The Look in Your Eyes

Chapter 6

Venice was all that I had ever expected it to be and more. I loved the crumbling buildings, the winding canals, the little hump-backed bridges. The Cathedral of San Marco was breathtaking, from the huge plaza that was slowly slipping under the tides to the incredible domed interior liberally decorated with mosaics of gold flake -- vibrant and alive. Even the crowded streets and the stink of the water could not dispel the romantic aura of the place. However, the youth hostel did not have the same welcoming camaraderie that we had left behind in Vienna. After a long day walking the twisted streets of Venice, watching demonstrations of glass blowing and warding off vendors, Sue and I sat at the small wrought iron tables in the common area of the hostel and looked around at a collection of strangers all intent upon their own travels with no time for others. We almost felt like intruders and Sue began to lament leaving Jeff and David behind to travel in the opposite direction.

"Wouldn't it be great if they just walked in the front door?" she kept saying, alternating it with, "I wonder where they are right now?" and "Do you think Italy is all it's cracked up to be?"

And my answers were always the same too. "I don't think they're going to," "Somewhere in Germany," and "Yes, Italy is amazing."

"But it would be so much better if they were with us." She just wouldn't let it go.

Finally a young couple came over and asked if they could sit at our table and she had someone else to talk to so I was left in peace. I was grateful, but that's because I never knew there would be unexpected repercussions to their conversation that would change the course of our trip. I only listened with one ear as I thought again about the luminous gold ceilings of San Marco. Their conversation wasn't all that interesting anyway. The couple had been to Florence but could only talk about some B-in they were going to in Germany. It was going to be huge, with so many big name bands -- a three-day event less than two weeks away. For the rest of the evening Sue could talk of nothing else, a relief after her obsessively missing Jeff and David, but in the end just as repetitive.

Two days later we were in Florence, walking along the Ponte Vecchio on our way to the Uffizi Gallery to see the Botticellis. Sue and I kept being distracted by all the little jewelry stores and neither of us was able to leave the bridge without buying something, me a pair of ornate dangly silver earrings and her a delicate bracelet. While I stood and gazed at Botticelli's famous painting, Primavera, she twiddled her bracelet, arranging it on her wrist first one way and then the other.

"What do you think?" she asked.

"It's one of the most beautiful paintings I've ever seen," I said. "I'm so thrilled to finally see it up close and for real. It's so overpowering . . ."

"Oh, it's pretty, but I was talking about my bracelet," Sue said, waving her arm in front of my face. Do you like it better like this," she made a small adjustment, "or like this?"

"Your bracelet?" I held my breath and counted to three and then looked at her arm. "It looks fine either way," I said, "but I don't see original Botticellis every day."

The next day we went to the Cathedral, an impressive Italian Gothic structure with its distinctive red roofed Cupola. Wandering through town after touring it, we came upon a street market. There were booths selling everything from bread to flowers to gilt angels.

"My mom would like one of these lace tablecloths," cried Sue. She began fingering the material and holding them up to inspect the patterns.

"Hey, I need a woman's opinion," said a man who had been carrying on an intent conversation with the vendor. "I'm buying a lot of these things to sell back home. Could you girls help me choose?" His name was Tom and he was an American and a small time entrepreneur. He knew nothing about fabrics or fashions but he knew a good business opportunity.

I was a little hesitant about guiding a stranger's selections but Sue was excited at the idea. We spent quite a bit of time going over the merchandise, and the vendor, who could see that he was in for a big sale, suggested we go with him to his warehouse and packed up his stall. We got into Tom's VW van and followed Signor Salvatini's CV2 down winding streets to a small garage where he housed all his merchandise. Tom and Sue went wild sorting through all the various styles -- I stayed in the background and only corroborated their choices every so often. When Tom had finally struck a deal that was amicable to both, we helped him load the boxes into his van. Sal, as the vendor had asked us to call him, presented Sue and I each with a free tablecloth of our own and invited all three of us to a restaurant to have an authentic Italian meal.

"None of your tourist food," he said. "This is the real thing." He kissed his fingers. "You will die it is so good."

We didn't die, but it was delicious. There were at least three courses and we ate savouring each mouthful. We would never have gone to an expensive restaurant on our own -- not on our budget. Sal was quite an entertainer and kept us laughing throughout the whole meal. We parted from him with hugs and jovial back slaps and then Tom drove us back to the hostel.

We left Florence for Rome in Tom's van. He had offered to drive us all the way. The first night we stayed at a campsite. It turned out not to be as comfortable a night as we had hoped for. In the evening Tom and Sue went for a walk alone and returned not speaking to each other. In the morning he drove us to the train station and there we parted. Sue was very quiet but finally she admitted to me that Tom had come on to her and had wanted her to ditch me and travel with him.

"Did he think he was such a prize that I'd leave my best friend alone in Europe just to be with him?" she cried. "And I thought he was a nice guy. What a jerk!"

I gave her a hug and thanked her for staying with me, and when we got to Rome I could hardly deny her whatever she wanted. What she wanted was to do Rome in a day, head straight to Greece for a quick look see, and then hop a train for Germany to catch that rock festival -- so that's what we did. We saw the major sites of Rome -- the Coliseum, the Trevi Fountain, the Forum, the Vatican, and the Piazza Navona, but we didn't see inside of anything. I did not get to see the hand of God stretching out to Adam on the ceiling of the Sistine chapel, but I was able to buy a postcard from a stall outside the gates which Sue assured me was almost just as good.

In Athens we walked up to the Acropolis late in the day. The marbles gleamed in the evening sun and I walked through the silent hall of the Parthenon, barely breathing, almost unable to believe that my feet were on the same worn stone that had been walked upon in those ancient times. The sun was setting, streaking a rosy glow along the pillars of the Temple of Athena Nike, and I felt as if I had been transported to a place of the gods. Greek soldiers, in white short-skirted uniforms with large black pompoms on their feet marched out and saluted the setting sun. Sue and I couldn't help but giggle a bit at their uniforms -- not exactly what one envisions for ‘manly' soldiers, but that aside it was a very solemn spectacle. I came down from there knowing I had been somewhere truly special.

Corfu was a totally different type of experience. History was forgotten. We rented mopeds and drove along the coast to one of the many shingle beaches. The water was a clear, vivid blue and we swam all afternoon then headed back to town for a dinner of souvlaki in the bustling port district. We sat at a table alongside the busy sidewalk, relishing lamb, pita, and satziki, as the smoke from the charcoal burner wafted by and the murmur of Greek conversations, every so often punctuated with excitable voices, billowed around us. I could have stayed there for a week or two just relaxing and exploring, but Sue was so hepped up about the rock festival and all the bands that would be there that the next morning we boarded a boat back to Brindisi and caught the train for that long journey to Hanover.

I was sick of being on the train. As that was the case I should have been looking forward to arriving into Hanover station, but far from it. Even staying on the train was preferable. I'd remembered what B-ins can be like. The crowds. The wood smoke drying your skin and stinging your eyes. The rain. The mud. We had no sleeping bags. No tent. What had we been thinking? I had been regretting giving in to Sue's request ever since I had done it, but on the train my feeling of dread had just grown and grown. And when I questioned Sue about who all those great bands were she had to admit that she had no idea. She'd gone on the recommendation of that couple she had met in Venice and nothing else when she'd decided it was the rock concert that couldn't be missed. Five minutes away from Hanover I realised that she was having her doubts too. We didn't get off the train, and although I was furious with Sue for having curtailed our trip to Italy and Greece and made a trip to Switzerland and Spain all but impossible, I was so relieved not to have to be subjected to the noise, crowds, and dirt of the rock festival that I was laughing as hard as she was when the train pulled out of Hanover station with us still on it.

When we came down to earth we had to decide where we really were going to go. At the next major station we got off the northbound express and caught a train heading for Amsterdam. I'm not sure why we chose Amsterdam -- I think it was out of desperation. The need for some definite destination had been more important to me than the destination itself. Sue was incredibly cheerful, thinking the whole thing was a good joke. Her ‘B-in' story became a close favourite to her ‘Rome in a day' story and she enjoyed telling both to all the various travellers that came and went on that slow train to Amsterdam.

We slept for a solid day in our beds at the Amsterdam hostel. It wasn't until I woke up the next morning that I finally couldn't feel the movement of the train under my feet. I guess it was because I had no desire to board another train so soon that we booked seats on a shuttle van from the hostel where we were staying to another hostel in Paris. It left a little late and had mechanical problems on the way. Many of the passengers got off in Brussels, and for the remainder of the journey there were only Sue and I and three Americans, a boy travelling alone and two Vietnam veterans who had been snipers in the war. Their talk was all about ‘gooks' and when was the optimum time to fire on them, and I tried to ignore them as much as possible. The boy, Jim, was about nineteen, and more than just a little weird, but preferable as a companion.

The van finally reached the Paris hostel after curfew so we weren't able to get in. The driver didn't care at all. It was our problem -- he'd done his part. He drove off before any of us could get back in the van and demand that he take us to a hotel. Sue and I walked as fast as we could to a bus stop with Jim; the vets were too busy smoking a joint to notice that we had gone.

When we got on the bus we realised we had no French money. We showed the bus driver our Dutch coins and he shrugged his shoulders and motioned us to the back of the bus. It was late, all the banks were closed, we hadn't a clue where we could find a hotel, and we had no idea where in Paris the bus was going. The one thing that we were thankful for was that at least we were not two girls alone in Paris. We had Jim with us for protection -- for what he was worth. He was scrawny and short and I don't think he could have scared off a fly but he was all that we had, so we stuck with him. As the bus drove the streets of Paris we conferred together about what we could do. One of us had to ask someone where we could find a hotel. Sue and I elected Jim, but his French was worse than our own which was nonexistent.

"Excuse me but I hear you saying you have a problem," said a young man who was sitting across the aisle from us.

"You speak English!" cried Sue.

"Yes -- I learn in Canada. I am living there for a few years in Quebec. My name is Francoise."

We told him our names and he shook hands with each of us.

"We're from Canada!" said Sue. "Except for Jim, that is. He's from Minneapolis."

"Minnesota," interposed Jim.

"I like Canada very much."

"Do you know where we can find a hotel?" asked Jim.

"I hear you say you have no money," said Francoise. "The hotel will not take you."

""What can we do?" I was getting worried. We couldn't ride the bus all night and even with Jim's company I didn't think it would be safe to stay out all night in the streets of Paris.

"I have an idea, if you will let me offer. I know you have just met me and do not know anything about who I am -- but I assure you I am a good person. You can, all three of you, stay in my house. I have a big room with couches where you can sleep and I have extra blankets. It is not luxury but it is a safe place for you girls. I cannot leave you in the street."

We were in a bind, and though I was aware of all the risks, I knew we had to trust in the kindness of this stranger. Francoise had a nice face. He looked honest and he sounded sincere. And if the worst came to the worst we still had Jim to guard us. I looked at Sue and she nodded her head in silent agreement. Jim whispered, "He might be a pervert." But, to tell the truth, I would have picked Francoise over Jim any day if I needed saving.

Until we got to his stop, Francoise told us more about himself to set us at ease. He was a photographer. He'd lived in Montreal for ten years but he'd missed France too much and had come home the previous year. He was thirty-two, single, and owned his own apartment on the third floor of a house in downtown Paris. He was just coming home from visiting his sister in the suburbs -- he had a nephew and two nieces -- he could show us their pictures when we arrived to his house.

The house was a short walk from the bus stop, along a poorly lit street. It was part of a row of tall, dingy tenements. By the time we had climbed the stairs to his flat, we were beginning to feel very ill at ease. I was wondering what we had got ourselves into and if our parents would ever hear from us again. Francoise' keys jangled in the lock as we stood on the dim, sour smelling landing. He opened his door, flipped on his lights, and ushered us in.

The room was warm and inviting and I felt all my fears dissipate. There was a dining table, a kitchenette, and two long Swedish style couches. Almost every inch of wall was taken up with framed photographs.

"Excuse the mess," said Francoise. "Would you like coffee? I am making some for myself. Please, sit while you wait. I will be very fast."

We all accepted the coffee and sat on the couches, Sue and I on one and Jim on the other, thankfully - because he had been acting like he was glued to us. I looked at the pictures and soon was standing to inspect them. They were very good. Most were black and white landscapes -- stark shapes juxtaposed against misty backgrounds, and people caught in the middle of an action that revealed secrets their eyes withheld.

"Are these yours?" I asked Francoise as he brought in our coffee and a plate of chocolate cookies.

"Yes -- some I did here -- some in Canada."

"I like them a lot."

He smiled modestly and went on to tell me a little about one or another of them -- locations, difficulties with lighting, the mood he was attempting to convey. Then he showed us the pictures of his sister and her children.

"It is late. I will get you some blankets and you can sleep here. It is okay?"

"It is wonderful."

"And Jim I will get you a mat for the floor. The bathroom is through that door -- you can get ready for bed there. There is soap and clean towels in the cupboard. Do you need anything else? You only have to ask me."

"Everything is good, thank you."

Sue and I went to the bathroom together and washed up. When we came out our beds were already prepared for us on the two couches. Jim's mat was placed on the far side of the room, closer to the dining table. It was Francoise' attempt to afford us a bit of privacy, and I appreciated it.

"Do you have a toothbrush I can borrow?' asked Jim as he headed to the bathroom.

"No," I said.

"Don't you have one?' asked Sue.

"I've never cleaned my teeth before, but I thought I'd try it."

Sue and I shared a look. "Use your finger," we said in unison.

After he closed the bathroom door we both made disgusted faces.

The next morning Francoise prepared omelettes for our breakfast. He gave us directions to the nearest bank so we could change some money and told us which bus to take to get to the Louvre. He seemed to sense that we had no intention of sticking around with our unwanted companion for the rest of the day and when Jim was in the bathroom made plans to meet us at a Lebanese restaurant near the train station when he had finished work for the day. When we left for the bus we thanked him for his kindness and generosity and said goodbye as if we were not going to see him again.

When we got off the bus in the heart of Paris we lost Jim as quickly as possible, ducking in and out of shops and backtracking along crowded streets. Then we made sure that we saw the important sights, the Arc de Triumph, the Eiffel Tower, and the Mona Lisa smiling oh so knowingly back at us in the Louvre. We didn't feel at all sorry about ditching Jim, in fact everywhere we went our biggest fear was that somehow he would find us again and try to stick right back like a limpet. We lunched on croissants in a sidewalk café as we people-watched. I revelled at being in Paris even if it was only another episode of Sue's now famous ‘European City in a day.' It seemed to be the way she liked to travel and I could do nothing more than accept it at this late stage in the game. I just hoped that I would make it back again some day to see what else the Louvre had to offer, and the many other places that I had missed.

Francoise was outside the restaurant, waiting for us. I was so happy to see him - less than twenty-four hours ago he had been a stranger and now he felt like a long time friend. He had treated us with gentleness and compassion and I was going to be sad to say goodbye to him. Now he was eager to broaden our culinary tastes and introduce us to couscous. We stayed as long over dinner as possible, but it was an inescapable fact that our train left at 9:00. He walked us to the station and hugged us both as he wished us well. I was filled with the warm feeling brought on by the knowledge that there are truly good people in this world and I had just been privileged to get to know one of them.

Chapter 7

Returning to Frampton Cotterell felt like returning home. Auntie Phoebe welcomed us with absentminded affection and I don't think Uncle Reggie had even noticed that we had been gone. Lucius ran across the room and threw himself into my arms while Okon blew us a kiss from where he was doing his lessons at the table. We stowed our bags in our little room and I ran my eyes over all those oddly hued bottles that lined the shelves with a strange sort of affection. Outside, Sue stretched out on a lawn chair but I wasn't allowed that luxury. Lucius was certain that I was there solely for his entertainment so I had to supervise him as he splashed in and out of his paddling pool. That done we took Poppet for a walk down by the river where I had my fill of throwing sticks in the water for her to retrieve, all the time keeping a firm hold of Lucius' hand to prevent him from slithering into the river as well. I came up the path with him on my shoulders, his shorts still wet from his foray in the pool, cool against my neck. We were singing I'm a Little Teapot loudly and completely off-key as I emerged from the path and through the gate to come face to face with Euan.

It would be lying to say that I hadn't been thinking of Euan all day. That morning in the train I'd felt that anxious, anticipatory feeling in the pit of my stomach grow stronger and more uncomfortable as we came ever closer to Bristol. There had been an initial let down when we'd arrived at Frampton Cotterell only to find that he was still at work, and my preoccupation with Lucius had eased any restlessness I might have felt, but Euan was still uppermost in my mind. Would he be glad to see me back? Would I be able to tell if he had missed me? Would most of his attention go to Sue, or would he single me out? The last thing I wanted was for him to see me with my hair all mussed, water staining the front of my shirt, and dog prints on my shorts while tunelessly singing a nonsense verse. I ducked my head and wished I could hide.

"Hi there." He said. "How was your trip?" He reached out and relieved me of my wriggling burden.

I just barely managed to say "Fine," as I rushed inside to change into clean clothes. In the bathroom I threw cold water on my face and took deep breaths. Why did things like this always happen to me? When I came outside again he was sitting on the grass beside Sue and they were talking and laughing. He looked over at me and smiled and something twisted inside of me. His effect on me was stronger than I had expected; stronger than I had remembered. I wondered how I had managed to be away all that time without missing him more than I had done. I liked him more than just a little and if he kept smiling at me like that who knows where my imagination would lead me.

"I'm not working tomorrow," he said, "Would you girls like to spend the day with Lucius and Douglas and me, or do you have plans?"

"No plans," I said quickly as I sat down in the long grass.

"I was thinking of taking you to Cheddar," he said.

"Zoë doesn't like cheese," said Sue helpfully.

"There's more to do there than eat cheese," he replied. "Anyway, if you taste real cheddar straight from where it's made you just might change your opinion of at least one kind of cheese."

There it was -- now I was going to have to eat cheese to impress a man. My last experience with David and the cheese was brought forcibly to my mind and then reinforced doubly as Sue decided to tell the story with extra added details that did me no credit.

"Well, this cheese won't be stinky," said Euan reassuringly and I was relieved that he hadn't laughed at me.

Douglas appeared the next morning with a little rattley car. Sue and I squeezed into the back seat with Lucius who insisted on sitting upon my lap. The countryside of rolling farmland soon gave way to the slightly rougher terrain of the Mendip Hills, surrounded by grassland. The blue of gentian and purple of thistle brought colour to the green slopes. The village of Cheddar was set at the base of a huge limestone gorge.

"Those are the highest inland cliffs in the country," said Euan as I got out of the cramped little car and gazed at the chalky stone that rose five hundred feet into the sky.

We toured the village and the caves where originally the cheeses had been aged and took a break in one of the tea houses where we all had tea and biscuits - except for Lucius who had orange squash which he so kindly spilled on my lap. After cleaning myself up in the washroom, we headed out again to go on the river walks and see cheese being made at one of the local cheese companies. And I got to sample the cheese. I was nervous because I could feel Euan's eyes on me the whole time as I bit into the butter coloured chunk of cheese, but to my surprise it tasted nothing like any cheddar I had eaten before. It was actually good and I said so in a way that made Euan smile.

"You're not just saying that?"

"No, I really do like it."

So he bought a large wedge before we headed back to the car.

"Would you like to sit in the front instead?" he asked. "It's a bit uncomfortable back there."

I appreciated his offer, but wasn't sure if he had said it to give me the more comfortable spot or so that he could sit in the back with Sue.

"I'm fine, really," I said as I scrambled in.

"At least let me keep Lucius up front with me," he said as he stopped the little boy from climbing over the back of his seat and onto me. At first Lucius complained but soon he was sleeping, snuggled against his father's chest. "The little lad has taken quite a shine to you -- this is the first time I've held him all day. Thank you for being so good to him."

My cheeks blazed as I mumbled, "It's fun."

"You'll make a good mum," he said, turning his head to look directly at me.

I stared into his eyes as their cool grey held me. A good mom? Did he think I'd be a good mom for Lucius or was he just commenting on my potential? Did I want to be a mom to Lucius? It was a scary thought and it brought me to realise that there was a lot more to getting involved with Euan than the usual boy girl confusion. It was tricky and something that could only develop with care -- it involved much more than us being two adults attracted to each other investigating the possibilities. He had a child, and not only that, we shared family ties. It was a recipe for something more than a casual holiday fling, and I wasn't sure if it was a concept I was ready to flirt with, no matter how his presence made me feel. And I was completely at sea about how he thought of me. Either he was letting very little away or there was nothing to give away. While I was having such complicated convoluted thoughts he, in all likelihood, just thought of me as a tongue tied little cousin that needed to be entertained while she was in the country. That was a lowering thought and it brought me back down to the here and now. I broke my gaze away from his, hoping for the umpteenth time that there was no such thing as mind reading and he turned his head to the front of the car again, and began talking to Douglas.

I caught drifts of their conversation -- it involved a trip they were planning to take to Scotland soon. Sue leaned forward and joined in, mentioning that her ancestors were Scottish and that she would love to visit the place of her roots though she had no idea which part of Scotland her family came from. And that's how it happened. Like a truck running out of control down a steep grade, the invitation to join them was given. I felt that we had forced ourselves upon their holiday - as soon as Sue had heard of the caravan my aunt Phoebe had just bought that the guys were going to break in on this trip, she asked if it would have room for five instead of three.

"I've always wanted to see Scotland more than anything," she cried. It was news to me. She hadn't even mentioned it before. I held back, not wanting to commit myself, not sure if the guys really wanted us, but they insisted that their invitation was sincere so I agreed to think about it while Sue just said, "What's there to think about? It's a chance of a lifetime." And in retrospect I know she was right. It was potentially the chance, the deciding factor, the choice that could possibly have changed my life forever, depending on what I did with the opportunity -- or what the opportunity did with me. The tide in the affairs of men that Shakespeare talked about. But what you get out of something is purely dependant on what you put into it. And how far out on a limb you are willing to go. Sometimes the flood waters bring you right back and throw you up on the beach again.

In our little room that night Sue used all her powers of persuasion to try and convince me and the next day I told Euan that, yes, I'd like to go to Scotland with them, if that was okay. He smiled and looked like he was genuinely pleased with my decision and I heaved a sigh of relief.

That afternoon we all went to the village common to play soccer -- Okon, Sue, and I against Euan, Douglas, and Lucius. The teams were unfair as Lucius was a better player than me and Sue put together but we had fun chasing the ball around and Euan and Douglas were generous enough to let both Sue and I score though they didn't give Okon any breaks at all. After the game we threw ourselves onto the grass in the shade of a spreading chestnut. Lucius was sitting on my tummy, wanting me to give him a ride on my knees, but I was too tired to move. Okon was teasing Sue about her playing style and Douglas was sticking up for her.

"Have you ever been to a football match?" asked Euan

"No."

"Well," he looked a bit tentative, as if he wasn't sure about what he was going to say next. "Would you like to go to one? It's not much but Douglas and I are on a team together and we're playing tomorrow evening."

"Are you the top goal scorer?" asked Sue.

"I play mid so I don't score much. Doug's a striker -- he's our star."

Douglas laughed at the idea of being a star but Sue looked at him with new-found respect. "How many goals do you have a game?" she asked.

"You don't know much about football, lass. More often than not we play to a nil nil tie."

"Do you still want to come?" asked Euan. "Even if it will probably be a dead bore for you?"

"Count me out," said Okon. "I have to swot for exams -- there should be a law against school in the summer."

"He's not asking you, you twit," said Douglas. "He's asking the girls."

"Sure," I said, and then I looked at Sue, "Unless . . ."

But Sue nodded her head so it was a go.

I was amazed at how the supporters were cheering throughout the game. There were no bleachers -- everyone was just milling around the sidelines boisterously and whenever Euan or Douglas came off they would join us rather than stand with other team members or their vociferous coaches. The play was certainly more energetic and rough than the little skirmish we'd had at the common the day before. Euan and Douglas' faces were glistening with sweat, their hair straggly, and their knees and socks streaked with mud. They were working hard out there and though I knew little, if anything, about how the game was played I could see that they were amongst the strongest players on the team. Euan would only be off for a minute before he was put back on again but it pleased me that whenever he came off the field he stood next to me. I was holding his son, but still I liked to think that he wanted to be with me.

Both teams were evenly matched and the game stayed tied at zero until the dying minutes. Douglas had had some good chances -- once he had hit the cross bar and on another shot the goalie had made an amazing save. In the end it was Euan who scored on a penalty. With a strong left foot he directed the ball up into the corner of the net. Put like that it sounds like I know what I'm talking about but at the time I hadn't a clue why the play had stopped and he was backing up to take the kick. Afterwards, with all the retelling the whole way home, I couldn't help but get the story straight. When the final whistle blew shortly after his goal, Lucius broke from my arms and rushed onto the field to his dad and I ran after him, worried that he would be trampled. Euan grabbed him and threw his up in the air to celebrate and then gave me a tight one-armed hug while Lucius balanced on his other shoulder. I felt a bit self conscious, wondering if Euan had thought I had run out to him like I noticed all the other players' girlfriends do, and when I looked back at the sidelines I saw that Sue had a sulky look on her face.

You don't want to be with Sue when she's sulky. She only talks to make cutting remarks and her silence is so full of tension it's palpable. All the way home and for the rest of the evening she talked to everyone else except for me. When we went to bed I said, "Sue -- what's the problem? I didn't do anything."

She gave me a very dirty look and then said, "No, you didn't do anything -- just threw yourself at Euan when you know I like him."

I looked at her in shock, sputtering. "I did . . . what?"

She got into bed and turned her back to me. "Don't keep the stupid light on all night," was all she said.

I was left seriously wondering if I had actually thrown myself at Euan. I didn't think I'd been talking more than usual. I hadn't called him over to stand beside me every time he'd got off -- he'd just come on his own, and I'd only gone on the field to look out for Lucius, hadn't I? I hadn't purposely gone out there to hug the game winner -- at least I didn't think I had. All I could think was that Sue's nose was out of joint because he'd paid more attention to me than to her, and you couldn't blame me for that. I was smiling a self-satisfied smile when I turned off the light and I slept the sleep of a contented soul.

The next day Sue was still snippy with me. I wasn't worried because I knew it would wear off, especially when it became obvious to her that Euan wasn't treating either of us any differently than he normally did. I was getting no special attention at all -- a fact which couldn't help but be a little disappointing for me after the positive signs I thought I'd seen the day before.

The post came and there was a letter for Sue from her mom. She took it out to the garden to read and was gone for quite some time. Euan used the time to talk to me about some of the places he planned to show me in Scotland and I began to feel a little more confident of his interest. He finished off his breakfast and then went to catch the bus for work. I walked out into the garden, looking for Sue. She was sitting where she usually did, on one of the lawn chairs, and it looked as though she'd been crying.

"Is something wrong?"

She stood and held out her arms for a hug. A few moments later she responded. "Nothing's really wrong but I miss home. My brother has been a little wild and my mom's upset. I need to be there to help straighten him out."

"But . . . but you're not planning on going yet -- not before Scotland."

"I never really wanted to go to Scotland," she said.

"Yes you did," I countered. "It was all your idea. You aren't going to miss it just because your brother is being a jerk. When will you ever be back again?"

"I don't know. I'll come back. I don't care anyway -- we're going home. It's too late today, so how about tomorrow?"

"Wait a minute. We're going home? But the Scotland trip is only a week away."

"So?"

"So . . . why can't we stay another three weeks?"

"I'm homesick -- I want to go now."

"Do . . . do I have to come with you?"

She looked at me aghast. "You can't possibly be thinking of ditching me. Remember when I could have gone with Tom in Italy? Well, I didn't because of you."

"You said he was a jerk! Anyway -- this is completely different."

"No it's not. What's it to you anyway -- you only agreed to go to Scotland because I convinced you -- you should be glad to be off the hook."

"I'm not. I don't want to be off any hook."

"If you stay and make me go home by myself I'll never speak to you again," said Sue. "How could you even imagine staying here and having fun when I'm all worried about my brother? Some kind of friend you turned out to be."

I wanted to tell her that her brother would still be a screw-up whether she went home right away or three weeks later, but I knew that wouldn't go down well, however true it was. And I wanted to tell her that I thought I had been a good friend, putting up with all her whims and that I had already given up a lot for her this trip, but it would have been too much like whining. I wanted to tell her that friends didn't blackmail each other with their friendship, but I couldn't. Let's face it -- I hate confrontations. I avoid them like the plague, so I shrugged my shoulders and said, "Fine -- we'll go tomorrow," and then I sat down and concentrated on not crying. Sue was thrilled and I was more miserable than I could ever remember being.

Chapter 8

At supper Euan looked stunned when he found out we weren't going to go to Scotland after all. He questioned our need to go home a couple of times then he ate his meal without saying much of anything and left for his room as soon as he cleared the plates away. Sue was busy packing and writing thank you cards. I didn't have the stomach for it. I wandered up the hall and stood listening to guitar music that drifted from Euan's room until it was just too much for me. I went into the dining room, pulled out my notebook and pen, and began to write something, anything to keep my mind off my disappointment.

Night pauses alone on the hill
keeping the centre of the stage
from going sideways.

I swiped at a tear that trickled down my cheek and kept writing.

I sit in the window like a windowpane,
I'm a person I forgot I could be.
I'll set my tunes playing
see the part that is meant to be me.
It's not that I'm changing,
I'm just turning.

I didn't even notice as Okon slipped into the room and began to play softly on the piano.

Evenings' edges pass around my door
like pages I forgot to turn.
I look at the fire
and wonder what it is I'm going to learn.
Should I burn it?

The music finally filtered through to my brain. I stopped writing for a moment and looked up at Okon. He smiled a very sweet smile and continued playing, a little louder now. I lowered my head again and put pen to paper.

I'm not here.
I'm a sign from the shore that's undone,
a wave that's been battered too long.
It's not that I'm sad,
I'm just learning.

But what am I learning? I wondered. What great lesson of life will I gain from appeasing Sue?

Grey set, your eyes are wide as a river.
You say you're an answer
but I'm not sure.
The trees grow near to the water;
the grass grows so close
that the ground doesn't show.
So don't waste your time on me
sometimes there are things that we just can't see.

The music rippled through the room, soothing me, warming me. I read what I'd written and felt it was somehow incomplete. I needed something that really spoke of what I was feeling -- of what I was doing.

It's not that I'm leaving;
it's just that I'm going home.

If he ever read that would he understand? But I knew he would never read it. The idea of anyone reading so private a poem frightened me and I closed my book and returned it to my pocket.

"Are you feeling better sweet lady?" asked Okon across the room as his fingers lightly drew out the last notes of the tune.

I smiled and nodded.

"I played that just for you."

"I bet you say that to all the ladies," I joked to try and lighten up the mood. "Next thing I know you'll be playing it for Sue."

He came over and sat down beside me. "I like you, not Sue."

"Aren't I a little old for you?"

"I like older women," he grinned.

"So what's wrong with Sue, then? She's older too."

"But she is so . . . self confident."

I laughed. "That's a great compliment, Okon. You like me because I'm insecure?"

"I don't mean that. Sue does not care about what other people want -- only herself. You are thinking about everybody else."

"Are you trying to tell me something?"

"Yes -- I have been spending five minutes telling you that I like you."

I looked at him speculatively. "Do you think someone can be too considerate?"

"There's nothing wrong with being considerate if the person deserves it. Some people don't deserve it. I think you should do what will make you happy."

I stared at the oak tabletop for a long moment -- followed the lines of the wood grain with my fingertips. Finally I lifted my head and looked at him. "You're right. That's what I should do. Thanks."

His head ducked in and before I knew what was happening he'd kissed me on the cheek. "Good," he said, a self-satisfied look on his face. He got up and left the room quickly but I barely noticed. I was girding myself to face Sue. She wasn't going to like this one bit. I got up and turned to leave the room, and there, standing in the open doorway was Euan, a strange look upon his face.

"How long have you been standing there?" I asked without even thinking.

"A while," he said slowly.

"It didn't mean anything . . . at least . . ."

"I know."

"I'm coming to Scotland after all."

"I was hoping you'd change your mind. Lucius will be pleased." And he smiled that smile that always does me in.

"I've got to tell Sue," I said shakily.

"She'll survive."

"Yes, I know -- but will I?"

"Stupid cow." At my startled look he quickly added. "Not you, her. Now get on with you and do it before you change your mind again. Remember, I'm holding you to it, so don't let . . . my little boy down."

Sue was livid. In her opinion I was a total traitor. I told her that I would accompany her to London and see her off at the airport but she was not mollified. She tried every angle she could to sway me -- tears, pleading, bitterness, trickery - but I could not be moved. She was falsely happy the next morning, showering Lucius with hugs and telling Okon how much she would miss him. Euan drove us to the station in Auntie Phoebe's car, and Sue made sure she got the front seat. At the station she held his hand and told him that he'd become a good friend and she'd never forget him. She was very up beat and excited and in contrast I was very subdued. She had put me through the wringer and I hadn't slept well. I was still riddled with guilt, mainly because she'd convinced me that I owed it to her to at least feel guilty. Euan smiled at me and said, "See you," as we climbed on board, then he stood on the platform and watched until the train left the station.

Sue turned to me and said, "You're making a big mistake. He's only being nice to you because you're his cousin."

"I'm not staying because of Euan," I said defensively. "I'm staying because I want to see Scotland."

Sue snorted and that was the last thing that she said to me the entire trip. I didn't mind so much -- her silence was deadly but her scathing tongue was worse. I was afraid she would not want to go out with Kim and me that evening, but when the time rolled ‘round to catch the tube to meet him in Soho, she was all sweetness and light. Kim and I ate the promised deep fried bean curd skins and Sue had sweet and sour pork. At one point she left us alone while she went to the washroom and Kim took the opportunity to ask about the trip to Scotland.

"She's mad at you because you're staying?"

I nodded.

"There's a guy somewhere in this, isn't there?"

"No . . . yes . . . maybe . . . oh, I don't know!"

"I hope he's worth it," said Kim, laughing at me.

"Hey! I want to see Scotland -- so shoot me."

"I think your friend is the one who wants to shoot you."

"I thought she was hiding it pretty well."

"She's good, but I'm better," said Kim, taking the last of the bean curd skins. "You have a good time in Scotland, and let me know what happens with this guy."

I stuck my tongue out at him and served myself more crispy noodles with straw mushrooms. When Sue returned he began talking about a movie he'd seen the night before and the two of them carried the conversation for the rest of the evening.

Our goodbyes at the airport were a little strained, but I wasn't about to prostrate myself and beg for Sue's forgiveness, no matter how much she wanted me to. I felt a considerable weight leave my shoulders when she walked through the gate and I was almost singing as I boarded the train once again. Sue was forgotten. I was looking ahead to a week of pure freedom before the trip to Scotland. I snuggled into my seat, bathed in contentment, and drifted off to sleep over my book.

---

Of course I didn't stay contented for the duration. My mind has this way of creating all sorts of scenarios and the results are not all sweet, white picket fence daydreams. Sue's words got to me -- well that's why she said them, after all. She knows me very well. You're making a big mistake. He's only being nice to you because you're his cousin.

Was that true, in the end? Had I just decided to stay to be with Euan and was he only being kind? Or, worse yet, did he want a built in babysitter along on the trip? He did say that it was Lucius who would be pleased -- Lucius who should not be let down. So rather than being taken advantage of by Sue had I just transferred the privilege to Euan? I decided that I'd do nothing, nothing at all without some clear indication from him that I was more than a cousin he'd taken pity on, more than a babysitter for his son, more than a casual friend to share time with. And I had no idea what an obvious signal would be, short of him grabbing me and kissing me -- and I didn't expect that to happen. No, that was the type of thing Okon would do -- the little flirt.

I was glad that no one was at home when I got there. I was able to slip into the house unobtrusively and then go down to the river for a walk. After sitting for hours in rail carriages I needed exercise and the serenity of slow moving water and the green of growing things.

Okon was in the yard playing badminton with Lucius when I came through the gate. His face broke into one of his earth shattering grins and he said, "You have come back to me!"

"You're just glad to see me because you don't want to play badminton with a little kid."

"You must admit it is a very difficult sport to teach a three year old."

"You seem to be managing well," I said and sat down on the grass. I should have known Lucius wouldn't let me get away with it. He found another racket and gave it to me, so I was forced to participate. Luckily he didn't realise that the point of the game was to hit the birdie over the net because my skills at the game leave a lot to be desired.

"You are almost as good at this game as you are at football," said Okon.

"I don't need your smart aleck comments," I retorted. "I'm already well aware of that." And I swatted at the birdie very forcefully. It should have gone sailing over the net and out of his reach, but I missed it completely and he crumpled up with a fit of giggles.

"That's right -- laugh at me." I picked up the birdie and tapped it over to Lucius. "Let's keep it away from Okon," I said. "He's being a bad boy."

Lucius thought this was great fun and Okon pretended to be offended, then he ran in to attack us and steal the birdie.

"My shuddacock," said Lucius, chasing him and grabbing it back.

Okon retaliated by throwing him into the pool with such a big splash that I was completely soaked too. My thin batik blouse clung to me, almost transparent, and the appreciative gleam in Okon's eyes made me run into the house to change. Of course Euan chose just that moment to arrive home so we had to dance past each other in the hallway. In my room, I pulled off the wet top and put on the most unrevealing thing I owned - an old, baggy t-shirt -- and changed my wet shorts for a pair of jeans. If I wasn't so mad I would have been laughing it was so ludicrous. Couldn't I stay neat and clean and dry just one time when Euan was around?

When I came back outside again, Okon called me a spoilsport. Euan made no reference to my change of clothes at all though I was sure I could see the gleam of laughter in his eyes. "How did it go?" was all he said.

"Fine -- she just didn't talk to me most of the time."

"Any regrets?"

" No."

He picked up a racket. "Play a game with me?"

"I'm really bad."

"That's okay, I'll teach you, then you can beat Okon and wipe that silly grin right off his face."

"Me too," said Lucius, running over from the pool.

"You too," he said, giving the boy a hug -- so now it was his turn to be wet. But he didn't seem to mind, he just pulled off his t-shirt and hung it in a tree. I didn't mind that result too much either, although it did make it harder to concentrate on learning how to play the game.

---

The next few days were spent outfitting the caravan for the trip and doing a little clothes shopping for myself in Bristol. While there I met Euan at the bookstore where he worked. It was three in the afternoon and he was just getting off. We had a late lunch of pork pies at a pub and then he took me to the Severn Bridge on the bus and we stood and watched the water and looked off to Wales, its verdant hills rising on the other side of the river. Neither of us said much, but I didn't feel shy or uncomfortable about being alone with him. Instead I walked around in a mellow contentment that erased the need for words. We were both quiet people and Euan seemed intent on showing me things - not talking about them -- but it was evident that they were things that meant a lot to him.

That evening Lucius and I went to his room with him and he played guitar for us. The little tyke sat quietly in my lap until he got so sleepy that he crawled off onto the bed, rested his head on his father's knee, and fell asleep. Euan fingered the strings very lightly until the song ended and then he placed the guitar down.

"Don't go away," he said as he picked Lucius up and took him to his room.

I reached for the guitar and strummed at it softly while I waited, practicing a few of the chords that Euan had taught me before I'd gone to Europe. I was surprised that I even remembered any.

"You just have to learn how to put them all together and you'll be playing your own song in no time." He picked up a guitar book and showed me how the pictures of the chords were placed above the lines of music whenever there was a change. "You don't even need to know how to read music."

I looked at him doubtfully but tried it, following the words in my head because there was no way on earth I was going to actually sing in front of him, or anyone else. It was slow and stilted but he said I was doing well. I knew he was just being nice -- which reminded me of what Sue had said, of course, and brought back all my insecurities.

Euan had picked up a ring from his dresser and was sitting on the bed beside me, twiddling it around. I gave up playing and put the guitar down, then looked over to see what he had in his hands.

"I have a mate who makes these," he said, and he tossed it to me. As he put the guitar in its case I studied the ring. It was a plain, narrow silver band, with an uncut garnet set in it.

"It's very nice," I said and made to pass it back to him.

"No, you keep it -- it's more of a girl's ring anyway."

"I can't keep it."

"Of course you can."

"But . . ."

"It's nothing -- just a trinket. Take it in friendship."

I had been looking down ever since he had told me to keep it, but now I looked up. His face was resolute -- I knew he wouldn't take it back even if I had no idea why he was giving it to me. "Thanks." I put it on my finger where it fit only a little loosely.

He rubbed his hands together. "Well, let's get some toast -- shall we?"

---

The last evening before we left on our trip to Scotland, Euan, Douglas and I went to a pub in Bristol.

"It's our last chance for two weeks," they explained as we rode the bus into town.

"Why?"

"We'll have Lucius with us, for starters," said Euan.

"I could stay back with him while you two went," I offered.

"Leave you in the van in the street while we spend the night in the pub?" he asked. "A fine pair of lads you think us."

"We'd not dream of doing that," said Douglas. But the look on his face gave him away. It was probably an outcome he'd been counting on.

Euan, however, was firm. He said he was responsible not just for Lucius' safety but for mine too, and that he hadn't invited me along to be taken advantage of. I hugged that information to me. It settled one of my nagging insecurities.

The pub they had chosen this time was a sing-along pub -- it was boisterous and full but we wove our way through the singing throngs and found a little table tucked away in a corner. Douglas saw some friends and went over to talk to them while Euan went to get drinks for the two of us. I sat back and watched all the people who seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely belting out the rollicking old songs. Euan came back and handed me a glass that looked paler than what I'd had before.

"You didn't like the beer I bought you last time, so I got you a shandy -- beer and lemon squash. Girls usually like it."

I thanked him and tasted it. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't good either -- it still tasted of beer -- but I appreciated his thoughtfulness so I made an attempt to drink it. After twenty minutes he looked at me sipping my drink carefully.

"You don't like it, do you?"

"No . . . really, it's not too bad."

He gave me a look that spoke volumes and left the table. A few minutes later he was back with a new drink.

"Lemon squash," he said as he handed it to me. "It's no crime not to like beer."

I thanked him and pushed my other drink aside. Compared to it the insipid lemon squash was delicious. I actually preferred Rose's Lime Cordial, but I don't think they offered it at the pub.

"If you don't like something you can tell me," he said. "You'll not hurt my feelings. I'm made of tougher stuff than that."

I laughed and promised not to be so stupid the next time.

At closing time, everyone in the pub broke out with Show Me the Way to Go Home, surprisingly even me, after I'd figured out the words. I couldn't be heard over the din anyway, so why not? It was fun. As we walked to the bus stop Euan was fine, he'd only had two pints, but Douglas was a little unsteady on his feet. He was also starting to get maudlin, going on about how much he had liked Sue and wondering why she'd had to go home. Euan gave me a sheepish look and then he slapped his friend on the back and said, "Buck up, old mate, or we'll leave you behind." Strangely enough, that worked. By the time the bus came he was only a bit doddery. I guess he'd wanted to make his last night out in two weeks count.

Chapter 9

We left first thing in the morning, heading by the way of Gloucester and Worcester to Kiddermister. When I say first thing, of course you have to take into consideration that it was the two guys' first day of their holidays and rising early wasn't uppermost in their minds, especially for Douglas. He had a bit of something to sleep off. Then, of course, there was the whole job of preparing a three year old for a road trip. Lucius kept loading very necessary things into the caravan that we had to unload without him seeing, like more than the two trucks he was allowed, his grandpa's badminton rackets, and Poppet who I had to coax out with her food dish. So it was actually almost eleven when we were finally underway.

We started out with Euan driving, me in the passenger's seat, and Douglas and Lucius sitting on the bench seats in the back. It wasn't long before Lucius scrambled over to sit on my lap. Douglas was glad not to have the wee rascal, as he called Lucius, plaguing him, and I didn't mind as long as he wasn't too jumpy. It was only seventy-seven miles to Kidderminster, but the caravan was old and not terribly powerful. The trip that should have taken only an hour and a half took us the better part of two hours, and the views from the motorway were not always interesting. I admit to nodding off once or twice. Actually, sleeping while going for drives is a very bad habit of mine which I thoroughly enjoy. It doesn't make me the greatest companion, though, so giving in to it was something to avoid. It's also a good thing that I don't drive because falling asleep while driving wouldn't be good at all.

Lucius made sure that my naps were all very short -- poking me, or jumping up and down when he saw something exciting -- like a cow in a field. At Kidderminster we stopped for lunch, and a walk, and to take Lucius to the loo, then we braved the next leg of our journey to Stoke On Trent. It was almost three-thirty by the time we got there but we managed to tour one of the potteries and walk along a canal. I bought a small piece of Wedgwood the amalgam of six towns is famous for, and then we bundled back into the caravan to find a campsite not too far out of town and alongside one of the picturesque canals.

Now was the time I would have to admit to the guys that if they were depending on me for dinner, I'm not the greatest of cooks, something that had not really come up yet. I'd avoided mentioning it when we'd bought our groceries and now I was wondering how I'd break it to them. But in the end I wasn't expected to do much more than peel the carrots and potatoes and I heaved a great sigh of relief. Peeling I was capable of.

"Did you think I brought you to be our cook?" asked Euan in that taunting voice I was learning to expect from him.

"Good thing you didn't," I said as I whittled industriously at the potatoes. "You would have lived to regret it."

"You mean you would have refused and become stomping mad?" He paused in his cutting of the onions and gave me a challenging look.

"No, I mean the food would have been inedible."

"Give yourself some credit -- I'm sure we could have choked it down -- after all, Douglas will eat anything so long as he doesn't have to cook it himself."

Douglas just laughed and went off to the campground registry where there was firewood for sale. Lucius went along with him to help carry the wood.

Euan started up the primus in the back of the caravan and put the potatoes on to boil. "Why don't you walk down to the water, I've got everything under control," he said.

But I didn't. I stayed and watched as he fried up the chops with thickly sliced onion, and then I set the picnic table and put out some bread and butter.

Douglas came back with a nice load of wood, Lucius proudly carrying one of the smaller logs himself, and set about chopping the littler pieces up for kindling. By the time he had the firewood ready, dinner was too.

"This is great," I said, after tasting the pork chop.

"I'm sure you could have done as well yourself," said Euan.

After that there was little talk as everyone just ate, being warned that leftovers were not allowed. I insisted on doing the dishes and then we all walked along the canal, Lucius waving at every barge he saw. There was a dog on one of them and Lucius laughed at it, then looked around.

"Where's Poppet?" he asked, just then realising that the dog he had so carefully stowed away was not with us.

"At home with grandma," said Euan, bringing on a huge round of sulks from Lucius who refused to go another step unless Poppet was immediately produced.

I'm sure we would have had to carry him back to the campsite kicking and screaming if at that moment an elderly couple hadn't come along the path with a lively spaniel that took an immediate liking to Lucius. He wiped away his tears with the back of his hand and began gambolling back to the campsite with the dog circling around him while the couple fell in with us and chatted. Whenever they referred to the young lad, they weren't sure which of us to direct their comments to as his parent, and they were too discreet to ask. I mean, here we were -- two very British looking chaps, a girl with a Canadian accent, and a little boy with golden brown skin. I could just see the cogs whirling in their brains as they tried to figure it out. None of us said anything to relieve them of their uncertainty.

Back at our campsite we convinced Lucius to say goodbye to the dog and Euan took him off to the washrooms to get him cleaned up for bed while Douglas went about the important task of laying and lighting his fire. I decided to organise the beds.

The back of the caravan was arranged with the kitchen and cupboards on the left and a long bench on the right which opened up for storage. Behind the passenger seat there was also a little seat -- the one that Lucius was supposed to use. It stretched the width of the van. This was to be Lucius' bed, and I arranged his small homemade sleeping bag across it. The cushions that ran along the back of the bench I would later put on the floor for my own bed. Euan had wanted to sleep there and give me the bench, but I insisted, saying that I was the extra person, after all, and just lucky to be there. I wasn't about to put anyone out. Sometimes I could be stubborn. Douglas had a small one-man tent that he pitched at the far end of the campsite. He said something about snoring very loudly. Or maybe he wanted to get away from the snoring. I guess I was destined to find out as the evening progressed.

We sat around the fire on large stones placed for that purpose. Lucius sat with me for a while, then put his arms out to his father who held him close and rubbed his back until he was sleeping soundly. When Euan came back from putting Lucius down he was carrying his guitar. I sat and watched the dance of sparks into the darkening sky as he played some down home country blues -- maybe not what one would expect to come from a campsite beside an old English waterway, but somehow it was a perfect fit.

I slept well on that narrow floor and wasn't disturbed by any snoring at all. When I awoke, I slipped out without disturbing the other two and went to the bathroom to wash and dress. The morning was chilly against my sleep-warmed skin but the sky held promise for a bright day. I held my arms out to the clear blue in contentment, and then brought them down quickly, fearing that someone might actually have seen me and wondered if I was some weirdo.

When I got back to the campsite I saw signs of life. Euan and Lucius had both dressed in my absence, and if Euan's expression was anything to go by, he'd just barely managed it before I got back. He was still stowing his night things and his shirt wasn't yet tucked. In fact he dropped what he was doing the moment he saw me, his hands quickly going to his buttons. I laughed and put my stuff away.

"So, what's for breakfast?"

"You need to ask?" said Euan. "Remember who you are with. Two purebred Scots."

I groaned. "Do I have to eat porridge too?"

"Don't be telling me you don't like porridge."

"I can eat it if there's enough brown sugar and cream," I said.

"You'll never do. We make it with salt, woman!"

I knew he was just teasing but it did cross my mind that it would be awful if liking porridge was a necessity if I wanted to be in a relationship with him. In the end I told him to only make porridge for three. I ate my oats the way I like them -- uncooked with sugar and cream. Douglas looked at me, horrified.

"What?" I said. "This is no different than eating granola or muesli."

"Yes, but it tortures his Scottish soul," said Euan.

I knew I wasn't about to get any support so I just ate in silence, thinking to myself how Scots who live outside of Scotland must feel the need to prove their heritage to themselves constantly so as not to feel like they were losing their culture. In fact, I was sure that the closer we came to Scotland, the stronger their accents grew.

That morning we drove to Preston before we had our first break, tea and scones outside a little bake shop, then stopped at Kendal a little over an hour later for a quick pub lunch. This town was apparently the gateway to the Lake District which brought on thoughts of Pride and Prejudice and Elizabeth Bennet's proposed trip with the Gardiners. She wasn't the only one who'd had to miss seeing that part of England, but no matter how much I longed for it, I knew I couldn't hijack the guys' trip. For one thing, I didn't think they could hold out much longer before they got some haggis into their systems.

Another hour's worth of driving and we were approaching the border city of Carlisle. Anticipation was written all over Douglas' face -- one last English town and then he'd be in the land of thistle and heather. The moment we crossed over he tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Can ye smell the air? Nothing fresher!" and he broke into a huge grin.

When I saw the sign for Gretna Green I just about squealed. "You didn't tell me we were coming here." That shows you how much attention I paid when they were planning the itinerary of the trip.

"I thought I'd take you by surprise," said Euan, pulling into the parking lot of the Old Blacksmith's Shop - now a museum, but in its heyday many marriages had been performed there.

"So which one of you am I marrying?" I asked, and then immediately wished I'd said nothing. I didn't want anyone thinking that I was thinking anything remotely connected with the subject about anyone that I was with.

"Me!" announced Lucius, giving me a hug and saving me from embarrassment.

"Well, let's get on with it, old chap," I said.

"Not a good idea," said Euan.

"Why not?" I asked, still cuddling with Lucius.

"I'd rather not be your father."

"You think I'd be a bad kid?" I said, ignoring the obvious so that I didn't have to get embarrassed all over again.

"I meant something quite different." He looked away from me at the building as if it was the most interesting thing he'd seen for a long time.

"Oh!" I said, and then after I'd had time to recover I continued with, "Let's just tour the place instead, Lucius."

---

Now that we were in Scotland we drove much slower, drinking everything in. It took us over an hour to get to our final destination for the day, Moffat, though it was only about thirty miles away. We stopped to admire distant lakes, rushing rivers, and lovely green vistas of sloping hills mottled with trees and meadow. Rhododendrons bloomed wild by the roadside, their flowers invariably pale lavender purple.

The village of Moffat was nestled among rolling hills and surrounded by fields of sheep with silvery rock walls intersecting, creating a patchwork. The river Anaan made its way through all this pastoral beauty. We stopped on a rise outside the village and I got out to snap a few shots of the view and then took a picture of Lucius and Euan sitting together on a rock wall. Euan took the camera and motioned for me to sit on the wall with Lucius while he took our picture. After that I took one of Douglas who was just walking around breathing deeply, rejuvenating his lungs, he said.

Lucius' favourite thing in the village was a monument -- a craggy rock with a longhaired sheep on the very top, looking incredibly lifelike with impressive curling horns on either side of its head. I was glad that we were shut up in the caravan, or I don't know if I would have been able to prevent him from trying to climb up to play with the sheep. He clamoured to get out, hung to the window with his head poking through the opening while Euan drove slowly past. I held him tightly about the waist and didn't let him go for all his squirming.

What I enjoyed the most were the woollen mills that were just outside of town. There tartans were woven, as they had been for centuries in this sheep-farming centre of the country. I found a mind-boggling array of tartan patterns and colours from which to make my choice. Not having a Scottish background, I had no clan of my own to pick from and I wasn't about to choose the tartan of the McLarens when Euan pointed it out to me as his family tartan. I opted instead to go with the Hunting Fraser, after the river that I had grown up beside. I liked the blue and green tones of the hunting tartans better than the more predominantly red ceremonial ones. We also were able to walk through the mill where the huge looms were noisily turning out yard after yard of the soft woollen fabric.

We went back to the village for our evening meal -- hearty bowls of Scotch broth with warm bread straight from the oven, and then found a camping place on the edge of a farmer's field. It was a little more rustic than the night before -- we had our own water for washing up, but only the bushes available for those other necessities. I, true to my nature, was too embarrassed to let anyone actually see me creep off into the bushes to do my thing, so I held it until we were all tucked in and Lucius and Euan were breathing evenly, then I tip-toed out into the cool of the night. Afterwards I had the pleasure of communing with nature. The stars were huge and bright and crowding the sky. I found what constellations I could and then just gazed at the rest, trying to connect the dots to make pictures of my own. And in that serene stillness I discovered there were more than stars in that huge sky -- there were words. Words that I needed to hold intact as they bonded with each other into lines of thought, until I could climb into my bed and with a flashlight under my covers to let them spill out in order upon a creased page of my tattered notebook.

A dusting of stars
Blown across my world
Blinding me with beauty
I've done nothing to deserve

How many years
Did it take that light to find me
Alone here in the night
As if it knew, all along
I would be waiting
Watching
Wanting it

A dusting of stars
Erasing the dark
Giving me wishes
I am too afraid to take

I could not deny that fear. The fact was, I was really unsure of what I wanted. How did one know? It was all so tempting -- the smiles -- the look -- the eyes. But did it all mean what I wanted it to? And did I really want this very person, or was it the idea of wanting him and having him that was drawing me in? Was love something unavoidable that you couldn't run away from or something that only came into existence if you willed it to? I was clearly asking the wrong person because I had no answers of my own. I lay back, exhausted, and listened to the soft rumbling breaths that came from my dreaming companions, and I very easily could distinguish those of the father from those of the son. It was comforting just to be, to listen, not to think at all. And then, maybe, because I had not been thinking about it, one day I would wake up and know. But there I was again -- thinking. Just be, just be, I told myself, and with that mantra singing softly in my head, I drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 10

The next morning I dressed quickly inside my sleeping bag. Somehow Euan and Lucius had got up without disturbing me. I hadn't wound my watch and it had stopped some time during the night. I had no idea of the time, but sun was streaming through the cracks in the curtains and I was well aware that I was taking up space that should no longer be a bedroom but a kitchen for the porridge eaters to cook their breakfast in.

"You should have woken me up," I said as soon as I emerged from the back of the caravan, still trying to brush the tangles out of my hair.

"It wasn't easy getting this little blighter out without waking you, but I thought you could use the sleep," said Euan.

I looked at him questioningly.

"The flashlight glows through the sleeping bag."

"I didn't want to disturb you," I said, my voice contrite.

"No worries, I went right back to sleep. What were you up to anyway, reading?"

"No . . . writing," I said. I was tentative to admit it because I wasn't prepared to show my poetry to anybody yet, especially him. But I needn't have worried -- he left it at that. I ran off to clean my teeth and stuff and then took Lucius for a walk while Euan and Douglas practiced their culinary arts.

"Are you sure you won't have some?" said Douglas when I returned with Lucius bouncing on my shoulders. He offered me a bowl. "Truly a thing of beauty."

"I'll take your word for it," I said. I ate my breakfast looking out on the fields. Birds flitted aimlessly among the branches of the grove of trees we'd parked beside, calling to each other, either in conversation or competition, I had no idea.

That morning our destination was Glasgow -- a matter of a mere seventy miles but it took us over three hours before we reached the city centre. We stopped at most of the villages on our route and spent some time skipping stones in the shallows of one of the many rivers the road crossed.

We had lunch and then spent the afternoon looking at the sights and doing some window-shopping until Lucius became too irritable from doing things that held no appeal to a three year old. We drove to a semidetached house in the outskirts of the city where Douglas' parents lived and were afforded a cheerful welcome. Mrs. Campbell was a petite woman with silver hair and a birdlike appearance. She showed me to the room I was to share with Lucius for the night.

"The WC is just a wee bit down the hall," she said, and then left me to clean myself up for dinner.

I changed out of my travel stained shorts and t-shirt and put on a summer dress then found my way down to the tiny drawing room in the front of the house. The room was made even smaller by the amount of knickknacks that filled the tall dark cabinets and littered every surface. I sat on the couch and tried to make polite conversation with Mr. Campbell but I found it very difficult to understand him because his accent was so thick. I was unable to do much more than smile and nod as I unobtrusively attempted to smooth the wrinkles out of my dress. I was relieved when Euan arrived with a very scrubbed looking Lucius. I held my arms out to the boy and gladly let Euan take over the conversation, and poor Mr. Campbell was finally able to get some answers to his questions.

Dinner was good, solid fare -- a roast joint of mutton, boiled potatoes and peas, with pudding for desert. Afterwards we had tea from fine china in the drawing room and I was given the honour of inspecting the family photo albums, much to Douglas' horror. The best part of the evening, though, was when I got to soak in a hot tub before collapsing into a soft, warm bed with my little sleeping companion. His arms came up about my neck even as he slept and I felt that maternal urge for the first time in my life. I'd played with Lucius so much, carried him, dealt with his tantrums, cleaned him up after dinners, but never before had I felt the tug at my heart that gave me a glimpse of the greatest reward of motherhood. That burst of emotion brought tears to my eyes and I cuddled him closer and crooned a lullaby from my own childhood as I drifted off to sleep.

We had oatmeal and kippered herring for breakfast, served with very strong tea, and I bravely ate everything. Douglas made a point of teasing me, but Euan only smiled lightly. Every time I looked up I caught his eyes on me from across the table. They had that same expression that I found so curious, so unreadable and I wished I knew what he was thinking about. Were his thoughts of me, or was his mind far away without realising that his eyes were trained towards me? It was a little unnerving -- not knowing -- not that it was a new feeling by any stretch. He gave nothing away -- at least not very often. He was invariably kind -- even caring and compassionate -- but he wasn't open. Not that I was either, I admitted grudgingly, but that was because of my uncomfortable shyness. I wasn't as confident and relaxed in any situation like he was.

Mrs. Campbell would not let us wash the dishes after breakfast, saying she had daily help to do that, and she pressed a big basket of sandwiches on us for our lunch. She must have either made them late into the night or got up early in the morning on that account. It looked as though she was planning to feed an army and I sensed that she had no confidence in the big lads' ability to fend for themselves, nor mine either, if it came to that.

---

The next leg of our trip was to the west coast town of Oban where the ferries ran to the islands of Mull, Coll, Tiree and the Western Isles. What I was looking forward to the most was driving along Loch Lomond. Our first stop was at Dumbarton, a centre for shipbuilding at the mouth of the River Leven on the Firth of Clyde. What impressed me the most as I looked out on the steely grey water was a huge, towering volcanic rock on the north side of the firth. Euan told me that it was two hundred and forty feet tall -- immense. It wasn't the only sight to catch my attention, though. Dumbarton Castle rose out of a basalt prominence on the north bank of the River Leven, a reminder of the history of the warring Scots - always in need of fortifications. Soon we turned north and headed up a valley, stark hills on both sides of us. Five miles later we were in Balloch at the South End of Loch Lomond where the lake spreads as wide as a sea and is dotted with numerous islands.

We had been driving for almost an hour so we stopped for a loo break and to stretch our legs on the town docks. The day was overcast and a sharp wind was blowing off water that looked like pewter. It was such a contrast to the day before which had been sunny and warm. It seemed like summer had abandoned us suddenly and I pulled the collar of my sweater up tightly around my neck. Euan must have noticed that I was cold because his arm came around my shoulders as we walked with Lucius skipping on ahead. He kept it there the length of the pier as we stood facing the wind and water, and then released me for the way back, giving Lucius a shoulder ride to the caravan.

After that we drove the twenty-five mile length of Loch Lomond at a leisurely pace, the whole time the song ran through my head, and I admit to drifting into that comfortable place halfway between sleep and wakefulness. It was all there, the bonny banks and the bonny braes, all that was missing was the sun, shining brightly down. Lucius snuggled on my lap, his head resting on my chest, asleep.

When we stopped at Ardliu at the far north end of the lake, I shook myself and looked around. Even Douglas had dropped off. Euan was staring out at the water.

"Sorry," I said.

He just shrugged and smiled.

"Don't you ever get tired?"

"I like driving -- especially here. It's very soothing, but it doesn't put me to sleep. It gives me time to think."

There seemed to be nothing to say to that so I shifted Lucius into a more comfortable position.

"Hungry?" he asked. "We have a crate of sandwiches to eat, thanks to Doug's mum."

We were in a parking lot overlooking the loch. There was an old pier jutting out into the water that Euan told me was once a part of the West Highland Railway. It seemed as good a place as any to eat, so I woke up Lucius and then climbed into the back and retrieved the basket Mrs. Campbell had packed. I gave Lucius his lemon squash and asked him to be careful with it -- my clothes had suffered enough already this trip. Douglas woke and stretched.

"Well, that's given me an appetite," he said as he reached for a sandwich. And I guess it had, or he enjoyed his mother's cooking - he polished off four fat sandwiches in the time it took me to eat one.

There was much more to see as we drove the road that wound between the many low mountain ranges that abut each other in this part of Scotland. History abounds in Scotland, and for someone like me, who comes from a country where very little is older than one hundred years, I felt that I was seeing structures that were as old as the very rock they were hewn from. After driving through Dalmally, we stopped to look at Kilchurn Castle on an islet in Loch Awe. It was in ruin, and on this dark day I could picture it in mist and almost hear a piper up in the battlements. A shiver ran through me -- not of cold, but of awe that the time worn rocks inspired.

A few miles further along, I saw signs posted on the side of the road warning motorists to be on the lookout for haggis.

"The wee creatures live in these hills," said Douglas seriously. "Poor blighters -- did you know that they have developed shorter legs on one side of their bodies than the other from walking on the slope?"

Lucius was looking at him, his eyes growing rounder with every word.

"You don't believe me, lad?' he asked. "Well it's true. You can ask anyone. The poor wee haggis, they can only walk in one direction, or they will lose their balance and topple right off the mountain. That's why we have to keep on a strict lookout. Hi there! I think I saw one. Very shy wee fellows, haggis are. It's gone into its burrow."

I laughed, entering the fun, and pretended to see one too.

"Makes it easy for the hunters, mind," said Douglas. "If ye're out stalking haggis ye just have to get them all turned around and they fall right into your sack."

All that talk of haggis had made Douglas hungry, and when we rolled into Oban he was intent on searching out a chip van. I had to crane my neck to see McCaig's Tower, a huge Roman folly on the hillside overlooking the town. It was designed to replicate a wall of the Coliseum and built in grey stone. But none of that was important to Douglas when he was stalking haggis for real.

"Down by the harbour," he suggested, and Euan navigated the narrow streets of Oban till he came to the shores of Oban Bay.

By the quayside was the inevitable chip van. We parked and headed out to sample this promised treat. I chickened out when it come to ordering and got blood pudding and chips instead.

It was surprisingly warmer here than it had been at Balloch earlier in the day. The clouds had been blown away and the wind had died down. We found a bench and ate as seagulls collected around us, hoping to be fed. They weren't disappointed, Lucius was giving them his chips before he started eating them for himself. After bravely trying Euan's haggis, I was glad that I'd opted for the blood pudding, which was excellent. I don't think I'll cry if I never taste haggis again in my life. But Douglas and Euan were in heaven eating it, and that was the main thing.

After eating and walking along the quay to watch the ferries for a while, we drove a couple of miles up the coast to a campsite at Dunbeg on the south side of Dunstaffnage Bay. The beach stretched down from the camping area, grey with shingle and coarse sand. We had an early night. I went to bed hoping for warmer weather the following day, and slept deeply, dreaming of lochs and burns and ruined castles rising out of the mist.

© 2004, 2005 Copyright held by the author.

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