that merely reflected my own confusion.

I needed to take control of this situation and end this nonsense. “Richie, I’m on
my
holiday, a break, and I want
my
own privacy so I
am
having an en-suite. You do what you like.”

“Z.” His voice had lost all of its earlie
r confidence and was suddenly…–suddenly what? –was it pleading? There was certainly the hint of a tremor, “for the sake of the cleaner, lets just share a twin. Come on mate,
please
, be reasonable.”

Then it hit me. Richie was a London boy through and through. He had never been anywhere so isolated far less as creepy as this huge house two miles down a secluded glen. This was Psycho meets the Blair Witch Project for him. The stuff of nightmares. All at once I felt sorry for him and it was obvious that Penny recognised his fear too. This was a time to allow him to save face and not play on his insecurities.

Time to be a friend.

“Here mate, I’ll tell you what. You are so concerned with the cleaner, why don’t I take the en suite and you can have the room next door. That way the cleaner just goes straight from one room to the next. Does that work for you?” It was with the greatest reluctance that he agreed and we were finally shown to our adjacent rooms.

As you would expect from a house of such stature, and with respect to its location, every door throughout the place seemed to be at least two inches thick and made of solid wood. They also had their own locks that were located on the back of the door, rather than contained within it, with keys that were much too large to be of any real purpose. It was absurd to me that they had to be at least two inches long before they even tickled the actual locks. Where were we ever going to keep these? Whilst they were quaint in their own way and a throwback to times long gone, they were completely impractical in this modern age.

Certainly impractical for carrying in my trousers; unless I needed a crutch in my crotch.

The en suite was quite resplendent and fit for any member of the aristocracy. At least, that was my humblest opinion, not that I would have any experience of what they would expect. As I sat on the bed to take my shoes off, I heard the heavy and definitive “clunk” of the lock being engaged in Richie’s room. He really was scared. Well, at least he would be safe enough with the door locked.