Mary Daheim - Scots on the Rocks

Judith thanked Alison and exited the shop with Renie, who was already standing by the door.

“Well?” Renie said. “Is your curiosity satisfied?”

“You can hardly blame me for wanting to get to know some of the locals,” Judith said in a defensive tone.

Renie shook her head. “Coz, by the time we leave you’ll be on a first-name basis with everybody in this village.”

“So?”

“Never mind.” Renie paused as a midsize sedan came up the hill. “Maybe this is Gibbs.” But the car kept going. “Maybe it isn’t,” Renie murmured. “I wonder what he’s driving?”

“He can’t miss us,” Judith reasoned. “There are only about ten other people on the High Street.”

An older man on a bicycle went by and doffed his cap. A van that bore the lettering MACBEAN MEAT PURVEYORS came up the street and stopped in front of the butcher shop. The sun had come out again. Judith gazed down the hill toward the castle where the flags hung limp on their standards. “It’s fairly warm,” she remarked.

Renie nodded. “Probably fifty degrees. Still in my comfort zone.”

The quiet of the street was broken by the oncoming roar of a motorcycle heading in their direction.

“Bikers,” Renie said in disgust. “I understand they have problems with them over here, too.”

Before Judith could respond, the cycle slowed and stopped. She stared at the helmeted man leaning on the handlebars. “Gibbs?”

“Aye.” He pointed to a sidecar. “Who goes first?”

“Who,” Renie retorted, “doesn’t have to go at all?”

Judith considered her artificial hip. “Is the ride…bumpy?”

“Nae,” Gibbs replied. “I’ll drive slow.”

Renie nudged Judith. “You go. I’ll find an inn and stay here.”

Judith ignored the sarcasm. Gibbs dismounted to help her get in the sidecar. After securing her parcels with a rope, he started the cycle, and with a mighty roar they made a U-turn and headed down the hill.

Gibbs wasn’t going fast, though the cobbled street made for a rough ride anyway. But as soon as they left the High Street and started down the road to the beach, the track turned smooth. Gibbs assisted Judith in getting out of the sidecar, and then unloaded her packages.

“Be back anon,” he said, and hopped onto the motorcycle.

Judith gazed out to sea where a freighter sailed across the horizon. Far down the beach she saw children playing among the rocks. And before her, the castle loomed in its solid age-old mass.

Looking to her right, she noticed Harry Gibbs’s Rover. Apparently he hadn’t spent very long wherever he’d been going after dropping off the cousins. Perhaps he’d met his wife Moira for lunch. Judith frowned. Harry had said he didn’t intend to stop in St. Fergna. She couldn’t help but wonder about the younger Gibbses’ marriage. They were virtual newlyweds, judging from the date of Moira’s first husband’s death. They also had a new baby. Her curiosity couldn’t be squelched.

At that moment, the Rover’s door opened and Harry got out. To Judith’s astonishment, he was stark naked. He didn’t look her way but walked straight into the sea and began swimming.

Or, Judith thought suddenly, was he trying to drown himself?

But Harry seemed to be staying close to shore, bobbing up and down on the occasional wave, backstroking toward the beach, diving briefly underwater. Maybe he was a member of what they called the Polar Bear Club at home: hardy souls who went swimming no matter how low the temperature dropped.

Harry was still splashing about when Gibbs returned with Renie.

“Wow,” Renie said softly, “that was kind of fun. Thanks, Gibbs.”

Judith waited for Gibbs to help Renie get out of the sidecar. “Does your grandson often go swimming this time of year?” she finally asked.

“Och,” Gibbs said with a nod, “the madness of youth. Better than taking those devilish drugs. Into the boat with ye, ladies. I’ll come back for Beams later.”

“Beams?” Renie said.

“Aye. ’Tis an older BMW bike.”

“You don’t have a car at the castle?” Judith asked, still watching Harry swim hither and yon.

“Aye, we do, but ’tis in the shop. Brakes need fixing.” Just as he was about to help Judith get into the skiff, he looked up. “Och! The Master has arrived!”

Judith turned toward the road where a handsome wine-colored sedan was creeping onto the beach. “Do you mean Mr. Fordyce?”

Gibbs suddenly seemed agitated. “Aye, I do. Lord help us!” He glanced out to sea where Harry was still frolicking. “We must bide.”

“Sure,” Renie said. “I’ve always wanted to meet a master.”

Gibbs was hurrying to greet the newcomer. The middle-aged man in the dark-colored windbreaker looked ordinary to Judith—close to six feet, graying black hair, a mustache, and a long, lean face.

The woman who got out on the passenger side was far from ordinary. She was young and slim, with long black hair floating over her shoulders. Her features weren’t perfect, but the slanting brown eyes were lively and she exuded self-confidence.

“Phil!” she cried in an amused voice as she pointed toward the water. “Is that Harry?”

Philip Fordyce peered in the direction his companion had indicated. “Damn fool!” he exploded. “Reckless and stupid!”

Harry swam toward shore. Gibbs muttered to himself. Philip swore under his breath. His companion laughed so hard she had to lean on Philip. Judith and Renie felt like excess baggage.

Harry floated a few more feet before standing up.

“Oh, he’s starkers!” the young woman cried. “How terribly funny!”

Harry walked nonchalantly toward his car but stopped halfway, turned around, and mooned the little gathering.

“What a prat!” the girl cried, and laughed some more.

“Despicable,” Philip declared, refusing to look at Harry. “To the castle, Gibbs.” He scrutinized the cousins. “Are these…ladies with you?”

“Er…aye, they’re the MacGowan’s friends, Mrs. Flynn and Mrs. Jones from the States.”

“I see,” Philip said, his keen hazel eyes surveying the cousins.

“We didn’t ken ye’d be back from the islands so soon,” Gibbs said.

“Cyclone warnings,” Philip replied. “Come, Beth, get into the skiff.”

Judith overcame her awkward feelings. “Mr. Gibbs, are we a problem?” she whispered as Philip and Beth climbed into the little boat.

“Nae, nae,” Gibbs said softly. “The Master can be a wee bit tetchy.”

As Gibbs gave Judith a hand, she looked for Harry but he wasn’t in sight. Maybe, she thought, he was getting dressed in the car. Certainly he wouldn’t have gone into the village in the altogether. Or, she wondered, would he? Harry Gibbs seemed unpredictable.

The girl called Beth was sitting next to Philip, clinging to him like paste. “I’m glad we came back early,” she said. “I was bored at Palma.”

“I noticed,” Philip said dryly. But he smiled and patted her hand.

“Hospitality,” Renie murmured, and sighed. “Scotland is famous for it. We thank you for yours, Mr. Fordyce. Or do I call you ‘Master’?”

Judith tensed. Renie didn’t like being ignored. Trouble was already brewing.

“Mr. Fordyce will do,” Philip replied. “The title is honorary.”

“And deferential,” Renie noted. She smiled, the phony, toothsome smile that usually spelled impending disaster. “How quaint.”

The little boat plied the waters in silence for the rest of the short trip. Judith was relieved that Philip Fordyce hadn’t risen to the bait. After all, Renie couldn’t swim.

The cousins immediately retreated to Judith and Joe’s room.

“Trophy wife,” Renie said. “Big-shot CEO dumps wife number one and lands beautiful raven-tressed bimbo.”