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 5 By Jonah
Boat of Garten is a delightful little Highland village, with the emphasis on the "little". The fact that the railway has planted sheds and a yard there that almost rival those of Aviemore, does not detract from its charm as much as one iota.
Our little artist was busy almost from the moment he stepped off the train. Having a professional artist for a father, of course, meant that he was perfectly placed to receive a few expert tips - no it didn't. There was nothing I could teach Luke. In fact, my most important customer, Phillips-Murchisson in Massachusetts, had made it quite clear that they wanted his work rather than mine. Art is one of those things that it is possible to learn. It is possible to practice, and to hone one's skills until one can produce creditable work; then along will come a natural - somebody who can, and does, produce work which is more than creditable, with no effort, training, or even practice. That was Luke. It was sickening. I would labour night and day perfecting my latest piece of professional artwork, then Luke would just dash off another masterpiece. I should have been jealous. I couldn't be jealous, or even slightly envious. In fact, the only thing that you can do with Luke is love him. He is a quiet, even shy, boy, who seems not to get depressed, not to get argumentative, but to just get on with life. I didn't resent Luke's talents even a little bit. What father wouldn't feel proud of such a child?
"Dad!"
And I loved it when he called me that.
"Luke."
The others had moved away. That should have been obvious. He tended to call me "Jonah" when others were nearby. I knew the reason for that of course. I was his foster parent, but only the legal guardian of the other two. Luke had always been careful not to rub their noses in it. Now he was flipping back through the sketches he had been producing. If he wanted to show me one of them , that was a rare priviledge indeed. I was seldom allowed to look in his sketch-block.
"Do you think Grandma and Grandpa would like this?"
It WAS Grandma, and Grandpa. Not HIS Granndma and Grandpa of course, though Fergus had made it clear that he was to call them that, but of course, Luke had never known his own grandparents. Perhaps I had underestimated how he would feel at finally having some. Well, if Luke was to acquire some grandparents, he couldn't have done better.
"Is that an A4 sketch-block Luke?"
"I think so."
"Do you want me to see if I can find a frame for it?"
A smile and a determined nod was enough. As I said, what father wouldn't feel proud?
The nearest restaurant faced onto the station forecourt. You can't get much nearer than that.
"The Boat" is a pub really, but its restaurant put on a creditable meal. Fergus was known there, having volunteered on the railway in his younger days, and so was Lady, though not for the same reason. There never was such a dog for making friends. I polished off a king-sized pork chop, but I paid little heed to what the others were eating. We all opted for the jam roly-poly that the boys had only just discovered a liking for.
When we had finished, Luke wanted to go for a walk round the village. I couldn't imagine what for.
Next to the village store and Post Office is a small art gallery and shop. I ducked in there while the others wandered down the street. My luck was in. They were able to sell me an A4 sized photo-frame. I hid it inside Luke's back-pack, which he had kindly allowed me to carry for him. Ah, the joys of being a parent!
It didn't take long to catch up with the others, just as the hoot of a Stanier black-five told us that the train was on its way back up to Broomhill.
The village had not disappointed Luke, nor the rest of us for that matter. The houses and shops were all in natural local stone, or in white stucco, and clean and bright. The Church was impressive for a village, with a hung bell on top, just like the Carrbridge one. We found a small supermarket, which Janet wished to patronise. Fergus accompanied her while the rest of us kept Lady company outside.
When they had finished that, Fergus said that it was time to get back to the station. Well, why not? It was a pleasant wait on the platform for the black five, coming back, tender-first, with our train.
Of course, once the train got us back to Aviemore, the adventure was not over. There were all those sheds to explore for a start. Most were for coaches, but we found an Ivatt class 2, and a few other locomotives - some being of the diesel persuasion.
Now Luke was happy to sketch anything, but there are no prizes for guessing who was most keen on exploring this lot.
"Fergus!"
The speaker was a short, plump man with a florid face and railway overalls. A scruffy grease-top cap surmounted his head.
"How are ye Jock? It's good to see ye man."
"Aye, it's good to see you too. How's retirement suiting ye?"
"Ach, well enough. Well enough. Ye know Janet do ye?
"Aye, I do fine. It's good to see you Mrs. McAndrew."
"And these are the grandbairns. "
"What, ALL of them" said Jock. He suddenly looked embarassed as he realised how that question could be taken.
"Well, one of them's adopted," said Fergus. The twinkle in his eye revealed that he was well aware that he was making things worse.
"Fergus McAndrew. Ye'll bring us all to shame at last," said Janet firmly. "Mr. Laidlaw, this is Simon and this is Peter. They are Maddie's bairns and Mr Cummings looks after them for us. This is Luke, who's Mr.Cummings foster son, so he's our grandbairn too. We're proud of them all."
"Aye, well they're a credit to ye Mr. Cummings," said Jock - anxious to repair the damage.
"Aye, so they are Jock; so they are," said Fergus, smiling, "and they all like their trains."
"So ye're bringing them up right then?" said Jock to me. "Come on boys - let's go and look at some engines."
Well, you know our boys. No second invitation was needed. Fergus, Janet, Lady and I stayed firmly on the ground, but Jock, and the boys, were in every cab, and on every footplate. At Fergus' insistance I took pictures of the boys hanging out of cab windows, the afternoon passed quickly. Soon it was time to take our leave of Wee Jock Laidlaw, and make our way across to platform one for the 1745 back to Carrbridge.
The Inter-City 125 deposited us on the platform at Carrbridge and we made our way to the pick-up. This time Luke shared the back with Lady and I. We were back at the cottage for six o'clock and Janet had the kettle on.
"Grandpa," said Simon, over the tea and sandwiches, "why did you have to tell Jock that Luke isn't our real brother?"
"That's Mr. Laidlaw to you Simon, "replied Jock, " and he believed that Luke was our grandson alright. It was you and Peter he didn't believe."
He watched Simon's face as the implications of that sunk in.
"Now why do you think that was?" he asked, when he judged that it had got there. "Does it make ye feel angry?"
Simon was loathe to meet his grandfather's gaze at that moment.
"No,", he eventually told the tablecloth, "I just didn't think it was anything like that."
"No," said Fergus smiling, " and I'm proud of you that you didn't think it. Racism isn't as common as a lot of people think. Folks are too quick to shout 'racist' when nothing was meant. Mr. Laidlaw is no racist. Did you see how embarrassed he was, when he thought we might think he was? He's a good man. There are more good people than bad people in the world you know."
It was Simon's turn to smile.
"Yes, I know that," he said. "A very good friend told me it."
I had been watching Peter's face throughout this exchange. He had been looking from his brother, to his grandfather, as if he were watching a tennis match. His face showed a good deal of concern, but not a lot of comprehension. When Simon finally smiled, the concern evaporated and, with a shrug, he turned his attention back to the food. I probably needed to have a chat with Peter,, but it would keep for now.
After tea, Peter and Luke helped Janet with the washing up, heedless of her protests. Then the boys retired to their room, taking Lady with them. After another cup of tea, Janet turned in for an early night. She'd had a tiring day.
As for Fergus and I ? Well there was a log fire and a bottlle of single-malt whisky, so there was only one thing to be done.
"The more I see of those boys," he told his glass, "the more I like what I see."
"Then you know how I feel."
"You're a good man Jonah, and I can see why Vijay wanted you to do what he never had the chance to do. Maddie would have loved ye. If she'd known you, Vijay would have had some competition."
I gazed into my glass while I thought how to deal with that. An uncomfortable feeling had just settled in the pit of my stomach.
"No he wouldn't, Fergus," I finally said. " From knowing her boys, and her parents, I think I'd have liked Maddie, but that's all. I'm not the marrying kind."
He was no longer looking into his glass. The blue eyes were fixed firmly on me and I wished they weren't.
"No, Jonah. You're not,"he said quietly, "but you're a good man - a good Christian man - and you're the man those boys need to bring them up."
I broke the eye contact and surveyed my own glass. there was nothing to say.
"I'm thinking Simon's not the marrying kind either," he said
I quickly re-established eye contact.
"What makes you say that? "
He smiled.
"I was not found under a cabbage leaf yesterday morning Jonah," he said, "and I do read my grandbairn's letters. Remember I ran a boys' school for fifteen years. Boys have all kinds of problems, but they often seem bigger to them than they really are. Sometimes they just need somebody to put things in proportion for them."
"So did he come out to you before or after he came out to us?"
"Neither. He just took it that Janet and I always knew. It's a pity he didn't do the same with you, but you can't expect a young lad to get everything right."
"Hell Fergus!" I replied. "I don't get everything right."
"Nobody does, but you're not doing bad at all. He's a boy friend in America, he tells us. Kori, is it?"
I nodded.
"Aye, he seems a good sort too. I don't know Kori's family, but from all Simon says about him, I feel I know Kori."
I could understand how that might be the case. The more I saw of Fergus, the more I liked him.
"Yes' they're good people," I told him," and good friends. Simon and Kori hit it off right away. The only thing is, it's not always easy being gay. I just keep hoping and praying that he isn't going to get hurt."
"And as a gay man yourself, you're just the man to help him there," said Fergus. "Now are you planning on cuddling up with Lady again, or will you just settle for Luke?"
I grinned.
"Or will Luke settle for Lady?" I said.
"Aye, ye make a good pair, the three of ye."
I drained my glass and stood, as he raked over the ashes.
TO BE CONTINUED