This was his first tour to Arran this year and it felt good to be back. He always felt at home as soon as he stepped off theferry. There was something about crossing the water by boat that made this trip feel extra special. As he followed the path that cut across the golf course, he began to think about the next few days and what lay ahead for the next trip. Logan never really switched off from work, he couldn’t help himself. He was extremely organised and efficient and liked to make sure he had all eventualities covered.
Tomorrow he would go through his usual checklist of having a look at the forecast for the next few days, checking that he had all the right kit and that everything was clean and nothing was missing. Then he would have a quick recce of the trails to make sure there hadn’t been any major changes that might disrupt the routes. At the moment it looked set to be fine, but this was Scotland, and the weather could change rapidly. Logan was due to meet the group on Thursday for the five-day tour, and he was looking forward to exploring with them.
This trip was a bit different to the one on Skye, more informal, which wasn’t a bad thing. Guests tended to already be planning a stay on Arran anyway, so it was a case of them meeting Logan each day for a different walk. Although they were encouraged to sign up to all five days of the tour, they could dip in and out of them as they pleased. Fortunately his evenings would be free, which he felt mildly relieved about — he was still recovering from the intensity of Tallulah’s attentions.
Checking his watch, he realised that it was just before five. As he neared the bar he idly wondered if James would be there already. But as he walked up the steps and through the entrance, a quick look around told him that he wasn’t. He gave a wry smile. That wassoJames. He would most likely still be at work.
The bar hadn’t changed a bit since his last visit. The exposed brickwork and the pale, wooden floors offered a nice contrast. The wood-burning stove at the back of the bar was lovely in the winter, when you felt as though you were cosying in from theelements outside. He ordered a couple of pints of IPA and took them outside, finding a quiet spot in the beer garden. Sitting down, he wondered whether he should wait for James to arrive before he started his beer. Watching the condensation run down the glasses, he looked around one last time and decided not. It would be like watching an ice-cream melt. Sipping the cold liquid, he closed his eyes and smiled. Bliss. It was just what he needed, and hit the spot perfectly.
The pub was quiet, although he had to remind himself that it was a Monday night and not the weekend. Often his days and weeks merged together, and it was quite usual for Logan to lose track of what day of the week it was. That was the drawback of working different hours each week and being in so many different places. He would lose a sense of time and place, which didn’t land well with the various women he had dated over the years. They took it all very personally, wouldn’t accept his apologies, instead assuming the worst — that he was dating lots of other women on his travels.
Logan sat quietly, observing life go on around him. It was always interesting to see how many people actually chatted to each other and how many sat looking at their phones. That also included the ones who were with company as well as those sitting on their own. A woman sat a few tables across from him, tapping her foot agitatedly and rattling her fingers against her phone, which was placed on the table. Frowning, he wondered what her issue was. Then he flicked his gaze across to the couple who sat together but were clearly miles apart, both fixated on their phones. Logan knew he was old-fashioned, and to be honest he didn’t really care, but he really loathed mobile phones. This, of course, didn’t bode too well for his Instagram account, which had been neglected of late. That was another thing he would need to spend some time on tomorrow.
Over the years, Logan had watched guests come and go and noticed how mobiles had killed the art of conversation dead. Of course there were exceptions to the rule, but he’d noticed how people could no longer be present and just sit in their surroundings. They needed their phone as an emotional crutch. On every tour, someone would always have their phone out to take photos or film some video footage, and he just couldn’t get his head around the idea of having to live life through a lens. Why couldn’t they just enjoy the view right then as it was and really see it properly? Or make the most of each moment as it unfolded? He had to remind himself to take photos and then would put his phone away. Much to the frustration of his friends, and sisters in particular, he didn’t make a point of checking his phone regularly. For Logan it was purely a functional item. He hated seeing people staring down at their phones, scrolling aimlessly for hours.
He watched the woman lift her phone and put it to her ear and then he noticed her brow furrow as she listened. Then she thumped it down on the table, sighed angrily and drained the rest of her glass. Abruptly, she stood up and stomped past. He didn’t even attempt to catch her eye. She didn’t look the friendly typeat all. Taking another sip of his pint he wondered if James was actually coming or whether he’d forgotten. Shrugging to himself, he thought about the silver lining of already having his next drink lined up if James didn’t manage to make it.
‘Hey, hey, hey,’ said James, reaching for Logan’s hand to shake it and then plonking himself opposite. ‘Sorry I’m late,’ he said, taking the pint Logan handed to him. ‘Thanks, mate. Boy, do I need this.’
Logan raised an eyebrow. ‘Has it been that kind of day? It’s lucky you arrived when you did, I was just about to tear into your pint too.’
James laughed. ‘Cheers.’ He clinked his glass against Logan’s and took a gulp. ‘Not in a bad way, it’s just been so busy at work. Everyone seems to want to hold their wedding or party at the distillery. I seem to have spent most of the day answering calls and emails and dealing with suppliers. Life on the edge, eh?’
Logan shook his head. ‘Sounds like my worst nightmare.’
‘Och, I don’t mind.’ James shrugged. ‘At least the end is in sight, and I can clock off at night and go home to my bed.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘I couldn’t do your job and have to be with people twenty-four seven.’
‘Which is why we are all different,’ said Logan. ‘We all bring our own talents to the table.’
‘Indeed,’ said James. ‘Anyway, how’s tricks? Have you got everything you need in the flat?’
‘Yes, I do, thanks. A bed and a sink and a kettle are all I require. You know I’m fairly low-maintenance. I have to say it’s much tidier than it usually is. It doesn’t appear to have been lived in for a while.’ He leaned forward. ‘So, do tell. How are things with you?’
James cocked his head, feigning confusion.
‘Don’t give me that. You know exactly what I mean. How is the big romance?’
A huge grin spread across James’s face as he cupped his hands around his glass. ‘What can I say? It’s brilliant. She’s wonderful.’
Logan chuckled. ‘Who would have thought it?’
‘I know, right?’ said James. ‘It’s the last thing I was looking for, but then it just kind of happened.’
James and Amy had been sweethearts in their final year of high school. Then she had broken it off, leaving him devastated, and they had gone their separate ways. That had been more than seventeen years ago. Then last summer they randomly bothmet again on the island. Amy was back from Vancouver for her sister’s wedding, and James had just started his new role at the distillery. Since then, Amy had left Canada and moved home permanently.
‘And it’s clearly meant to be. I mean, talk about fate. Who would have thought you’d have reconnected after all these years?’
‘I know.’ James shook his head. ‘It’s a funny old world, isn’t it?’
‘Indeed.’
James finished the rest of his pint and stood up, reaching for Logan’s empty glass. ‘Same again?’ he asked.
‘Perfect, thanks, buddy.’
While he waited for James to return with the drinks, Logan looked over at the table the angry woman had abandoned and noticed she had left her bag on the chair. He stood up, planning to hand it in at the bar. Just as he reached for it, he felt someone touch his shoulder.
‘Thanks, but I’ll have that,’ said a woman with an American accent, snatching it from him.
