Red Skye at Night (32 page)

And what about me? If I’m limping at all, I’m not conscious of it and no one else seems to be either. Perhaps that episode really is behind me now. I’ll never be an athlete again, and I probably wouldn’t want that anyway. But neither am I a freak. In my more rational moments I know I never was, but it sometimes felt like that. Now, I’m just—average. Well, perhaps not quite average. Average women don’t have handsome Doms providing orgasms at every excuse, and a refreshing, therapeutic spanking at the drop of a hat. It’s not only Daisy who has seen an upturn in her fortunes.

Ann-Marie links her arm with mine and we crest the hill together. “This is the first time I’ve been back here since we moved to the bungalow.”

I turn to her, surprised. “Really?”

“Yes. What’s to come back for? The place was never the same since Ritchie left. Don’t get me wrong, dear, Angus is good company. He always was. But these places need family. They need voices, chatter. Children. Not two people just growing old together.”

Good company?
Well, I daresay that’s one way of describing life with a Dom. We amble on after the men, following them down to the crofter’s cottage nestling on the side of the hill. By the time Ann-Marie and I arrive they are inspecting the broken door.

“Ye could hae done worse, lad. Ye’ll find a hammer and such like i’ the byre.” Angus waves his arm in the direction of the outhouse, the gesture imperious.

Harry responds with a good-natured grin then strolls off to rustle up the required items.

Ann-Marie shakes her head. “My man’s always bossing someone around. Me usually. Still, ye’ll ken how that is, lass. Handy with a switch is he, our little Harry?”

I turn to her, incredulous. “I beg your pardon?”

“Ye can lose that daft expression, lass. I ken what these men’re like. I should. I’ve lived wi’ one for over seventy years.”

“What? I mean, yes, but…” Words fail me. What do you say to a ninety-three-year-old submissive who is apparently still at it? And, worse still, determined to talk about the subject? I’d have struggled to discuss it with someone my own age.

She grins at me, her eyes mischievous. I detect a distinctly wicked glint there. She’s enjoying this, having a whale of a time embarrassing me. I’m aware of the heat rising from my neck right up to my hairline.

“Och, lass, ye’ll learn. I hope ye’re not sae coy wi’ him.”

“Er, no. Well, obviously…” I struggle to drag a coherent sentence together.

“Just as well. They don’t like it. He’s whipped ye then? Spanked ye?”

I just nod.

“Thought so. How long have ye’ known our Harry?”

“A week.”
Christ, is it only a week? So much has happened.

“Eh, ye move fast these days.” She smiles, not a hint of admonition in her tone. “I’d been married tae Angus nearly five years afore I let him take a switch tae my arse. Mind ye, he was away in the war most o’ that time. He went off to join up a fortnight after we were wed, an’ Ritchie was just turned four when he showed up again.” She pauses, looks at the ground as she contemplates the events of so long ago. “Aye, lass, they were hard times. It’s better now. Ye make the best of each other, enjoy each other. Time passes ye by faster than ye know.”

We’re interrupted by Angus’ voice. “Pet, will ye show the lass the well we used tae use, afore we had the plumbing installed?”

“I will not. It’s half a mile up that hill. The poor girl’ll be dead on ‘er feet.”

“Really, I’m fine,” I protest.

“Well, I’m not. I gave up tramping up that hillside fer water over thirty years back, an’ I’m not starting’ all that again now. I’ll point it out to ye, though, if ye fancy a hike.”

“I wouldn’t mind. And Daisy would love it. Hope?” Harry has come up behind us. He loops an arm around my shoulders and hauls me back against him.

“Yes, okay then.” I agree. “So, where are we headed?” We both turn to Ann-Marie who is peering up the hill, her hand shielding her eyes.

“There, by that stand of pines. See the heather in front? It’s just there. Ye’ll still be able to see the hand pump. Most are electric now or solar powered. We did it the hard way.”

“Right.” Harry whistles for Daisy.

“When ye come back, I’ll show ye the inside while Harry and Angus fix the door. My kitchen, and where we used tae sleep. It won’t take long, there’s nae that much tae the place.” She picks her way across the few yards of undulating moorland to where Angus is standing, looking out across the bay. He drapes an arm over her shoulders as they stand side by side, his head tilted toward her as she speaks to him.

I open my mouth, intending to tell Harry what she just said to me, but snap it shut again. He’ll notice, probably, then we might talk. If not, well, it’s their private life and should stay that way.

* * * *

It’s an hour or so before we arrive back, mission accomplished. The tiny well is overgrown, but the pipework and old wooden lever are still there, rusted solid over years of disuse. The sound of running water so many meters below our feet is strange. It’s even stranger to contemplate that all the water for the house, for cooking, washing, for the animals, all had to be physically pumped from the earth then carried down the hill in buckets. Harry tells me that this was one of Ritchie’s tasks from when he was a small boy.

When we get back, Ann-Marie and Angus are inside the cottage. We follow them in, Harry bowing his head to clear the low doorway. Inside there is just one room really, which seems to have served as kitchen, living room, and there’s even a box bed tucked in an alcove. The McLeods are seated in the only two chairs. From her expression of distaste as her eyes dart around the room, I surmise that Ann-Marie much prefers her bungalow.

“Och, ye’re back. Did ye find it then?” She pushes a stray strand of her light gray hair back from her face, catching it at the nape of her neck with a hairgrip.

“We did. Thanks. Couldn’t draw any water, though.” Harry is looking around him with interest, perhaps imagining his grandfather as a small boy, spending most of his life in this room and on these surrounding hills.

“Not tae worry. We’ll have some tea when we get back. D’ye want the tour then?” Ann-Marie gets to her feet. “It won’t take us long. There’s just this room, and the little box room next door. When I was first married Angus’ ma’ and da’ were here an’ I lived wi’ them while he was away fightin’. Ritchie an’ me slept next door, an’ my in-laws were in here. When they died, which was only a year or so after Angus came back, we moved into here an’ Ritchie had the back room. We did everything in here, cooking, eating, sleeping. Playing.” She exchanges a look with me, which causes me to redden again, but in the dim light in here, no one seems to notice.

“Well, there was allus the byre. We had some good times in the byre, lass, if ye remember.” Angus steeples his fingers, resting his chin on the top of them as he watches his wife and submissive of the last seventy years. His expression is one of amused adoration. I hope someone still looks at me that way when I’m ninety-three.

I chance a look at Harry, who is regarding the elderly couple with a slight frown. He’s thinking, adding up the clues. The moment the penny drops he beams at me. I smile back and nod. We all seem to be on the same wavelength now.

* * * *

Back at the tiny bungalow, Ann-Marie insists on making the tea while we all park ourselves in her living room again. Angus carries the tray in, and we help ourselves.

As the clink of teacups echoes around the tiny space, Angus at last broaches the subject I’ve been dreading, “So, lad, ye spoke to Ritchie last night, I suppose?”

“I did.” Harry puts his cup down and meets Angus’ level gaze.

“He was surprised tae hear yer news, I daresay?”

“He was. They both were.” I note he mentions his grandmother carefully, deliberately, as though gauging Angus’ reaction today.

The older man just inclines his head. “I can imagine. An’ did he ask about us? Our Ritchie?”

“Of course. He was keen to know how you both are.”

A silence follows, the silence in which Harry should be saying that Ritchie sent his regards, that he wished his parents well, or some other message of familial greeting. There is none.

“He didna ask for our phone number? We do ha’ a telephone now. Did ye tell him that?” Ann-Marie leans forwards, her face anxious. “Or perhaps ye could let us have his number. We could make the call. I ken it’d be long distance, but that’d be fine, wouldn’t it, Angus?”

“Aye, lass. D’ye have his number, Harry?”

“He won’t talk to you on the phone.”

Angus heaves a long sigh. “I can understand that. It’s been a long time, an’ I had hoped… Well…” His voice trails off but he rallies. “If Ritchie won’t talk tae me, what about his mam? He’ll talk tae her, surely.”

Harry shakes his head. “Not just now.”

Harry’s phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out to check the incoming text. We all wait, hoping it’s some reprieve from Ritchie. That he’s relented. Harry merely nods and slips it back into his pocket.

Ann-Marie launches in with what must be her plan B, “I’ll write tae him. He’ll accept a letter from us, surely. Ye could take it wi’ ye. An’ he’ll reply. Or maybe Sarah would. She’s a good lass. Me an’ her had ne’er a wrong word. Ye could ask her, lad. Ye’ll do that for me, aye?”

Harry smiles at her. “Of course. A letter might be a good move. But I won’t deliver it for you.”

We all three turn on him. Angus and Ann-Marie are trying to be reasonable, determined to remain polite. I have no such scruples.

“Why the hell not? You could at least do that.”

His raised eyebrow is signal enough that I’m going to be apologizing for my outburst, but not before he’s made certain that I won’t be sitting in comfort for a while. Undaunted—well, almost—I open my mouth to resume my protest. He halts me with one raised finger.

“I won’t be passing on a letter because there won’t be any need. My grandparents can’t talk on the phone because they’re in airplane mode. Or they were. That text just now was from Ritchie. Their plane landed in Glasgow just over an hour ago.” He pauses as if to let that sink into the stunned silence. A slight smile on his lips, he continues, “They already cleared customs and baggage control and are now headed for car hire. What is it, a six hour drive up here?” He glances at the clock on the mantelpiece, which is showing ten past two. “They should be here by about eight o’clock then. Perhaps closer to nine. Then you’ll be able to tell them anything you want to say. Yourselves.”

We all gape at him. I’m stunned. I expected Ritchie to calm down and respond to his parents’ overtures, but not in so rapid and decisive a fashion.

Ann-Marie gropes blindly for Angus’ hand. “My boy? He’s here? In Scotland. He’s really here and coming home?”

Harry nods. “He is. And he’s not alone. Two of my uncles are with him. Your grandsons. And my mother follows in two days. My other uncle flies in tomorrow from New York. We’ll be having a family reunion.” He turns to me. “Should we invite Auntie Janet, do you think?”

Chapter Twenty

From the moment the sleek Audi purrs to a halt behind my dusty Ford Focus just before nine o’clock that evening, all hell seems to be let loose. The Audi empties and from there it’s a riot of raised voices. There’s a lot of crying too, most of it done by Ann-Marie, though I confess to my fair share. I don’t think there can be a dry eye among us as she stumbles down her garden path to throw herself into the arms of the oldest of the males as he emerges from the rear of the car. He lifts her, swings her around, then plants a loud kiss on her lined forehead.

She reaches up to stroke his face. He smiles at her. “Hello, Mam.”

That’s it, the floodgates are opened again. The neighbors must think we’re all quite crazy, hugging, kissing, weeping on the doorstep, although for all I know this could be a regular occurrence on a Saturday evening in Skye. The reunion is an emotional one—and noisy. These McLeods are not a quiet bunch.

My heart warms instantly to Sarah McLeod, Sarah Harrison as was. While her husband is preoccupied with his tearful mother, she makes a beeline for Angus.

“Good evening, Mr. McLeod. I trust we find ye well.” She holds out her hand. He takes it and shakes.

“Ye do, lass. And much the better for seeing ye here.” He pauses, his head cocked to one side. “Ye’re as pretty as ye ever were. It’s good tae see ye again.”

“Thank you. We’d ha’ been here much sooner had we known…”

“Aye, lass, I ken what happened…”

“Hey, how about some introductions then. Harry, you can do the honors.” The man who’d been driving the Audi interrupts the general commotion.

Harry steps forward to take charge of the proceedings. “First, I’d like you all to say hello to Hope, my driver and companion on this trip.” He puts his arm around my shoulders, pulling me to him. I doubt there’s any misunderstanding regarding the nature of my ‘companionship’.

I’m surprised. I hadn’t expected to be the first to be presented, I’m unprepared for this. I suppose I just sort of expected to melt into the wallpaper. Clearly that won’t be happening.

“Aye, an’ she’s a right bonny wee thing. We’ve become good friends.” Ann-Marie’s smile for me is warm as she includes me in the family gathering.

Sarah’s expression is slightly puzzled, but not hostile. I manage to mumble something along the lines of being pleased to meet them all.

“Hope, Ann-Marie, Angus, I’d like you to meet the rest of my family. Our family. This is Duncan…” I’m relieved when Harry continues with the introductions, taking the spotlight off me.

The driver steps forward to shake Angus’ hand, then kisses Ann-Marie on the cheek. I notice that she has her son’s hand tightly clasped in hers.

“And this is James, usually known as wee Jamie.” The other man comes forward, there’s another round of handshakes and kissing. “Of course, you know my granddad, and Grandma.”

“Och, Sarah lass, it’s sae good tae see ye.” Ann-Marie releases Ritchie’s hand to throw her arms around her daughter-in-law’s neck.