he would arrive at the Wild West shop and the pawnshop. The accordeon would still have been there. It wouldnt have sold since last night. Unless pawnshops opened on Sundays. Maybe they did.
When the food arrived they strolled round the block eating it. Dad didnt want to go inside the waiting room until the food was finished. They sat on a bench in the bus parking area. The hamburger was okay but the chips were the thinnest ever; not even crispy which would have made them bearable. The best bit was the bun. One of these wee pick-up trucks entered. Murdo watched it circle about. This place was reserved for buses. The truck reversed into the bay across the way. The horn tooted. The front passenger door opened and Sarah was there—Sarah! Murdo was onto his feet immediately. Dad it’s Sarah! And Joel too Dad look it’s me, it’s me they’re looking for!
Joel kept the engine running. Sarah saw him and sat back in the passenger seat leaving the door open. Murdo jogged across, laughing. She had a packet for him. A present of two CDs; one from her and one from Queen Monzee-ay. Gran was talking after you left, she said, about the gig. Would you want to sit in Murdo?
What?
She’s hoping you will, that’d be so cool.
She had a locket round her neck. Had she been wearing it this morning? Murdo couldnt remember. Just seeing it made ye smile. Where did she get it? Who gave her it? Was a picture inside? Ye saw them on television programmes to do with antiques. Miniature photographs were locked inside. When she talked she held onto it. Dad thinks your father could organise it, she said. Joel?
Yeah, said Joel. You come down spend the night. We’ll be with friends and they got room.
Murdo grinned, whatever they were talking about, the gig. He rubbed at the edge of his mouth.
Not next Saturday but the next again, said Joel.
Sarah said, I put a note in the packet there Murdo; got all the information. I wrote it in.
She paused. A guy in a bus driver’s uniform was striding towards them. Trucks and private cars werent allowed. Over by the waiting area Dad stood by the door. Sarah spoke quickly: Gran says you played special and you played it to her—that is what she liked. Means you can play together. Makes it rich. You bring that. Dad says your Dad could organise it for the one night. Come down Saturday, go home Sunday morning. It would be so cool if you came Murdo.
The uniformed guy jerked his thumb at the exit. Joel acknowledged him, and whispered: We got to go.
You think you might? asked Sarah.
Eh . . .
Gran says so. It’s enough for her what you did this morning. She said you done enough and like you will do just fine. A friend is on guitar with us Murdo, just a wonderful guitar player, just the very best, so like the four of us Murdo, a one-off night for Gran. So so cool if you came, it would be wonderful Murdo, you will let her go, she said it, your playing, she can go someplace different.
Murdo scratched at the back of his head. Sarah reached her hand to his shoulder and gave it a wee sort of massage. His eyes shut in reflex. His face went red and he couldnt stop it, couldnt have stopped it. She just
like a zinging in his ears, it was just
The two CDs you got in the packet, she said, one is from Gran and it’s got her songs, them we’re doing. It’s from what we did this morning and maybe a couple more but not like surprises, she said to tell you, no surprises, just like what you know Murdo, that’s how Gran said it, the gig’s all here is what she means; no surprises. That was to tell you.
Okay.
You think you’ll come? It would be so wonderful.
Murdo laughed. But what was he laughing at? What even was he thinking? He didnt know that either. Sarah’s touch. His face was still red. He stared at her: the way her hair ended by her neck and shoulders, just that way the neck went into the shoulder and became the shoulder, that curve there. The locket in her fingers, then just like how she touched him, that was Sarah, jees, even just like touching.
Sarah was waving. Joel had released the handbrake, was turning the wheel and giving him a wave at the same time. Joel called out the window: Lafayette man!
Murdo held the packet. Joel waved a kind of salute and it was like a pal saying cheerio, that was him going away on a long trip. And Sarah there waving but not like cheerio forever. They would meet again. Definitely. Otherwise? Never again in his life so like that was the two of them forever and ever. How could that happen? He had only met them for one day and it was like they were true friends. Terrible.
The same woman from yesterday had been at the information and ticket counter. Dad didnt have change for the payphone and she gave him the use of her own cell phone to make the call. But he got through to Uncle John. Now they could relax. Murdo didnt open the packet until aboard the second bus. The first had been a short trip to get them someplace bigger. This second one was the longest. It was the bus after that where Uncle John was meeting them. Dad read his book until the light made it difficult. Finally he closed his eyes. Murdo waited a few minutes. When Dad looked to be dozing he peeled open the packet. It contained two CDs and a hand-written note. But before he could read the note Dad opened his eyes again. Murdo slipped the note back inside the packet.
The bus was half empty too. They could have had double seats for privacy instead of sitting together. But that was Dad; double seats for yerself was too “risky”; maybe one of them was a secret trapdoor and if it opened ye dropped down under the wheels.
At least he was on the window seat. The roads were straight and long. Imagine yer own car. Ye could go anywhere. Get away from everything. The pick-up truck Joel drove belonged to his parents but it was his to use whenever he wanted. Okay it was for deliveries to do with the family store but he could use it for other things too.
A school pal of Murdo’s lived on a farm and had been driving since he was twelve. He learned on a tractor. Other boys had been driving since they were young. Back home there was a forest track led through other tracks. As long as the mud wasnt too deep it was ideal for learner drivers. Although Dad’s car would have sunk, it was too wee. It was a good track for mountain bike races. Murdo had been going it a while. It led round and down through the woods to the edge of the loch. Coming out from the high trees and bushland the water always looked great, but especially with the sun making it sparkle. There was a break in the bank here out from the trees and ye could see where they dragged a boat in the old days for ferrying. There was a half demolished pier at the harbour that was used for coal in bygone days. Boys fished off it although they werent supposed to. A great song connected to when a ferry crossed hundreds of years ago taking pilgrims to Iona. The ferry was more like a rowing boat. It only went when travellers wanted it. They had to signal from the other side. In winter they swung a lantern. The song was about a young guy called Lachlan Cameron getting hunted by Campbells. Murdo knew the song well. Really it was a pipe tune. The young guy was badly wounded and they captured him. They were going to hang him at the town of Inveraray where they hanged people for the government. Lachlan managed to escape before they took him. He hid under an old upside-down hulk, a beached fishing boat at the head of the loch. One of the lasses from the village found him. She was out walking and heard his agonised breathing. She brought him food, even although he was a different religion; either a Catholic or Protestant and she was the opposite. After three days and three nights she helped him onto a rowing boat across the loch but she wasnt able to row him over for reasons to do with her own family. Maybe they were loyal to the Campbells. Whatever it was it meant she wasnay able to help Lachlan further. It was brave of her taking the chance and angering her own parents. The crossing is quite far but if ye were used to rowing and had a
