Date: Sun, 17 Jan 2021 11:09:43 +0000 From: Jonah Subject: Scotland the Brave Chapter 1 This story is a work of fiction. Like all works of fiction it has to have some basis in reality, even if it is only that its protagonists speak the same language as the reader, but it does NOT contain any actual people. If you think you've spotted yourself, or somebody you know in here -- you haven't. Every person in this story (and dog) is my own creation. There may also be a mention of characters created by another author. Jacob Lion, in America, has kindly permitted me to include his characters in my stories. It has been impossible to avoid some mention of real places, and some organisations. The story is a story and in no way suggests that those organisations would act in the way that they do in the story. Although several of the characters in this story are gay, that is their sexual orientation and in no way suggests promiscuity. If you are looking for pornography of any sort, I can save you some time -- look elsewhere. If you wish to read a story of love in its finest form, I hope you enjoy it. Nifty is kind enough to enable us to write and to read these stories so please consider making a donation. It costs money to run a site like this. http.//donate.nifty.org/donate.html Scotland the Brave Chapter 1 By Jonah Kings Cross Station was getting good at this sliding away backwards lark. Our East Coast Azumah was accelerating smartly. Howard lay peacefully under the table and heeded it not. He was snuggled up against Luke's legs and so was proof against anything. Luke had adopted the sitting and writing job while Peter took responsibility for trying to spot numbers. Seemingly he hadn't learned. In the seat opposite me Simon settled back and smiled. Obviously the activities of these children were beneath him. School had broken up yesterday and we were to spend the half-term holidays in the Scottish Highlands. Since the boys missed Monica, it would probably do them good to get away from Harrow for a week, and I couldn't say that I'd be disappointed to while away the hours putting the world to rights with Fergus; nor would I feel unhappy about being compelled to eat Janet's cooking. As the train rocketed through Hertfordshire, Cambridgeshire, Lincolnshire, Nottinghamshire and into Yorkshire I succumbed to the temptation to nap. Not that Yorkshire offered any great incentive to wakefulness, other than the stop in York Station. The smooth motion of the train with its almost imperceptible thud - thud, and the quiet hiss of the air-conditioning, had the inevitable effect of wafting me away into Slumberland. Yes, alright, I woke at Darlington, Newcastle and Berwick, but Edinburgh seemed to come more quickly than usual. We entrained for Perth and I was more alert. The train was more crowded, and I had Luke sitting on my lap. The dog was beneath his feet. I think Peter was on Simon's lap, but it was difficult to turn my head enough to see. From Perth it was an HST, so we travelled comfortably enough to Carrbridge. As I stepped onto the platform at Carrbridge I was almost knocked backwards by an apparently two-legged Pyrenean mountain dog who needed to lick my face. A volley of barking from down below put a stop to that. Lady looked down, then decided the Whiprador at our feet needed licking instead. Howard was, at first, surprised by this development but, within seconds, the two canines were firm friends. "It's good tae see ye Jonah!" said the dog's owner practically wresting my hand from my wrist. "Come along boys, the engine's still running." Now anywhere else in the United Kingdom this would have produced incredulity. Apart from the fact that it is illegal to abandon a vehicle with its engine running, it is something that no sane person would do. This, however, was Carrbridge. Moreover, there were the low temperatures and the scattering of snow on the ground, with flurries that could have been fresh snowfall, but could equally have been snow whipped from the ground by the horizontal gale. Yes, it was late October and we were being treated to Highland weather. Given the circumstances, it could easily have proved a point of wisdom not to switch off the engine. Needless to say, my boys were excited by this. Both dogs were loaded in the back of the pickup where Lady made herself responsible for pinning Howard into a corner behind the cab. It didn't take long to make our way to Riverside Cottage, and the gale was whipping the snow around worse than ever. It was now obvious that not all the flying snow was being lifted and drifted. A great deal of fresh snow was also falling insofar as the wind would let it. Now snow which is being treated by the wind in that fashion is more likely to settle on vertical surfaces than horizontal ones, which was not good since most of our surfaces were vertical. By the time we climbed from the Landrover, outside the cottage, the gentle flurries had whipped themselves up into a regular blizzard. Hurriedly we unloaded dogs and luggage and carried the latter into the cottage. It had taken only seconds for fingers to start to numb but a good log fire blazed in the lounge. "Come and warm ye poor wee selves by the fire," Janet fussed. We didn't need any persuading. Fergus had hurriedly shunted both dogs to the kitchen. He disappeared up stairs and then reappeared bearing two large bath-towels, one of which he handed to Luke. "Come with me," he told the boy. I followed the two of them into the kitchen where Lady and Howard were demonstrating the problem of having TWO wet dogs about the place. I expect you know how a dog with very wet fur dries itself. You may even have learned the hard way. Well when you have two of them, like Lady and Howard, what happens is that Lady, for instance, will briskly shake herself from head to tail sending up a brisk shower of water -- all over Howard. Howard is now even wetter than he was before so will dry himself by shaking himself from head to tail and setting up a regular torrent -- all over Lady. This could have gone on forever but Fergus, holding his towel in front of him like a shield, told Luke, "Hold your towel like this." Luke did so. "Now," said Fergus, "you take yours and I'll take mine." They both did exactly that. Dropping their towels over their respective dogs, they pounced and briskly toweled down their struggling quarries. "I hav'nae room for you four to hold wrestling matches in here," said Janet, coming into the kitchen. "I've got the dinner tae serve up." We all retreated -- Fergus to his armchair, while both dogs settled in front of the fire - Howard with Luke wrapped around him, and Lady with Peter wrapped around her. I settled on the sofa with Simon and enjoyed the warm glow that was spreading through me. A beef stew and dumplings later (not to mention the jam roly-poly), Simon challenged his grandfather to a chess tournament while the rest of us played concentration on the floor. It didn't last long as duty called. Luke had answered the call of duty and found the privy to be inaccessible. Being only five foot not very much, he was unable to see over the top of the wall of snow that obstructed the way from the back door. Fergus disappeared into the cupboard under the stairs and reappeared with two snow shovels. "Ours, I think," said Simon taking both from him. I took one of them before Fergus could protest. Sure enough, the snow had piled solidly against the back door to a depth of nearly six foot. "Which way's that wind blowing from?" I asked. Simon stuck his shovel-blade up in the air. "That way," he said, observing which side of it had become coated with snowflakes. "Right, then we pile the snow up on that side," I told him. "We'll build a wall of snow that'll stop it blowing more in here by morning." It was a lot of snow. Before long we could feel our faces glowing with the effort. It took a while to get it down to ground level, even for a short part of the way -- particularly since we were not just stacking it up but had to compact it to make it solid enough not to blow back again. Half an hour later Fergus was there with two steaming cups of tea. "It's got a wee drop of something in it to keep the cold out," he told me. "Simon's barely fourteen," I pointed out. "He's doing a man's work, and he needs a man's drink," retorted Fergus. There was no point in arguing with that. In any case, I couldn't help feeling he was right. An hour later there was a two-foot-wide passage from the back door to the bathroom. On one side of it lay virgin snow to a depth of five foot something while, on the other, was compacted ice to virtually the height of the reinforced glass roof. We had put a backwards lean on this to prevent dangerous icefalls when it eventually thawed, and it was having the effect of ensuring that very little snow now blew under the glass roof. Fergus and Janet both declared themselves delighted with our efforts. The final touch came from Fergus. He produced, from somewhere, an Adlake 22 railway signal lamp, lit it and installed it in the bathroom. "We wouldn't want the pipes in there freezing overnight," he told us. Janet soon went up to bed, supplying us all with hot cocoa before she did so. Having drank theirs the boys retired too -- as did Howard. Fergus and I stayed behind to see that the fire was alright -- as well as to see that Fergus' bottle of Glenlivet was not too lonely. "That's a good wee dog ye've got there Jonah," said Fergus. "He is, and Luke wouldn't be without him," I replied. Fergus smiled, though whether for my benefit, or for his whisky glass, I couldn't tell. It certainly seemed to be directed at the latter. "Aye, he's been through a lot," he said. "You've good reason to be proud of him." "If you mean Monica," I said, "that hit us all." "Aye, but Luke more than most, I'm thinking," he responded. "What can I say? It doesn't matter when people die, they'll be missed but Luke's powers of perception will have made that pretty frightening for him. I'm proud to know the wee laddie so I know how you feel." I didn't know then, and still don't for that matter, whether anybody had told Fergus about Luke's "visions". Certainly, if they had not, it was uncanny how close to the truth he had come. Of course, one of the boys may have mentioned it in their letters. "I know," I replied. "I'm a very lucky man." "Ye're a very lucky man indeed," he agreed. "So, will ye be requiring more whisky? Or are we calling it a night?" I glanced at the glowing embers. "I shouldn't put another log on Fergus," I told him. "Goodnight." TO BE CONTINUED