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The Present
“Ye ken, apart from being dirty and some parts rusty, it is nae in bad condition, to say I got it from a junk stall, aye?”
The dismantled Citizen Band radio lay on the kitchen table. Scott and Brendan wished to see what condition it was in and if any parts were salvageable. Wires, cathodes and transistors lay in artistic disarray—metallic surfaces against raw wood, like a modern-art sculpture, industrial style.
“Well, it’s definitely fixable,” Brendan concluded.
A few hours, and some exasperated moments later, Scott and Brendan tuned into the wavelengths hoping to hear more than static. But there was nothing.
“There must be someone else with a gadget such as this,” Scott declared. Scott had told Caitlin there would be, and he wanted to be ready when people started communicating in this manner. Every day from then on, at Scott’s insistence, they scanned the radio waves in search of communication from others.
The snow had continued to fall lightly over the previous weeks, keeping up the ground covering of snow and continually dusting the sparse tree cover surrounding their crofter’s cottage. Inside the cottage was cosy and warm with the fires constantly burning. Things had been quiet for a few days.
“Let’s go for a walk. I need to inspect the perimeters. See if we’ve had any trespassers,” Scott asked anyone in general.
They all stopped what they were doing and turned to look at him.
“So, you want to make sure that all the people out there, who are off hiking in the bitter cold and constant snow, have not happened to cross our borders, which are in the depths of Glencoe?” Caitlin was the only one to speak.
Scott tilted his head to the side. “Caitlin, it’s not snowing at the moment. Och! I’m going for a wee ride on Adam!” He left the house in his warmest coat, hat, scarf and gloves with Scruffy trotting behind him.
“He’s not serious?” Brendan followed Scott’s progress to the stables from the kitchen window.
“Oh aye, he is,” Caitlin replied.
“Go with him Brendan,” Bec urged.
“Yes, please do. You can take a Highland horse.”
Soon both men came riding past the backdoor with Scruffy in tow. The crisp, icy air misted around the faces of both men and beasts. The horses now taken from their warm stable, nickered, their tack jingling with every flick of their heads.
“We will nae be long lass. Dinnae fash.” Scott leaned from the saddle and kissed her.
“Turn back if the weather changes,” she insisted.
Caitlin and Bec were planning a Christmas dinner menu from their stores when the men came back on the horses, hurrying as much as the snow cover would allow. Caitlin stopped writing her list at the sound of Scott’s hasty return.
“We must have intruders!” Caitlin grabbed her throwing knives and started opening the gun lockers. Scott jumped off Adam and ran into the cottage.
“How many are there?” Caitlin’s anxiety made her tone sharp.
“Just one stag and he’s braw. We’re away after him! Fresh Venison for Christmas, he’s a youngen, so will be tender, aye?” Scott grabbed the rifle and ammunition she had gathered for defence from intruders.
“Stag? No intruders then?” Bec sounded relieved.
“Yeah. Scott says the stag is weak from lack of feed, so it should be easy!” Brendan had caught Scott’s enthusiasm.
“We will nae take the horses though. Nor the wee mutt. They might scare him off. We’ll stalk him quietly. Will nae be long.” Scott gave her a firm but distracted kiss on the mouth.
The men crunched off through the snow, reassuring the women they would be back well before nightfall. Scott had asked her to put the horses away. The Highland gelding followed meekly. The stallion was acting up. Lately, he had displayed the aggressiveness usual to stallions.
“Yes, I know your master abandoned you. You’ll just have to be content with me.” Caitlin tried to sooth him.
After putting the gelding in his stall, Caitlin removed his tack. Next, she tried to lead the stallion into his stall. He flattened his ears and pulled back. Caitlin undid his girth and removed his saddle but had to avoid a warning kick from the irascible animal. She tried once more to get him into his stall. The stallion’s mouth clamped around her upper arm; hard teeth tightly pinched then pain shot into her shoulder.
“Ow! You beast!” she yelled and slapped him on the neck. “You can stay out of your stall for that. And your bit can stay in your mouth. See how you like it.” Caitlin’s eyes watered as she rubbed her upper arm. “I’ll let Scott remove it.” She tied the reins securely to the stall door and left, shutting the stable door firmly behind her. She put a cold compress on her arm once inside the cottage.
As the afternoon drew on, the snowfall became heavier, the sky became darker, with no sign of Scott nor Brendan. Caitlin returned to the stable with an apple and successfully got Adam into his stall still wearing his bridle. She wasn’t risking another nip. Caitlin fed the horses then trudged through the snow to the cottage.
“They should be back by now. I’m worried.” Caitlin shut the backdoor on the falling snow.
“Should we go looking for them?”
“No! We have no idea where they are. As much as I want to look for them, we need to stay here. The weather is too bad for us to go out in, anyway.” Caitlin halted as her stomach churned. She put her hand over her mouth and ran for the toilet. She reached the bowl and vomited into it.
“Are you okay, Caitlin?” Bec followed her and stroked her back. “Don’t get yourself so upset by this Caitlin. Your husband’s a good woodsman and huntsman, the men will be okay.”
Caitlin took deep breaths. She had to admit, she felt better now her stomach was empty.
“Even if they bring the stag home, the meat has to hang. We’ll still need dinner and the men will be famished.” Caitlin began making soup from a frozen squirrel carcass which had plenty of meat still on it, the remains of an earlier meal of squirrel pie.
The stock boiled in the pot for a while, and Caitlin lifted the lid to check its progress. She took a sniff of the brew. Oh, that sensation again, when her stomach wanted to come into her throat. She ran to the toilet and dry retched over it. There was nothing left in her stomach.
“You’re not coming down with something, are you Caitlin? You’d better stop handling the food. And please wash your hands well.”
“I feel okay now.” Caitlin recovered quickly after each vomit. Bec finished the soup while she rested on the couch. Caitlin stood and wandered to the backdoor often and looked out.
“You are letting the cold in Cait,” Bec remarked every time she did.
It was now past dinner time. The men had not returned, and the snow continued to fall. Bec sat on a kitchen chair by the window and stared out. Caitlin paced, wandering back and forth. Her head ached, and it wasn’t helping her stomach. Light-headedness came over her in waves, which she controlled by taking deep breaths to avoid passing out.
Where is he?
Food was out of the question and Bec ate the soup by herself. The rich gamey aroma of squirrel soup filled the main section of the cottage. Caitlin retired to her bedroom, after another dash to the toilet to dry retch. The smell of squirrel was weaker in her room.
“You must at least drink Caitlin,” Bec cautioned. “Let’s see if you can keep it down.”
“No. Not yet. I’ll be fine. I just want my husband back!” Caitlin burst into tears, unstoppable and continuing.
“Is your arm sore?” Bec sat next to her on the bed and gave her a hug.
Caitlin shook her head despite the pain on her upper arm.
“Like I said, your husband’s a good huntsman and knows what to do in the woods.” Bec rubbed her back. “My husband is not a silly man. They will hunker down somewhere and see out the night. You’ll see, they’ll be home tomorrow morning when it gets light again.”
“Once, Scott went off to a market and he didn’t return for a week. I thought he’d died! They have no provisions with them. Not even water to drink!” Caitlin’s tears resumed, and her breath came out ragged. Why was she so emotional? “I need my man. He’d better come back. He’s in trouble. Why’s he so impetuous? They will die of exposure!” She sounded dramatic, even to her own ears.
“Caitlin!” Bec put on her most maternal voice. “The men will be okay. Okay?”
It didn’t stop her crying. It took Caitlin a while to settle.
“Are you well, Caitlin?” Bec continued to hug her.
“Yes. What do you mean?” She looked at Bec’s reflection in the mirror of the 60s dresser. “That’s a funny question. You live with me. You know I’m well.”
“That’s not really what I meant to ask. Please don’t think I am being too personal.” In the mirror, Bec paused and looked down at Caitlin. “Caitlin are you pregnant?”
Caitlin sat straighter; her eyebrows furrowed. “I can’t be. I’m on the Pill.” She blinked twice.
“The contraceptive pill isn’t infallible, you know,” Bec stated. “When was your last period?”
Caitlin’s eyes flickered as she did her mental calculations. “It was due three weeks ago. I’m never late, but I just put it down to the stressful situation we’re in.” She revealed her excuses for her menstrual tardiness.
“What about your breasts?”
“They feel like they do right before I get my period.” Caitlin checked if they were still firm. They were.
“You know your body is preparing to be pregnant before your period, that’s why your breasts feel like they do?”
“How can I find out if I am? Can’t go to a Chemist and buy a pee stick!”
“No, we don’t have any way of testing for Human Chorionic Gonadotrophin in your urine or your blood. But I could examine you. The good old-fashioned way,” Bec suggested. Caitlin raised her eyebrows. “What they used to do before Ultrasounds,” Bec clarified. Caitlin pulled a face, aware of the examination to which Bec referred. “Do you want to know for sure, or not?”
Caitlin nodded mutely.
“Well, I would say you are at least six to seven weeks pregnant,” Bec concluded after examining Caitlin.
“But, oh, no! That will change everything!”
“Yes, they say having children changes everything. Life will never be the same!” Bec was cheery. Caitlin sensed her frown tight on her forehead. She should smile back at Bec, or something. But she didn’t.
“Congratulations Caitlin,” Bec added. “Scott will be so pleased. He strikes me as a natural when it comes to being a father.”
“Yes, he will be an excellent father. Can’t wait to tell him. Are you sure though? I don’t want him to get all excited and then let down.”
“Caitlin, I am as sure as I can be under the current conditions. Time will tell though.”