I suppose it was inevitable. A cozy comfortable supper in the bar – Maggie found a good bottle of wine in the cellar. We both cleared away and washed up and coffee and whisky were produced. We sat in the small lounge and had our drinks. When they were finished she looked across at me.
“Bed-time?” There was no need to say any more. I nodded. After all, why not? Maggie was a warm and loving woman and she needed love as much as anyone else. The shock of the last two days had made me vulnerable, so without a word she slipped her hand into mine and we went upstairs. I honestly felt sure that Liz would have understood.
It was quiet and gentle love-making. None of the frenzied passion of the young but a night of giving. Each of us seemed to want to give the other as much physical pleasure as possible – the joy of giving and the joy of receiving, shared in equal measure. The years of experience we had between us combined to make the music elegant and beautiful – rising and falling like a Mendelssohn symphony as opposed to a piece of hard rock.
Afterwards Maggie snuggled up to me, resting her head on my shoulder. I gently smoothed down her hair to stop it from tickling my nose.
“Thank you,” she whispered softly in my ear, and her eyes closed. Her breathing fell into the steady rhythm of sleep.
I lay awake for a while staring at the ceiling and smiling. There had been no one since Liz had gone, nor had there been anyone else while she had been alive. Making love to someone else was a novel experience. It was also nice to know that I could still make someone happy, even if only for one night.
We spent the next day quietly. Maggie diligently went about her day’s business. She had to go out to get some supplies so I had an hour on my own to reflect on what had happened to me and what I would do next, once I was fully back on my feet.
I decided I would foist myself on Heather for a couple of days. I didn’t think she would mind. Mike and Pierre could come over to discuss next steps. I wondered whether Mike would bring Sophie. I didn’t want to think about Purdy and Dewar until I was back in Doune.
Maggie made lunch and we chatted comfortably, adding, bit by bit, more flesh onto the skeleton stories of our lives that we had described the day before.
We walked for an hour in the afternoon and I dozed in the lounge while she did some catching up on the hotel’s administration. There were no guests checking in that day either which suited us just fine.
Supper, a bit of television and another night just as wonderful for both of us as the night before.
As promised, Heather turned up just after lunch the next day, muttering about irresponsible brothers who didn’t keep their cars properly serviced. I introduced her to Maggie, who then left us alone so that I could tell my sister the proper story.
She didn’t know the story of Purdy and AIM so I had to explain it to her. I recounted it as briefly as I could – Pierre’s experience with AIM, my performance at the Conference, the hacking of their systems and the proof of wrong-doing. I then came to the bit about the bomb.
“Goodness” I think was the term she used. “Do you mean you might have been killed?”
“It looked a bit like that at the time. That’s why we did what we did next.”
“Which was?” When I described how we had grabbed Purdy and put him through his trial and “persuaded” him to right all the wrongs he had done she had a hard time believing it.
“And so what are you doing up here?” I told her simply that someone had grabbed me and carted me up here and dumped me in the mountains. I had to explain that it had taken me a couple of days to get down to here and that I needed a few more days to recover. Would it be ok if I came and stayed with her until the weekend?
“Bloody hell! This Purdy man has tried to bump you off with a car bomb and then someone dumped you up in the mountains! It’s incredible! You’ll have to go to the police – and straight away!”
“Look, let me rest up with you for a couple of days. We’ll get Pierre and Mike over and discuss it and then decide what to do. OK?”
“Well, I suppose so,” she replied. Maggie came through and offered us a cup of tea which was gratefully accepted. I told Heather how Maggie had been very good to me when I had turned up on her doorstep, but didn’t go into any detail.
Heather and Maggie chatted amiably while I sat back and watched them, only half listening. Retelling the story to Heather had got my mind going in the direction of Bill bloody Dewar.
We prepared to leave. Heather thanked Maggie for looking after me.
“Don’t worry, it was a pleasure.”
I added my thanks and gave her a hug and a tender kiss on the forehead and got into the car. We were just about to get in the car when I remembered I was still wearing her son’s trainers.
“Nearly forgot,” I said, bending down to start to undo the shoe laces.
She put her hand gently on my shoulder. “Don’t worry about them. You can give them back to me next time you’re passing through.”
Chapter 19
Heather didn’t say much on the drive back to Doune. Nor did I. I was still thinking about my ordeal. I was still full of memories of the last two days with Maggie. I was also trying to decide how to get my revenge on Dewar.
I soon dozed off. By the time we got back to the farm it was early evening. The grandchildren had been recovered by their mother and Heather, Oliver and I had the evening to ourselves.
We ate companionably around the large pine table in the kitchen. I was at last able to take a mental step back from all that had happened over the last few days. Heather’s beef casserole, the wine and cheese did wonders for my wellbeing. Thoughts of Maggie didn’t do any harm either.
During the meal I went over the whole story again to let Oliver in on the situation.
“Sounds like Pierre has brought you a bunch of trouble,” was his comment. “I can understand what you’ve done to Purdy and I hope all these people he screwed appreciate it but you’ve now got this man Dewar trying to exterminate you. That is pretty serious isn’t it?”
“Well, he hasn’t succeeded. He won’t know that yet but, even if he did, he can’t possibly know where I am now. I’ll just lie low for a few days, if you guys don’t mind. Is it OK if I call Pierre and Mike and get them to come down tomorrow so that we can decide what we’re going to do about him?”
Heather replied, “Of course it’s alright, but aren’t you going to go to the police?”
“We’ll see. Not yet. Anyway I’ve got absolutely no proof against Dewar and, as for Purdy, as far as I am concerned that problem is resolved.”
I made my two phone calls. I apologized that I had not been able to be in touch for the last two days but I would explain everything if they would come over to Heather’s tomorrow for lunch.
Then I had another thought. It would perhaps be a good idea if Mac and Doug came as well. They’d been watching Dewar and might have some insight that would be useful. I asked Heather and suggested that we could do a barbecue and thrash out the whole thing together.
“Fine,” said Heather.
“We’ll be eight then,” I said. “How come eight?” she asked. “I make it seven – us two, you and Pierre and Mike and his two cowboys.”
“Just cater for eight,” I said and went off to phone Mike to get him to get Doug and Mac to come over as well.
The next morning was fortunately bright and sunny. The farm was a haven of peace. Well set back from the road and on a rise, we had a beautiful view in all directions. Hills to the east, mountains in the far distance to the north and the brooding edifice of Stirling Castle, erstwhile guardian of all routes north, perched on its rock – its role in Scottish history assured forever.
Oliver and I dug out the barbecue and trundled it over to the flat patch of ground at the side of the pond. The ducks didn’t seem to mind. I presume they knew that they weren’t going to be the object of our cooking.