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Authors: Jean S. Macleod
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Emma’s protest was accompanied by an affectionate smile. ‘You know that what I do is quite ordinary and I do it largely to please myself. It’s a grand hobby, making the days pass more quickly, and in the summer months I get to know the tourists who come to the studio to watch. And buy!’ she added with a touch of modest pride.
‘You don’t take yourself seriously enough,’ said Charles, but somehow Katherine knew that he didn’t believe that. Emma was very serious indeed.
Morag Falkland came through from the kitchen to announce that their meal was ready.
‘Emma has set it in the snug,’ she said. ‘We’re only family tonight.’
The intimate meal in the small room off the dining-hall was something Katherine hadn’t expected. Seated between Charles and her hostess with the watchful Emma facing them, it was difficult to relax, although Morag Falkland seemed to be friendly enough. She was a cheerful little woman who had news of everyone for miles around which she dispensed for Charles’s benefit, pausing occasionally to sketch in a background here and there for her guest.
‘Everybody knows everyone else in these parts,’ she explained. ‘We’re a scattered community, but we keep in touch. Distance is no object when we visit, for instance, and when anyone is going to Perth or Oban they generally set out with a formidable list of shopping to do. It has been known for the odd ram to be brought back in the back of a Range Rover, or a freezer or even a suite of furniture!’
It was general information, Katherine realised, with nothing personal to distinguish it from the ordinary run-of-the-mill conversation which could have been expected in a wayside inn, yet underneath it was the suggestion of reserve, a caution which must be largely due to her own presence among them.
Charles was a little more relaxed in his friends’ company, she noticed, probably because he was now master of the situation, but he, too, kept the conversation general as the meal progressed.
‘We’re not quite as isolated as you might think,’ he told her as Morag produced a plate of home-baked oatcakes to eat with their cheese, ‘and we’re busy enough not to worry about it.’
‘Sandy spoke of a place called Glassary,’ Katherine remembered.
‘As I see it, Glassary is Sandy’s home,’ he returned grimly. ‘We’ll be going out there in the morning.’
It had all been taken care of, planned, no doubt, even before he had left for London in search of his son. Katherine looked across the table at Emma Falkland, wondering what part she had to play in the drama of Glassary, but Emma was busy with their empty plates, gathering them on to a tray to be carried into the kitchen when the meal was finished.
‘We’ll have our coffee by the fire,’ said Morag, rising to lead the way. ‘The Forestry boys will be in later on and then there’ll be no more privacy! It’s early yet for visitors,’ she turned to Katherine to explain, ‘but we’re the nearest rendezvous for the Forestry settlement in the glen. They come for darts and the odd dance from time to time, but there’s nothing special this week. Just the usual high spirits plus an argument or two!’
‘Do you mind if I go to bed early?’ Katherine was genuinely tired now. ‘If we’re leaving again in the morning’
‘There won’t be any particular hurry,’ Charles assured her. ‘We’re almost at Glassary.’
Wondering why he hadn’t gone straight to their destination instead of coming to the hotel, she supposed that ‘almost’ could mean anything up to another fifty miles or even more, and he had been genuinely concerned about Sandy’s fatigue. When the first of the Forestry workers made their appearance she drank what was left of her coffee with undue haste, rising to go. Escape, she thought, might be the better word. Charles crossed to her side.
‘Had enough for one day?’ he enquired casually. ‘It’s going to be noisy down here for a while, but
‘You don’t take yourself seriously enough,’ said Charles, but somehow Katherine knew that he didn’t believe that. Emma was very serious indeed.
Morag Falkland came through from the kitchen to announce that their meal was ready.
‘Emma has set it in the snug,’ she said. ‘We’re only family tonight.’
The intimate meal in the small room off the dining-hall was something Katherine hadn’t expected. Seated between Charles and her hostess with the watchful Emma facing them, it was difficult to relax, although Morag Falkland seemed to be friendly enough. She was a cheerful little woman who had news of everyone for miles around which she dispensed for Charles’s benefit, pausing occasionally to sketch in a background here and there for her guest.
‘Everybody knows everyone else in these parts,’ she explained. ‘We’re a scattered community, but we keep in touch. Distance is no object when we visit, for instance, and when anyone is going to Perth or Oban they generally set out with a formidable list of shopping to do. It has been known for the odd ram to be brought back in the back of a Range Rover, or a freezer or even a suite of furniture!’
It was general information, Katherine realised, with nothing personal to distinguish it from the ordinary run-of-the-mill conversation which could have been expected in a wayside inn, yet underneath it was the suggestion of reserve, a caution which must be largely due to her own presence among them.
Charles was a little more relaxed in his friends’ company, she noticed, probably because he was now master of the situation, but he, too, kept the conversation general as the meal progressed.
‘We’re not quite as isolated as you might think,’ he told her as Morag produced a plate of home-baked oatcakes to eat with their cheese, ‘and we’re busy enough not to worry about it.’
‘Sandy spoke of a place called Glassary,’ Katherine remembered.
‘As I see it, Glassary is Sandy’s home,’ he returned grimly. ‘We’ll be going out there in the morning.’
It had all been taken care of, planned, no doubt, even before he had left for London in search of his son. Katherine looked across the table at Emma Falkland, wondering what part she had to play in the drama of Glassary, but Emma was busy with their empty plates, gathering them on to a tray to be carried into the kitchen when the meal was finished.
‘We’ll have our coffee by the fire,’ said Morag, rising to lead the way. ‘The Forestry boys will be in later on and then there’ll be no more privacy! It’s early yet for visitors,’ she turned to Katherine to explain, ‘but we’re the nearest rendezvous for the Forestry settlement in the glen. They come for darts and the odd dance from time to time, but there’s nothing special this week. Just the usual high spirits plus an argument or two!’
‘Do you mind if I go to bed early?’ Katherine was genuinely tired now. ‘If we’re leaving again in the morning’
‘There won’t be any particular hurry,’ Charles assured her. ‘We’re almost at Glassary.’
Wondering why he hadn’t gone straight to their destination instead of coming to the hotel, she supposed that ‘almost’ could mean anything up to another fifty miles or even more, and he had been genuinely concerned about Sandy’s fatigue. When the first of the Forestry workers made their appearance she drank what was left of her coffee with undue haste, rising to go. Escape, she thought, might be the better word. Charles crossed to her side.
‘Had enough for one day?’ he enquired casually. ‘It’s going to be noisy down here for a while, but
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