Chapter 8: No Future Without a Past

We continued kissing with me turning my head from side to side to meet them lip to lip. The kisses were brief and without passion. We were expressing love, not desire. Not that I wasn’t feeling desire as the lump in the duvet attested, but it just seemed appropriate to consolidate this shift in our relationship by gentle caressing. I think we were all exhausted by the emotional roller coaster we were riding.

This degree of togetherness had been thirty years in coming and I was certainly conscious that we were here now because of the understanding of a twenty-five-year-old that had totally escaped three fifty-year-olds. We were building something new and I for one was aware of how fragile the bridge connecting us still was.

I was awakened by MT breezing in carrying a tray with four cups of tea. She put it down on the dressing table on her mother’s side of the bed before stooping to pick up a discarded dressing gown. Looking the other way, I could see that Chrissie had also ditched her bed gown. Otherwise, we were as we had been last night.

I had an arm round each lady who had their heads on my shoulder. MT brought round the teacups, taking the fourth and jumping onto the foot of the bed, where she sat, cross-legged, her dressing gown modestly tucked between her thighs. I turned and offered my lips to Chrissie, but she pushed me away: “Dog breath,” she muttered. “Wait until I brush my teeth.”

I was ready to apologise for my behaviour but MT led the conversation. “We have an appointment with the solicitor in Portree at eleven, mum. Chrissie is going to the restaurant to cook a gala lunch since Aunt Allie will be at the meeting. I think you should go with her, Bill. Oh, do you want me to call you Uncle Bill?” Chrissie told her it was time she dropped the aunt and uncle for all of them.

“It seems you have more sense than the rest of us put together,” she continued. “We three should have been doing this for the last forty years.” MT questioned the length of time. “If we had started kissing at nine, we would never have got ourselves into this mess. We slept together at that age and skinny dipped until we were fifteen. We just didn’t have the common sense to put two and two together until you showed us how.” That seemed to summarise the mood.

After lunch, we settled down to explore our newfound relationship, which involved scrutinising our past. “We really screwed things up that summer when we were seventeen,” Izzy mused. “Chrissie and I had agreed that we could share Bill without jealousy, but we forgot to tell him, and he was too much of a gentleman to push us. Even if he had forced us, it wouldn’t have been rape since we were gagging for it.”

“Then Tim entered the picture. His mum believed we could cure his homosexuality, as she saw it, and we decided to use him to make Bill so jealous he would lose all control. Big mistake,” Chrissie added. “Then I compounded it by making a pass at your husband, Izzy I can’t believe we were such a pair of idiots.” There was silence for some time after that.

“It totally changed our lives,” Izzy finally continued. “I wouldn’t even have listened to Hernie’s proposition, if Bill had taken my virginity.” I must have looked puzzled. “Basically, he told me that he preferred men to woman and offered me a deal. I would marry him, and he would overcome his distaste for long enough to father an heir on me. He would give me fifty thousand pounds for every year we were married.

“I must say, he hid his distaste for women pretty well when we were in bed together. I’ve certainly had much worse lovers since Hernie broke the seal on my womb. His family trace their roots to Cortez one of the conquistadors and they could not countenance homosexuality. Our marriage ended as soon as his father died, and he succeeded to the dukedom. He was generous far beyond the terms of our agreement.”

Chrissie began her story. “I think it was the same frustration that enabled me to accept that ridiculous arrangement I had with the colonel. We did have sex, but he wasn’t really interested. It was important for a young officer to have a handsome woman on his arm for mess functions, and I looked pretty good in those days, even if I do say so myself. The engagement was a device to anchor me to him.

“He never had to wonder who he would take to meet the new colonel or attend a royal garden party, and he left me alone most of the time to take whoever I liked to my bed so long as I was completely discreet. Much of his wealth was entailed but he left me everything else when he died. I felt more like his mother than his fiancée, but I was fond of the old duffer. He was well-liked by his soldiers.”

My case was much more conventional, but I must admit, looking back, that my courtship of Helen and our subsequent marriage were based on a distorted view of matrimony. I knew that Helen didn’t love me wholeheartedly after her affair with Ralph when she was pregnant with Emily. It was only after she started her affair with Baxter that I realised I didn’t love her and perhaps never had. My encounters since the fateful Christmas party have forced me to conclude that there are an almost infinity of ways that relationships can form – and dissipate. I think we all meditated on the past while we prepared and ate dinner, I know I did.

After dinner, we turned our attention to the future. The general principle was approved unanimously: we three would never again be parted. We could not guess what would happen, but we were resolved that the others would play a central part in our lives from then on. I think we were becoming exhausted when a quarrel flared out of nowhere just after ten.

Izzy and Chrissie had been planning their future for years, so they led off, describing a life involving luxury living in the villa in Northern Spain interspersed with luxury travel to exotic holiday locations. It all became a little unstuck when they adapted the plan to incorporate me. Their first idea was for me to drop whatever I was doing and join them.

It was MT who pointed out that I might have plans of my own. “Bill hasn’t been living in a cupboard since you discarded him thirty years ago. He’s had a full life since those days, I’m sure, and has plans of his own for the future.” We all laughed indulgently at their presumption, although it was clear that the notion took some getting used to.

I explained that a life of idleness would drive me mad. I explained why I loved the work I did. “I have a talent for finding solutions to engineering problems. I’m not a great inventive genius but I have the knack of spotting a better way to perform a mundane task” They accepted the validity of the argument, even admitting that they might find it stifling to have me around all the time.

We had reached the stage of joking about the order in which we would visit the wonders of the world, when the question of a permanent home came up. Izzy had been given free lifetime use of her son’s villa near Oviedo, and she went into raptures about the house and its location. Chrissie and MT joined in the praise for this new Eden.

I laughingly countered with Commie-Tea and my cottage in the wilderness. That’s when the evening fell apart. Cruising on the boat with the occasional night aboard roughing it, was voted a potential winner but my little home in the shadow of Beinn na Calliach was vetoed without hesitation or argument.

I recognised that we were all tired, so I excused myself and went to bed rather than trying to explain my point of view. The atmosphere had soured but it had not yet deteriorated to an open squabble. Chrissie would have demanded an explanation, but she backed off when MT suggested that we would all feel better in the morning.

Just like the night before, I climbed into bed and got out my kindle to unwind by reading a few chapters. As before, the door opened but this time it was to admit Chrissie, who moved to her side of the bed removed her dressing gown and climbed in under the duvet in a cotton nightgown that ended just below her knees; it had a high neck but two or three buttons were open revealing the shadow of the beginning of her cleavage.

Once she was settled, my attention went to Izzy and MT who had entered the room together. Izzy stripped off her dressing gown and stood, irresolutely beside the bed, looking at her daughter. “Go for it mum,” MT whispered. Izzy nodded before she bent to catch the hem of her nightie and pulled it over her head leaving her naked as the day she was born. There was barely time to notice before she dived under the duvet, pulling it up to her chin.

My mind was overloaded by this point, so it was a moment before I became aware of Chrissie squirming under my right arm. Suddenly she sat up, whipping off her nightie to join the nudists. Unlike Izzy, she was in no hurry to hide her assets. She wriggled her shoulders making her boobs dance in a way that had my periscope up and ready to seek a target. Eventually Chrissie settled under the covers.

From then on, it was like a game of poker with the girls increasing the stakes. Izzy had quickly concealed her breasts after a brief glimpse; Chrissie flaunted her tits, before settling with her body turned towards me so that her hard nipples were pushing against my side; Izzy responded by turning to push her own boobs into the other side, increasing the stake by throwing her leg over my thigh and caressing it; Chrissie repeated that action but moved her knee higher until she contacted my engorged prick.

The night before we had made gentle love; tonight, we were consumed by lust. Our bodies met without restraint, always in contact with the other two, whichever pair was actually engaged in intercourse at the time. We cat-napped between bouts. Chrissie and me, Izzy and me, Izzy and Chrissie – every combination until we were all sated, covered in bodily fluids. Even then, we were unable to stop, desire continuing unabated even after our bodies were utterly exhausted.

I cannot tell you how often I wakened to a caress by one or both of my lovers or opened my eyes to find them making love to each other. I lost count of the number of times I came, but I know it far exceeded anything I had achieved in the past even when I was a student. Eventually, we fell asleep, I suppose.

We were still a jumble of intertwined limbs when I woke up in the morning to see MT, holding a tray of teacups, grinning at me. I looked down at the three of us, noticing then that the duvet was on the floor beside the bed. “I hope you’re not traumatised, darling,” Izzy told her daughter. Marie Therse shook her head.

She was wearing a nighty that fully covered her young breasts but was loose enough to drop away if she leant forward revealing her upper body down past her navel. She had put down the tray and now she grasped the bodice of her gown and pulled it tight over her breasts. Her nipples were hard and poking out through the material. “I think I’m jealous,” she laughed.

She had left us for as long as possible, so it was almost nine before she brought the tea. This was the first day that guests would arrive since the redecoration and Chrissie still had preparations to complete before the first visitors arrived at about eleven. Izzy would also be busy since there was a dinner in the restaurant tonight for the movers and shakers of the local tourist industry.

We three were still entangled on the bed, but my dick twitched at the sight of MT’s tits. In one sense, I was relieved since there was a moment in the early hours when I feared that my little soldier would never again respond to the bugle call. I was also embarrassed, and that feeling increased when Izzy noticed the movement and drew the attention of the other women.

My fellow interpreted their laughter as approval and responded by becoming chubbier. The girls had recovered their legs leaving me in the middle of the bed in my ignominious, blatantly obvious condition. Chrissie compounded my problem when she gave my prick a friendly squeeze as she got out of bed. She did have the decency, however, to toss the duvet over me before she left the room still laughing.

I thought for a moment that MT was going to hop on the bed after her mum left to quiz me about the details of the night. Izzy spotted the danger and firmly ushered her daughter out the door. I lay back, my mind still full of mush, reflecting on the last few hours. It certainly appeared that there was no remorse so I had high hopes that we would frequently repeat the experience.

I must have nodded off, since I was roused by Chrissie, wrapped in a towel, urging me to get up since we had a busy day ahead. I stripped the bed, bundling the linen beside the door. An inspection of the mattress led me to the kitchen, still stark naked to find Fabreze to spray on it before making up the bed. Once I was shaved and showered, I opened all the windows to help dissipate the somewhat funky smell.

Izzy had already left for the restaurant when I got to the kitchen. I sat opposite MT at the table, but Chrissie stood by the sink eating a bacon butty. “I’m sorry to rush you, Bill, but there’s tons of work to do to get ready for the guests. Four of them have booked dinner so I’ll have no time for you.” I told her not to worry, since I should travel back to Kyle to see what progress Iain was making.

She grinned at me. “Just as well since I think we all need a break after last night. It was a bit vigorous and we’re not as young as we used to be. I think we all need a good night’s sleep.” MT’s eyes were as big as saucers and it was clear that she was ready to demand details, but Chrissie forestalled her by producing a shopping list and chasing her out, allowing no argument. MT went off sulking but only after hugging Chrissie and me, telling us it was the best thing that had ever happened even if we wouldn’t tell her all the gory details.

I was going to the bothy to collect my bag, when Chrissie asked me to leave it as a token of my intention to return. I had all I needed in my hotel room, so I readily acquiesced, promising that I would bring all my luggage when I returned the next day. “Just leave, Bill,” she said when I approached to give her a farewell kiss. “I’m tempted to rip your clothes off, even though I’m a bit tender down there.”

Iain greeted me with sly grins when I reached the workshop. He didn’t ask any questions, simply filling me in on what had happened in the two days I was gone. We had a snack lunch and worked together all afternoon in companionable silence for the most part. I should have known better than accept his pressing invitation to a family dinner, but my brain had not entirely recovered.

It had always been my rule never to kiss and tell, but the memory of the most exciting nights of my life was still too fresh to suppress. Add to that, my two interrogators, Mandy and Bev, once again made Torquemada look like a bungling amateur. Whatever the reason, I was induced to give a very full account of the previous two nights.

They did relent enough to let me escape early since I was so clearly in need of sleep. I returned to the hotel, and I was asleep by ten. It was midnight when my phone, on the charger beside my bed, rang loudly and persistently. Still groggy, I accepted the call.

All I heard was sobbing but that was enough. I would have known these particular sobs amongst a billion. “Hi, Emily, whatever is the matter, girl?” I had listened to my daughter’s voice in every mood over the years. There had been fortunately few times when I had heard her so distressed but there was no mistaking her.

It took some time, and I was fully awake before she was able to control her sobs to make a coherent answer. “I’m on the sleeper to Fort William, dad. I’m coming to see you. I need your help.” It took some time with many breaks to gather her wits, to get this much out.

“I’ll meet you in Fort Wiliam, love. Don’t worry, whatever it is, the old team of Emily and dad will find a solution.”

She began to tell me that she was booked onto a train to Mallaig and would catch a bus to Kyle, before she admitted that she had taken one of her mum’s sleeping pills and was having trouble keeping her eyes open. I was repeating that I would meet her in Fort William when she rang off. I was tempted to call her back but finally reckoned that she needed sleep more than anything.

I packed a case and was at reception before half-past midnight where the night porter, the only member of staff on duty, took me in hand. I began by insisting that he check me out without delay, before asking when the London sleeper reached Fort William. “It gets in about eleven in the morning. If you leave now, you’ll be there by three and nothing will be open until six or later. I can see that it’s an emergency, but you have time to draw a breath, man.”

What he said made sense, so I followed his instructions to return to my room, shave, shower and put on fresh clothes. In my haste, I had thrown on the dirty clothes from the day before. When I returned to reception, he led me through to the kitchen where he made an omelette, insisting that problems were better tackled on a full stomach.

Jimmy, the night porter, filled me in on his life while I devoured the omelette. He had been captain of a container ship for most of his life. “It’s a lonely job, being skipper. You must keep a certain distance between you and the crew. This job suits me – in fact I have company a couple of nights in the week. Businessmen miss their families, so they come down here and drink tea while they show me photos of their wives and children. More than half the night callers are women, most of them driven out by their husbands snoring.”

I suggested that the husbands must snore just as loudly at home. He chuckled. “They do, and the women are driven out, but they have their routines. They make themselves a brew and then settle to read or watch tv or surf the net. One even told me she would get out the ironing board at two in the morning. Mostly, they’re just looking for a chat but some of them tell me all their woes and a few make a bit of a pass at me.

“I’ve had two or three down here at the same time, when the house has been full. Once or twice, I’ve had a match-up where a frustrated wife spends the rest of the night with a lonely businessman she met a few minutes before in my kitchen.” I told him that I had discovered all sorts of relationships between men and women since my wife and I parted company in December. “I never did get married, myself, although I was seldom lonely in bed. There’s always a woman willing to warm your sheets – a lot more fun than an electric blanket.”

He wanted to know why Emily’s call had got me so anxious, so I had to explain that her last word to me was that she would never again speak to me until I reconciled with her mother. Since I had no intention of doing that, I had accepted that I had lost my daughter. “You’re a bit of a drama queen, my man,” he suggested. “Mark my word, there’ll be a man at the bottom of this. Does she have a boyfriend?” When I admitted that there was a fiancé, his look read QED.

He finally released me at four in the morning which led to me arriving at Fort Wiliam railway station as the restaurant opened. I sat with a cup of surprisingly good coffee while I reviewed my situation, while I waited for the train to arrive at ten thirty. The arrivals board said it was on time, and this was confirmed by a text message from Emily. In it she told me that she could easily manage the rest of the journey, having tickets for the train and ferry to Armadale.

I called back to find her in a much happier frame of mind than the night before. She had run away from her mum and did not want to return. She insisted that she would sort herself out if I could let her stay for a few weeks. She was adamant that she would not return to university nor to her mother. I assured her that she was welcome to stay as long as she liked, but when I asked why she needed the help she told me to wait until we met.

The mention of university made me remember Jimmy’s advice to cherchez l’homme. Not feeling equipped to deal with the possible loss of her soulmate, I waited until nine and then called Chrissie to ask if I could bring Emily to stay with her for a few days. That done, I completed the immediate arrangements by booking a place on the two o’clock sailing from Mallaig to Armadale. Then I called Iain before ordering another carafe of coffee, which probably was the wrong thing to do considering the already jangled state of my nerves.

Emily gave a watery smile as she stepped down from her compartment but dissolved in tears as soon as I was close enough for her to grab in a rib-breaking hug. I held her, making soothing noises while she recovered. She wanted to head for the Mallaig train, and I had to explain that we would be driving to Mallaig. Then I insisted that she have a proper breakfast before we set out.

She objected, but wolved down a full Scottish breakfast, admitting that she had only had tea and biscuits since picking at her dinner the previous evening. All was going well until I asked why she had felt the need to leave her mum.

Instantly she was in a towering rage. “You’re as bad as all the rest. I thought you would have been different from them, dad. I’m really, really disappointed. I counted on your backing even if you didn’t understand my reasons.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Em. For the record, I support whatever decision you make with everything I have.” She seemed to calm down, so I risked a gentle joke: “Unless you decide to do yourself harm and then I’ll, stop you.”

She looked me straight in the eye, her expression serious. “Does that extend to your grandchild?”

The world stopped as the implications struck me: Emily is pregnant. Everything slotted into place. “I thought you were on the pill,” I blurted out. I felt stupid even before the words passed my teeth.

Emily laughed with genuine merriment. “I was, but they don’t give total protection. I didn’t know it had happened until I started throwing up in the morning. I thought I had gastric flu, but my doctor laughed when I told her.”

“Well, thank God its only pregnancy. I was panicking that you had some incurable disease,” I grinned. She gave me a stern look: “This is a terminal disease, dad. I’m having the baby whatever you or mum say to the contrary.”

I walked round the table to sit close beside her, holding her in my arms. “My wishes don’t matter, but if it comes to a vote, I want my granddaughter to live and prosper.”

Nothing more was said then. We both visited the rest rooms and settled in the Land Rover for the trip to Mallaig. “How do you know I’m having a girl, dad?” Em asked.

“I don’t actually know but, with my luck, I’m bound to finish up with another woman who winds me round her little finger. Maybe you can give me a boy next time.”

We had stopped to admire the Glenfinnan viaduct before I sought more information. Em was much calmer but still fragile, so I thought it best to avoid the more contentious issues. “How did you manage to escape?” She laughed with real merriment. “I was helped by a Stornoway man and a Glasgow girl,” she grinned.

I drove on as Em described the gala atmosphere created by Helen on the eve of her daughter’s execution. Not only had she preempted discussion on abortion, but she had booked the clinic and arranged the hotel. “She was in party mood and had bought tickets for a West End show. I picked at my food and, back in the room, I flatly refused to go to the theatre.