Shared by the Highlanders (8 page)

I have several minutes to check the contents of my bag. Nothing has been disturbed; it’s clear that no one has been by since I dropped it yesterday. Everything is still here.

Robbie returns and drops a pile of sticks on the ground before me. “A bit damp, but with some straw for kindling we might manage a blaze.” He peers up into the sky, now a brilliant blue dotted with just a few clouds. “And the day is becoming warmer as the sun gets higher.”

It is becoming fairly warm, but still we need that fire to cook our fish. And I can do better than wrestle with the uncertain vagaries of moist kindling. I rummage in my pack for my field fire-lighting kit. I pull a small handful of flammable gauze from the vacuum-packed container and arrange that under the sticks. I’m aware of Robbie standing beside me, his boots planted just to my left. I ignore him and reach for the sticks, then arrange them in a small tepee shape over my ball of gauze. Next I find my cheap gas lighter, the sort you can buy in packs of ten at any tobacconist or duty-free shop. They’re ideal for camping, light and inexpensive. I click the top to produce a flame, then lean in to light the gauze. In moments the fire is crackling merrily, the sustained heat from my gauze drying the sticks so they ignite easily enough. I sit back on my haunches, pleased with the results of my efforts.

I reach to drop the lighter back into my pack, but Robbie forestalls me. “May I look at that, please?”

I pass it to him. “It’s a lighter…”

“I saw what it did. How does it work?”

I stand and reach for his hand, only afterwards realising this is the first time I’ve touched him voluntarily. His lopsided grin suggests he is aware of the significance too. He allows me to arrange the lighter in his hand, and place his thumb on the lever at the top.

“You press that, it makes the flint spark, and that ignites the gas inside.”

“Gas?”

“Yes. Liquid gas. You can see it, there.” I tap the clear plastic casing to ripple the liquid, visible inside. “That’s the fuel. When it runs out you throw it away and get another one.”

“You have another one?” His eyebrow is raised, his expression somewhere between incredulous and admiring.

“Yes. I always carry a spare.”

“Spare what?” Will approaches us, carrying three shimmering fish upside down by their tails. “Good. You have a fire. Now we just need to gut these…” He brandishes his catch, clearly expecting some assistance from here on.

“With your permission we’ll be having a good look through your bag, young Charlie. I reckon you’ll have some fascinating items to show us, aye? But first, we eat.” Robbie kneels beside Will and the pair of them use their daggers to gut the fish. Not to be outdone, I remove my snug jacket in deference to the rapidly warming morning and dig into my rucksack again and this time retrieve a pack of narrow wooden kebab skewers. I use those to spit the pieces of fish as they are prepared, and hold those over the licking flames. Neither man comments. Once their part in the proceedings is complete, they simply lie back on the heather watching me. They allow me to finish the cooking then we all feast on freshly barbecued fish, served on twenty-first century plastic plates.

“Do we throw these away?” Robbie waggles his empty plate at me, that eyebrow raised in a way I am finding very familiar now.

“No. We need to wash them as best we can, in the stream. We can use them again and again.”

“I see. Let me have yours then, and I’ll do that.” Robbie takes my plate, and Will’s, and saunters off in the direction of the brook.

Will props himself up on his elbow to watch me. I feel self-conscious under his steady gaze.

“You’re still scared of me, lass. I can tell that you are, even though you’ll deny it. You’re more comfortable with Robbie, aye?”

“It’s not that. I mean, I just… I’ve had more contact with him, I suppose.”

“That’s true, and not all of it good.”

“Even so, I feel I know him better. That’s all.”

“Then you’ll ride with me for the rest of today, and I’ll be the first to fuck you. Are we agreed?”

Typical Will, direct as ever. “I, I suppose…”

“Will’s right, lass. You need to be at ease with us both for this to work between us, and we don’t play favourites.” I hadn’t heard Robbie’s return. For such a large man he moves in silence—no wonder he was able to take me so totally by surprise yesterday.

“I’m sorry. I never meant that. What I said earlier, about wanting both of you, that was true. But I would like to spend more time with you, Will. And thank you for the offer of a ride.”

“You’re welcome, lass. So now, will you be showing us some more of your treasures then?” At my puzzled look he elaborates. “Your bag, wee Charlie. What else do ye have in there?”

I drag the rucksack over to me and open the top. I start pulling items out. First my tent, a bright yellow two-man pop-up affair. I laugh out loud at the amazed expressions on their faces when I twist the coiled frame and release it to let the tent spring into shape. It erects before their eyes, a bright, golden weatherproof shelter, and just about big enough for all of us. At a pinch.

“Sweet Jesus, look at that. It’s a wee house.” Will lets out a low whistle under his breath. I grin and demonstrate securing the tent to the ground with tent pegs, which I force into the earth with the heel of my hiking boot.

Next I show them my sleeping bag, sadly only big enough for one but we can open it out and spread it on the floor of the tent to use as a groundsheet. The plaids will have to provide the warmth we need on top. Not that I’m expecting to be cold.

The remaining items are smaller. My map and compass fascinate Will. I spread the map on the ground and point out where we are now, and the features on the map that don’t yet exist in this world—the road through the Kirkstone Pass, the wind farm, several villages, including Glenridding.

“There’s a pub there, on the pass. High up on the fells. It’s very old, perhaps…” Could it already exist, here in this time?

“Aye, there is
an inn up there. For travellers and stock drovers, I daresay. Maybe it has survived to your time.” I note with quiet satisfaction that Will seems to be no longer questioning the truth of my situation. “Mariners use something akin to this, to plot their course over the ocean.” He turns my compass over in his hand.

“Yes, I suppose the basic principle doesn’t change. You’ll have seen a magnifying glass too, I imagine.”

“Aye, lass. Do you have one of those as well then?”

“Sort of.” I pull out my binoculars and hand them to Will. “These are based on the same sort of principle, but are designed for seeing clearly and in detail, over long distances. Just point them at a distant spot and look through them. You’ll need to adjust the little wheel on the top, focus them for your eyes…”

I watch as Will does as I suggest. He lowers the binoculars, his expression puzzled. “It’s just a blur, like looking through a glass of water.”

“You need to focus them. Turn that wheel while you’re looking through them, until it all clears.” I indicate the focusing control and urge him to try again.

He does, then suddenly stiffens. “Shit! Holy Mother of God, how did it do that?” He drops the binoculars onto the springy grass and scrambles back, glaring at them in suspicion.

I retrieve them and hand them to Robbie. “Would you like to see?”

Robbie repeats Will’s actions, and forewarned as he is he manages not to make such a spectacle of himself. He lowers the glasses and regards me with his usual wry expression. “How far away from us is yonder stand of trees?”

I shade my eyes to see where he means. “Two miles, maybe.”

“Yet I can pick out the oaks from the beech, even at this distance. These could come in very useful, I’m thinking.”

“I expect they would. Would you like to keep them?”

Robbie shakes his head and hands the binoculars back to me. “Nay, lass, I didn’t mean to commandeer your belongings.”

I don’t take them. “Please, keep them. As a gift. To remember me by. When I’m gone.”

Will reaches across to loop an arm around my shoulders. “Gone? Where are you planning on going to then, wee Charlie?”

“Back to the twenty-first century. I hope. If I can find the way…”

“If you managed to find a hole to wriggle through to bring you here, there must be a route back. It stands to reason. And if there is, we’ll find it.” Will has recovered his composure sufficiently to take the binoculars and try again. He seems equally impressed with their power and stands to survey the landscape in every direction. Robbie and I remain seated on the ground, grinning to each other at his obvious delight in the new toy. “Did you say we could keep these?”

“Yes. Please do. I have other stuff too. Maybe not as exciting, but you might like to see…” I rummage in the bag again, and this time produce my humble notepad and a ballpoint pen. I demonstrate their use, and as I imagined both men are impressed. Robbie takes the pen and wraps his fist around it, clearly not familiar with the correct way to hold a writing implement. I have momentary pang of embarrassment. It never occurred to me they may not be able to read and write. Then, as I watch, he scrawls his name awkwardly on the paper.

“Aye, it’s a queer thing to be sure, but I could get used to it, I expect.”

And I expect I’ll be leaving quite a lot of my kit behind. I wonder if I’ll cause a temporal meltdown by leaving items in the wrong chronological place, alter the course of history somehow. Still, it’s too late now. The next items I retrieve are my food supplies, a couple of packets of dried vegetable soup, four cereal bars, several teabags, and some sachets of long-life milk. It had been my intention to eat in pubs and hostels as much as possible so I haven’t stocked a great deal in the way of provisions. It’s just as well my current companions seem adept at living off the land.

My car key is dismissed without question, other than to remark on the peculiar material it’s made from. It’s one of those that looks a bit like plastic credit card and opens the doors while it’s still in my pocket. Even I still find that a bit magical.

I wonder if I’ll ever see my trusty new Renault again or if it will remain in the car park in the centre of Glenridding, abandoned until someone eventually notices and raises the alarm. Perhaps they’ll search for me. In fact, they surely will. The fell rescue volunteers will be out combing the Cumbrian hills, there’ll be announcements on the news, my picture broadcast. My family will be distraught even though we don’t see each other for months on end usually. My mother and sister will be interviewed, pleading for me to get in touch. I fight back tears as I experience a moment of sheer helplessness, knowing I have no way at all of letting them know I’m safe. Sort of.

I gather my wits enough to continue. The final item of equipment I show them is my Leatherman all-purpose knife, the staple piece of kit for anyone serious about hiking or camping. It combines a dizzying array of blades, a tiny pair of scissors, a saw, a screwdriver, a skewer, and the traditional and much-maligned gadget for getting stones from horses’ hooves. The latter I never seriously expected to require, but now…

“This makes your
sgian-dubhe
look a poor wee thing, Robbie. I don’t recall that was much use other than for stabbing at your food.”

“And felling wolves. But aye, this is a fine implement.”

“What was that? A skee en…” I try to repeat the unfamiliar word.

“
Sgian-dubhe
. He means his dagger, the one he used to keep in his sock. He left it behind, embedded in that wolf that was intent on sampling you for breakfast, lassie.”

“Ah, right. The one your brother gave you?”

“Aye, that’s the one.” Robbie turns my Leatherman over in his hands, pulling out blade after blade.

“Please accept that as a replacement then, since Will seems to have claimed the binoculars.”

“You’re generous, wee Charlie. To a fault, perhaps. You may yet have need of these things of yours.” Will kneels beside us and starts to help me to replace the items I am keeping back in my bag.

“As long as we’re together, here, these things are ours to share. If I go, when I go, I’ll leave those gifts with you, and any other things of mine you might have a use for. Okay?”

The two men look at each other, then at me. Will breaks the silence. “Aye, lass, we can agree on that, I daresay. And now, since the day has become quite warm, perhaps we can prevail on you to remove your clothing again.”

Chapter Five

“My…? You want me to undress? Now?”

“We do, aye.” Robbie stands and starts to undo the red, green, and purple plaid that is fastened at his shoulder by a heavy brass buckle. He unravels the fabric looped around his body to produce a generous length of tartan, which he lays on the ground. Clad now in just his loose-fitting wool shirt and his fur-lined boots, he watches the pair of us with undisguised amusement. “If you want to fuck her first, Will, I’ll not argue the point with you, provided wee Charlie finds herself in agreement with that notion. But you’d best not be hanging about.” He gestures to the front of his shirt, now tenting as his cock springs to life beneath the cream-coloured cloth. He’s quite correct, there does appear to be an element of urgency creeping in.

“Charlie?” Will eyes me, his expression warm, a caress almost. My remaining doubts evaporate.

“Yes. Yes, of course. Do you want me to do, like a striptease?” I spring to my feet, ready to oblige as best I am able.

“I don’t think we quite take your meaning, lassie. I reckon we just want you naked, and as fast as you can achieve it.” Will also stands up and starts to loosen his green and blue plaid. In moments it is arranged on the ground, on top of Robbie’s. Clearly they intend to see to my comfort. And I daresay their own.

I kneel up and pull my sweatshirt over my head, closely followed by my thermal base layer long-sleeved top. I draw a breath as I pause, allowing them a good view of my swollen, hardening nipples framed and presented by my vivid lilac sports bra. Not designed for seduction, it nevertheless makes a fine enough job of it.