It rained intermittently and the gusts of wind were cold. "How much does it rain here?" I asked Jock as he navigated the narrow road between pastures full of sheep and cows.
"There's an old Scottish saying: If it isn't raining now it will rain soon."
That was comforting for us desert dwellers of Southern California. I wondered how Larry, the walker, was faring.
"Look at those funny red cows," Arrow said. "They look so cute with their long hair. It's even over their eyes."
"Highland cattle," Jock said. "Not terribly useful except for postcards for the tourists. Other breeds are more profitable."
We came down a slight grade into John O'Groats, which consisted of a number of houses and the John O'Groats Hotel, but not much more. Beyond the rocky cliffs we could see the waters of the North Sea, looking relatively calm compared to what they must be like when the storms come that the area is famous for.
"This is where Larry started his walk," Arrow said.
"Walk?" asked Jock.
She explained about Larry's quest.
"He's a bit daft, wouldn't you say?"
I had heard that the UK was a nation of walkers, but apparently there were exceptions.
Jock turned off into a side street and parked in front of a small but relatively new house. The tiny yard looked well cared for and the white front door was freshly painted.
Michael McTavish was expecting us; Jock had telephoned him earlier. He answered the door promptly to Jock's knock. He ushered us into the house and shook hands with Jock and then with Arrow and me. Then he led us to some worn but still comfortable chairs in front of a fireplace with a real fire in it, saying, "There's a chill in the air. Perhaps this will help to warm your bones."
I suspected there was always a chill in the air here.
"The missus is running some errands," he said, almost apologetically, "but she baked these." He pointed to a plate of cookies on an end table. There was also a pot of tea.
"Biscuits," Arrow said, taking a cookie when Michael offered them to her. "See, I'm learning." She took a bite. "Delicious."
As he poured each of us a cup of tea I noted that Michael McTavish didn't seem to smile much. Smaller than average height, he was also quite thin. His lined face and graying hair assured me that he was in the same generation as Ned and James.
Michael and Jock doctored their tea with milk and sugar. Arrow also took some sugar. I tasted mine and decided that adding sugar was the correct thing to do to diffuse the bitterness.
We sipped in silence for a minute, as I wondered how to start the conversation. Then Jock said, "Well, Michael, these two come from Los Angeles and they know some old mates of yours."
"Who do you know, then?" Michael asked.
I mentioned Ned, James and Elma and watched his face.
A look of recognition crossed it, but he didn't smile. He said, "I knew them all." He hesitated and said, "It has been many long years since I have seen any of them."
"About thirty years?" Arrow asked.
Michael nodded. "Close to it. We were young and carefree then. We were always together. I hoped it would last forever, but one day James and Ned left and never returned. I believe Elma left some time later."
"I have some bad news about Ned," I said. I told how he had been shot, without mentioning drugs.
"In San Francisco, did you say?" Jock asked. "Was it the mafia, do you think?"
"I don't think so. In fact, he was shot in Chinatown, but we don't think it was the Chinese mafia, either."
"Any clues?" Jock asked, deadpan.
"No clues."
Arrow launched into a brief history of what all three had done since they left Wick. She told about the marriage of Ned and Elma and a summary of their business pursuits, without glorifying them or mentioning money.
When she was through, Michael said, "That's quite a story. Maybe I should have left too. The missus was always after me to go, but somehow I never got around to it. I do have me own business, though. Selling woolen goods. If it's warm sweaters you're after, we've got 'em. I'm even starting to do some business on the Internet, but it's slow going."
"Have you got a website?" I asked.
"Yes, but I'm having problems getting the customers to visit it. I'm trying to learn the code and how to make it look pretty; I hired a boy to put it together, but he costs money."
"Karl is an expert at creating websites," Arrow said, giving me more credit than I deserved. "Let him take a look at yours. Maybe he can help."
"And Arrow is an expert in marketing," I added.
"A pretty lass like yourself?" Michael said, dubious, looking her over.
However, he led us into the tiny spare bedroom, which he used as a home office. The state-of-the-art computer equipment looked out of place in this remote corner of the world, but Michael soon established a connection to the Internet.
His website was bare-bones and I immediately thought of a dozen ways it could be improved, with better organization, use of color and modern graphics techniques. A thought occurred to me. If we could get on his good side he would be much more likely to talk freely to us.
"I have some ideas," I told Michael. "If you like I'll do some work on it, but I won't change any of your existing pages so when I'm done you can either use my suggestions or stay with what you have. I can also get you hooked up with the best search engines."
"I can't afford to pay you."
"No, no, this is fun for me. I wouldn't charge you anything."
The look on Michael's face told me that he didn't believe in taking something for nothing. I said, "There is something you can do for us in return. Elma asked…Elma is, umm, writing a book about her early life in Scotland. She asked us that if we were able to locate someone who knew her and Ned and James, to have them tell us their memories of those days so that she could use them in the book."
Michael considered. "A book, is it? And she would send me a copy?"
"Of course."
"I wouldn't mind reliving those days." He said it, wistfully.
There was another thing we had to do-get rid of Jock. Since the computer room wasn't large enough to hold four people Jock was standing outside the door looking like a guy who had just missed the bus. I said, "Jock, this may take a while. We really appreciate you bringing us here, but you don't have to stay. We'll find our own way back."
Jock wasn't going to be dismissed that easily. Since the reason he had helped us was clear I turned to Arrow and pleaded with her, using my eyes. She squeezed past me and took him by the arm. I couldn't hear what she said to him as she guided him to the door, but I assumed she was bargaining, perhaps promising him a date for tonight. It was worth it, I told myself.
Michael's wife returned while I was pounding on the computer and Arrow and Michael were going over his financial records on the dining room table. I was completely engrossed in programming, working fast to make up in speed what I lacked in ability.
Michael had told us something about his wife so when I heard the front door close I immediately knew that I should show myself. I went quickly into the dining room. Arrow and Michael were sitting at the table with their heads close together. She had convinced him that she did know something about marketing.
Mrs. McTavish entered the room on her way to the kitchen, with two large bags of groceries in her arms, just as I got to the back of Arrow's chair and put my hands on her shoulders. Michael looked up, startled at the appearance of his wife.
He said, "Hello, dear, let me help you with those," sounding like a boy who has been caught watching an adult movie on cable. He quickly got up and took the bags from her. "These two have come from Los Angeles to find out about life here when we were young. Karl and Arrow, this is my wife, Heather."