The Dog House (Harding's World of Romance) (13 page)

O
nce outside, she immediately clipped a lead to Livingstone’s collar, hating to curtail his happy ramblings but equally determined not to end up chasing him up to the castle today, dressed as she was, to bump into Colin and his entourage. Instead they set off down the road, avoiding the trails she usually wandered because they were muddy and slick today.

Because the Glen Murray road ended shortly after the castle and cottage, there was generally no traffic before the village and pub several kilometres down the road. It was actually nice to walk on flat ground for once, after scrambling up hillsides so often with her dog. And she didn’t need to venture far today to immerse herself in Campbell’s landscape.

The weather featured frequently in his poems and notes. It was true that it tended to dominate the whole feeling of the Highlands, keeping them dramatic and intense, whether because of the clarity of the cold air on austere hills or because of thick fogs, stinging rain and tempestuous winds. However, the old adage of “if you don’t like the Scottish weather, wait five minutes” didn’t seem to hold in the autumn. It had been grey and cold for days now.

Inside, this weather was ideal for writing. Outside, with her legs now soaked and chilly, it was harder to see the romance in it but Livingstone was in his element, splashing in puddles and jumping after frogs, so
Fiona tried to think of Campbell’s words to make her appreciate this aspect of her new home.

But instead her mind went back again to her rainy afternoon with Colin, which soon led her to thinking of one of his comments about not taking things so seriously, about being more frivolous. She wondered uneasily if that even applied to sex. She remembered Sarah’s observation that the upper classes seemed to
take dates to social occasions without the gesture meaning much; she had assumed that this didn’t include sleeping with them, but now she was less sure. Physical intimacy must surely make things a bit more serious, she told herself. Or was that working class mentality?

The unexpected sound of a car coming up from behind her made her jump, and she turned to see headlights coming down the road, blurred by the driving rain. Immediately she realised that the vehicle must come from the castle and her heart began to hammer in panic. The last thing she wanted
was to be spotted with the hound whose hairy face graced the castle’s “most wanted” list. Unceremoniously she gave the lead a strong yank and dragged the astonished Livingstone off the road toward a clump of alder trees in a wet patch of field.

The ground was boggy, making her stumble with each step as her boots were sucked into the muddy patches between springier patches of sphagnum moss. Livingstone gamboled along gamely enough but they still only just managed to reach their hiding spot as the car drove slowly past. It seemed to slow even further as it came abreast of their thicket, but after an eternity it returned to normal speed and drove out of sight.

Fiona sank back weakly against the slippery bark, waiting for her heart to calm down. Then she began to laugh weakly, realising how ridiculous the situation was. Here she was, in wet pajamas and a sou’wester, hiding behind trees to avoid being seen by the man she most wanted to see. It was time that she came clean, confessed to her involvement and tried to explain her cowardice in not coming forward sooner. Regardless of the ambiguous status of their relationship, she was certain that he liked her well enough not to evict her. Besides, he was the one who kept saying not to take things so seriously. It wasn’t as if the dog had caused any permanent damage, and the Parkers and friends could certainly afford the repairs.

Having made up her mind, she set off resolutely back across the field toward the road, stumbling in places and quickly losing momentum. She knew that if she didn’t send the message soon, she would lose her courage, not for fear of eviction but for fear of losing Colin’s admiration and respect. She remembered all too well his words about valour and owning up to
mistakes, and it shamed her to find that this careless rich man held the moral high ground in this regard.

But by the time that she and Livingstone had made it back to the cottage and towelled themselves off, including a quick hot shower for
Fiona, the long-awaited text message was finally flashing in her inbox. She read it eagerly, standing in her small living room with a towel on her head and a slow grin spreading across her face.

It wasn’t
quite a love poem by Campbell, but it was certainly genuine Colin. “Brief note because typing with my nose. Locked deep in dungeon under close cross-examination so please excuse long silence. Thinking about you and completely re-evaluating previous views on country walks. Planning my escape soon. Would Thursday work for you for your promised golf lesson? Your favourite case study of a well-heeled heel”.

Re-reading the message, she could
just see the twinkle in his eye as he wrote it with his usual insouciant flourish. She was sure that he didn’t stop to agonise over his choice of words or even to reread it, so it would be silly to try to analyse whether the lack of affectionate greeting meant anything. At least he had made a reference to their tryst under the trees and his usual friendliness shone through. Most of all, he still wanted to see her again, which gave her enormous relief. Even if it was for a dreaded golf lesson, she knew that she would accept. She could confess to her close encounters of the canine kind in person on Thursday.

The northern early autumn had definitely set in by the time Thursday dawned, cloudy and cold. At least it wasn’t raining,
Fiona consoled herself as she stood looking forlornly into her wardrobe.

She hated the idea of golf. She knew that this counted as one of her prejudices, having never tried the sport, but to her it represented
the great class divide, haughty rich in snooty clubs wandering over unnaturally green fields while the likes of her stumbled after them carrying their golf clubs. It wasn’t even a sport that forced them to do undignified things like sweat, and it was this that was causing her slight anguish now. Golfers dressed in expensive, well-chosen golf clothes, not ratty old sweaters and trainers, and definitely not sou’westers.

Wrinkling her nose, she pulled out the same pa
ir of worn hiking trousers that she had worn on the last two occasions when she had seen Colin, and tried on most of her t-shirts and tops before deciding to hide it all under a large wind-breaker. She still looked like a debutante jogger and she scowled at her reflection in the mirror, unhappily tying back her long hair which she normally counted on as her best asset, but which would get in the way if there was any breeze.

She sought reassurance in the text messages she had saved on her cell phone. Over the past few days she and Colin had enjoyed a fun exchange of messages, and between his humorous and self-deprecating messages, and comical allusions to his parent’s disapproval, he had assured her that their golf experience would be just the two of them, with none of his entourage to laugh at her, or at him.
She had responded with misquotes from Campbell and Robert Burns, hoping that the obvious references had him scurrying to the original sources.

Guiltily she coaxed Livingstone into the back of the Vauxhall, ready to drop him with Sarah again for the day. When she had accepted responsibility for the dog, she had been planning on a regular r
outine that was largely based on being anti-social and concentrating solely on the dog and her work. Now she felt guilty on both counts, as her preoccupation with Colin seemed to dominate all the other aspects of her life.

At least it was helping her to interpret Campbell, she told herself as she drove the second-hand car toward the pub. She was increasingly convinced that the change in his tone was due to some sort of love interest, as his passion for the landscape increased despite the bleaker weather and vegetation that he was describing.

She felt the same way. She had always been drawn to the Highlands, seeing in them the heart of Scotland and the best her country had to offer. And although the fresh green of summer was already turning yellow, she found herself increasingly awe-struck by the austere hills and faded colours, the pale intensity of the light.

She was still thinking about her work as she pulled into the car park of the Glen Murray Inn. It was nearly eleven o’clock and Sarah’s car was already there, making her grateful for the later starts enjoyed by leisurely golfers rather than keen hill-walkers. Colin had cheekily proposed a tee-off time at noon, “an hour when all civilised people will be partaking of lunch.” She approved.

Sarah came out to greet the two of them, caressing the dog fondly and in return being jumped on excitedly. She turned to Fiona.

“Come with me to the back room,” she said cheerfully. “I’ve been asking around and I’ve come up with some more golf-like clothes that should fit you.”

Fiona shot her friend an appreciative look. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Sarah,” she said with heartfelt thanks. “I feel like a yobo in these clothes. I owe you on so many counts now.”

“Wait to see if you like them,” Sarah said practically. “And you know how you can repay me. Introduce me to Colin and his friends.”

“I’ll try,” Fiona promised. “Although I don’t know if his mates are as friendly and accommodating as he is.”

“I don’t need to find myself naked under a tree,” Sarah sniffed with mock prudery. “Being on a first-name basis will be enough.”

Fiona grinned smugly but said nothing as she was led away to a little office, where Sarah had stacked a small pile of clothing. “Go on, try this one,” she urged, handing Fiona a top and trying to keep Livingstone’s nose out of the open desk drawers.

Fiona
looked at the proffered top doubtfully. “It looks a bit small,” she said, pursing her lips but obediently peeling off her layers. “And yuppie. I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“Ah, the sacrifices we make for love,” Sarah said with a smile. “It’s only fair that you take a step in his direction after all he’s done on your turf. And it might be a fun insight into how the other half lives. I’m actually quite impressed that you’re willing to try. Hey, that looks quite smart.”

Fiona
looked at the pale blue shirt with the classic golf collar. “It doesn’t look like me,” she replied. “And no amount of dressing the part is going to impress Colin once he sees me try to swing a golf club.”

“But at least you’ll blend in with his friends in the club house,” Sarah said smoothly. “Now try those khaki trousers with the pleats. And don’t make that face.”

“I’m really hoping not to meet his friends,” Fiona said, struggling to squeeze into the recommended garment. “And if I wear these, I’m going to have to turn down any offers of food or I’ll pop the button. And don’t suggest I wear that visor, by the way. I’m still too young.”

“Well, just promise me you won’t wear that
woollie hat if it gets windy,” Sarah said disapprovingly. “Now bring this jacket in case it gets cold. Your windbreaker looks like it was loud even for the eighties.”

Fiona
took the cream-coloured soft jacket. “What’s with all these pastels?” she asked with a pained expression. “It’s like they’re trying to advertise that they never get dirty.”

“It suits your complexion,” Sarah said, undaunted. “You look great. I couldn’t come up with any shoes, though.”

“You’ve done plenty enough,” Fiona said gratefully. “And thanks for taking Livingstone again. You’re a star.”

“Remember t
o tell that to your new friends when you introduce me,” Sarah said promptly. “I don’t have a mouthful of historical facts to catch their attention.”

“You have a pub full of beer,”
Fiona pointed out. “Guess which one makes you more popular and fun?”

“Seems to me that hanging out with the upper crust English does that,” the barmaid said with a smile. “So run off and have your fun. And be safe.”

“You don’t have to warn me,” Fiona said. “Just any other golfers within striking range. I wonder if I should tell them to wear helmets, just in case.”

Sarah shook her head. “It might mess their coiffure.”

The two women grinned at each other.

“Just keep a sense of humour,” Sarah advised, giving her friend a parting hug. “It’s just a golf lesson after all. And if you accidentally knock him off a bridge,
well, then that will take care of your dog dilemma.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,”
Fiona said dryly. “Now I’d better be off if I don’t want to be late and risk meeting other people on the course.”

“I hope you need your privacy for more intimate things than confessing about your dog,” Sarah said darkly. “Just drop that one. It isn’t worth it, now that we’ve got the problem solved.”

Fiona hesitated before speaking. “I know you’re right,” she said reluctantly. “It’s just a fling or whatever it is to Colin, and I’ll only spoil it by bringing up the dog story. It isn’t as if we’re headed for a serious relationship or anything.”

Sarah looked hard at her friend. “Oh dear,” she said with a shake of her head. “You’re really starting to fall for him, aren’t you?”

Fiona glanced hurriedly at her watch. “I must be off,” she said briskly, hurrying away before Sarah could force her to acknowledge her feelings for Colin Parker.