The Wedding Cake Tree (13 page)

‘
Oh?’

‘
Well, once all of the legal aspects of Mum’s estate are sorted out, once we’ve finished our little trip, I was thinking it might pay to keep the retreat going – renew Mum’s contract with the military. I could run it myself.’ Alasdair gazed into the dancing flames.

‘
Maybe that’s something you might consider when you’re older,’ he said.

‘
I’m surprised, Alasdair. I thought you would like the idea of the retreat staying open. I’m sure lots of people would miss it if I turned the cottage into just a home.’

‘
Yes, they would. But it would be a fairly remote life for you. Maybe you’re too young for that kind of lifestyle, tucked away in Devon on your own.’

‘
I’d hardly be on my own,’ I scoffed. ‘And anyway, Mum was my age when she started it up, and I’m sure she didn’t feel tucked away.’ He smiled softly.

‘
I’m sure you’re right,’ he said. ‘It sometimes pays to keep your options open, that’s all.’

‘
Yes, of course, but I’ve always known I would go back to Devon eventually. I’m a home-bird deep down I’m afraid.’ Alasdair stared into the bottom of his empty coffee cup.

‘
Hey, I know,’ I said, looking to pep things up. ‘I saw a bottle of wine in the fridge, let’s open it.’ I rose to my feet. ‘Also – and you’re going to love this – I’ve seen a cupboard full of board games. And as you know, I play to win.’

He smiled.
‘That would be great, but I should warn you that we’ve got a big day tomorrow.’

‘
What’s Mum got up her sleeve now?’ I asked, stopping at the door.

‘
We’re heading into the mountains. I’ll get a map and show you. Let’s go inside.’

‘The only game with most of the pieces in the box is Scrabble,’ I said, ‘or we could play Guess Who?, but that’s for ages three to nine.’

‘
Guess Who? it is then.’

He poured out the wine while I set up the
Scrabble.

‘
Come and have a look at the map and I’ll show you where we’re going tomorrow.’

I picked up
my glass and peered over the map while he explained.

‘
We’ll park at Rothiemurchus’—his finger pointed to a nondescript location—‘and then we’ll take a saunter up the Lairig Ghru (which is a mountain pass that runs through the Cairngorms). Then we leave the Lairig Ghru and work our way up to the summit of Ben Macdui.’ His finger traced the line of our walk. I sat in silence contemplating the walk then thought,
hold on a minute – summit
?

‘
Then it’s a short-ish hop down the mountain to Loch A’an, and then back up to the top of Cairngorm Mountain, with a final jump on the funicular railway to shoot back down to the ski station
–
that’s it.’

That’s it?

‘
And this was Mum’s idea, the route and everything?’

‘
Yes, it was.’ He folded the map away.

‘
Well, Mum obviously thought I was up to it. It looks like a blooming long way though. And we’re doing the whole walk in just one day?’

‘
No, two days. Well, one and a bit really.’

The penny dropped
.

‘
This is going to be an ashes moment isn’t it?’

‘
Afraid so.’

‘
Correct me if I’m wrong, but there didn’t appear to be any
H
for hotel signs along the route. Is this one of those situations where you’ll tell me halfway along the walk that there’s a pub at the top of the mountain.’

‘
There
is
a pub at the top of the mountain, at the funicular visitor centre, but there’s no accommodation so … we’re camping.’ With half a smile on his face he turned his attention to the Scrabble board.

‘
Camping!’ My voice came out at a higher pitch than I expected. ‘Don’t tell me
–
Mum’s idea again.’

‘
Afraid so.’

‘But
this place is heavenly, why leave it?’

Alasdair smirked.
‘You’ve soon changed your tune …’

We turned most of our attention to the wine and slightly less attention to the Scrabble.

After
a couple of defeats on my part I packed the Scrabble away while Alasdair rose to his feet and picked up the violin.

‘
Mind if I play something?’

I shook my head, surprised.
‘I’d love it. Can you honestly play?’

He tucked the violin u
nder his chin. ‘I used to play
–
probably a bit rusty now, though. You’ll have to bear with me.’

He tuned the
strings and then began. It was a classical piece and his rendition was … awful.

‘
That was wonderful, Alasdair.’

He bowed
and lowered the violin to the side with a flourish.

‘
An exam piece. The music teacher took a shine to me; the violin was supposed to give me … purpose.’ He stabbed the air with the bow. ‘But this bow makes a great sword for a kid, so the plan didn’t really work!

‘I can
just imagine. It sounds like you had an interesting childhood.’

‘Interesting?’
He flopped onto a chair. ‘Let’s just say my childhood was the exact opposite of yours.’

‘
In what way?’ Once again I hoped I could get him to open up a little, expand on Mum’s letter.

‘
I was a bit of a tearaway, that’s all. But at least my schooling wasn’t all wasted, I can still knock out a tune. Mrs Bradley would be delighted!’

‘
I wish I had your confidence, but I was only ever average on the piano, so I don’t play to an audience.’

‘
Why do you do that?’ he asked, frustrated.

‘
Do what?’

‘
Put yourself down. I’ve heard you sing and I was
–
I don’t know
–
enchanted. So you’re no doubt better than you let on when it comes to the piano too.’

I blushed
and looked at my feet.

‘
It’s just the two of us, Grace
–
who cares? Okay, answer me this: I just made tons of mistakes. Did you think, Oh my God, that idiot Alasdair has just made a right old fool of himself, what an arse? Or did you think, bless him, he’s had a go, just for me?’

I smile
d.

‘
See, who cares? And the difference is, you really
are
musical, so show off a bit!’

‘Okay, t
he truth is, when I’m singing alone, or with Mum around, or even Jake, I’m relaxed. But as soon as there is any kind of audience, even just one person, I muck up, and I
mean
muck up. I just don’t like the idea of singing to people.’

‘
Maybe if you saw it as singing
for
people instead of
to
people then you might begin to see singing in public
–
or just when others are around, like now
–
as a different concept, as something that brings pleasure. I’ll shut up, it was just an idea.’

‘
Possibly, I don’t know. I suppose my mind is full of embarrassing memories. It was horrendous at the Academy, singing while lots of other people were hanging around. I felt physically sick roughly fifty per cent of the time.’

‘
Like a marine waiting for a maths test,’ he joked. ‘That can’t have been pleasant. No wonder you left. Maybe the mindfulness book would help,’ he suggested, leaning forward to pick up the book. I thought about his suggestion for a second.

‘
Trust me, nothing can help. And, to be honest, I wouldn’t want it to.’

Once more, we parted company at a much later hour than we intended. As we said goodnight and I climbed into my bed, I shouted through the door to Alasdair who was making up the inflatable bed in the lounge.

‘
Just one thing, Alasdair?’

‘
Fire away.’

‘In the car, when you asked if I wanted to go to Loch Garten, you said the ospreys were special. Why are they special to you?’

He leant against the doorframe and thought about his answer.

‘I wanted to see the ospreys because, sometimes, when I’m deployed somewhere
–
depending on where I am of course
–
I log on to the Loch Garten website and watch the ospreys at work. I suppose I find them calming. They’re so free.’

‘Don’t you
feel calm when you’re away?’ I asked quietly.

‘Not always
, not any more.’

‘
Well, anyway, I just wanted to say thank you.’

‘
What for?’ he asked, looking tired but happy.

‘
Oh, I don’t know, for everything really.’

‘
You’re very welcome. Goodnight, Grace.’

‘Goodnight.’

Chapter Eighteen

After a hearty breakfast w
e headed off on the next stage of the adventure into the mountains. The road meandered alongside the River Spey initially, and we would catch glimpses of wader-clad fishermen casting their lines deep into the river while driving along.

‘
I suppose the Spey is a salmon river,’ I said absently.

‘
Yes, these guys will have paid big money for a beat on the Spey’—and then, randomly—‘Jake’s a good fisherman.’

‘
I know he is, he taught me.’

‘
You can fish?’ He took his eyes off the road for a moment. ‘You never fail to surprise me, Grace.’

‘
Not so surprising really, just assume I did everything a boy would do in his formative years. Imagine
Swallows and Amazons
meets
Anne of Green Gables
and you’re nearly there.’

‘
He’s a good man,’ Alasdair was obviously keen to finish what he wanted to say about Jake. ‘You were fortunate to have him around.’

I felt tears sting my eyes.

‘Yes, I know. I need to see him
–
things to say. Mum was a strong character. It wasn’t his fault she chose to keep me in the dark. Grief makes you behave badly
–
made
me
behave badly.’

A
fter a pause, Alasdair said, ‘
Anne of Green Gables
? What’s that?’

Saved from my emotional moment, o
ur eyes met over the handbrake.

‘A book.’

‘Never read it.’

‘
You do surprise me, Alasdair.’

‘I can just imagine you lapping up all the old-fashioned childr
en’s books when you were little. But answer me this’—he glanced across—‘and it’s a vital question if we’re to continue to rub along together. What camp do you fall into,
Secret Seven
or
Famous Five
?’

‘Oh,
Secret Seven
, no question,’ I answered, laughing.

‘
Thank God for that!’ he said, feigning relief. ‘You may not be aware of this, but the civilised world is split into two categories,
Famous Five
and
Secret Seven
. You’re in my camp. I would have had to kick you out of the car if not.’

We laughed.

‘I do like to read my old books when I go home, although …’

‘Although what?’
he pressed.

I blushed.

‘I was just going to say that Mum once caught me reading one of her saucy novels when I was sixteen. She had a penchant for erotic novels. There’s quite a collection at St Christopher’s.’

Alasdair beamed.
‘Brilliant! Good old Rosamund. What did she say when she found you?’

‘
Nothing much. She just smiled, took it off me and said I could have it back when I turned eighteen.’

‘And?
Did she ever let you have it back?’

‘She did in
deed, on my eighteenth birthday. Well, that and twenty more. I was so embarrassed.’

Alasdair laughed out loud. ‘So what does Ms Buchanan
prefer to read now, children’s books still, or have you developed a taste for something more… exotic, like your mum?’ He flashed me a sexy smile, there was definitely a devilish twinkle in his eyes –
was he flirting or what?

‘
I read both. But mainly the saucy stuff lately.’
What a fibber.

Alasdair adjusted himself in his seat and his
mouth twitched –
perfect
.

We left the forest (and the public road) behind, and travelled a mile or so up a fairly steep track and onto scrubby, open moorland. The Cairngorm Mountain Range was no longer a postcard scene in the distance, but an all-encompassing presence around us. The track narrowed and came to an abrupt end at a settlement of wooden buildings. We had arrived at Rothiemurchus Lodge, an army outdoor pursuits centre Alasdair had visited before. My heart fell to my boots. It was going to be a long, difficult walk – I could feel it. Alasdair laid the map out on the car bonnet to show me the route.

‘
Like I said last night, first we head up the Lairig Ghru.’ He turned away from the map and pointed to a mountain pass roughly half a mile beyond the lodge to the east. ‘And then we’ll veer left and work our way up to the top of Ben Macdui.’

I remained silent
. Rather than looking back at the map, my head remained permanently arched upwards. The mountains looked vast – and steep.

‘
We’ll take it nice and easy, no rush,’ he said casually, ‘and there’ll be plenty of scenery stops. I promise you, we’re going to have a wonderful time. Oh, there aren’t any toilets up there, so …’

I took the hint and disappeared to make use of the facilities in the lodge.

We started along the
footpath. Thankfully, the path looked steeper than it felt underfoot. Alasdair chatted away behind me, and we worked our way methodically up the mountain pass.

‘
Now this is what I call perfect walking weather,’ he said, ‘sunny, but not hot, and with a just a bit of a breeze. Heaven.’

Half an
hour after leaving the lodge I got into my stride, which was fortunate as the path veered sharply to the left and we began a much steeper ascent out of the Lairig Ghru. I felt a definite affinity with goats as we carved our way up a narrow track barely noticeable through the heather. Despite the breeze it was hot work, so I rolled up my sleeves to allow the air to circulate. I also stopped to take in the view, but the far side of the pass was all we could see at that point. Looking down the glen I couldn’t believe how much height we had gained in such a small amount of time.

Alasdair was perfectly patient.
There was no conversation between us, just the occasional reassuring smile when I glanced down the path.

Aft
er a final, calf-burning climb, I realised I was no longer simply looking blankly at the heather on the path in front of me, but my field of vision opened out to take in the mountains – Ben Macdui and its neighbours. The welcoming breeze gained in strength and I stood for a moment and allowed the air to wash over me. The terrain underfoot was scree rather than heather, the gradient was shallower and the climb more pleasant.

Alasdair pointed in the directi
on of the summit of Ben Macdui. Patches of white in a couple of gullies in the distance illustrated where the snow line began. The peaks of adjacent mountains climbed out of the landscape beyond the horizon of our own mountainside, but we were still too low to see the ultimate view Alasdair had promised – the distant mountains of the west coast. He stopped to take a look at the map.             

‘
We’ll come across a little loch soon. A nice spot for lunch, I think. ’

I turned around to take in the view.

‘You know, I’ve never been up a real, proper job mountain before,’ I confessed. ‘It’s a brilliant feeling. Can’t wait to see the view from the top.’

We
carried on around the mountainside and, just as promised, a small loch appeared to our left. Alasdair instinctively passed me my coat to sit on and his fleece to wear. I was ravenous and practically ripped the rucksack from his back to get at the picnic.             

A
group of four teenage boys walked past. Their shoulders sagged with kit. Alasdair presumed they were on the Duke of Edinburgh Award Scheme. I agreed but commented that, other than the one cocky joker, they were worryingly quiet for a bunch of teenagers. One of them was limping; he managed a polite ‘hello’ when Alasdair offered a friendly ‘all right lads?’

After lunch
, Alasdair delved into a side pocket of his rucksack and took out a small bottle. He sprayed the contents onto his legs. I laughed.

‘
Well my goodness, I’ve seen everything now.’

‘
What?’ he asked, massaging the lotion into his skin.

‘
Let’s just say I didn’t have you down as a moisturising kind of a guy
.
’ He sprayed more lotion onto his hands and rubbed it into his face.

‘
There’s nothing wrong with wanting baby soft skin,’ he proffered, but he couldn’t keep up the pretence and began to laugh. ‘Believe it or not,
this
,’ he held up the bottle of body oil to show me, ‘is the best midge repellent on the market.’ He lobbed the bottle at my feet. I picked it up and read the label.

‘
But it
isn’t
midge repellent, it’s women’s body oil.’ I was confused.

‘
That may be so, but it works, so who am I to knock it.’

‘
Incredible,’ I said, also rubbing a little onto my face and hands. ‘Actually, I’ve been meaning to say, Alasdair,
you,
the rebel that you are, seem to be wearing shorts.’ I stood to shake the crumbs from my trousers and stepped a couple of paces towards the water’s edge. ‘I thought you said shorts were a no-no today.’

‘
Ah, yes, well,’ he stuttered, ‘I didn’t say I would practise what I preach did I? I just didn’t want you to get bitten to death or sunburnt.’ He flashed me his best smile.

‘
That’s okay. I don’t have any shorts with me, and anyway, I wouldn’t want my socks to give me a tan line either.’ I looked up at the sky. ‘It’s definitely warm enough to get a tan today.’

Alasdair peeled the top of one of his thick walking socks down from just below his calf to below his ankle bone.
‘You’re right,’ he said, looking at his leg, ‘I think I’ve gone and got myself a bit of a tan today.’

I took the opportunity to check
out his legs; my head tilted to the angle of an attentive dog. Alasdair’s legs were exactly the sort of pins a sculptor would create – when sculpting a piece entitled
Adonis
.

L
ong and lean with perfect athletic calves.

My eyes casually
wandered up the rest of his body and rested on his face. He was smiling at me. Caught out, I turned away to hide my face and paddled the soles of my boots in the loch.

‘
What’s this loch called? You, err, you never said.’

Alasdair
glanced at the map.

‘
Lochan Buidhe. I’ve probably pronounced it wrong though.’ He took the opportunity to have another look at the route whilst biting into an apple.

‘
I bet “Lochan” means
little loch
or
just a tiddler
in Gaelic,’ I bent down to swish my hand in the water. ‘Or it may just mean
bloody freezing.
This water feels like recently melted ice. Come and put your hand in.’

‘
I don’t need to,’ he said, laughing. ‘It
is
recently melted ice, you nutter!’

We
began preparations to move on. Alasdair was buckling up his rucksack when we heard a yell in the distance. The boy with the limp was hobbling frantically down the mountain towards us, flailing his arms in the process. I looked at Alasdair; my concerned expression matched his own. The boy was almost completely out of breath when he reached us.

‘
Please—help. One of the—group—a fall—’

‘
He’s hyperventilating,’ Alasdair said, sitting the boy down calmly.

‘
Are you asthmatic? Do you have an inhaler?’ The boy nodded. He fumbled with the zip pocket on the side of his trousers. Alasdair unbuttoned the clothes around the boy’s neck and took the inhaler from his pocket. After a few puffs, although still in a panic, he was at least able to talk.

‘
What’s your name?’ Alasdair asked.

‘
James – Jamie. You’ve got to help.’

‘
Right then, Jamie. Whatever the problem is, we’ll sort it out. What’s happened?’

‘
It’s my mate, Charlie. There’s a big patch of snow. He was running down it, for a laugh, you know. I couldn’t do it – bad blisters. He couldn’t stop – gone over the edge.’ Jamie looked at me, panic-stricken, and added, ‘What if he’s dead?’

‘
How far from here?’ Alasdair asked, anxiously now. He glanced up the path in the direction of Ben Macdui. The path worked its way up a particularly steep part of the mountain for roughly 500 feet or so, ending at a blind summit. I placed an arm around the shaking boy.

‘
Just over the top.’

‘
Will I see your mates if I stay on the path?’ Alasdair asked, putting on his rucksack.

‘
Yeah.’

‘
Have you phoned 999?’