Anne Douglas (7 page)

‘And has my boy been round yet about the fish?’ Agnes was asking. ‘He said he’d call before he went to his boat.’ She laughed merrily. ‘See, I was teasing, telling him to look out for the new warden’s daughters. Two lovely girls, one blonde, one brunette. They’d be keen to want to cook some fish, I said, and I’m sure he was planning to call.’

‘Agnes, will you excuse me?’ Ishbel said a little coolly. ‘I have to serve this young lady.’

‘Of course, of course, do not be minding me. I’m not going anywhere.’ Agnes sniffed a little. ‘Not like Jeannie Duthie, I might say. Haven’t I seen her, hurrying along to the hostel as though she was in a race, just in case anybody gets in before her? Now why is she the only woman in this village supposed to be good at cleaning, I ask? Why has she got that reputation?’

‘Because Jeannie is very good,’ Ishbel replied, hurriedly moving from her counter to the far end of the shop. ‘She cleans for me once a week and I am very happy with her. Monnie, would you care to look at the shampoos, then? All the toiletries are over here.’

‘Please,’ Monnie said, reflecting, as she followed Ishbel, that life in a Highland village seemed not to be too different from that in an Edinburgh tenement. Och, folk were always the same, eh? Watching and criticizing, thinking they’d been passed over, treated unfairly. At least, there’d be no rows over cleaning the stair here, as there were at home, there being no shared stairs to worry about.

‘But did my boy come?’ Agnes was persisting, coming to stand close to Monnie as she looked at the shampoos on offer. ‘He’s away to his boat, got to put out his nets, or I’d have asked him how he got on.’

‘He did come,’ Monnie answered, finding herself reluctant to speak of him. ‘I told him we’d probably want to take his fish, but that my father wasn’t in. He said he’d come back this evening.’

‘And is there no mother, my dear?’ Agnes asked softly. ‘Is there just you girls and your father?’

‘Agnes . . .’ Ishbel murmured, but Monnie answered swiftly that that was true, her mother was dead.

‘Ah, so I thought. And you two lassies came here to support your father? Ishbel, isn’t that lovely, then?’

‘Shall I take those to the till for you, dear?’ was Ishbel’s only reply, made to Monnie, and when the little transaction was over, she gave a kind smile and said she’d look forward to seeing her again.

‘Oh, I expect we’ll be coming in all the time,’ Monnie told her. ‘To a useful shop like this. Goodbye, then, and thank you. Goodbye, Mrs MacLeod.’

‘Goodbye, dear!’ Agnes called breathily. ‘Look out for Torquil this evening. He’ll be sure to have something nice for you, he’s been doing well lately, with his catches. Ishbel, have you any of your little almond tarts today? I could just fancy a bit of your pastry.’

Outside the shop, Monnie, ready to return to the hostel, saw Lynette in the distance, waving and hurrying.

‘Lynette, how come you’re back again?’ she asked, as her sister came up, wearing her heavy coat and woollen hat, and breathing hard.

‘Got my letter to post, of course. You know I want it to go as soon as possible.’

‘You’ve written your application already?’

‘Sure I have, I don’t hang about.’ Lynette, giving her letter a swift kiss, dropped it into the post box. ‘There, that’s for luck, eh? You finished shopping? What did you think of the shop, then?’

‘I’d say we were lucky to have it. But don’t go in, Lynette – Mrs MacLeod’s there.’

‘Oh, Lordy – but I’m not going in anyway.’ Lynette took Monnie’s arm. ‘Come on, you should get back, you’ve missed all the excitement.’

‘What excitement?’

‘Why, we’ve gone up in the world, eh? We have a cleaning lady – at least, for the hostel. Little Mrs Duthie’s arrived and Dad’s taken her on – she’s already scrubbing out the kitchen. Not the size of a sixpence but fizzing with energy like a bottle of pop, and worth half a crown an hour, Dad says, and so do I. Saves us having to do it, eh?’

‘And that’s the big excitement?’ Monnie asked, smiling, as they walked fast up the village street.

‘Oh, no, there’s more. And you should have been there, not me, because half a dozen guys arrived and I had to help Dad book ’em in and show ’em where to sleep, check they’d got sleeping bags or wanted sheets and all the rest of it. And I’m not the one wanting to be assistant warden!’

‘Help!’ groaned Monnie. ‘I just knew somebody would come this morning. Sorry about that, Lynette. Where’ve they gone now, these new customers?’

‘Out. Not climbing, just doing a recce, they said, but they’re loaded up with maps and boots and waterproofs and they’ve asked Dad to be sure to get ’em something to cook for tonight. He said, chops, seeing as the butcher’s van comes this afternoon.’ Lynette smiled slyly. ‘But we’ll be having fish, eh?’

‘Maybe.’ Monnie shrugged. ‘If the fish man comes back.’

Eleven

He did come. But not until after six o’clock, when it was already growing dark and the hostellers were back, grilling chops and roaring with laughter in the old kitchen, while Lynette and Frank were saying they were starving and where was this fisherman?

‘He did say he’d come,’ Monnie said quickly. ‘Maybe he’s not been able to get back?’

‘The weather’s not too bad at the moment,’ Frank commented. ‘He might at least have called to speak to me.’

And then there was the knock on their back door and the fisherman was on the step, carrying a covered basket and taking off his cap.

‘Mr Forester?’ he asked, his light blue eyes glancing from Monnie to Lynette and then to their father.

‘That’s right, I’m Frank Forester, the warden.’

‘My name’s Torquil MacLeod. I am sorry to be late with your fish – I was delayed at the hotel.’

‘We’ll forgive you.’ Lynette smiled. ‘I’m Lynette – sister of Monnie you met this morning. We’re all hoping you’ve got something in that basket for our supper.’

‘What I have is hake.’ Torquil, removing the cloth cover from the basket, displayed several glistening white fish. ‘These are good – like haddock, if you do not know them.’

‘Oh, no, they’ve got heads on!’ Lynette cried. ‘Dad, what do we do?’

‘Bet they’ll be to clean as well, eh?’ asked Frank, grinning, as he took the fish, wrapped in paper from Torquil. ‘I’m afraid my girls are city girls, Mr MacLeod, not used to seeing fish straight from the sea.’

‘I’ll clean them for you,’ Torquil offered, his well-shaped mouth quivering in a smile he tried to hide. ‘Will not take me a minute.’

‘That’s all right, son, I did my share of cleaning fish for my mother when I was a lad, I can manage. How much do I owe you?’

‘Settle with me on Friday. I’ll be calling again then, if that’s all right.’ Putting on his cap, Torquil’s eyes went to Monnie and back to Frank.

‘That’ll be fine, Mr MacLeod.’

‘Please, call me Torquil.’

‘Unusual name, eh? At least, to me.’

‘It’s a MacLeod name. From Old Norse, I believe. Means kettle of Thor, the god of thunder.’

‘Wow, we’d better watch our step with you, then,’ Lynette said, mischief glinting in her eyes. ‘God of thunder, eh? Might smite us one.’

‘Do I look like smiting anyone?’ Torquil’s tone was light. ‘Anyway, my brother’s name is similar – Tormad. Mother called us after the sons of Leod, whose father was the King of the Isles.’

‘King of the Isles – wow again! Still, I think it’s nice that you have these fine old names, eh?’

‘Except Tormad calls himself Tony. Suits him better, he says.’ Torquil touched his cap and slightly inclined his head. ‘Good night to you. I will see you on Friday.’

With one last look towards Monnie, he melted away into the dusk, his basket swinging on his arm, and Frank closed the door.

‘Come on, girls, let’s get started, then.’

‘Do you really know how to clean those fish?’ Lynette asked.

‘Of course I do. And cook ’em as well. All you need is some butter and grated cheese and a hot grill. Very tasty.’

‘You’re a man of hidden talents, Dad. First, porridge and bacon, now grilled fish. What next?’

‘Och, that’s my lot. Tomorrow, you girls can cook the chops we got from the butcher. Look, if I go and clean the fish, will you do the rest? I’ll have to be looking in on the hostellers pretty soon.’

‘And later on, can go you through what I might get asked at the interview?’ Monnie asked, taking potatoes and tomatoes from the vegetable rack. ‘I’m beginning to get nervous.’

‘Found your voice, though,’ Lynette whispered. ‘Thought you’d lost it when your Torquil was on the doorstep.’

‘My Torquil? He’s not
my
Torquil.’

‘He’s very handsome. I can see why you’re interested.’

‘Listen, all I’m interested in is getting through my interview on Thursday.’

‘OK, so maybe he’s interested in you. Certainly looked at you a lot. Still, like I said, you might have to watch your step. Seeing as he’s the god of thunder.’

‘Oh, Lynette, you’re impossible!’ In spite of herself, Monnie was laughing. ‘I’m going to find somebody to tease you about, but in the meantime, I’ll put some water on for these tatties. Think tomatoes would be nice as well?’

‘Sure, and I’ll grate some cheese. So, who are you going to find to tease me about, then? That old manager chap at the hotel?’

‘How do you know he’s old? He might be young and handsome.’

‘In my dreams!’ Lynette shook her head. ‘You know what, I probably won’t even get an interview, so it won’t matter what he’s like.’

Monnie, finding a potato peeler, said nothing. She knew she had an interview, all right, and it was true she was keen to do well. But was it true to say it was all she was interested in? No, she had to admit, every time she thought of Friday she felt a sort of heady excitement which was quite new, and as much disturbing as pleasant. But that was the last thing she’d ever admit to Lynette.

Twelve

When Thursday came, however, the exciting thought of Friday had to go to the back of Monnie’s mind.

This post of assistant warden she was trying for, it was important. There wouldn’t be too many jobs around up here in the Highlands – at least, not for girls like her, without specific qualifications. Lynette had her shorthand and typing, she would have better opportunities, even if she didn’t get the hotel post, whereas Monnie could only offer her experience in the bookshop. Still, she’d make the most of it, and the truth was, she’d really run the business for Mr Bryce, doing the accounts as well as everything else, and her dad had said that that would be worth stressing at her interview.

They’d had a long session, she and Frank, the evening before the interview, going through all the duties of a warden, which would be hers too, at least to know about and be prepared to take over if need be. And heavens, what a load of duties there were! When her eyes went over the list, Monnie felt her brain reeling.

Paying bills, working out budgets, booking in hostellers and telling them all they needed to know, preparing their accommodation and organizing catering and laundry arrangements, providing recreational facilities, dealing with enquiries and emergencies, providing tourist information and details of walks and climbs with advice on safety precautions, proper clothing, and so on.

‘Anything else?’ she’d cried. ‘Don’t tell me that’s all?’

‘Oh, yes, keeping discipline – suppose that goes without saying,’ Frank answered, pulling at his hair in the way he had. ‘And knowing first aid. That’s very important, Monnie. Be sure to tell ’em tomorrow that you once did a course.’

‘That was just from school, Dad!’

‘Never mind, everything counts.’ Frank had sat back, smiling. ‘But I think, quite honestly, it’ll all come down to personality. Don’t want to blow my own trumpet, but I think that’s why they appointed me.’

‘Personality?’ Monnie’s heart sank. ‘Lynette, you’d better go instead of me. I’m no great shakes as a personality, am I?’

‘Come on, you can put yourself across if you really try.’ Lynette nodded her head. ‘Just be definite, that’s the trick. Cut out all the “I thinks” and “not sures” and just say what you want to say with no messing about.’

‘That’ll be your technique if you get an interview at the hotel?’

‘You bet.’ Lynette sighed. ‘But you were right to say “if”. I’m sure they’ll want a Highland lassie.’

Whether or not that was true remained to be seen, but just before Lynette left with Monnie, to keep her company on the bus to Kyle, she took a telephone call. A woman’s cool and rather haughty voice asked if Miss Forester would care to attend for interview, at the Talisman Hotel on the following Tuesday morning at eleven o’clock? Would she not! Oh, yes, Miss Forester would be there, and thank you, thank you very much.

‘Monnie, Dad! Guess what?’ Lynette had called out. ‘I’ve got an interview at the hotel! Next Tuesday!’

They were as delighted as she, and whirled her around the office where Frank had his telephone, until she breathlessly pulled free and asked, now wasn’t this an omen?

‘An omen?’ Monnie repeated.

‘A good omen. For you. You’ll get this job now, Monnie. I know it.’

‘Oh, what a piece of nonsense! You can’t know it, Lynette.’

‘I do, then.’ Lynette’s eyes were dancing. ‘Just as I know I’m going to be wearing my red suit for my interview, even if it’s blowing a blizzard.’

‘And even if there’s only the old manager there?’ Monnie asked wickedly.

‘Why, didn’t you say he might be young and handsome? Whatever he’s like, I want the job and I’m going to get it. And so will you get yours, Monnie. Just wait and see.’

‘She won’t even make the interview if you two don’t catch that bus,’ Frank told them, cheerfully, and away they ran, down the drive and out of the grounds of Conair House, just in time to flag down Tim MacLean’s bus to Kyle of Lochalsh as it wheezed towards the stop.

Afterwards, Monnie was to say that Lynette must have had second sight or something, for after her first interview with the people from the Hostel Association, she was called back for what she thought would be a follow up, only to be offered the job.