Two Kinds Of Truth(15)

It takes well over an hour until the vet’s done the best she can. Once the stitches are in place, she packs the medical equipment away and I hear her tell Jamie she’ll be back in a few days. I walk back to the entrance of the shed and wait for her.

“Thanks for all your help,” I say as she approaches.

She nods. “No problem,” but her eyes don’t meet mine and she carries on walking. I feel my brows loft in surprise. Head down, she goes straight to her car and drives away, leaving me staring after her taillights. I ponder what I might have said to cause her to be so dismissive towards me, coming up with nothing; a big fat zero.

“Maddie, where are ye?” Jamie calls, and I hurry back inside, convinced I must have been mistaken.

***

Fresh air, dark rolling hills and a backdrop of white misty mountains are enough of an incentive for me to help Jamie pack the winter picnic.

“Where are we going, exactly?” I ask as we head out into the farmyard. I’m dressed in warm boots and a thick woolly jumper, thankful there’s no biting wind, but it’s still cold. I pull a tartan scarf from my coat pocket and wrap it around my neck.

Jamie taps the side of his nose and heads over to the Land Rover. Throwing open the back door, he places the wicker basket onto the floor, alongside a red blanket.

“You’ve packed enough sandwiches to feed an entire army,” I say, amused.

“I cannae have ye going hungry,” he tells me.

“Hungry! Are you serious? Have you seen the size of those pieces of madeira cake? I swear, I’ll be on a strict diet the second I’m home.”

Jamie stops what he’s doing to look me up and down.

“Och, I’ve seen more meat on a sparrow’s kneecap.”

“Oh, is that right?” and I raise my nose in the air. “I guess you must get up close and personal to a lot of birds, then.”

I shove on a woollen hat with built in earmuffs that cover my ears and push my hair out of my eyes.

Jamie smirks, opens the passenger door and I jump inside. The Land Rover has no soft-padded seats or instant heat. It’s what I’d call prehistoric and it’s rather basic, but at least the engine’s in good condition. He goes around to the other side and climbs in beside me, slamming the door hard so the metal groans in protest.

He turns to me and smiles.

“It’s a heap of shite, I ken, but it’ll get us to where we wannae be.”

He playfully tugs at one of the tie-strings dangling from my ears, taken by surprise when my hat falls off. I’m quick to catch it and he laughs a huge belly laugh.

“Ye look silly wearing those earflaps,” he chuckles. “All ye need is a pair of goggles and you’d have a canny resemblance to Biggles!”

I burst out laughing, and Jamie gives me a wink, a cheeky grin across his face. He starts the engine and I pop my hat back on. He thrusts the gearstick into first, and with a sharp jolt, off we go.

“It’s one hell of a bumpy ride,” I say, just a few minutes into the journey.

“Aye, I’m afraid the roads are little more than dirt tracks around here.”

“I can tell. I think you’ve managed to hit every pot hole so far,” I say with a smirk.

Jamie lets out a chuckle. “Sorry, I ken it isnae comfortable sitting in this tin can, but I promise ye the view will be worth it.”

I stare out of the window. Although it’s almost at the end of February we’re still lucky with the weather. Little snow has fallen over the Highlands this year, although Alasdair says it’s coming. I gaze wistfully at the white snow-topped mountains, but then Jamie points towards one of the peaks.

“There’s snow all year round on them there bens,” he tells me.

“Bens?” What do you mean?”

“Mountains. Ye ken, it doesnae matter how warm it gets, the snow ne’er melts.”

I nod and smile. Sometimes, I just haven’t a clue what he’s talking about, but I like listening to him—a lot. We continue to chat about the passing countryside until we come to a fork in the road. There’s no one else around, just Jamie and myself, and I can see for miles and miles. The Glen stretches out before me like a warm brown carpet and I can’t wait to plant my feet onto its rich dark earth.

Jamie takes a left and the loch shimmers in welcome just a few miles away. The mountains roll up against a backdrop of dark green forest and its overarching pale-blue sky. I’m lucky enough to spot a wild hare dashing to its burrow and am thrilled when Jamie points out a red deer grazing in the distance.

He stops the Land Rover and we both clamber out. Jamie goes to the back of the vehicle and pulls out the picnic basket and the thick red blanket, passing them to me before fiddling about under one of the back seats. Out comes an old metal box, a pair of binoculars revealed when he lifts its lid. He places them around his neck and then closes the door, taking back the blanket and basket from my hands.

I amble behind as he edges closer to the water. The loch glistens as we approach. There’s a tiny island in the middle filled with tall aspens and common alder. I stare way beyond the trees, though, to the majestically peaked mountains, their summits swathed in white fluffy clouds. If only Callum could see this.

I assume it must be hard for Jamie to bring me here to the loch and not his late wife. Callum says she was an Irish colleen, born in the county of Cork, with raven black hair and ocean green eyes. She must have been stunning. Callum once told me how a famous New York designer spotted her in a restaurant whilst visiting on holiday and practically begged her to become his fashion model.