3. The Prodigal Daughter
Duncan was ready for work and about to walk out the door when he gave in to a thought he had been having since the weekend. The thought was about Rosie and how he wished he didn't have to wait until next weekend to see her. Rosie, he decided, was a lot nicer than he first thought. She was pretty, and cheerful, and laughed at his jokes. The only reason he hadn't been more forward earlier was that brother of hers. PC Callum McLean was always scowling at him. Maybe it was all those speeding tickets he was giving him.
Duncan checked the phone book, picked up the phone, and dialled.
"Hello Rosie, It's me, Duncan."
"Duncan!" she exclaimed. "When the phone rang I thought it was a wrong number. I'm so glad it's yew."
"Me too," Duncan said with a nervous laugh. "Rosie, I thought if ye werena doin' anythin' today, you might join me for lunch at my hoose."
"That would be wonderful, Duncan. I'm not doin' anythin'."
"I can pick ye up at 12:00, but we have to finish before 1:00. I need to get back to work."
"Okay, I'll see you at 12:00."
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It was shortly before noon when Duncan was driving over the bridge to pick up Rosie. Coming towards him was a woman with dishevelled blonde hair, dragging a suitcase behind her. He slammed on the brakes, stopping inches from her. She staggered forward and collapsed on the bonnet. Duncan jumped out of the car.
"Lizzie," he shouted. "Are ye awright?"
Lizzie opened one eye. "Huh?"
Duncan sniffed. "Lizzie, yer drunk."
"Uh Huh."
"Come on. I'll take ye home." Duncan lifted Lizzie into a standing position.
"Do I know you?" she asked, momentarily alert.
"It's me, Duncan. I work at Glenbogle House."
"Right."
"Let's get ye into the car." He assisted her into the passenger seat with some difficulty. He tried to get the seat belt on her but gave up. He returned to the driver's seat and buckled himself in.
"Want some?" Lizzie asked.
"What?" Duncan turned and saw Lizzie holding a flask.
He sighed disapprovingly. "No thanks."
Lizzie shrugged and took a swig.
"Lizzie," Duncan asked. "Where's yer daughter?"
"I have no daughter," Lizzie replied darkly in a slightly foreign accent.
Duncan looked concerned. "Yer daughter, Martha. She was born here."
"She's with her father in Nice."
"Oh."
"I don't know what to do without her" Lizzie said getting weepy. "So I've come crawling back to Archie and Mummy. What do you think of that?"
"Ach, they'll be happy to see ye."
"Not like this, they won't. I'm a mess. Don't let them see me like this," she pleaded.
"What do ye want me to do?"
"Take me to your house." Lizzie took another swig from her flask. "Last one," she said. "See empty." She turned the flask upside down and fell asleep.
Duncan drove the Land Rover to his cottage and carried Lizzie out, looking around to make sure he wasn't seen. It's all he needed for Archie to think anything was going on between him and Lizzie. He placed Lizzie on his bed, put a blanket over her, and prayed that she wasn't going to puke on anything. He got back into the Land Rover to fetch Rosie.
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Duncan arrived at Rosie's house about 20 minutes late.
"Duncan, yer here," Rosie said. "I knew ye would get here. I just kept tellin' myself ye were comin', and here ye are."
"I'm sorry I'm late," Duncan said. "We had a small problem back at the estate."
"Oh really, what happened?"
"Oh, nothin' much." They were getting into the car now. "What's that yer carryin'?"
"Chocolate biscuits. I made them this mornin' after ye called."
"That's fantastic. I love chocolate biscuits."
They drove back to Glenbogle and stopped at the bottom of a hill not far from the Big House.
"I thought we'd have a picnic," he said.
"Ooh, that sounds like fun."
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Duncan and Rosie were sitting on a blanket on top of a grassy hill overlooking the big house. Duncan was emptying the contents of a shopping bag. "We have ham and cheese, ham, and cheese," he said describing the sandwiches. "And some crisps, and some apples, and Jaffa Cakes. But we don't have to eat them, we'll have yer biscuits instead," he said returning the box of Jaffa Cakes to the bag. Which sandwich would ye like?
"I'll take the ham and cheese," Rosie said.
"Me, too." Duncan combined the ham sandwich with the cheese sandwich to get the desired results.
"Duncan, do ye know what this reminds me of, bein' on the hill, that is?"
"What," Duncan said, beginning to chomp into his sandwich.
"Rollin' down the hill, when I was a girl."
"Oh, yeah," Duncan said. "I used to do that too. When I was a lad, that is."
"Duncan, do ye think we can do that now?" she asked, a mischievous gleam in her eye.
"Why not, I don't think there's any law against it," he said with a wink. "I'll go first. That way if ye bump into me, I won't mind."
The two friends positioned themselves against the side of the hill. Duncan began to roll. Rosie waited a bit and then she began to roll. They laughed and they screamed, they hooted and they hollered. Duncan came to rest at the bottom, lying on his back. Rosie bumped into him, lying on her stomach. "Hey, Dunc," she said leaning over so their faces were close. Duncan was hoping for a kiss. "Wanna do that again?"
"Aye," he responded.
"Rosie, is that yew?" PC Callum McLean was peering down at them.
"Hi Callum. Remember when we used to do this when we were kids?"
"Rosie," he said stiffly. "You're not supposed to say things like that to a police constable on duty."
"Sorry, Callum. We were just havin' a picnic."
"I am here on official business," he reported. "Relax, it's not about you this time, McKay." He got into his car and drove to the Big House.
"One more time," Rosie said. "And then we eat."
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Meanwhile, at the Big House, PC Callum McLean was being directed by Ewan to the estate office. At the estate office he found Paul and Archie hunched over the computer.
"They tell me that in the old days they used to manage these old estates on foot. Now, I see ye do it online." PC Callum McLean laughed at his little joke.
"What can we do for you, Constable?" Archie asked. "Have a seat."
"PC Callum McLean sat down. "I have a few questions for Mr Bowman," he said. "Why didna ye tell me ye had a prior acquaintance with Mr Gordon Strachan?" he said, pointing his finger at Paul.
"You didn't ask," Paul said. "And I didn't think it was relevant to the matter under discussion."
"Did ye hold a grudge against Mr Gordon Strachan?"
"No."
"Did ye have words with him?
"I spoke to him, yes. We were playing billiards at the Ghillie's Rest. I thought he was playing in an unsportsmanlike manner and I told him so."
"Because he beat ye and won £50," PC Callum McLean exclaimed, finger pointing up, as if he had disclosed a very important fact.
"Actually, it was only £30 because I won £20 off of him first. Wait, are you trying to say I had a motive for shooting Gordo?"
"Humph," PC Callum McLean snorted. This suspect was smarter than he looked. "Did ye?"
"No," Paul protested. "Over £30? I had practically forgotten about it by the next day."
"Mr MacDonald, how long has Mr Bowman been workin' fer ye."
"Since yesterday."
"So you havna known him fer verra long, have ye?"
"I met him last year. He arrived here the day before yesterday."
"Did ye know he had a prison record?"
"Yes," Archie said, beginning to sound annoyed. "He spent 3 months in a military prison for being AWOL. Is this really relevant to your investigation?"
"I'll be the judge of that," PC Callum McLean said. "That will be all fer now." He stood up and left.
"Is that it?" Paul asked Archie. "I'm someone who works here, not Hector MacDonald's son?"
"We all work here, Paul," Archie said. "Even I draw a salary, when we can afford it."
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PC Callum McLean got into his car and drove to the foot of the hill where Duncan and Rosie were picnicking. The two friends were just about to get into the Land Rover.
"Where are ye goin' noo," PC Callum McLean asked.
"Oh Callum, Duncan's just takin' me home. Ye don' have to talk to us in yer policeman voice."
"Verra well," Callum said, still sounding like a policeman.
Duncan and Rosie got in the car and drove away.
PC Callum McLean got in his police car and drove behind them.
Duncan drove very slowly, all the way to Rosie's house, with PC Callum McLean a safe distance behind.
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Duncan returned home after an afternoon of work and remembered he had a house guest. He checked the bedroom and found Lizzie still there, snoring.
He eventually went to bed, himself, on the lounge. It was hard getting comfortable, but finally he fell asleep. It was sometime in the middle of the night that he woke to the sound of groaning coming from his bedroom. He walked in to see Lizzie looking as wretched as she sounded.
"Where's the loo?" she asked groggily.
Duncan pointed the way. She stumbled in as fast as she could. Duncan grimaced to the sounds of her throwing up. He teetered trying to decide whether she would prefer help or privacy. He went with privacy. Eventually she returned to the bedroom and collapsed on the bed.
"Can I help with anythin'," he asked. Lizzie was already asleep. He pulled the blankets up around her and shuffled back to the lounge.
Duncan woke up the next morning with a crick in his neck. He got up and went through his usual morning routine which soon brought him back to the lounge, mug of coffee in hand, plate of toast and jam in his lap, and eyes glued to the cartoons on TV.
It wasn't long before Lizzie appeared, looking awful.
"Would ye like some coffee?" Duncan asked.
Duncan took Lizzie's groan to mean a yes, and went into the kitchen to get her a cup. When he returned she was sitting on the lounge staring at the TV. She took the coffee wordlessly from him. Duncan finished getting ready and left for work.
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When Duncan returned to the cottage at lunch time, he could hear Lizzie in the shower. She came out wearing his bathrobe and combing her hair.
"Hi, Lizzie, Duncan said. "Do ye feel better?"
"Yes," Lizzie said, looking at Duncan quizzically.
"Would you like anythin'? Some coffee or lunch, maybe?" Duncan had just started to prepare his own lunch.
"I'm sorry. What's your name again? Lizzie asked"
"Duncan," Duncan said, trying not to look too peeved.
"Duncan, we didn't do anything last night, did we?" Lizzie asked.
"Like what?
"You know, you and me together, in bed?"
"Oh! No! Duncan stuttered. "Ye just needed a place to sober up."
"That's what I thought. I usually remember."
"Don't worry, Lizzie. Ye can feel safe with me," Duncan said stoutly.
Lizzie looked Duncan over, from the top of his unkempt hair, to his comical face, to his frayed jersey, to his well-worn and not-too-clean kilt, to his sock-topped work boots. "I believe you're right, Duncan. I think I can feel safe with you."
Duncan's initial expression of pride slowly gave way to one of confusion.
"So now ye'll probably be wantin' to go home," he asked hopefully.
"Yes. How do I get there from here?"
"Lizzie, we're on Glenbogle Estate. Do ye want a ride to the Big House?"
Lizzie looked blankly for a moment. "No," she said. "I can use the exercise."
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Lizzie found her suitcase and dressed. However, she walked out of Duncan's cottage empty-handed. She knew where she was right away and began walking towards the house, but she was in no hurry to get there. As she passed the loch and she noticed an unfamiliar man walking across the lawn towards her. He was tall and friendly looking, with rugged good looks.
"Hello," he said. "Can I help you?"
"No thank you," she said. "I'm just taking a walk."
"Are you visiting someone or staying on the campgrounds?"
"I'm with Duncan."
"Oh, I didn't know Duncan had a girlfriend."
"He doesn't," Lizzie said quickly. "I mean, if he does, it isn't me. We're old friends."
"Oh. My name's Paul Bowman. I run the mountain program."
"My name is Laxmi," said Lizzie. "Just Laxmi."
"That's an unusual name. It's not Scottish, is it?"
"No, it's about as far from Scottish as you can get" she said laughing. "It's the name I was given on the ashram in India. I haven't been called anything else in three years."
"Well, nice to meet you Laxmi."
"The mountain program is new, isn't it? I don't remember it from the last time I was here."
"It's very new. I lead hikers up Ben Bogle."
"I've climbed Ben Bogle a few times before."
"Really? So you're a local girl."
"Yes."
"You must be a friend of Lizzie's."
"Not exactly." she said. "Here, let me show you something." She sprinted over the sand to the woods. Paul followed her. In the woods she stopped at a Sycamore tree with low lying branches. "I'll show you how well I can climb." She began to climb the tree.
"Laxmi, don't go too high. You might fall," Paul called after her.
"So you'll catch me," Lizzie called back, as she climbed even further.
"Right," Paul said. He began to climb after her. He reached a Y in the tree just below her.
"Are you all right?" Paul asked. "You're awfully high."
"I told you I was a good climber".
"Can you get down?"
"Watch me."
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Archie was walking down a path in the woods.
"Laxmi, what are you doing?" he heard Paul saying, somewhere nearby.
"I'll show you," said a familiar female voice.
Archie looked in the direction of the voices and saw the old Sycamore tree that he, Jamie, and Lizzie used to climb. Looking up he saw Paul and an unidentified companion snogging in the Y of the tree. Archie looked on amused until he identified the companion.
"Lizzie!" Archie called out. Two startled faces looked down at him.
"Archie, what are you doing here?" Lizzie asked angrily.
"Lizzie," Paul repeated. "You're Lizzie?" He nearly jumped out of the tree he climbed down so quickly. "I'm sorry, Archie. I didn't know. She told me her name was Laxmi."
"So what is this, the Middle Ages?" Lizzie asked, when she reached the ground. "Is the laird going to sack the poor servant, because he caught him behaving improperly with his sister?"
"Lizzie, you don't understand," Archie said. "Paul is not a servant. He is Father's son. Paul is our brother."
"What?" Lizzie sputtered. "You mean..." She began to laugh uncontrollably, holding on to the tree to keep from falling. "I'm sorry," she said at last, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands. "How did all this come to light?"
"It's a long story," said Archie. "I'll tell you on the way back to the house. Mother will be glad to see you."
"If you don't mind, I'll come later," said Paul. "I'm going to do what I came down here for before I was distracted."
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"Lizzie, darling, you're back. Molly exclaimed "I was wondering what your suitcase was doing on our front step," The two ran to embrace. "Now what are you calling yourself these days? Are you still Laxmi?"
"I think Lizzie will do. Martha's with her father," Lizzie answered before the question was asked.
"Oh and I did so want to see her."
"Lizzie met Paul outside," said Archie. Lizzie shot him a dirty look. "I explained everything."
"Oh good," said Molly. "That's out of the way then. But you must be shocked, dear."
"You could say that. You might have written."
"I'm sorry, but I thought it would be better discussed in person. And to be honest, it's a rather painful topic for me."
"Daddy's unfaithfulness. I see how it would be, rather. But it puts him in a new light, doesn't it. Think of him keeping that deep dark secret all those years. Makes him a bit of the man of mystery," Lizzie said with relish." It was Archie's turn to shoot the dirty look.
"So what else is new around here?" Lizzie asked. "Any more surprises?"
"Nothing I haven't written to you about," said Molly.
"So she told you that father died," Archie said.
"Yes, in that horrible explosion. I'm sorry I couldn't make it to the funeral. I'd like to visit his grave while I'm here."
"That can be arranged. You know that Lexie and I got married?"
"And that she stood you up at the alter twice before she agreed to get hitched." Lizzie said. "Top marks for effort, Archie," she said giving him the thumbs up sign."
Archie ignored the dig. "and we're having a baby."
"First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Archie with the baby carriage." Lizzie chanted, "At least someone in this family does things in the proper order."
"It's okay, Lizzie. Nobody's passing judgement on you."
"I don't need your permission to live my life the way I do."
"Of course not."
"You always have to be such a prig about everything."
"Wait a minute, are you angry at me because I'm having a child in wedlock?" Archie's voice rose. "That's ridiculous."
"Children, please," Molly implored. "Are you not able to be together for 5 minutes without getting into a fight?"
"She started it," Archie mumbled as he stomped towards the kitchen.
"I knew I shouldn't have come home," Lizzie said marching upstairs.
Molly stood alone in the front hallway, and let out a sigh.
---------
"This dining table hasn't seen so many people around it in a long time," declared Molly with satisfaction. Seated were Archie, Lexie, Lizzie, Paul, and herself. For Lizzie's sake she broke down and ate with Paul.
"This calls for a toast," said Archie getting up. "It just so happens I brought this up from the cellar, he said, retrieving a bottle of wine from the sideboard. He uncorked it and began pouring."
"Just a wee bit for me, Arch," said Lexie. "Remember the Bairn?"
"Right."
"Oh Archie, I hope this is a good idea," Molly whispered.
"If you're worried about me, Mummy, don't be," said Lizzie. "I'll be a good girl and just have this one glass."
"Jolly good," Molly smiled nervously.
Archie raised his glass and the others followed. "To Paul, for finding home, to Lizzie, for returning home, and to all of us, for making Glenbogle House a home. Slainte."
"Slainte" the others repeated.
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It was towards the end of dinner that Andrew walked into the dining room. "Am I early," he said to Molly. "Don't rush on account of me. I'll wait in the other room."
"No," Molly said, getting up and wiping her mouth with her napkin. "I'm done. But before we go, I want you to meet my daughter, Lizzie. You know everyone else, I believe. Lizzie, this is Andrew."
"Nice to meet you, Lizzie", said Andrew warmly. "I've heard a lot about you."
"All bad things, I'm sure," said Lizzie pleasantly.
Andrew laughed nervously. "Well, hello and goodbye to everyone. We'll see you later."
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"It's true," Lizzie said, recounting her experiences in India, to Archie, Lexie, and Paul, later that evening in the parlour. "Advanced yogis can walk on coals without getting burnt, sit on ice, without getting frostbite, and eat poisons without getting sick. I've seen it with my own eyes"
"You'll have to give us a demonstration, some time," said Lexie.
"I am not an advanced yogi," said Lizzie. "However, I am qualified to be a yoga teacher in such unenlightened parts as Scotland. Archie, I could give yoga lessons here. If we advertised it, I'm sure we could get people from the local area to come, as well as some of your house guests and campers."
"Why not," said Archie. "Figure out what your costs would be for advertising and other things, and we can talk about it."
Lexie yawned. "Excuse me, but I can't stay up late anymore. I'm goin' to bed."
"I'll come with you," said Archie. They said goodnight and Archie and Lexie went upstairs.
"Did you hear him," Lizzie said when she was alone with Paul. "We can talk about it," she said in a taunting voice."
"What's wrong with that?" Paul asked. "He sounded interested."
"Just because he's laird, he thinks he's my father rather than my little brother."
"From what I hear of your father, our father, that is, I don't think he would have been at all responsive to your idea."
"You're right about that," Lizzie said. "Hey, do you think there's any beer around here?"
"I have some in the fridge," Paul said. "I'll go get it."
Paul returned shortly with the desired goods.
"Lizzie, I have to ask you," Paul began after his first sip. "What were you thinking this morning telling me your name was Laxmi?"
"Thinking I knew who my brothers were," responded Lizzie.
"Fair enough, but you came on to me so fast. Do you do that with all the boys?"
"We've just met, and already you're playing the big brother? Nice. Jamie used to do that."
"Look out for you, you mean?"
"Butt into my business," said Lizzie. She was finishing her third beer as Paul was beginning his second. "Is there any more of this?" She asked, gesturing with the bottle.
Paul shook his head no.
"That's all right. I know where the good stuff is," Lizzie said. "I'll be right back." She left and went into her father's old study and found the decanter of whiskey in the cupboard, just where he always kept it."
"I'm sure you won't mind, Archie," she said to the empty room. "And if you do, too bad."
Lizzie returned to the sitting room with the decanter and two glasses. "None for me," Paul said as she poured out the first glass. "I never could stand the stuff."
"And you a son of Hector MacDonald," Lizzie teased. "I wouldn't think it possible."
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Molly was sitting on the lounge in Andrew's cottage. Andrew was entering the room with the bowl of popcorn. "Here it is, hot and buttery, he announced. It's just like going to the cinema, only better." He sat down next to Molly and offered her some. "How was dinner?" he asked.
"Nobody argued, so it could have been worse," Molly answered. "But I don't like being in the room with that man. Somehow I don't trust him."
"You mean Paul? Are you sure it isn't Hector you don't trust, with Paul being a stand in?"
"No, it's more than that. It's his prison record, for one, and his trigger happy finger, for another."
"Well, Molly, you're welcome to have dinner with me anytime," Andrew said. "Breakfast and lunch too, if you like.
"That's very sweet of you Andrew. I may take you up on some dinners at least. Now, what's the feature film for tonight?
Andrew clicked the remote and the TV turned on.
"Oh the Forsyte Saga," Molly exclaimed. "I haven't seen this since it first played."
"I remember you saying how much said you liked it."
"They don't make them like this anymore."
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"So tell me about your life in the army," Lizzie said as she was working her way through the whiskey.
"I spent some time in Northern Ireland."
"That must have been interesting."
"You could say that," Paul said. "I brought home this souvenir," he said pointing to his chin. "This little scar. "They were throwing bottles and things at us."
"Well, that calls for another drink," Lizzie said, pouring more whiskey into her glass. "To the intrepid British soldier," she said.
"Hear, hear," said Paul, gesturing with his empty beer bottle.
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Archie and Lexie were in bed, each reading. Lexie had a baby name book.
"Here's three I like for a boy" said "Aden, Ben, and Callum."
"Not Callum," Archie insisted. I will not have my son named after that thick headed policeman. Ben will always remind me of Big Ben. But Aden is nice."
"Okay, we'll add Aden to the boy list."
"How about Dawn for a girl," Archie suggested."
"Sounds very glamorous," said Lexie. I like it."
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"They di'n have anythin' like this in India," Lizzie said, pouring herself some more.
"They didn't drink on the ashram, then?"
"No, we jus' got high on life," she giggled.
"Well, you don't have to make up for lost time all in one night."
"That'sh a good one," Lizzie said, laughing. "You're very funny, y' know." She laughed some more. "I think I'm goin' t' like havin' a big brother again."
Paul smiled uncomfortably.
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Upstairs in the bedroom Archie was rattling off some ancestral names from the MacDonald family tree. "Albert... Angus... Montgomery... Nesmith" Lexie made a face and shook her head at each one.
"Thought I'd try," he said.
"Archie, do you mind makin' me some tea before we go to sleep? I don' feel too well."
"Not at all," Archie said putting on his slippers and dressing gown. "I'll be right back."
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Lizzie was pouring out more whiskey, but her hand was shook and she spilled some. "Damn," she said.
"Steady now," Paul said, taking the bottle and the glass from her. "I think you've had enough."
"Hey. Hey. You can't do that," Lizzie protested. She got up unsteadily and lunged for the items Paul was holding. He raised them above his head.
"Gimme," she wailed. "N'fair." She jumped and reached. "Ts'mine.".
Paul turned around and put the bottle and glass on a nearby mantle. He turned back to Lizzie and blocked her from reaching them.
"Sorry, Lizzie, "You've had enough."
Lizzie started pummelling him on the chest. "I hate you." Paul took hold of her wrists.
"Aw, Jamie, cut it out," Lizzie begged. "You're hurtin' me." Paul weakened his hold but she still began crying in big gulping sobs. He put his arms around her and drew her in to him. She reached around his back and held on.
"What's going on here," Archie demanded, as he entered the room.
"Lizzie's drunk," Paul explained.
Lizzie looked over at Archie with drooping eyes that fluttered and shut. She slumped in Paul's arms.
"Oh, no, I think she's passed out," Paul said.
"What have you two been doing?" Archie asked suspiciously.
"Not now, Archie," Paul said. "Help me get her onto the lounge."
Archie looked at Paul with mistrust but decided to comply. "We can leave her to sleep it off," he said as he lifted Lizzie's lower end.
Having gotten her settled, Paul knelt down by Lizzie and pressed his fingers to her wrist and lookd at his watch. "Her pulse is low." He pinched her earlobe. She didn't flinch. He pulled down the neck of her pullover and began kneading her upper chest with his knuckles. She didn't stir.
"What are you doing?" Archie asked.
"I'm trying to rouse her," Paul said. "Help me turn her over onto her side."
"What for?" Archie did as instructed.
"So if she throws up, she will be less likely to choke on the stuff and die."
"Right."
"We can't leave her alone, Archie."
"So what do we do, stay up with her all night whilst she sleeps?"
"Look at this," Paul said. He flicked his finger at Lizzie's cheek a few times. No response. He slapped her face. Nothing. "She's not sleeping, Archie. She's unconscious. We need to get her to hospital."
"Is that really necessary? She'll be okay in the morning, won't she?"
"Maybe, maybe not. My first aid training says to get her to hospital."
Archie looked like he was going to argue, but thought better of it. "Right, I'll call 999."
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The ambulance was in front of the house, the lights flashing, and Lizzie was being carried out in a stretcher. Paul was talking to the technicians as they loaded her into the ambulance. Molly and Andrew, returning from their night together, rushed to the scene to see what was happening. Archie ran over to explain.
"Oh my Lizzie," Molly gasped, her hand to her mouth. "Will she be all right?"
"She's going to be fine," Archie assured her.
"Why does she always do this to herself?" Molly asked.
"I don't know, Mother," Archie shook his head sadly."
"Wait," Molly called out to the ambulance technicians. "I'm coming with you." She hurried over and a technician helped her into the back. He climbed in after her and the ambulance drove away.
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The next morning the phone rang. Archie answered it. "Glenbogle House."
"Hello Archie, it's me," said Molly. "She's awake and feels dreadful, as well she should. But you were right to call the ambulance." Lexie was by his side now, listening for news.
"That was Paul's idea, actually." Paul also entered, his ears perking at the sound of his name.
"She got sick in the ambulance, but the technician handled it quite expertly," Molly continued. "He said he was waiting for her to."
"We all were," Archie said grimly.
"She had blood alcohol level of, let me see I have it written down here somewhere. Anyway, it was almost high enough that she might have died. Oh, Archie, I'm so worried about her."
"What do the doctors say? Are they sending her home today?"
"Probably not. They want her to stay a little longer. The doctor's coming soon to discuss it. I should go now. I'll call later."
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Molly entered Lizzie's room. Lizzie was sitting up and sipping from a paper cup with the assistance of a nurse. "Hello, Mummy," Lizzie said weakly. "I think I'm done barfing. They're trying me on water."
"Hello, Mrs MacDonald," the nurse said. "Would you like to take over from me? I'll tell the doctor you are here."
Molly sat down by Lizzie's bed.
"I think I can hold the cup myself." Lizzie said with no trace of her usual sarcasm.
Molly took the cup from her when she was done and set it on the bedside table. "Would you like me to comb your hair, dear?
"I must look gruesome," Lizzie said. "Yes, please."
Molly took out a brush from her handbag and began dealing with the tangles as gently as she could. Lizzie winced now and then but didn't complain.
"I must be such a disappointment to you, Mummy," she said forlornly.
"You're never a disappointment, darling. I just wish you could be happy."
"Why is it that every time I try to make myself happy, everything goes pear shaped?" Lizzie said, the tears streaming down her face."
"Oh, don't cry, dear," Molly said reaching for a handkerchief from her handbag. "Everything will be all right." She wiped Lizzie's eyes.
"You always say that," Lizzie said, grabbing the handkerchief from her mother. "But everything isn't all right. It's never been all right in our family. No matter how much you say it is."
There was a knock on the door. A man with a tell-tale white coat and stethoscope around his neck walked in. "Hello Elizabeth, I'm Doctor Patel."
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Archie drove to the hospital to drop off a suitcase full of clothes for Lizzie and to take Molly home.
Lexie and Paul met them in the great hall. Molly looked exhausted.
"How is she?" Lexie asked as she helped Molly with her coat.
"I have to sit," Molly said. "I'll tell you what I know. Then I'm going to bed. I barely slept all night."
Archie and Lexie accompanied Molly to the parlour. Paul hung back at the doorway.
"Come in, Paul" Molly said. "You ought to know, too."
"She's in the alcoholism unit," Molly said, her voice cracking. "She'll be there at least a week." She paused, unable to speak.
"Oh, Molly," Lexie murmured sympathetically. Archie lay his hand on top of hers.
"They say we can't even visit her until they give permission," her voice rose even higher. "But we can call her. Here's the number." She fished a piece of paper from her bag.
"We'll get through this together, Mother."
"I always knew Lizzie drank too much," Molly continued. "But I never thought of her as an alcoholic. That's like one of those people you see lying on the pavement, isn't it?"
"Not always," Paul said. "Some people..."
"Please excuse me," Molly interrupted. "I must lie down." She rose and left.
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A dozen or so people sat in folding chairs arranged in a circle in the hospital unit. They were men and women, young and not so young, well-to-do and working class. They were taking turns talking and those not talking, were listening attentively.
A woman in her mid thirties with tousled blonde hair stood up and said, "My name is Lizzie and I'm an alcoholic."