She unstuck herself from sleep. Light was glowing round the edges of the blind and she pushed it up, yawning. Her eyes narrowed as the plane tilted and she caught the full glory of the sunrise; an infinity of Atlantic below, glinting and flashing in the light, and on the east horizon the joy of morning. Light diffused sideways by low white clouds into a faint spectrum of colour. The rising sun gently expanded at the centre. Between glittering heave of sea below and sunrise, a long archipelago, low to the north and south, mountainous in the centre. As the plane moved to cross this land, clouds of birds, black as flies against the sun, wheeled and dived against cliffs and beaches edged with long rolling surf. She looked at her map and saw a line of islands up the northwest coast of the land, Outer Hebrides.
She stretched hard against her sloppy clothes: soft tracksuit against her skin, slippered feet. Airline overnight dress. Scrunched the rug sideways and adjusted her seat upwards, then moved gently to reach the aisle past her neighbours. The boy turned as her legs squeezed against his momentarily, then against the man she assumed was his father.
She staggered a little in the aisle, feeling the blood beginning to surge again in her body, and headed for the tiny toilet.
Relieved and sluiced down, hair roughly brushed into shape, she returned to her seat in time for the bongs for the seatbelt signs to illuminate. Needed coffee, but it looked like she'd missed that. The woman captain's voice announced their arrival at Glasgow in twenty minutes in French and English, told them it was a bright sunny day there, wished them a safe onward journey.
Over land now, a succession of coiling mountain ridges between deep valleys, lakes -- she'd have to remember they were lochs -- sparkling in the new light, occasional little settlements, edges of snow on the north-facing mountain slopes. Change of engine-note and vibration in the capsule as it began descending gently, wide pastured plain below now, then lower hills, settlements spreading into cityspill, villas becoming apartment blocks, nearly low enough to touch them, a wide river with rows of lights beyond, then the soft bump as wheels touched blacktop. Rolling, slowing on her new continent as the engines pulsed in reverse thrust.
Hi, I'm Alexander, but that's my Sunday name, my friends call me Sandy.
The man who met her was kilted: he had said it would be unfailing recognition, and she sure didn't see any other guys in kilts as she emerged into International Arrivals with her trolley.
They shook hands politely: I'm Red, pleased to meet ya.
He held and returned her wide smile, enquired about the flight, asked if she needed breakfast, looking with concern in her eyes.
Sure could, slept through it on the plane. Can you get a real Scottish breakfast round here? To him, she said 'Skaddish'.
No, I'm afraid the airport just has mid-Atlantic concessions, but we can get something decent twenty minutes away. Can you wait?
Sure, we have enough Burger King at home. As they walked through the carpark she evaluated him. She'd booked him as a tourguide online, on the recommendation of a friend. Seemed nice enough, older, but that was fine, obviously kept himself fit, very pleasant and seemed genuinely concerned for her welfare.
He stopped at a small car and opened doors and trunk for her, lifted her two backpacks into it. She remembered to go to the wrong side and got in. What sort of car is this?
Renault Megane...French...do you have them?
Don't think so. Maybe in Quebec, she smiled, not in Ontario.
Soon on the expressway, she was disorientated by the car layout and the strange flow of traffic: So where you taking me for breakfast?
Oh, what we call the West End, university area, lots of choice for breakfast there. And no Burger Kings. About twenty minutes drive. You must be exhausted, you just want to look, or d'you want a commentary?
Uh, looking's fine for now, thanks. But I expect plenty of action...later.
He sensed her looking directly at him as he changed lane to get into the tunnel offramp, curious at the ambiguity of her comment, the directness of her glance. Turned to look at her in turn. She was shrugged into the corner by the door, right knee drawn up on the seat under her, gazing through the windscreen. She felt his gaze and smiled at him, warmly he thought, and he felt a wee tremor of anticipation. She was certainly a good-looking woman, late 30s maybe, mass of dark red curls over and round a long sensuous face, small breasts under the tracksuit top. He smiled into her eyes and returned his focus to the road, slipping into lane as the car entered the tunnel.
Ten minutes later he was parking, backing into the tiniest gap in a crowded sidestreet lined with towering stone Victorian apartments.
He opened her door and they turned towards a busy street, found a deli. You sure you want a Scots breakfast? He enquired, and went to order on her nodded acquiescence. So, how d'you like Scotland?
Well, my first time here so it's a bit strange...his leg brushed hers under the table as he adjusted himself in his seat. She noticed he didn't apologise. And I've hardly seen anything, but the sun is shining, is a good start. And you seem OK -- she smiled -- so far. Airports are airports, and I guess I'll get used to your funny driving habits. So tell me about you Sandy, how did you get into this game, uh, tourguiding?
Breakfast arrived. He spoke slowly as they ate. Well, I only started last year. Professionally. I just signed up to a site last year, got a few customers, they seemed happy...now you're here, the first for my second year.
The coffee was very strong: Hey, what do you guys do to your coffee?
Ah, he smiled, just a wee cultural difference. We find lots of North American stuff quite bland, so I think you might find some things here strong-tasting. How's breakfast?
She wasn't entirely sure what she was eating but it tasted good, and she told him so. What did you do before tourguiding? Bet you have an intriguing story?
Not really...I've worked as an academic, and in public affairs. University offered me an early retirement package I couldn't refuse, a couple of other things happened in my life. I fancied something different, working with people more on a one-to-one basis, sharing my enthusiasms for my country and its culture. So far I'm enjoying it.
She remembered what Ingrid had told her: she had booked this guy last year with her husband, and had surreptitiously tried to get him into her pants all holiday but he wasn't playing. Red hadn't told Sandy she'd booked him on Ingrid's eager recommendation.
I guess you get all sorts of opportunities to know your customers when you're on a trip?... her eyebrow raised equivocally as she smiled at him.
