Any thoughts of my possibly being a lesbian type flew out of my head, as I could feel myself get all hot and bothered at the sight of this Adonis...

Get A Life!

By Susan Brown

Chapter 6

Previously …

I looked around.

‘A bit cramped.’

She laughed.

‘It won’t be when our maintenance department clear it out.’

‘Your maintenance department; do you have a big team?’

‘Yes, Hamish McAllister is very big. He eats three Weetabix and tosses a caber every morning and…’

‘Sorry to interrupt, what about the rest of the team?’

‘Team?’

‘Yes, the maintenance team: I assume that you have others working at maintenance. You know, mending roads, keeping verges down, fixing building problems, stuff like that.’

‘No, its just our Hamish. Funds are limited and we ask everyone to chip in and help, but I must admit, the roads have more potholes than I would like…’

I looked at her and wondered if I had bitten more than I could chew in taking this job. What more could go wrong?

I was soon to find out.

And now the story continues…

Sally pulled out her mobile phone and speed dialed or whatever.

‘Hamish, are you there?’

She listened for a moment and then continued.

‘Well, you can have ye porridge later. I never knew a man who could eat as much of that as you. Now, get over here asap and start clearing out Chloe’s office. I told you she was coming here nearly a week ago and the place is still a mess. What impression do you think we are making with her? What was that… swearing at your employer is not helpful. Now get your bum into gear and be here in double quick time.’

She stabbed at her phone with some vehemence and looked at me.

‘Hamish is a bit temperamental, but a good worker. Lets go to the café and have a cup of tea and then we can have a wee chat about what’s going on.’

I wasn’t against that idea, so we struggled out of the rubbish-strewn room, only to find Angus coming in carrying two coffees.

‘Ah Angus, what kept you?’

‘I….’

‘Never mind that now. You wait here and sort out Hamish. I want this room cleared out straight away so that Chloe can get started. We are going to the café.’

‘What about the coffees?’

‘You and Hamish have them, but only after the mess is sorted out. See you later.’

As I walked with Sally across to the café, I wondered if I could be such a doormat as Angus seemed to be. As if reading my thoughts, Sally turned to me.

‘Angus is a sweet man but he needs leading sometimes. Don’t think that I always get my way. I normally win any argument that is trivial or unimportant, but given something that needs a real leadership decision and my Angus is your man. Anyway, if he doesn’t agree with my ideas, I soon know about it. As my Ma used to say, you can lead a horse to the pub, but ye canna make the thing drink Scotch whisky.’

I looked across the road. There was a child, I think a boy, but with longish hair, standing on the corner. As soon as he saw us, he seemed to look startled and then ran off down the road.

I shrugged perhaps he was shy.

I thought nothing more of it as I found myself back at the café where, to my surprise, the place was packed — well, there were three tables occupied, which seemed crowded compared to before. I couldn’t understand why the place wasn’t heaving with locals, as they must know what delish food was on offer, even if the décor was a bit crappy and naff.

I shrugged, maybe one day things might get better and I hoped that I could help the whole island to get on its collective feet and make a real go of it.

We sat at a window seat and a few seconds later, Molly came over and smiled at us. I noticed that she had changed her dirty tabard for a clean pink one and had actually brushed her hair. Small steps and all that…

‘Hello Sally, Chloe, what would you like?’

‘Oh Molly, so you’ve met our new tourism guru?’

‘Yes, she gave me a few pointers as to how bad I am at running a café.’

‘Oh sorry,’ I blustered, ‘I didn’t mean to…’

‘Och hen, don’t fret, I was joking. In fact Sally, she gave me some good pointers. I need to pull my stockings up and move on. Now what would you like?’

We settled on tea and scones and after Mandy served us, she left Sally and I to catch up on all that had happened in the last twelve hours.

I told her about McTavish, the Landlady From Hell and the horrible things she said to me. Then I described my encounter with Dolly…sorry Agnes the sheep and the obnoxious Cameron. I wondered if he was any sort of relative to that so called prime minister who had more money than sense…

For some reason she was laughing her head off and tears streamed down her face. It turned out that all the other customers in the café had perfectly good hearing, even though I had hardly been speaking above a whisper. They were also having a good laugh too!

I didn’t realise that I was such a good comic and it took a few moments to realise that what had happened to me was, in parts, quite funny — not the McTavish episode, but all the rest.

I smiled ruefully and wondered how long it would take for my adventures to be retold around the whole of Muckle.

After the polishing off the second cup of tea and the remainder of the excellent scones, cream and jam, things had settled down a bit and the rest of my audience, apart from Sally got back to whatever they were doing.

‘Well,’ said Sally, daintily wiping her lips with a paper serviette, leaving a red stain on it, ‘you certainly have been through the wars. I’ll arrange suitable lodgings for you tonight and get Angus to pick up your bags from the B&B. to be honest; I never thought that Ma McT would be such a cow about you. I suppose that as Angus and I don’t have any gender hang up’s, I assumed wrongly that others would be the same. I am sure that people like her are in a minority. As far as that old reprobate Cameron is concerned, I’ll deal with him in my own way.’

‘What way would that be? I asked.

She tapped the side of her nose with her finger.

‘What you don’t know about you can’t be responsible for.’

That sounded a bit ominous, but I said nothing. We moved on to other matters.

‘So, you have seen a bit of the island and have spoken to a few of our local, shall we say, characters. What are your first impressions?’

‘Of the place or the people?’

‘Both.’

I took a deep breath. I wasn’t going to pull any punches to keep my job. I had the annoying habit of being honest with myself and dealing with others. It didn’t always give me any brownie points, but I was brought up that way and I was too old to start being anything different.

‘The island is lovely, idyllic place that everybody should come and visit. The beaches, mountain and all the scenery in between is simply breath taking. I never believed that there could possibly be somewhere like this up here in the islands, and I am staggered that no one seems to know about it away from here. In fact I would say that it was the UK’s best-kept secret…’

‘On the island, we consider that we are Islanders first, Scottish second and a long way behind members of the UK.’

‘Why is that?’

‘Because we have been forgotten. We seem to be last in line regarding funding. You can see the state of the place. We are not important even on the Scottish mainland. Mucklers, as we like to call ourselves, have had to manage for ourselves ever since the old Laird had to sell off and go to the main land eighty years ago. He had gambling debts and death duties to pay off and wasn’t able to pay anything as he was virtually bankrupted.

‘The manor house and much of the land was sold off to someone from Ayre who was a distant relative to The Laird and then passed on to another relative forty years later but we have no idea who it was that bought it or who owns it now, but ever since, the manor house has been kept clean and tidy and repairs have been carried out by local people employed by a firm of solicitors from Edinburgh who also collect the land rents.

‘It used to be that The Laird and his family looked after the people of Muckle and in fact owned most of the land, but when everything was sold off, the people had to fend for themselves and it has been like that since. As I said land rent is paid to the solicitors, but despite many attempts, no one has been able to find out who benefits from the income.’

‘Strange.’ I said after a moment’s silence.

‘Very strange; anyway, enough about that; what do you think of the people?’

‘What people?’

‘The islanders.’

‘Oh; well; apart from you, Angus and Molly, the only people that I have had a meaningful conversation with are Ma McTavish, Mr Cameron and Agnes the sheep. I am hoping that anyone else I encounter are a bit more friendly than the B&B owner, a disgruntled ex tenant and his bottom pinching sheep!’

We both giggled.

‘As far as the situation regarding the tourism or lack of it, I see a number of problems; the main one being that the island does not seem very welcoming to visitors. This café, the pub down the road that looks very shabby and the other shops and business premise’s haven’t had a lick of paint in years. Visitors like to see clean, well kept buildings and a welcoming smile from all the business owners, I haven’t seen much of that.’

‘Times are hard…’

‘…yes they are. We are living through very hard times. I lost my last job because of it. That means that you have to go that extra mile to make a difference or just roll over and die. That is what this island is doing. It is dying. Not the wonderful place itself, but those people that live on it and struggle to survive. A lick of paint here and there; a general tidy up, where everyone helps to make the place look smarter, can go a long way to kick start the tourist economy…what?’

Sally was smiling.

‘You are a breath of fresh air, Chloe. I just know that was made the right decision to get you to come here. What I want from you is a report of how you see things. I want it by next week, so you need to get on your little pink scooter and go everywhere and speak to everyone and then report back to Angus and me. I will ask my Aunt Aileen if she can put you up. She has a spare room since her daughter left for the mainland twenty-six years ago. Look, I’ll meet you back here after lunch, say at two. In the mean time, carry on what you are doing, meet people and have a general nose around. Now I have a meeting to go to and I’ll see you later. Thanks again Chloe, for helping to buck our ideas up. You are the best thing to happen to us in a long time.’

I felt my face go very red as I wasn’t used to such praise — any praise really.
With that, we got up, hugged and then parted after Sally paid the bill. I waved Molly goodbye and followed Sally out of the café.

After another brief hug, Sally went left and I went right towards Pinkie the scooter. She was waiting patiently at the curb by the toilets. Before mounting my trusty steed though, I went into the ladies and used the facilities and took the opportunity to touch up the old makeup. Sighing as I looked at my reflection, I rued the fact that there didn’t appear to be much in the way of beauty salons on Muckle. After the seawater dunking and attack by rabid seagulls the previous day, I didn’t look at my prettiest, despite the repairs that I had attempted to carry out at Sally’s place.

I gave myself a mental slap on the face. That was defeatist attitude.

‘I didn’t get where I am today by having a defeatist attitude’, I thought, wondering where I had heard that sort of thing before.

Shrugging, I girded my loins, then giggled slightly for some reason. Was I going doolally or to put it another way, was everything that had happened to me making me as nutty as a fruitcake?

‘Enough of this deep mental stuff, time to get to work!’

I exited the Ladies and glanced around. There were a lot more people around now and the area had more of a live feeling about it, although I could see no touristy types about; you know what I mean, people in bright unfashionable clothes that you wouldn’t be seen dead in at home. I imagined the place teeming with holidaymakers. My vision then expanded to lots of smart shops, street cafes swish restaurants and themed pubs.

I shook my head. I was getting ahead of myself. We needed to sort out what we had now and then look to the future.

A movement caught my eye and there was that child again; was it a girl or a boy? I wasn’t sure now; and why was he or she looking at me furtively. Then, in the blink of an eye, he or she was gone.

‘Are all the people a bit strange on this island?’ I mused.

Shaking my head at that unanswerable question, I went over to Pinkie and put on my helmet. A few days riding around the island on a pink scooter with matching helmet and even the sheep would recognise me. Maybe that was a good thing, not sheep recognising me, but the people.

I wanted everyone to know that I was here to help and not make there life more difficult.

I pressed the button thingie and the scooter engine purred into life. Soon I was out of the town and scooting along the twisty lanes, not really knowing where I was going but happy to let Pinkie take me to wherever I was going.

Somehow, Cliff Richard singing Summer Holiday got into my head and I started singing off tune.

We're all going on a summer holiday
No more working for a week or two
Fun and laughter on our summer holiday
No more worries for me or you
For a week or two

We're going where the sun shines brightly
We're going where the sea is blue
We've seen it in the movies
Now let's see if it's true…

I went around a bend and had to stop singing. There was a Porsche in the middle of the road. I wasn’t a car fanatic, well I was, a bit and read magazines where I was riding along in a sports car, the wind in my hair…well that’s another story…

Anyhoo, I knew that this was a Porsche 911 Carrera GTS soft top, a deep blue one. All right, I admit it. It’s really a boy toy, but it’s just that I simply lusted after it at first sight. I know that it was a man’s car and the people that drove them were probably aging and balding men with ridiculous ponytails with a nice paunch due to lack of exercise, but still it was a very nice car.

I chastised myself as I was a busy girl and I had things to do and places to go. I didn’t have time to be a dolly dreamer, so I just bibbed my little hooter rather impatiently. The lane I was in was rather narrow and even on my little pink scooter, I would be hard pressed to get by without a mishap.

Just then a head popped up from the front of the car. It was a man, not a pot bellied, over the hill, aging type (sorry about the ageist comment, but I was heavily into stereotype mode by then) but a rather dishy blond with muscles in the right places and a film star type physiognomy.

Any thoughts of my possibly being a lesbian type flew out of my head, as I could feel myself get all hot and bothered at the sight of this Adonis. Even though I still had some redundant male equipment that hadn’t so much as twitched for a long time due to my medications, my miniscule little hose pipe twitched, I felt a slight wetness in my panties and I had a sort of gooey feeling in my tummy that defies description.

I sighed and wondered if he was attached. Then I frowned, as I knew that I wasn’t quite ready for flirting, let alone love. Anyway, I wasn’t the sort of girl who threw herself at the first wonderful hunk she looks at.

He looked at me and shrugged his shoulders. I switched off my pop-pop engine and I could still feel and hear a sort of a throbbing, beating thingie. Then I realised that it was my heart, going all a flutter.

I dismounted, put Pinkie on her stand and walked over to the man.

‘Hi,’ he said in a deep, melodious voice with a mild and cultured Scott’s accent, ‘sorry about this, my oogleflanglewhatchermacallit has broken and I’m rather stuck.’

I think that that was what he said, but my mind was a bit fuzzy and didn’t take it all in. I wondered in passing whether he would mind if I squeezed one of his well defined pecs beneath his thin tennis shirt…

I giggled.

Then I felt myself go red. Giggling was not appropriate. I should have said something meaningful like, ‘wasn’t the price of turnips atrocious or how can we cure famine?’ But no, I giggled.

He smiled at me, his perfect teeth dazzling me with their brilliance.

‘I’m Alistair Craig and you are?’

‘Cooee,’

‘Cooee?’

‘S…sorry Chloe McKerrell.’

‘Nice to meet you Chloe. Look, I’ve phoned the garage and a man will be coming soon, it needs towing away.’

‘What does?’ I asked in full ditz mode.

‘My car.’

‘Oh, erm sorry.’

‘What for?’

‘For sounding dim.’

‘I have that effect on people.’

‘Pardon?’

‘Sorry, joke; look, you can squeeze by if you are careful.’

‘Can I?’ I asked breathlessly, my mind boggling at the thought of squeezing past.

‘Yes, give it a go.’

‘Right,’ I said automatically and turned away from that dazzling smile and walked back, rather stiffly to Pinkie.

I took my scooter off the stand and walked towards the megabucks car. No way was I going to ride through the narrow gap between the car and the hedgerow. Alastair was looking at me, a slight smile playing on his lips.

I decided that I was not going to swoon. Swooning was not an option. I was a go ahead tourist executive, tasked with bringing this backwater up to the twentieth and once that was done, the twenty-first century. I would not be influenced by base sexual urges. I would be aloof, strong and put any thoughts of getting into this man’s trousers swiftly behind me.

Somehow, I managed to get Pinkie past the Porsche without scratching the car. I somehow accidentally brushed against Alistair’s taught body and nearly had a seizure, as he bulged in all the right places.

I was very conscious of Alistair’s gaze. Was he looking at me longingly, or with pity? Was I nice enough looking? Did he have a girlfriend; worse, was he married or even worser (if that’s the right word) did he have a flock of kids?

I shook my head. I had to get a grip!

I was now, regretfully, past Alastair and the car shaped blockage and the lane was free of any other obstacle. I turned around and there he was, staring at me, that strange smile still on his lips.

‘See you around Cooe McKerrell.’

Smiling weekly, I went to put my helmet on and couldn’t find it. Then horror of horrors, I realised that I hadn’t taken it off!

‘He must think that I’m a first class idiot, training to be a moron,’ I thought despondently, as I waved at him, got on Pinkie, started her up and went off without a backward glance.

As I left him, I cursed my stupidity, ran through any number of things I should have said or done, but didn’t, but above all, I wondered if he thought I was a bit eccentric. Fancy my not even taking my flaming helmet off!

Without really thinking about it, I rode on and on, letting my sort of riding autopilot take over where I was actually going. I just hoped that I didn’t run over any bunny rabbits, as I wouldn’t have noticed in the turmoil that was my mind.

I turned down a lane, which was somewhat unused, as there was grass up the middle of it. It was a bit of a twisty narrow lane and I was lucky enough not to meet anyone coming in the other direction. There were tall hedges on each side of the lane and I only saw glimpses of the scenery beyond, which looked like heathland, with plenty of grass, gorse bushes, outcrops of rocks, streams and pools.

My mind still wasn’t all there due to my preoccupation regarding Alastair. I topped a hill and the lane went downhill rather sharply for about a hundred yards, and then went around a bend and petered out as I had now arrived at an open space.

Stopping, I switched off the engine and took off my helmet. My ears were ringing slightly in the silence. Running my fingers through my longish hair, I wondered if Alastair liked blonds. I would colour my hair purple if that was what it took to turn him on.

Sighing, I got off Pinkie and put her on her stand. In the little carrier box on the back of the bike, I had a bottle of water and I took the opportunity to take a few sips to quench my thirst.

I became more aware of my surroundings as I stood there for a moment. Over to the left was what appeared to be some sort of footpath. Carrying my water bottle, I walked over to the path and on a whim walked along it.

The ground was sandy and there were plenty of trees and bushes about. I could hear the gentle sound of the breeze in the trees and then as I continued on, waves breaking in the distance. Even under the canopy of the trees, it felt pleasantly warm.

Up ahead, it seemed to be lighter, where the sun managed to filter through the trees. The path meandered on and on and then I could see up ahead a gap in the foliage and beyond, the clear blue sky.

It still seemed a bit strange that it wasn’t bucketing down with rain and ferocious mosquitos weren’t attacking me. This was, after all, Scotland.

I walked on and in front of me there was what looked like a hill of sand or what is technically termed as a sand dune. I decided to climb the dune and took my sandals off. Puffing slightly, as I wasn’t exactly in good shape due the lack of any meaningful exercise since I was four; I scrambled up the dune. My feet was sinking a bit in the fine white sand which was hot on my bare feet.

I topped the dune, breathing like an asthmatic sheep and gasped, partly from lack of oxygen, but mainly at the sight before me. This island was full of surprises. Ahead was yet another sheltered bay that wouldn’t look out of place on a Caribbean island, complete with white sand, palm trees, and the sea, gently lapping on the shore.

In the distance were several small islands and I could see the occasional boat and a few yachts, with sails white against the deep blue of the sea and sky.

Overhead, seagulls flew, making the slightly raucous noise where, in other places, it might grate, but in that beautiful setting, seemed nice and somehow okay.

I walked down the dune, my feet sinking into the hot sand. Finally I reached the beach and walked along the shore, with my sandals still in my hand. The water lapped gently up the beach and over my feet. The water was a little cold but not unpleasantly so. My skirt drifted against my reasonably recently shaved legs, in the slight, warm breeze.

I felt a bit guilty about wandering aimlessly like this when I should be working hard and not just going for a stroll along the sandy shore.

My thoughts turned to Alastair. Before my chance meeting with him, I wasn’t sure of my sexual leanings.

It was one of those questions that didn’t really crop up with me. I had been so tied up in my gender problems that the thought of actually lusting after a he or she was furthest from my thoughts. The fact that I was taking pills that sort of killed any sexual urges that I had, made me all the more surprised when I could almost feel the earth move after seeing Alistair standing there looking yummy and edible.

Looking along the beach to the shore with the waves coming in and out…in and out; it reminded me of that scene in From Here to Eternity, where I was Debra Kerr and Alistair was Burt Lancaster. The sea was washing over us as he kissed me passionately…

‘I never knew it could be like this…’

Then I sighed ¬ as the picture faded from my minds eye. As far as Alistair was concerned, I was just a girl, maybe a girl like Debra Kerr (with luck) and not a girl with added extras and a surprise package in my panties that would make him feel that I was, shall we say, not as I seemed.

I moved up the beach away from the water and sat on the sand. I felt my eyes smart as a few tears started to flow.

‘Who am I kidding,’ I thought desperately, ‘he must have a string of real women hanging on his every word. I don’t have a chance.’

I shook my head violently.

‘Damned hormones,’ I whispered angrily.

My moods had more swings than in a children’s playground. One minute I was up and the next down. This was obviously a down moment. I would be okay in a minute, I was sure.

Pulling myself together, I stood up, brushed the sand off my skirt and then turned back up the beach. I would stop thinking about Alastair. I was a stupid girl and mustn’t think much daft thoughts about love and romance after a chance encounter with someone that lasted little more than a few minutes.

Trudging up the sand dune, I was soon out of breath.

‘I need some more exercise,’ I thought as reached the top, gasping. Going down was much easier and I reached the bottom quite quickly. Following the path back to Pinkie, I started cheering up again. How could I possibly be depressed in a place like this?

The path opened out to the clearing where Pinkie stood, waiting patiently for me.

As I put on my helmet, a movement caught the corner of my eye. I was sure that it was that child that I saw before. He or she, I still wasn’t sure, was cycling off down the lane on what looked like an old chopper bike.

I don’t believe in coincidences. Was I being followed? I needed to know, so I got on my scooter, started her up and pushed her off her stand. By now, the child had disappeared around a bend and I hastened to follow.

I set off determinately at a cracking twenty miles per hour in hot pursuit of this possible, all be it young, stalker. Rounding the bend, I fully expected to have the child on a chopper bike in full view.

The lane although rising steeply away from the coast, was almost arrow straight.

I stopped.

Was I having hallucinations?

Had my encounter with the dishy Alistair made me take leave of my senses?

The strange child on the bike had vanished!

Curiouser and curiouser.

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To Be Continued...