“Then maybe I’m going to have to educate you. What’s your favourite music?”
“Rock and pop, mainly. I was a nineties child, so I was brought up on a diet of Radiohead, Nirvana—”
“Ah, the legendary Kurt Cobain. Dark and moody—”
“Keith Urban, Sheryl Crow—”
“Now we’re talking—”
“Kylie, Cher and Mika.”
“Huh? Are they like Crosby, Stills and Nash?”
Trevor pulled a face. “Looks like this musical education thing will need to work both ways.”
When Rudy laughed, Trevor took the opportunity to turn and enjoy his profile. He navigated the small lanes well, entirely in control of the car, slowing at each turn and ever mindful of his speed. In Trevor’s book, Rudy would be classed as a comfortable driver, aware of his skill and competence, completely at home behind the wheel. Cheryl, by contrast, was a nervous driver, something accentuated when anything unusual happened—a bump in the road, or a sudden downpour of rain.
“Rudy. Something I’ve been meaning to say. I don’t have anything formal to wear for your parents’ party. I didn’t think to bring anything. But if we could stop at a men’s clothing shop while we’re in town, then maybe I could—”
“You’ll do no such thing. Maybe I’m a little broader than you, but you can borrow something of mine. I’ve got suits I’ve barely worn back at the house.”
“As long as you’re sure?” said Trevor, relieved.
“Of course I’m sure. I’ll even help dress you.”
Trevor smiled at the thought. Another comfortable silence fell between them as Trevor hummed along to a vaguely familiar melody while watching out of the window as the highlands floated by.
“So are you inviting any of your friends along to the ball?” he asked.
“Apart from the Bulls team, you mean?” said Rudy without humour.
“Yes, well. Maybe not them. How about other friends?”
“I’d invite them if I had any.”
“Come on, Rudy,” said Trevor, shocked, turning to gape at him. “You expect me to believe you never made friends while you were at university? Or working at the gym? Even an idiot can see that you’re friend magnet material.”
“I did have friends,” he said before looking away, his smile slipping. “But when you have to keep putting people off because your closeted other half won’t be seen out with you, or won’t allow you to invite friends home, then friendships become like autumn leaves in a storm, gradually dropping off and drifting away.”
“Yeah, well,” said Trevor, rubbing his nose. “We’re going to need to fix that.”
After around fifty minutes, more houses began to line the road as they hit the outskirts of Fort William. Trevor received a message on his phone from Cheryl to say Mrs M and Doris had arrived early and were waiting outside a supermarket along from the bus station. Rudy explained that the town centre had been pedestrianised, and how the bus station stood farther out, near the central train station. As they rounded the corner of a street lined with single and double-decker buses and coaches, Trevor spotted the two ladies chatting happily together, a clutter of full shopping bags arranged at their feet.
All the way back to the lodge, Mrs M kept them entertained with stories about the past twenty-four hours, about how the flight had been remarkably smooth and how Mary, for all her previous complaining, had been relatively calm throughout the whole ordeal. Trevor had to hold in a snort when he heard about Karl passing out cold when she finally gave birth. Fortunately, Doris had been there to catch him. Otherwise he might have given himself a nasty concussion. When asked about Damian, they found out he had been in an unusually foul mood, maybe because the incident had ruined his holiday plans. Out in the waiting area, ‘he and the woman pilot’ appeared to have ‘harsh words’, after which they’d both left. Mrs M had no idea what the argument had been about and didn’t really care.
Neither did Trevor.
He just hoped Ingram had got the message that he wasn’t welcome back.
Chapter Seventeen
Driving Home For Christmas
After the drama of the past days, a cosy lethargy descended on the lodge. Down to only eight, including Rudy, the remaining guests savoured the relative tranquillity of the slowly thawing highland countryside.
On New Year’s Eve, the morning of the Mortimer Hogmanay Ball, Rudy drove Trevor, Cheryl, Frank and Johnny over to Mortimer House. Making up for lost holiday activities, he’d proposed they all go horse riding. Only Frank and Johnny had been keen to take him up on the offer, but Trevor and Cheryl had tagged along anyway. Rudy even approved of Trevor's decision not to ride because he wanted Trevor to give his final endorsement to the decorations viewed by daylight and make any finishing touches before guests started arriving at around six. Cheryl insisted on helping mainly because she wanted to have a nose around the ‘big house’.
On the short car ride over, Trevor sat with Rudy upfront. Surface snow had cleared, and, with cloudless skies over the past few days, they hoped the threat of more snow had diminished. The night before, Rudy had likened snow to an occasional guest, someone who often brought pleasure with their arrival, but could soon become wearing when overstaying a welcome.
