He didn’t push the point. Instead, he took his wallet out and shuffled through its contents for a scrap of paper. Finding one, he clicked a ballpoint pen. ‘Here, write your name on that, I’ll look for your books next time I’m in a shop.’ And while I wrote, he added, smiling, ‘If you write your number down, as well, I’ll come and take you out to lunch.’
Which I found tempting, too, though I was forced to say, ‘I don’t know what my number is, I’m sorry. I don’t even know if there’s a phone.’ And then, because his face was so good-looking, ‘But my landlord’s name is Jimmy Keith. He’ll know how to get hold of me.’
‘Jimmy Keith?’
‘That’s right.’
He gave a smile so broad it fell just short of laughter, as he bent to pick up both my suitcases. ‘You’d best let me give you that lift, after all. I’m not so big my father wouldn’t skelp me if he knew I’d left you here to hire a car when I was heading north myself.’
‘Your father?’
‘Aye. Did I not say my name, before? I’m Stuart Keith.’ He grinned. ‘And since it appears that you’ve taken the cottage where I like to stay, so you’re making me sleep on my father’s spare bed—and a very uncomfortable bed it is, too—then the least you can give me is company during the drive,’ he concluded. ‘Come on.’
And having no argument, really, for that, I had little choice left but to follow.
CHAPTER 3
HE DROVE A SILVER Lotus, sleek and fast, and drove it recklessly. I found it hard to focus on the things that he was pointing out as we went whizzing past.
‘Of course it’s all changed since the big offshore oil rigs went in, in the seventies,’ he said. ‘Not that I remember what it was like before then, I’m not so old as all that, but the area’s been built up, with the people coming north to work in Aberdeen and Peterhead. And we’ve got the golf course, and the beach. The golf course is a good one, it draws a fair number of tourists. Do you play?’
‘Golf ? No, not really. You?’
‘It all depends what you call playing. I can knock the ball around, no problem. Putting it anywhere close to the hole, well…’ He shrugged. ‘It’s too slow a sport for my liking.’
From the way he was driving, I guessed that he didn’t like anything slow. We covered the twenty-five miles in about half the time it had taken me on Sunday. The thick snow that had been here then had melted so the green of grass showed through the white in places, and as we turned down the Main Street to the harbor I could see the golden grasses blowing wild along the dunes above the wide pink curve of beach. Already the place had a welcoming feel, half-familiar. As we parked the car on Harbour Street, I felt a settling of my spirit that reminded me a little of the feeling that I got whenever I flew back to Canada and knew that I was home.
It was a nice way to feel, after spending the past year in transit, bouncing from author appearances to writers’ conferences, one hotel to another, and then the months of fruitless work in France. Something told me that spending this winter in Scotland would be good for me, as well as for the book.
‘Come on,’ said Stuart Keith. ‘You’ll want to get your key, I’m sure, and Dad will want to walk you up the hill and see that you’ve got everything you need. In fact, if I know him,’ he said, and checked his watch, ‘he’ll likely have you stay to lunch.’
Jimmy Keith lived in a grey, stone-built cottage wedged tightly between its two neighbors and set at the edge of the street. His sitting room was at the front. I knew this because he had the window partly open, and I could hear a television announcer giving a play-by-play of something that sounded like soccer.
Stuart didn’t ring the bell or knock, but simply used his own key to walk in, with me behind him. The narrow front hall, with its mirror and mat, and the cheerfully yellowing wallpaper, wrapped me with warmth and the faintly lingering smells of a fried-egg-and-sausage breakfast.
From the front room, Jimmy called, ‘Aye-aye. Which one o’ ye is that?’
‘It’s me, Dad.’
‘Stuie! I didna expect ye till Friday. Come in, loon, drap yer things and come and watch the match wi’ me. It’s on video—I’ll wind it back.’
‘In a minute. I just need the key to the cottage.’
‘The cottage, aye.’ Jimmy’s voice took on a note of apology. ‘Listen, there’s been a wee change o’ plan…’