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‘Motorbikes were my thing, nothing to do with me da,’ he growls.
Fuck’s sake, sooo touchy.
I sip the whisky and feel the warmth relax my worn-out body. I’m about to risk another question when Don looks up at me.
‘I found my first bike under a flyover when I was fifteen, but always had a thing for bikes. I remember as a kid up here, seeing the bikers coming through of a summer…?’ he pauses.
I zip my lips shut, hoping he’ll say more.
‘It takes a biker to understand,’ is all I get.
‘Well, obviously, I can see they are mega important to you,’ I try.
‘Me da hated bikes. Maybe saw them as competition for his business. He thought I’d become a Hell’s Angel or something. At any rate, my idea was to get away as soon as possible. Which, aged seventeen, I did.’
‘Where did you go then?’
‘Sheffield.’ Don starts making tea. The kettle’s steaming and the caravan is all toasty warm. When am I going to tell him I’ve got nowhere to stay? I take another sip of whisky. Not thinking about that now.
‘Why Sheffield?’ I ask as he hands me a tea.
‘This pal of mine, Mick, used to work for my da. Taught me all I knew about bikes, did Mick. He took me to Sheffield to check out this rare bike.’ He pauses, sips his tea. ‘Well the lad he bought the bike off had a room for rent. I’d had a huge barney with my da the night before and it seemed like as good a time as any, so I stayed.’ He stares at me like warning me not to question? ‘Ended up I got settled there. Did my mechanic’s apprenticeship. Worked in the workshop for years, where I met Karen.’
‘Well, I’m very glad you did.’ How weak does that sound?
‘I’ll bet you are. And it’s only that I owed her a favour, really. It was around the time my mother died. I was pure cut up, and Karen had a way of getting me to talk, kept me sane, I’d say…?’
He scowls down at his feet as he falls into silence. I hardly dare breathe, like I’ve caught him off guard and he’ll clam up the minute he realises. I’m surprised to hear him talk about Karen like this. To me she’s always been in-your-face jolly, not exactly the obvious choice for someone like Don to confide in. But if she hadn’t been there for him, I wouldn’t exist. Weirdest ever.
Don breaks the mood, slapping his legs to get up again. ‘Kippers?’ he says.
I watch him prepare the fish, heating them in milk on the stove while he butters bread. All with that precision care. What would it have been like to grow up with him? I’m betting he’d have made a grumpy sod of a dad.
The kippers take literally all Don’s attention as he carefully pulls the fish apart and wraps each mouthful in bread. I’ve eaten nothing all day and I’ve never tasted smoked fish so good. Thinking I could eat another five, I mop up the juice with my bread, looking out of the window as I eek out the last bites. There’s like a bank of slatey cloud building up on the horizon – it’s hard to tell where Skye begins and ends. Rays of lemon sunlight stream up out of the cloud and the sea has darkened.
‘Awesome, this scenery changes like every five minutes?’ I say.
Don grunts, still absorbed in his food. I watch a group of birds swoop black arrows across the pale sky and listen for the faint hiss of the sea while I wait for him to finish. Building up some jittery excitement for what I want to ask him next.
Eventually he gathers the plates and pours more tea and whisky.
‘I saw on the internet about the McCalstrys of Lochgillan. Are you officially one of them?’ I go for it as soon as he sits down.
‘McCalstrys of Lochgillan eh?’ He pulls his shoulders up tense.
‘Yes, as in they’re big landowners around here, it says…?’ I pull my phone and charger out and look around for a socket.
‘You’ll no’ find such mod cons as electricity here.’ He waves at the oil lamps.
‘Ah, never mind. So, you’re not related to the local landowners then?’ I try again.
‘We may be distant rellies, but to folks here I’m pure a minging Glasgee scunner and I get nae invites to Broomdale.’ He spits out the words, proper Rab C again.
‘Broomdale?’
Don takes a gulp of whisky and scowls at me like a challenge.
Fucking hell, sooo tetchy. What was it I read about the McCalstrys of Lochgillan?
