I don't own or claim ownership of Monarch of the Glen or any of its characters, plotlines, etc., nor am I making money off of them.

They are the wonderful creation and property of BBC Scotland and Ecosse Films.

Feel free to let me know what you think! I love reading reviews and keep them in mind when I write=)


Chapter 8:

Lexie was in good spirits as she stared dreamily out the bus window at the busy crowds thronging the brightly-lit streets. The football game had been a blast, the Celtics had won, and the whole city was alive with anticipation for Christmas, just over a week away. It seemed nothing could go wrong in life.

The bus turned a corner passing through Royal Exchange Square, the heart of the city centre. Across the street, Lexie observed a comical scene. In front of the Gallery of Modern Art sat an ancient, rather mundane statue of the Duke of Wellington, the well-known hero of the Napoleonic Wars, whose proud, noble likeness could be seen in many towns throughout Britain. This statue, however, had an orange traffic cone perched at a lazy slant over the Duke's head. Down below, two policemen were trying to scale the statue, in a clumsy attempt to remove the unflattering addition.*

Snickers broke out throughout the bus.

"Why do the buggers even try anymore?" cried another passenger. "They know it'll be back there first thing tomorrow."

The defacement of the statue had started a few years back-no one knew exactly when. At first it was seen as an act of vandalism and police often could be seen scaling the statue removing the cone. After several months, the police despaired and some clever intellectuals began to spin the prank as a glorious tradition, an example of Glaswegian humor and independent spirit. City officials, with an eye for a tourist scheme, had quickly adopted this line of thinking and the cone(s) were generally left undisturbed. Then, just a few months ago, the city's administration had changed hands. The new set had adopted a hard-nosed policy that once again saw the police scrambling up the statue twice a day.*

Lexie wondered how long the new policy would last. Perhaps the policemen themselves would give up, just let the thing be. But Lexie wasn't to find out, for the bus turned a corner, obscuring the scene from view, and leaving Lexie to ponder which of her three blouses she should wear to the picnic on Saturday.


Irene Stuart read the short, handwritten note over for what felt like the hundredth time. No matter how many times she read it, it didn't seem to make sense, to register.

Suddenly there was a loud knock on the door, startling her out of her reverie.

"Irene, it's Lex."

Irene looked at the door then the note. After a quick moment of deliberation, she grabbed the paper, threw it into the fire and walked over the door.

Greeting her in the doorway was a beaming Lexie, poorly dressed perhaps, but stunning as ever.

"Been out on the town have you?" Irene said closing the door as Lexie practically danced into the room.

"Oh, ya know, just out with Archie. Saw a football game, Rangers versus Celtics"

Lexie smiled mischievously. "Naturally my team won."

Irene's eyebrows unconsciously drew together. Archie and Lexie were perhaps the unlikeliest pair she'd ever seen. How and why did they get on so well? And...and what right did she have to have that kind of luck anyway?

"You and Archie are seeing alot of each other, aren't you?" she found herself saying, trying hard to keep a hostile edge out of her voice.

Lexie stopped taking off her winter jacket and looked at the woman, raising a mischievous eyebrow.

"Are you jealous?"

"Jealous?"

Irene laughed loudly.

Lexie seemed to relax a little. "Aye, I suppose we have been spending alot of time together." She felt blood rush to her cheeks.

Irene smiled mischievously.

"Have your eye on that one do you?"

At this point, Lexie was sure her cheeks were bright pink. Embarrassed at the suggestion, she fell back on her old flirtatious routine

"I like to keep a spatula in few different pots, if you know what I mean."

Irene ignored the act. She'd seen it before a hundred times.

"It's the castle isn't it?"

"What?"

Irene cocked her head.

"Surely you know he's got a castle...up in the Highlands...Glendale I think it's called."

Lexie evasively looked down at the floor.

"It's Glenbogle, actually. And it's owned by his fath..."

"It must be a real thrill, meeting a dashing young laird, sweeping him off his feet, moving to his beautiful, rustic estate to live out your days as a Highland princess."

Irene suppressed a pleasant sigh. Now that she mentioned it, it really did sound rather appealing.

"Archie's my best friend, Irene. We hang out together because...because he's fun to hang out with."

"You must fancy him a little, Lexie?"

"Well...I...I mean..."

Suddenly, inexplicably, Lexie found herself speechless. She didn't know what to say, or feel, or even think. She adored Archie, she really did. But just as a friend.
Right?

Her mind wandered back to the incident at the game, that long stare into Archie's eyes, the warmth of his embrace. She would have made out with him then and there, if she hadn't gotten her wits about her.

Suddenly, desperate doubts creeps into the girl's mind.

Had there been more to the exchange then the excitement of the match and the proximity of an attractive male? Was she falling for Archie MacDonald? And if so, was that really something she wanted to happen?

"It's not like it's anything to be ashamed of," Irene's words finally cut in. I mean, between his good looks and the castle..."

"Archie and I are mates. That's all! I may be many things Irene, but I am not a gold-digger!"

Lexie's eyes flashed with fiery anger. Quickly she ran up to her room, and slammed the door.

A grim smile appeared on Irene's face.

"You said it, dear, not me."

To be continued...


*This tradition continues today. It is now over 30 years old, and has made the statue something of a tourist landmark. Though it appears that sometimes crackdowns do still occur, the tradition is widely accepted by large segments of the Glaswegian population, and city officials have occasionally gotten in the action, placing a special golden-colored cone on the Duke's head to celebrate the large number of Scottish athletes winning medals in the 2012 Summer Olympics (held in London).


Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think.