Adebtof Honour

Shauna had more reasons than most to be nervous about her journey from Australia to Scotland . . .

MOTHER and son stood awkwardly together at the entrance to Brisbane Airport’s International Departures.

The distance which would soon be between them made them tongue-tied and uneasy.

Shauna glanced at her son with a mother’s love for what she saw: a big, brash, sun-tanned Aussie lad, exuding health and confidence.

Just like his dad had been all those years ago in London. Shauna swallowed, her eyes prickling.

She was a proud, tough woman, as befitted her

Scottish blood, and she didn’t do crying.

“Don’t do anything stupid while I’m away, Charlie,” Shauna said. “I would hate to see your face on the international news.”

Charlie grinned, his teeth white in a permanently sunburned face.

“No chance of that,” he said. “Unless our car wins Rally Australia next week at Coffs Harbour.”

Cars were his whole life. Cars and speed.

Thankfully, Charlie was a mechanic in the rally team and not the driver.

He had once taken her out in a rally car, and she had barely expected to live long enough to scold him for his driving.

She’d been too busy hanging on to her seatbelt even to scream.

“And how about you?” He smiled. “No wild parties. No climbing the Eiffel Tower and paragliding off!

“I don’t want to lift my paper and see ‘elderly Australian woman arrested for . . .’”

“I’m not elderly,” Shauna protested. “And the Eiffel Tower is in France, not Scotland.”

“Whatever.” He shrugged. “Tell Ellie that I wish I could be there to see her. But I’m needed here with the Coffs Rally coming up.”

“I’ll tell her,” Shauna promised.

“And tell her Ralph is free again – so if she wants to pick up where she left off, I bet he’d be interested.”

“No way!” Shauna said. “I was glad when that great oaf chased somebody else.”

“He’s not an oaf,” Charlie argued. “He’s my best cobber.”

“I don’t care,” Shauna said. “I don’t want him back!”

“Ellie might.”

“Then that’s up to her.” Shauna glanced at her watch. “Charlie, I’d be better going through the gate – I don’t want to miss my plane.”

Charlie felt a wave of sadness surge through him.

“OK,” he said. “I got you

here, Mum. But take care.

“Don’t get lost as soon as I let you out of my sight. Ellie would never forgive me.”

“I won’t get lost.” She smiled. “If they can pick up a parcel in the Outback and deliver it to Scotland, they can surely take . . .”

She swallowed hard. She wouldn’t cry. Later, maybe. Not in front of him.

“An old lady?” he offered helpfully.

“I am not old,” she said, outraged. “I’m still in my forties.”

“Only just,” Charlie said, with the smile which had got him out of trouble since he was a toddler.

Shauna reached up to hug her big son. She was so proud of him she thought her heart might explode.

She pushed him away, then turned to walk determinedly through the gate.

She had taken on bigger challenges than this in her life. Toughed them out. She must not crumble now. Or admit she was scared. Scared of the trip – and of the task she had set herself.

She looked back. Charlie was still standing there. One square hand rose to wave when he saw her face.

Shauna fought down the urge to run back to him, and waved instead.

****

Ellie waited impatiently outside the Tesco store where she had been working part-time since her final exams.

Normally if Calum was late it didn’t worry her – but there was so much to do today.

She had a tent and sleeping bag to borrow for the music festival down near Dumfries.

Her mum was due to be landing tomorrow, and she had to tidy up what Calum called “the lionesses’ den”, the flat she shared with four friends that usually looked as if a cyclone had raged through it.

Sure, her mum was staying at a nearby hotel, but she was bound to be tired and looking for a cup of tea before she settled.

Ellie frowned. Why was her mother coming over three whole weeks before graduation?

Ellie had been looking forward to kicking up her heels a bit after all the months of study and exams. Having her mum there to observe was not in the plan.

She loved her mum, she told herself fiercely. No matter how inconvenient.

At last Calum’s old Ford came streaking into the car park and drew up at the pick-up point.

“Sorry!” Calum said. “Got caught by a student at the last minute.

“Why do they always have to come just when I’m rushing out?”

“One of Nature’s little foibles.” Ellie smiled.

She had known Calum for three years, since they had reached for the same book at the same time in the university library.

Then they had found themselves with the same favourite reading table, and had eventually begun to have the occasional coffee together.

Now he had finished his Masters degree, a few days after she had completed her own undergraduate studies.

He was a warden in the student residences, subsidising his stay there.

Good friends had become close friends when she was dumped by Ralph, and Calum had sympathised.

He’d given her a shoulder to cry on throughout all the stresses of her final year, when she had felt that she would never make it.

He was a touchstone in her life, someone she could always rely on. Ellie smiled.

It was so refreshing after years of batting off boys back home in Australia.

“Any word on your mum?” Calum asked, driving back to Bridge of Allan.

“She’ll have taken off by now,” Ellie said. “But Charlie hasn’t got round to e-mailing me and I’ve been too busy to check flights.”

“What should I do?” Calum asked, smiling. “Rent a chauffer’s cap for when we go through to pick her up tomorrow? It’s kind of scary, meeting someone’s mum.”

“She’s not scary – not usually.” Ellie laughed. “She’s been twenty-five years in Australia, and we’ve never naturalised her – she still sounds as Scottish as you.”

Ellie fell silent, looking out the car window.

“Well,” Calum said. “You can’t leave it at that! What did ‘not usually’ mean?” Ellie sighed.

“She’s had a pretty rough deal from life. She and Dad had Charlie out at the sheep ranch – Dad was a stockman there.

“Then they moved into the big city, and Dad got a job as a truck driver. He was . . .” Ellie shook her head.

“He was a man of his time, one of the boys.

“He liked to party, and he liked to party with his mates.

“But he was a great dad to have, full of fun, took nothing seriously . . .

“He died when I was about six. Mum had to bring us up on her own.

“For years, she worked in a store in the day, then as a part-time waitress or barmaid at night.

“She was bright and a hard worker in the shop, was promoted a couple of times, and ended up running it for the lady who hired her.

“When Bessie died, she left her the business.

“That was the first time in our lives things were easier. But she worked her tail off, like most single mothers.

“We owe her, Charlie and me, and we’ll never forget what she did for us.”

“You’ve made her sound scarier than ever!” Calum groaned.

“You’ll be fine . . .” Ellie’s phone chimed as they passed the university. “That’s Charlie’s e-mail,” she said, opening it.

Posted our parcel. She’s scared stiff but putting on a tough face. Should be there on time,

They drove in silence for a bit.

“Have you got a tent yet?” Calum asked.

“Penny’s promised me one.”

“If you’re stuck, I’ve one I use for wild-walking.”

“What’s that?” Ellie asked.

“You leave your car out in the middle of nowhere, like Caithness or the Cairngorms.

“You’ve made her sound scarier than ever!”

“Then just hoist up your backpack and walk, carrying all the food you’ll need for two or three days living wild.”

Ellie glanced sideways. She had never known that side of Calum.

“Have you camped before?” he asked, drawing up outside her flat.

Ellie shrugged.

“Not really.”

“Then get your tent up and pegged down in daylight, before you head off to listen to the bands – and pick a high spot.” “Why?”

“Mud.” Calum smiled. “Acres of it, from all the tramping feet.”

“Maybe it will be dry,” she argued.

“And maybe pigs will fly. See you at six o’clock tomorrow.”

Calum waved and drove off. Ellie watched him, smiling. Then she sighed, and climbed up the stairs to do a deep clean of the lionesses’ den.

****

They seemed to have been flying across Australia and racing the sun for ever.

Long before they headed out across the empty blue ocean, Shauna had exhausted all the

reading material she had brought.

Now she was struggling with a crossword. She should have been able to do it easily, but she was finding it hard to concentrate.

An older woman sat in the seat beside her. They had exchanged smiles at the start of the flight, then Shauna had buried herself in her magazines in case the lady felt she had to chat.

There were too many things on Shauna’s mind. Too many skeletons had come rattling out of their forgotten cupboards.

After many hours had passed, Shauna was bored. As they hit some minor turbulence, and the coffee rocked back and forwards in their cups, she sighed.

“I hate turbulence,” Shauna said.

“Me, too,” the woman replied.

The seatbelts sign lit up as the plane rattled over a series of bumps.

“I know the wings are well glued on,” the woman said. “But . . .”

“Absolutely,” Shauna said, struggling to snap her seatbelt on. “Oh, dear.”

She had to help the other woman to lock hers.

The plane dropped, then the floor slammed against their feet as it soared back up – a trick it repeated many times, complete with cabin-rocking, before the plane steadied again.

“Are the wings still on?” the woman asked, her eyes tight shut.

“The one outside my window is,” Shauna replied.

Somewhere among the drops and rises, the woman had caught her hand and was clinging on.

They became aware of this at the same time.

“Sorry!” The woman released her grip. “I’m a terrible flier.

“My name’s Freda and nobody in our family will sit beside me on these flights. You seem so calm – are you a regular traveller?”

“It’s the first time in nearly thirty years I’ve been on a plane,” Shauna said.

“This one’s a lot more comfortable than the last. I’m Shauna.”

“You’re Scottish,” Freda said. “Your accent’s lovely. Are you going back home?”

Shauna hesitated: this was what she had wanted to avoid.

“Not really,” she finally said. “Australia’s my home now.”

“Are you going back to see your parents, then?”

“My parents have been dead for many years.” Shauna decided to release a little of the truth.

“My daughter’s graduating. I’m going out to watch the ceremony and maybe make a holiday out of the trip.”

They chatted for a while about families and holidays.

“You said this flight was better than the one you came out on.” Freda headed off on a new tack. “What brought you to Australia in the first place?” Drat the woman. “This flight’s better, because I came out on what they called the ‘Kangaroo Run’,” Shauna said.

“A series of short hops, not helped by unrest in the Middle East. A big detour there, then we stopped at Bahrain and Calcutta.

“Then another hop to Singapore. From there to Perth. Then, just when I thought I was in Australia at last . . . the grind of flying across Australia.

“One changeover at Dubai and sitting in luxury, beats that.”

“I bet it does.” Freda smiled. “But why did you leave Scotland?”

She must have served her apprenticeship in the Spanish Inquisition, Shauna thought grimly.

“I came out to get married,” Shauna answered finally. “A big sunburned Aussie swept me off my feet and took me back home with him.”

“How romantic! Is he not coming with you?” she asked.

“No,” Shauna snapped. “He died sixteen years ago.”

She spoke more sharply than she’d intended to. Freda withdrew into a book.

Shauna gladly retreated into her own thoughts.

She had managed to show only the tip of the iceberg. Correct in outline, but devoid of meaningful detail.

Like, for instance, how she had left Scotland in utter disgrace, her father threatening to disown her.

Or how she had never had enough money to fly back to try to make peace, and her parents hadn’t enough spare cash to visit her.

Nor had she mentioned that the address the man who had proposed had scribbled down was a fly-blown sheep farm – and that Davey wasn’t the owner but a stockman.

He had rallied bravely to greet the girl who had followed him home, clearly the last person in the world he had ever expected to turn up, and kept his promise to marry her.

No other marriage could have started with such shame and risk for its foundations – yet given both of them more happiness than they deserved.

In the hum of the air conditioning, Shauna drowsed. Her last thought was to check her bag for the envelope, and the debt which must be paid.

Somewhere over an endless blue ocean, she fell fast asleep.

****

Ellie was too excited to sit still as Calum drove through the tail-end of the rush hour through Glasgow and out to the airport.

“Haven’t seen my mum for three years,” Ellie said. “Are we on time?”

“Yes,” he replied. “But if I’d known it would be this busy, I’d have left earlier.”

Their car crawled through the tunnel under Charing Cross.

“Have you got your tent yet?” Calum asked.

“Penny’s promised to bring it tomorrow.”

The airport signs indicated they were almost at their destination.

“Is this your first festival?” he asked.

“Yes. I’ve been to loads of gigs in the university and clubs. But this is my first big one – unless my mum wants me by her side.”

“You’re a big grown-up Ellie now,” he told her. “Just bare your teeth and tell her that you’re going.”

“I can’t.” Ellie sighed. “It’s so long since I’ve seen her.”

She glanced across curiously.

“Have you been to any music festivals?” she asked.

“Me? No. Not my scene. Not my kind of music.”

“So what is your kind of music?” Ellie asked.

In the dusk, Calum blushed.

“Classical stuff,” he said. “You don’t want to know.”

“I learn something new every day. What kind of classical stuff?” Ellie smiled. Calum winced. “Opera, mainly. My mum sang in the Sadler Wells chorus.

“I saw my first performances from the wings, keeping out of the stagehands’ way – and threatened with death if I so much as coughed.”

“Wow!” Ellie laughed. “You were a baby opera buff.”

Calum grimaced, following the signs for the short stay car park. “Here we are . . .”

It took a good ten minutes to find a parking space, then another five waiting in the car park queue for a ticket.

“Daylight robbery,” Calum muttered, feeding money into the machine.

“Let me pay,” Ellie said. “How much?” Reluctantly, he told her. “And the petrol?” Ellie asked. “For collecting my mum?”

“Forget the petrol,” he said. “It gave me ninety minutes of your company.” Ellie stared.

“Don’t get soft on me, Calum,” she said.

“Me?” he said. “Get soft on anyone? I’m a computer geek, remember. I only relate to machines.” He pushed her forward. “We’ve less than twenty minutes to find the arrivals gate. Let’s go.”

****

Shauna was getting more and more