This is a work of fiction. It is a sequel to the other stories, beginning with "A Letter from America" that have appeared in adult/youth, young pals, and no sex. Not one single character is , or is based on, a real person. I have borrowed the names of places, and even of some buildings and institutions in those places, but their personnel remain fictitious. They do not represent real people. I have to point out that the story was written in 2020. The year 2020 was largely cancelled due to the Covid19 virus. You will find no reference to that emergency in this story, which represents things that might have happened if the virus hadn't.
I hope you enjoy this story. I'm grateful to Nifty for publishing it. Nifty makes no charge, neither for me to publish, nor for you to read these stories, but it does cost money to publish them. If you enjoy the stories, please consider making a donation to Nifty at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html so that he can continue to bring these stories to you.
A Highland Fling Chapter 4 By Jonah
I was awakened by a childish giggle. Outside it had got light, but I had no idea what time it was. I tried fo move to see my wristwatch, but found myself unable. In fact, I found myself unable to move at all because of the great weight on my chest. I was pinned to the mattress.
There was another giggle.
"Lady's trying to lick my face."
"Yes, one of us didn't latch the door last night." On reflection, that would be me, and Luke must know that - but said nothing. That's what Luke does.
This was not a little dog.
"Luke, can you try to....."
I rolled sideways and the dog fitted itself into a newly formed valley between Luke and myself. She immediately gave up all notion of licking anybody, and lay contentedly between the two of us, panting happily as she focused on the headboard between us, presumably as a way of watching both of us at once.
Good girl Lady," said Luke.
She thought so too.
I freed my left arm and threw it across the dog's furry back. Luke did the same on the other side of her. Lady appeared to be in favour of this development as she began to pant even more enthusiastically. The three of us snuggled up together, upon which Lady gave a contented sigh, then rested her head between her front paws.
We presumably drifted back to sleep like that, When I awakened, the dog had rolled onto her side and one paw rested on my shoulder. My arm was still across her back (which meant that we were mutually cuddling) and Luke... well, when I lifted my head to look, I found that he was wrapped around the big animal in more-or-less the same fashion that he usually wrapped himself around me. Hmmmmm! That could be an idea.
"Ach, I should have guessed you'd be in here. I've just brought ye a cup of tea Jonah. Is she troubling you?"
"Well she's certainly not troubling Luke."
She looked across at the boy.
"Aye, the wee love needs something to hold on to. Have you tried him with teddies and things?"
"I'd happily get us a dog if it's going to have that effect." I replied.
"Aye, well the right dog might help him" she observed. "She'll need to come out now though, because Fergus needs to take her out for some exercise. Come on Lady.... there's a good girl. When we've had our breakfast, he says he's going to take us to Aviemore to look at the trains."
Lady's movements had catapulted Luke into half-wakefulness. The mention of trains completed the job.
It took about half an hour for us all to rise, shower and dress, by which time Janet had the porridge ready.
Now, in Scotland, porridge is a religion. It is taken very seriously. As a boy I would take it , sweetened with sugar. Others used fruit, or Golden Syrup but, North of the border, the idea of adulterating it with anything, other than a pinch of salt, was regarded as herecy of the most virulent kind. We ate our porridge as Janet prepared it - thick, creamy and lightly seasoned. I thought it was delicious, but I was surprised to note that the boys did too.
Fergus came back with Lady as we were finishing up.
"Your porridge is on the table Fergus," Janet told him.
"Aye, ye're a good wee lassie. Are ye coming for a ride on the train?"
"Did ye think I was staying here all day while you go galivanting?"
"Aye, well I'll not be driving to Aviemore then. I'll drive us to the station and we'll catch the nine-thirteen."
We were soon kitted out for the day and mounted to the Landrover.
"Jonah, will you and Peter go in the back with Lady. We'll not get seven of us in the cab. I'll take it steady down to the station."
We clambered in, and Fergus shut the tailgate behind us.
It was indeed a steady progression to the station, but we were in good time for the HST that was to take us the one stop to Aviemore.
We were no sooner seated in the second class than the guard came down the train.
"I'm sorry Fergus. I don't think we're allowed to carry ponies on the trains."
"Wheesht John," replied Fergus. "Ye'll be hurting her feelings."
The way Lady leapt up the front of the man certainly didn't look as if her feelings were wounded.
"Hallo Lady," the guard greeted her - deliberately ruffling her ample fur. "You know I was only kidding don't you. Ye're a good wee girl."
A dog that size can do some damage with its tail, and Lady's was certainly energetic enough.
"Did you book your tickets already Fergus?" the man asked, as soon as the dog would let him.
"Aye, I did John," said Fergus, "but you've got your hands too full to be checking tickets."
"Ach, away wi' ye!" replied the guard. "You'll be off the train at Aviemore, I'm thinking, and we're nearly there now."
"Aye, we will that," said Fergus. "It's good to see ye John. Lady thinks so too."
We alighted at Aviemore station and walked across to platform two, where a train of maroon liveried coaches was waiting behind a black five. That's right, a big black 4-6-0 that simmered peaceably and oozed steam.
Of course we had to have a look at that. The boys admired the beast while Fergus settled Janet in the train.
"Did you want to have a look up here?" said the driver, in tones that were certainly not Scottish.
Well we couldn't turn down an offer like that, so all four of us climbed into the cab.
"That's it boys," said the driver. "Just try to keep out of the fireman's way. He's got a fierce temper, and little boys who cross him tend to end up in there. We save no end of coal that way"
The boys all laughed politely.
"I've got a spare fireman if you want one," I said, indicating Simon.
"Ever fired one of these before?" the driver asked him.
"Not a black five," Simon replied. "B12, Pocket rocket, 9F,"
"Well, if you can fire a 9F, you'll find one of these child's play."
The driver was talking to us, inside the cab, with his head out of the side window, eyes scanning the platform.
"A little bit of suck-u-um for the guard Tommy," he said suddenly.
Simon spun the large ejector wheel, since there were too many bodies between it and the fireman, but immediately apologised for doing so.
"No, you're alright," replied the fireman. "You know what you're doing."
We watched the vacuum guage needle climb to twenty-one, then plunge noisily to zero, before beginning its climb again.
"We'd best get back in the train with our friends," I said.
"Yes," said the driver, as I started to climb down. "You've got about a minute. Not you," this last bit to Simon. "If you're a fireman, your place is on here."
Of course, Simon protested at that. His place was with his friends and family. He didn't really like riding on steam engines, detested the things. Perhaps some other time..... You don't believe me, do you? No, you're quite right. That was the last we were to see of Simon for a little while. We climbed in the front coach, then walked through the train until we found a compartment with a pyrranean mountain dog in it.
"I gather my eldest grandchild is on the footplate," Fergus observed.
"Yes, he wasn't very keen but, after a lot of begging and pleading from the footplate crew, he reluctantly agreed to stay and give them the benefit of his experience."
"Aye! That'll be the McAndrew side of him," smiled Fergus.
We watched Aviemore fall back behind us, much as we'd watched Kings Cross, two days ago. We wound our way among the sheds and yards of Aviemore before striking out into open country. A lot of the journey was in forest but, whenever we found a gap in the arboreal screen, we could see the distant mountains. The big locomotive at the front kept up a steady hammering, to let us know that she was climbing. Black fives don't chuff quietly.
A wide river flowed on our right, and Peter asked,
"Is that the river?"
"It's A river," Fergus told him. "It's the river Spey. That's why they call this the Strathspey Railway. Our river, the Dulnain, flows into it above Broomhill - just as the burn flows into the Dulnain at Carrbridge. Since you're a Methodist, Peter, you'll not be interested to know that those waters make some of the best whisky money can buy."
Peter's face looked as if he was innocence personified.
"Oh no, Grandpa," he said, "one thing I do know about whisky, is that you can never have too much water with it."
Fergus looked at Peter for long enough to make the boy wonder if he had gone too far. Then he threw back his head and roared with laughter.
"Ye cheeky wee monkey," he spluttered. "somebody's been bringing you up right, and no mistake."
I grinned, and ruffled the boy's hair, but I didn't trust myself to say anything. In any case, I couldn't follow that.
Now, you could be forgiven for forgetting that there were two boys present. Only one person in our group failed to be amused by Peter's attempt to wind up his grandfather. No, it wasn't that he was being grumpy - far from it. Nor did he find Peter's remark unamusing. In fact he hadn't heard it at all. His attention was elsewhere.
Yes Luke, plus pencil, plus sketch-block, plus interesting scene/object/person or situation - anything, in fact, that can be sketched - equals..... well doesn't equal anything in fact. In such a situation, Luke is absent - or you are. There is little point in talking to Luke at such a time. For him, unless it's you he's sketching, you don't exist.
We obviously resumed existance as the train drew to a stand in Boat of Garten station. The view from the little station was idyllic, but Luke had to acknowledge my existance to begin begging.
"This is great, Can we get off here Jonah, please?"
"On the way back, Luke," said Fergus. "There'll be plenty of time then, and it'll be nearly dinner time, so the rest of us can eat while you draw pictures."
Luke looked at the old man, uncertain whether he was sending him up, then he obviously decided that it didn't matter, since his face broke into a smile. He flipped over the page he'd been drawing on and began another sketch. Now, I'm a professional artist, but I couldn't produce pencil sketches with anything like the rapidity, accuracy, and skill that Luke routinely managed.
The locomotive spoke to the sky, and the surrounding hills, and we were in motion again. Before long we were in Broomhill and we all clambered off to watch Simon, in a pair of large rubberised gloves and a blue denim smock that he'd acquired from somewhere, unhook the locomotive. He dropped the coupling link over the big engine's own drawbar hook and pinned the vacuum bag to its dummy, then crawled out and waved the engine away. The fireman, who had been watching Simon, climbed back aboard and went with his engine. Simon, as soon as it was gone, dropped down and pinned the vacuum bag on the coach to its dummy. He walked across to the loop to climb back on the engine as it came past. I don't think he had even noticed his family watching him.
We walked to the other end of the train and got there just as Simon dropped off of the loco. He walked across to the end coach, pulled out the pin and wrenched the vacuum bag off of the dummy, then he unhooked the train heating hose. The engine was clear of the points by then so, as soon as the fireman had pulled them up, Simon stood clear and began waving the engine back towards him, bringing it expertly to a stand just as the buffers kissed. Having exchanged signals with the driver, he ducked under and, pulling out the pin, wrenched the locomotive's vacuum bag free. Holding the loco coupling by its knuckle, he heaved it up and over the coach drawbar hook, where it dropped in with a metallic clang. Simon threw the screw-handle over a few times to tighten the coupling up. He picked up the heating hoses and brought them together, forcing the hooks down onto the unions, then banging them on the underside of the coupling to hammer them home. Simon opened the cocks on the heater hoses, then tucked the coach vacuum bag under his armpit, and reached across for the locomotive's bag. He hooked the two hoses together then forced in the pins; then he climbed onto the platform and gave the thumbs-up to the guard, who had been watching him.
The guard watched Simon climb back onto the footplate, and then raised one arm with his fist clenched. He moved that fist up and down a couple of times, then picked up the oil tail-lamp from the edge of the platform and set off for the other end of the train. The black-five's vacuum ejector began its roar, which was our signal to get back on the train.
We settled back into our old compartment. As we listened to the gentle woosh of the ejector drawing the air out of the pipe under the floor, we heard the loud rush of air as the guard dumped the vacuum. Brake test completed, the ejector started its work again. A whistle blew, then the locomotive sounded its deep Stanier hooter. With a couple of chuffs we were on the move. We didn't hear a lot more from the engine as we rumbled down the hill.
At Boat we dismounted. I walked forward to the engine.
"If you're getting off here, I expect you'll want him back," said the driver.
"Why? Did you want to keep him?"
"Tommy will. Simon's been doing all his work for him. Still, he's only left the easy work for him now."
"Well he'd best come with us if he wants some lunch," I returned.
Simon climbed down to be greeted by an enthusiastic pyrranean mountain dog.
"Look after him," said the driver. "You've got a good'un there."
"The best!" I said.
"We didn't need to tell him nothing. He knows his job, and does it right first time. If the North Norfolk ever get fed up with him - just bear us in mind."
"He certainly looks like he's had a good morning, " I replied. "Thank you."
"Don't mention it. Just remember what I said."
He eased the brake as he sounded his whistle. The big locomotive, and her train, began to roll.
TO BE CONTINUED