The Courier & Advertiser (Angus and Dundee)
His touch was cool, but it made Rhona feel unaccountably hot
Callum ran his fingers through his hair, frowning.
“I know I’m a poor substitute for Rory in your eyes, Rhona,” he said.
“But it’s hardly my fault that he decided to go off to Antarctica.
“The lifeboat needs a coxswain in order to keep the waters around Muir Ferry safe, and I fit the bill.”
She knew that, but to admit that she was blaming Callum would be too embarrassing.
Rhona folded her arms tighter and said nothing. Out of the corner of her eye she was aware of the camera’s click and whirr, but it didn’t occur to her that the lens might be focused on her. Callum sighed heavily.
“This isn’t going to work. A lifeboat is no place for people bearing grudges.
“Perhaps it would be best to ask Bill to make sure you’re not on my shout.”
“No!” Horrified, Rhona grabbed his arm. “Please, don’t do that. It’s against all the rules.
“Besides, there’s no need. We don’t need to be bosom buddies to work together effectively.”
“I won’t put lives at risk over some petty resentment, Rhona,” Callum said grimly.
Mortified at having let her personal feelings get in the way of her reputation as a model crew member, she hung her head.
“Of course not, no more than I would.”
“So, we’ll agree to bury the hatchet, then?” Knowing that all the hatchet brandishing had been hers, Rhona flushed. She forced herself to smile.
“I promise you’ll find nothing to complain about when I’m part of your crew,” she said.
“Though you make no promises ashore?” Callum finished. “I can live with that.”
He held out his hand. “Here’s to a fresh start,” he said, looking straight at her.
His touch was cool, but it made her feel unaccountably hot.
“A fresh start,” Rhona repeated, tugging her hand free almost immediately.
She pushed her way past Callum just as the camera clicked again.
Unscathed
“So your boy survived his first call-out unscathed?” Meg asked Jill with a smile as she handed her a cup of coffee.
“He must have been champing at the bit to get called out on a rescue.
“It’s been a month since he was accepted, hasn’t it?”
Jill rolled her eyes.
“You’d think it had been three years. Thank goodness it was just another of these irresponsible idiots who had drifted out on to the sandbars in a dinghy.
“What you actually mean is, did I survive Gordy’s first call-out unscathed?”
“Well, and did you?” Meg asked with a twinkle in her eye.
She cut the pair of them a finger of gingerbread not long out of the oven – still warm and not even iced, but in her opinion at its best.
Jill sighed, taking a sip of her coffee.
“I’ll not pretend it was easy, but from what Gordy told me, Callum took good care of him.
“Reading between the lines, I think he gave him enough to do so he felt part of things, but kept an eye on him at the same time.”
“He’s settled in, then? Callum?” asked Meg. “It must have been difficult for him, stepping into Rory’s shoes,” she continued, “especially when Rhona seemed to be so set against him. Those pictures in the paper!”
“Oh, she was horrified when she saw them.” Jill took a bite of gingerbread and closed her eyes.
“Meg, that is so delicious. And so bad for me. Where was I?”
Personal
“Rhona and Callum,” Meg prompted. “The pictures in the wee paper?”
“Thankfully, the RNLI magazine published a much nicer one. Poor Rhona.
“Apparently she and Callum had been agreeing to bury the hatchet.”
“Well, it looked as if Rhona was wishing she’d buried the hatchet in Callum’s head!
“I don’t know what they were thinking of, publishing misleading tittle-tattle like that,” Meg said.
“Poor Rhona, has she heard from Rory yet?” “A few lines in an e-mail, which she read to me in its entirety,” Jill said, pursing her lips.
“So, no personal content she didn’t want me to hear.
“I can’t make up my mind whether that’s a good thing or a bad one.
“She’s talking about moving out and finding a place of her own once the schools finish.
“Says it’s time she stood on her own two feet.”
“Maybe she’s right,” Meg said, pushing another finger of gingerbread towards her.
“Maybe, but what with Gordy starting his apprenticeship at the garage, too . . .”
“Empty nest syndrome, they call it,” Meg said. “We’ll need to find you a project.”
Jill smiled.
“You’ve got enough on your plate with Murdo. How are things on that front?”
“I think I’ve got too-full nest syndrome! He’s like a lost soul, Jill.
“I don’t know what to do about it. I’ve been worried that he’d been doing too much – that when he came home, he was fit for nothing but a snooze in his armchair.
“But it seems to me he’s aged in the last few weeks, and he does nothing but snooze!”
“He must have hobbies?”
Meg laughed.
“Too many to count. Motorbikes, cars and boats. Basically, anything with an engine.”
Her smile faded. “He won’t go near the garage – says he doesn’t want to interfere. The same with the lifeboat station. Project
“I don’t think either of us had thought this retirement lark through, Jill.”
“Hmm. He really does need a project. What about fundraising for the RNLI?”
“It would be the obvious thing, wouldn’t it? But my Murdo is a grafter, not an ideas man,” Meg said with a tender smile.
“He needs direction, and if you think I’m going to direct him into my kitchen to do some baking . . .”
“No. I think only one of you would survive that!” Jill laughed.
“And my money would be on you. But what about Callum?”
“What about him?”
“He’s apparently going to open a boat-building yard.
“Maybe he could do with an extra pair of experienced hands, especially those with local knowledge.
“Just on a part-time basis, mind.”
“That’s an excellent idea,” Meg said, nodding. “Maybe Callum might fill Murdo in on his father’s plans for that great white elephant of a house he bought!”
More on Monday