Chapter Eleven
She was ready to sob with relief as they pulled into a carpark. Several vehicles were covered in snow and white tracks could be seen in the snow. She was almost too cold to move, when her car door opened the farmer examined her closely.
‘Are you okay?’
Clem tried to reply but simply couldn’t stop her teeth from chattering. Swearing under his breath, he leant into the car and gently removed her hands from the steering wheel and undid her belt. Helping her out of the car, she stumbled in the snow and suddenly found herself swept up into his arms.
Clem tried to protest, she wasn’t some sort of damsel in distress, but as he put her down she stumbled again.
‘Do you want to break your leg like the sheep? Stop being daft. It’s only a few metres.’
The man looked at her in exasperation as she glared at him, and then realised she was just too cold to be messing around outside. She needed to be in the warmth as quickly as possible. Swinging her up again, he headed towards the pub. As he opened the door, warmth and light spilled out on to the falling snow.
‘Rory! Back so soon! And carrying fair maidens!’
Rory accepted the teasing, saying he’d been waylaid by a girl and her sheep. He placed Clem gently on her feet as the locals took in her fashionable red wool coat, high heels and how she was covered in clumps of snow and twigs.
She tried to snap something at them. She wasn’t the funfair show-and-tell act. But her jaw was shaking so badly that she couldn’t get the words out. Within seconds, everyone seemed mobilised and she was steered towards a large leather sofa by the fire, her coat and shoes removed and two big blankets wrapped around her and her feet. Finally, someone thrust a mug of mulled wine into her hands, with the promise that a bowl of soup was on its way. Checking she was okay, most of the patrons left to help the farmer with the sheep, while the barmaid sat opposite her, quietly enjoying a drink of mulled wine. She didn’t talk and Clem was glad; she wasn’t in the mood to make small talk, even if she could get past the jitters.
The woman opposite her was remarkable at blending in given her size. She was tall and really broad. Clem could imagine her juggling those big logs she’d seen on posters for the highland games. Despite that, she was a quiet figure, restrained and calm. Clem had thought she was sitting there to keep an eye on her and she was ready to be pissed off, but soon she forgot she was there and just enjoyed feeling the warmth gradually return to her toes, even if it was painful.
‘Pins and needles hey? That’s a good sign, means your toes won’t fall off.’
Clem looked across at her in alarm.
‘Frostbite. It’s a real concern for people that decide to fall down a gulley in a snowstorm.’
Clem’s lips twitched. ‘Decide? I’ll have you know I chose my gulley wisely; it had a sheepskin lining.’
‘Ah wise beyond your years. Top up?’
Clem agreed that the toddy seemed to be helping warm her up. Sipping it, the two women fell back into a comfortable silence which was only broken by the others returning with a sheep in a splinter and another couple covered in snow. The noise in the pub rose to a merry hum as it was agreed that a lock-in was inevitable.
As she sipped her drink she tried not to stare as she looked around to see if she knew anyone but no one from the castle was in and she revelled in her anonymity. She had never been in a pub like this. The floor was made of huge stone slabs, various dogs lounged in corners, by people’s feet and one old lab seemed to have fallen asleep right in front of the bar so that people were stepping over him. The people themselves were a revelation, everyone seemed to be in jumpers and boots. Not pretty boots but great big clumpy ones, a couple were even wearing wellies. Tatty wax jackets hung over wooden chairs and someone had even put some socks over a radiator that was gently steaming.
None of the women seemed to be wearing much in the way of make-up and Clem was prepared to put money on the fact that there wasn’t a hair straightener within ten miles of this place. And yet for all that no one seemed to care. There was absolutely no air of flirting in the room and whilst she knew she was attracting the odd curious stare it had none of the predatory gaze of a London bar. Back home, bars pulsed with nervous energy: Do I look wealthy? Do I look pretty? Do I look successful? Will I pull? Can I prove? … It added to the buzz of a night out, but it was also exhausting, being constantly judged and either hit on or dismissed. Clem was usually dismissed as she refused to play. Here, however, the energy of the room was a world away. There was laughter and excitement, but it was relaxed, and Clem leaned back and sipped her drink. She’d give her eye teeth right now for her sketch book, these people were wonderful, their faces were so relaxed, and she was desperate to capture every little detail.
Clem’s companion rose and headed towards the kitchen to put on a larger bowl of stew and prepare some bread for breakfast. As she explained, John, her father, ran the pub and she went upstairs to prepare the guest rooms. Matches were drawn to see who would sleep where.
‘If the fire burns all night I’m quite happy here on the sofa? I’m a night owl anyway,’ Clem volunteered.
Someone pointed out that she was probably the perfect size for the sofa anyway, so she’d bagged the best spot in the pub. Grinning at her advantage, she was then alarmed to be told she would be in charge of the fire. She had to confess that she had no idea how they worked, so her rescuer from earlier came over and explained the arcane arts.
Clem smiled nervously as he approached. She still felt uncomfortable about him carrying her. She wasn’t some helpless female, but the fact was that she would have found it hard to walk that short distance. He obviously had no difficulty carrying her, and she had felt completely secure as he lifted her up, but still, to be so close and so vulnerable to a total stranger had made her feel odd.
Now he sat down opposite her and introduced himself as Rory Gowan, and he was, as Clem had suspected, a farmer. With a friendly smile, Rory reassured her that keeping a fire alight was much easier than getting it started. Despite that very alarming beard, his smile made it all the way to his bright blue eyes. She liked the way his eyes crinkled at the edges; it looked like he smiled a lot. He was very reassuring as he explained how to maintain a fire and Clem felt certain that she would be able to manage.
‘So why were you heading over to Ruacoddy Castle?’ He placed another log on the fire and settled it across two other logs. Flames quickly leapt up and the new bark began to pop and crackle. ‘Have you a job there?’
Clem watched the fire in wonder as she saw blue and green flames rapidly turning orange. She had never really studied a fire before and the colours and movement were mesmerising. Realising that Rory had asked her a question, she tried to formulate an answer that she was comfortable with. She wasn’t great with strangers; her philosophy was to keep them at arm’s length so they couldn’t stab you in the back. He was clearly just being polite rather than nosy, but Clem was still uncertain about explaining her new life.
Just as she was about to speak, he interrupted her.
‘Sorry. No need to tell me. I was just making conversation.’ He patted his hands on his knees and stood up. ‘Now remember, don’t let the fire go out. There’ll probably be a few hands of cards in a minute if you play?’ And then he left her to the fire and feeling awkward.
‘Do you play cards?’
Bloody hell, thought Clem, that girl was remarkable at being unnoticed.
‘You remind me of my little sister. You can be sitting in a room with her for hours without noticing. It’s one hell of a party trick. The gossip she used to pick up!’
The girl laughed. ‘It used to bother me, then I grew really tall and I welcomed it and hid behind it. Now I’m just cool about it. And as you say, I pick up some great gossip. What’s your sister’s name? I’m Mari by the way.’
Clemmie smiled; it was nice to talk about her sisters. ‘Aster.’
‘Oh that’s a pretty name. It means star, doesn’t it?’ Clem ticked herself off for her surprise and agreed that she had picked up the prettiest name of the bunch.
‘How many of you are there?’
‘There’s five of us: Ari, me, Nick, Paddy and Aster.’
Mari’s eyes lit up when Clem mentioned Nick and Paddy.
‘Oh I’d love a brother. Don’t get me wrong, I love my sister but we’d have loved a brother.’
Clem nodded. ‘We wanted one too. Da was always saying that he was outnumbered. Nick and Paddy are girls. They’re twins and when they were born he would sing “Nick-nack paddy-whack, give a dog a bone” to make me and Ari laugh. She’s also a girl, Ariana not Harry. Anyway, Mummy was having none of that, so they compromised and baptised them Nicoletta and Patricia and forever after were known as Nick and Paddy. Ariana, Nicoletta, Patricia and Aster. What a mouthful hey? Imagine what school was like?!’
She paused, conscious that she’d been rabbiting on, which was utterly out of character. She looked across to Mari who was smiling. ‘That sounds like a lovely family but you forgot one?’
Clem thought but couldn’t follow her and looked quizzical.
‘Who are you?’ said Mari.
Clem rolled her eyes, then claimed she was saving the best till last. ‘Clementine, or Clemmie or Clem, or most frequently Jesus Clem!’
Mari leant forward and shook her hand. ‘Which do you prefer? Clem or Clemmie?’
‘I don’t care much. Clementine is for when I’m being told off though.’
‘Or Jesus Clem?’
Clem laughed. ‘Yes, or Jesus Clem. I have a habit of being a bit like a bull at a gate. Plus, I can also be a bit defensive and suspicious, which are like the holy trinity of how to win friends and influence people. Touchy, moody and belligerent.’
Mari grabbed a crisp and laughed. ‘Well, forewarned is forearmed. But I suspect you are being overly hard on yourself. How would your family describe you?’
‘The same,’ laughed Clem.
‘There you see. The fact that you’re laughing means they love you and you know it. So you can’t be all bad. Now, I have to go and serve the stew. Do you want to come to the table or stay by the fire?’ Mari gathered the empty glasses from the slate flagstones. ‘Are you warm enough yet? And don’t try to be brave or stoical, the cold can get right into your bones.’
Clem was torn, the fire was lovely but she thought she’d already annoyed her rescuer by failing to answer his question. She had probably come across as ungrateful. Hoping that she was going to be here for a few months yet, she had best try to make a few friends. God knows, she had made few friends up at the castle. So far, she was having more luck with cats and sheep.
Leaving the sofa, she sat at the table closest to the fire and instantly regretted her decision. The stone floor was freezing on her bare feet; happily, as she sat down on the high bench, her feet no longer touched the floor but they were still cold. Mari passed around the tables, placing large bowls of stew and chunks of bread in front of people and a few minutes later returned with salt and pepper and a pair of big fluffy socks. She didn’t make a fuss about them, just handed them to Clem without comment.
Rory was helping Mari serve the tables, and with his own bowl in hand he walked over to Clem and asked if there was room for him at the end of the bench. Clem nodded shyly and was determined to be friendlier.
Mari’s father called out from behind the bar, asking if anyone needed anything else before he sat down and joined them. One of the patrons was being teased when he mentioned that he’d come out without his wallet.
This seemed to be something of a familiar refrain, and when the landlord pretended to remove his plate, the man grudgingly suggested that the pub run a tab for him.
‘I’ll add it to your others then, shall I?’ asked John, which was met with more good-natured laughter. And then in a sweep of generosity, the older man said that they may as well put everyone’s food on his tab as well. But then he looked around the tables and called out, ‘But your drinks are your own. I ken what you lot are like, even that wee lassie at the end has already gone through two drinks and she’s only just in through the door.’
Clemmie struggled to reply, as she’d just taken a large piece of meat and therefore had time to realise that no one was laughing at her. She was just part of the joke he was making at his own expense. If anything, she thought, he had just made her part of the group. Remaining silent, she continued with her stew and raised a glass to the man who had just singled her out. She was delighted that her gesture was met with laughter, and she continued with her stew.
As she ate her food, she struggled to think of anything to say to the man on her right. She wanted to point out that he was blocking the heat from the fire, but decided that that would come across as churlish. He also wasn’t speaking, so maybe he wasn’t a great conversationalist. One of those quiet mountain men, wilderness sorts. If she were Paddy, he’d be telling her his life story right now. Paddy could enter a room full of strangers and an hour later leave with a bunch of lifelong friends. It was a clever skill and Clem saw that it could be useful. But she knew her limitations.
Eventually, the plates were cleared and the cards came out, and Clem concentrated on beating as many people as possible. Without Nick and Aster at the table, she knew she had a chance of winning. Her folks had been mad for card and board games and Clem’s memories were full of laughter and tantrums as the family would play each other to a standstill.
Aster and Nick would also play cards at school for lunch money. Only losing when it seemed like the other students were tiring of being fleeced. As the evening wore on Clem flexed her skills and became the unmistakable winner of a pile of peanuts. At one point in the evening, the old man, who was known as James, asked if she could play bridge. When she said she could, he gave a little cheer and announced to the room that he’d be putting her drinks on his tab as well as her food.
Again she raised her mug and asked Rory what was going on.
‘James Monroe, Laird of Invershee. Much loved around here and always trying to find new bridge players. You’ve just made a friend for life there.’
The evening rolled on towards midnight as the fire crackled and the whisky flowed. Finally, as everyone turned in, Clem fell asleep, smiling.