"So, that's what ptarmigan tastes like." Tony glanced out through the railway carriage window.
"Ptarmigan?" Bren replied. Why by train to Glasgow? The snow had finally cleared - after three days - and the roads were good enough to have driven. But, it was Tony's appointment. The cloud had hung over them for the last two days. He hated hospital appointments. She reached for his hand.
"On Boxing Day."
"No," she whispered. "It was turkey." Tony grinned.
"Not free range?"
"Not even bin-fished."
"They seemed to enjoy it, Laura and Neil and their little ones." Tony glanced out of the window. "And the ptarmigan?"
"I cooked it anyway, gave it to Deefer." Tony turned, smiling, and kissed Bren on the cheek.
"I only gave you that puppy a week ago, you're not supposed to break him!" A train whistled past on the opposite track. Once they got out at Glasgow Central, they would need the Underground, and then across the city to the hospital.
"It was only cos her daughter called I knew where Geraldine lived," Tony said, after a time. ""Where's my mother?"" she shouted. I mean, if you're gonna lose your mother, that's pretty irresponsible.". He turned to Bren, and saw her face. "Oh I'm sorry, mate," he said, pulling her shoulders close.
"No, it's alright," Bren replied. "I spent all my life knowing what other people had, and I didn't have it, yer know, at school, when there were awards nights, they'd ask if me mum was coming. More often than not she wouldn't; but sometimes she felt she ought to, and would make everything worse. And, well, I dunno, I felt sometimes, I had to do kind things for her, cos she were me mum, you know? And it never worked out well for me if I did, cos she'd always mess it up for me, somehow. I think that's another reason I married Martin, yer know? To start me own family. But that came to nowt..."
Tony held her shoulders when Bren's words drifted to nothing.
"Sorry, Tony," she added.
"It's alright, mate," he replied. "She did good by you in the end, eh? Eh?" he added.
"Yeah, yes," Bren agreed. "Eh, remember last year? Minnellium. And Philippa's pea soup in a brewery."
"And Jean and Stan," Tony added. "That happened fast. Eh, it'll be nothing," he continued. "I'd never go to another hospital again, me. But I want to make sure, for us. Scotland, eh?"
"Yeah," Bren smiled. "Every day I wake up, I think wow, Scotland, I'm 'ere, with Tony. The toaster's never on the blink. We're opening our own B and B - brilliant!"
"You know, I never told you about Geraldine," Bren continued, as the train headed to the more built up areas of the city. Never realised meself until just now."
"What's that?"
"Well, you know we dropped her home, and I took her to the door and took her in, like?"
"And you came back out and said it was all fine," Tony continued, leaning past Bren to show the ticket inspector their tickets.
"Yeah, and we'll, yeah, no, it was. It was just that, when I took her back in..."
"Yeah?"
"Well, her daughter was delighted to see her, and thanked me for bringing her back. But, then she fussed over her, and - "
"Well, she'd been with us for three days."
"Right, well, yeah I know. And she seemed happy to be back, Geraldine, too. Only..."
"Yeah?"
"She went into the kitchen, to do the washing up, yer know, like she does at the pub; But this daughter, and another one, or maybe a daughter-in-law, well - " Bren broke off, and looked at Tony. "They were so happy to have her back, but they were kind of ignoring her at the same time. One of them escorted her to a chair in the living room - she took the washing up cloth out of her hand, led her away from the sink. "You don't have to do that any more, mam," one of them said, "you've got us.". And I watched her being pushed down into the chair, near the fire, tea brought to her by one of the grandchilden."
"But...that's what should happen for an elderly person, isn't it? We should think about adopting Geraldine's daughters-in-law if they're going to offer that sort of service." He stopped, and looked at Bren's concerned face as she turned to him.
"The look on her face, Tony," Bren went on, reaching for his hand again. "Geraldine, she wanted to be in there doing things, for them, I bet they don't even notice she comes to the pub to clean, she's...she'slike a delicate ornament to her family, like she's a fragile thing, to be moved to a seat, and then a bed...you could see in her eyes all the years of looking after them when she was younger."
"But they love her, don't they?"
"Yes, they love her, I could tell that, and look after her. But ...I dunno, it's like they don't care how she feels, she's just another thing to deal with in their busy lives." Tony smiled at Bren, as a station sign whizzed by.
"Let her get her own sodding tea tomorrow then," he resolved, getting up as the train began to slow. "Glasgow, eh?" he added, as Bren took their bag.
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"Are you happy, though?" Bren asked, when they emerged from the Queen Elizabeth hospital four hours later. She and Tony had been directed to at least four different places in the hospital. It had been worth it, though, to hear the consultant tell Tony he was in remission.
"I'm made up, Bren!" He exclaimed, pulling her close to him and wrapping his arms around her, before putting his lips firmly into hers. "How could I not be?" he added, breaking off, and talking close to her ear. "Finally, out of the woods, and a new start with you." He kissed her again, and didn't stop when a group of young revellers wolf-whistled at them as they strode past. "What do you want to do now?" he asked, waving to the youths, dressed up in "Star Wars" costumes, on their way for their New Year's night out. "Home?"
"Yes," Bren agreed. "But we have a few more hours, don't we? There's an art gallery I'd like to go to look at for a bit, an hour, mebbe, y'know?"
"Er, yeah, yeah," Tony agreed, his wide grin never leaving his face. "What's good about it?"
"It's got a huge outside art exhibition for the winter season," Bren began. "A lot of old buildings have been turned into a gallery of modern art."
"Govan?" Tony quipped. Bren grinned.
"Kelvingrove. It's right near the underground - "
"With the orange trains," Tony added. "Yeah, yeah, why not, eh? Then back to Fosselerault for the New Year." He grinned again, pulling her close again. "I love you, Bren Furlong, he added, then kissed her again.
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"What do you mean, no trains until 3rd January?" Bren, arms folded, spoke loudly to the bored looking man at the customer service desk. He looked back to her, and then glanced to the overhead signs.
"There's the ten-oh-nine to Dumfries," he added, looking back to her.
"Oh, great!" Bren cheered up. But Tony frowned. "It's ten twenty now," he commented, and leaned past Bren. "What about trains that are due to arrive, rather than ones we have no chance of catching because they've already left?" The man, older than Tony, balding, still with his bored expression, did not react. Instead, he pointed back to the board, coughing as he pointed towards it.
"You'll see, pal, that the ten-oh-nine is delayed by twenty minutes. Platform three," he added.
"Oh, great!" Bren said again, making to gather their bags. But Tony pointed to the board now.
"Direct to Dumfries," he read, then turned to her. "No stops."
"Then we can't get to Fosselerault!" Bren exclaimed, stepping away from the customer service window. "We've missed the last train of today, New Year's Eve...then there's two bank holidays...oh, why couldn't we have taken the car?!"
"Stay here, I suppose," Tony said, sitting down on a very uncomfortable station bench. "No point trying to get there by a different route, either," he added, "all those little villages and towns - it's bad enough going a different way from Burnley to Skipton. Sorry, mate, but eh, we were enjoying ourselves in the pub."
"I know," Bren replied. "I was enjoying myself, too." Then a look of horror crossed her face. "Oh no! Hogmanay and two bank holidays!". She turned to Tony. "What'll we do? Tonight's going to be really busy, actually. We can't let all those people down!" She turned away her head and looked out of the station and down onto the tracks. "How much do you suppose a taxi will be?"
"Five hundred quid," Tony estimated. "Look," he consoled, pulling her close and kissing her temple. "I'll sort it; Colin can manage, I'll ph. He can ask Little Willie and Laura, and he'll have Clara."
"And what'll we do?" Bren asked.
"We'll go over there and get a change of pants," he pointed to Marks and Spencer. "Then we'll go over there," he pointed to Boots, "and get toothpaste and brushes." Tony got to his feet. "Hotel in Glasgow for the New Year, Miss Furlong?"
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The new Kylie album was dissipating out of the outside kitchen door when a taxi brought them back to the Dram Shop on 3rd January 2001. Quickly, Clara turned the stereo down, and hurried over to Bren and Tony.
"So?" She asked.
"All clear!" Bren exclaimed.
"Remission," Tony added, with more caution. "This supposed to be some good?"
"Got it as my secret Santa from work," Clara explained. "Turns out my boss does know me well, after all."
"And what did you get him?" Asked Tony, paying the taxi and taking their bag.
"Tie," nodded Clara, following them inside.
"How're things?" Bren asked as Clara put in the new Kylie album on the bar's stereo.
"Not bad. She's put the Michael Hutchence years behind her," Clara smiled, rubbing Deefer behind the ears, who promptly leapt from her lap, launching himself at Bren.
"No," Bren grinned, "The pub? Deefer?"
"He was brilliant," the younger girl grinned. "Colin and Willie did well; helped the customers, served the cold food."
"And he helped out all weekend?" Bren asked. "Both nights?"
"Yeah," Clara said, impassively, as an air horn sounded in the street. Leaving Tony to catch up with Colin, Bren followed Clara outside, as her lorry, driven by a very skinny young man with bushy, orange hair stuck an arm out of the driver's side.
"Kevin!" Clara yelled, running over to him. Then, she turned to Bren. "He's only gone and brought "Mavis"", she declared, pointing to the panel where the name had indeed, been painted. "She's not strictly mine, but I wish she were, she's perfect," Clara added, admiringly.
"I've brought the dozen bathroom suites," Clara explained, "Or, more precisely, Kevin has!" She stepped back, and pointed to the yard gap between the pub and the not so derelict barn. "Back her up, Kevin!"
And as Bren watched the next delivery for the B and B, she was almost certain she saw one of the doors opening and a figure slip out, making its way along the footpath to the fells, and out over the spectacular wilderness.