Touched (23 page)

‘You’re unbelievable, you know that?’ he said, then laughed again at what he had just said. He stopped quickly; given the circumstance laughing out loud like that at private jokes was not wise.

They glared at each other, Dan still holding the box. At last she conceded space and stepped out of his way.

He made one last trip to collect his coat and camera bag. She was sat back on the sofa.

‘So you’re going then?’ she said.

‘Yes,’

‘Do you want me to go?’

He was struck immediately by what she had said. She had switched from asking to go.

‘No,’ he said, ‘I want you here. Do you want to go?’

He knew he was risking things by asking. She hesitated.

‘No,’ she said at last.

‘Good,’ he said, picking up his coat.

‘How long will you be away?’

‘A week, maybe longer. Will you be OK?’

She gave a little smile, the first time she had smiled this morning. ‘I think I’ll survive,’ she said.

‘Ok,’ he said, ‘Well, I’ll be seeing you.’

He walked into the hall, Tess following behind. He opened the door, paused on the threshold, then walked out, locking the door behind him.

Saturday morning

Dan had driven for about 30 minutes before he pulled over.

He had experienced this before. When he drove, he found his dark mood lifting with each mile. By the time he was at the motorway junction his anger had turned to reflection and then, finally, to regret.

He pulled over into a filling station to have a think.

What the hell was he doing? This was really stupid – perhaps Tess was right, he needed help. But in the meantime…

He gave a big sigh, started the engine and turned back towards Manchester.

This, he knew, was going to be a big test of his negotiations skills. But it was worth a go.

Chapter Sixteen

Saturday Evening

‘We’re lost aren’t we?’

‘Might be.’

‘Lost even though you have a Sat Nav?’

‘An old, cheap one with only four digits for the postcode.’

‘So?’

‘Well four digits in Manchester gets you within half a street, which is usually near enough. Here four digits out here covers about 30 square miles!’

‘Ah.’

“Out here” was the west coast of Scotland. Somewhere near Oban. Somewhere near the Oban Diver’s camp site.

Hopefully.

‘So what now?’

The SatNav had brought them south of Oban, off the main road, through a small village and a long way along a progressively narrower single track road that, according to Dan’s road atlas, ended in a tiny village set on a peninsular.

They were still a good five miles short of there. The
SatNav had confidently announced that they were approaching and then was at their destination. In fact they were at an entrance to a track that the road atlas showed led to an isolated loch.

‘So, back to Oban and start again?’

‘Back to Oban and start again,’ agreed Dan.

The light was fading as Dan finally abandoned technology and followed his instincts. One lucky guess in the
centre of town as they passed the busy harbour that was dominated by the Caledonian MacBrayne ferry terminal and there, amazingly, was a signpost to the campsite.

The road took them south out of the town via a rather ugly industrial estate. Suddenly the town was left behind them and the scenery opened up. They were on another narrow hilly road, complete with passing places. Less than a mile out of town and they could have been 50 miles away from
civilisation, the road having swung around the side of a hill so that the town itself was invisible. A further mile and they came to a fork in the road; the right was signed to the diving school, the left to the camp site.

The site itself was small but neat, the site reception being a little chalet sitting next to a log timber toilet block. A stream bisected the site; on either side of the stream were hard standings for caravans and motor homes with water and power hook ups. Tents of various sizes, shapes and
colours were on the broad grassy borders by the entrance with some more on a ridge that the site road looped up to.

Dan left the car and went to book in.

‘Well lad, tha can go up t’ridge or else there’s a nice area by entrance,’ said the jovial bearded man on reception who Dan thought could have a winter career in grottos, ‘it’s up t’you. We aint busy.’

‘Thanks, I’ll have a drive round and have a look,’ said Dan, ‘You’re not local are you?’

‘Nay lad, Yorkshire born and bred. Anyway, hope you have a good night.’

‘Cheers, thanks.’

Dan came out of the chalet and had a look around. There were quite a few other tents by the entrance; he would prefer to be away from other people if possible. The ridge would probably be the better bet then. In any case, there should be a great view down across the water, ideal for sunsets.

He got back in the car and smiled at his companion.

‘Onwards and upwards,’ he said, pointing at the ridge, ‘Let’s try up there.’

The lane up was not tarmacked and was steep and the Skoda’s wheels scrabbled for grip like a puppy scrambling up a sand dune but it was worth it when they reached the top. There was a flat area at the top and the view down the sea loch was, indeed, stunning. There was only one other tent there, pitched on one side of the parking area. Dan went to the opposite side.

The sun was setting, bathing the hills in gold. The air was startlingly clear; light grey, wispy clouds were fringed with red and orange as the sky turned eggshell shades.

‘I should have been ready with my camera,’ said Dan, ‘It’s important to take advantage when you can on the west coast. It can easily rain for a week.’

‘Well it was worth the drive already just to see that. I’m glad you persuaded me to come.’

He smiled. ‘My pleasure, Tess.’

The negotiations had been easier than he expected.

He had just
apologised really, said sorry for being so nasty, excused himself with the stress he had been under. Then he’d told her that he didn’t want to be alone, that he would appreciate her company. She had hesitated at first but then he had won her over by saying: ‘It’s only a week. Just one week as friends and then I’ll help you to find out why you are back – whatever the consequences. Please Tess, I really don’t want to be alone at the moment.’

She had stared at him intently for a full thirty seconds before she nodded.

‘Ok. I don’t want to be alone either – and I’d be worrying about you.’

The reasons for the concern were left to lie by unspoken mutual consent.

Dan’s tent was small – a two man dome – and was put up and had the gear inside within a few minutes. Dan held the entrance open.

‘Your palace awaits, my lady,’ he said.

‘Shh,’ whispered Tess, looking over to her left where the occupants of the other tent sat on camp chairs, bundled up against the chill with coats and woolly hats, a lit barbecue in front of them. ‘They’ll think you’re talking to yourself.’

‘I don’t care.’

‘I do. I don’t want to be not seen with a mad person,’ she said, getting down to her knees and crawling the tent.

Dan grinned and followed her inside.

The tent had a domed sleeping area with an extension at the front. Dan had brought two sleeping mats and bags, even though Tess had laughed at him for it. She now lay on one, facing towards the extension and watched while Dan filled and lit his Trangia and put some water onto boil.

‘You really do have a death wish don’t you?’ she said.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Lighting that inside the tent. My old scout leader would have kittens if he saw anyone do that.’

‘Mine too but at this time of year I rather like the extra heating in the tent.’

‘Well I’m not cold,’ she said with a cheeky but sweet smile.

‘Ha Ha, very funny,’ he said, ‘Anyway I like living dangerously.’

‘I’d noticed. And speaking of living dangerously have you called Jenny yet?’

‘Call her?’ Dan looked up in surprise, ‘But she said she never wanted to hear from me again.’

‘And are you surprised after what you did to her? And surely you know not to take women literally?’ She paused, a thoughtful look on her face, ‘Well not all the time anyway.’

‘How are we supposed to know when?’

‘It’s in the rulebook.’

‘You will print me out a copy sometime won’t you?’

‘I’ll think about it.’

‘I’ll give you a copy of the guy one.’

‘Women don’t need the guy one. You’re pretty simple creatures.’

‘I didn’t think I was all that predictable.’

Tess pulled a face. ‘Well I wouldn’t be so sure about that one. Generally when you give a man a choice he will always take the dumb option.’

‘Well…I chose to bring you with me.’

‘Yes, I rest my case,
m’lud – instead of the younger, hotter, more LIVING, blonde. Duh!’

Dan took shelter behind his task of making a hot drink for himself.

‘Please Dan. Call her. Or text her at least. She’ll be hoping you will.’

Dan looked doubtful.

‘Will she?’

‘Trust me on this; yes.’

‘Ok, I’ll do it later.’

‘Dan! Do it now!’

‘The signal’s bad.’

‘Stop making excuses and just do it. Or I’ll talk at you all night until you give in.’

‘I might like that.’

‘Yes, come to think of it, you might. You’re weird enough. Anyway, don’t argue, just do it.’

Dan sighed heavily.

‘Ok, Ok, I’ll do it,’ he said, retrieving his phone, ‘Anything for a quiet life. Can’t you be like any normal ghost and clank chains or something instead?’

‘When you buy me a castle to haunt instead of a tent,’ she said, ‘Oh and be nice to her. She’ll be hurting.’

‘What should I say.’

‘Just be you, Dan.’

He stared at the phone, his fingers hovering over the keys.

‘Is that enough?’ he said.

‘
Mmm. So what’s the plan for tomorrow?’

Dan had started to text but stopped and looked up again.

‘Did you just change the subject?’

‘
Nooo, not me!’ she grinned. ‘I was just asking, that’s all.’

The light was fading and Dan lit the lantern and hung it in the front extension.

‘Well, I want to get up early to catch the dawn. There’s a castle about 20 miles north of Oban that sits on a sea loch. It will look gorgeous if it’s a still, sunny morning, with mist on the water. And we might catch the harbour too in some good light if we’re quick.’

Tess winced. ‘Dawn? Ouch.’

‘You’re going to be sleepy?’

‘Not me, it was you I was worried about! I’ve seen what you’re like in a morning before you’ve had your coffee. How are you going to manage without your espresso?’

Dan rummaged through the camping box and produced a miniature espresso pot.

‘Camping special. One of the best presents I’ve ever been bought.’

Tess shook her head sadly.

‘We need to talk about your addiction,’ she said.

Dan moved the whisky bottle from the box into the dome part of the tent.

‘Correction, addictions,’ she said, frowning.

‘I may well be addicted to you too,’ he said, leaning unexpectedly over and brushing his lips against her forehead.

‘Hey you!’ she said, looking surprised, ‘You said just friends on this trip!’

‘Did I?’

‘Stop looking so innocent, you know you did!’

‘But you’re so stubborn what difference would it make if I do misbehave?’

She gave a little shrug.

‘Who knows?’ she said, quietly.

Sunday morning – dawn

It was like a dream.

The clouds were pouring off the mountains and flowing into the valleys and over the sea loch, yet the sky behind was clear and blue. It was if the glaciers had returned to claim their kingdom, but yet these where ephemeral, ghosts of the ice age returning to their former domains. They flowed around, over or through any man-made object as if it were beneath them to deign to acknowledge their existence. Bridges were engulfed and became only vague outlines, suggestions of a structure. The boats that rode at anchor in the channels of the estuary faded and hardened, ebbed and flowed with the grey tide, only the clank-clank of rope and wire against wood and metal betraying their reality.

‘It’s unbelievable,’ murmured Tess, ‘I didn’t think anything could really look like this.’