I couldn't argue with that logic. We crossed the narrow street and greeted Larry, who was sitting in the sun in shorts and a T-shirt. I noticed he was barefoot.
He was surprised to see us. "I took the day off today," he said, somewhat sheepishly. "It wasn't on my schedule. You would think, after all the walking I've done, I'd know how to prevent blisters."
"At least you've got a scenic place to rest," Arrow said.
"Yes." Larry pointed to some peaks in the distance, with snow on them. "The tallest one is Ben Nevis, the highest peak in the UK. The legend says that when the snow on Ben Nevis melts, Scotland will become independent from England."
After chatting with him for a minute I went inside and booked two rooms.
Larry lifted his beer mug and proposed a toast. "May you be in heaven an hour before the devil knows you're dead. Or is that Irish? I can never remember."
Whatever it was, we drank to it. And to other toasts. It was a relief to be with someone who wasn't after something or trying to hide something. As we ate dinner, Larry told us about himself.
"I'm going to hit the road again tomorrow," he said. "It gets lonely being in one place, especially since I don't have a car. I don't notice the loneliness so much when I'm moving. I ended up walking around town today, even though I was trying to rest my feet."
"Are you married?" Arrow asked.
Her cheeks were flushed and she appeared to be having fun. She hadn't mentioned our earlier discussion again. She had changed into a very flattering short skirt and blouse. Larry had complimented her appearance, something I should have done.
A shadow crossed Larry's face. "My wife died a year and a half ago. She used to provide support for me when I walked, even though it was boring for her. She told people I was hard to explain. I still am. But now I don't have anybody trying to explain me. And her complaint was that after walking 25 or 30 miles I couldn't have sex."
"But now you've had a day to rest," Arrow said.
"Yes, a day of rest works wonders for my old body."
"You're not old. Anybody who can walk 900 miles is young."
We told him why we were there-it wasn't classified information-and he said he owned some Dionysus stock and was in favor of any action that would make the price go up.
"I own other stocks too. As long as the stock market holds up I can do this instead of working."
We weren't feeling any pain by the time we left the restaurant. We walked through the streets of Spean Bridge singing "My Bonnie Lassie," as well as we could remember the words, and then "The Heather on the Hill," from Brigadoon.
We climbed the stairs to the second floor of the B amp; B. The doors to our rooms were on the same hallway. Arrow stopped at her door and said to Larry, "Would you like to come in for a minute? You can show me on the map what route you're taking."
Larry hesitated, and looked at me.
"Go ahead," I said, faking a yawn. "I'm beat. I'm going to bed." I went into my room and shut the door.
Beer sometimes gives me insomnia and the noises I thought I heard through the wall didn't help, either.
Chapter 24 LONDON
Sussex Gardens has a line of small and narrow hotels on either side of the street, crowded together like vertical dominoes. These are not the London hotels where the rich and famous stay, but they were very suitable for our purpose, interviewing Seamus Zeebarth, because we had agreed to meet him in nearby Hyde Park.
I had called him from the Glasgow Airport the day before while Arrow and I waited for our plane to London, half-expecting him not to be home because it was Monday. However, he answered the phone after two rings and when I briefly introduced myself, said he would be happy to talk to us.
We flew into Heathrow and were whisked via the Heathrow Express train to Paddington Station in only fifteen minutes, which was amazing considering the length of time this trip took by bus or the Underground. From there it was a short walk to our hotel, pulling our wheeled suitcases behind us.
We had Tuesday morning free because Mr. Zeebarth worked evenings and slept late. Arrow wanted to see everything at once. We settled on a tour of the Tower of London, led by a Beefeater in his fancy costume, topped by a beaver hat.
We saw prison cells with graffiti from hundreds of years of prisoners, the crown jewels and the place where Anne Boleyn lost her head. I remembered a song I learned in college with lyrics that went, "With her head tucked underneath her arm, she walks the bloody tower…"
By 1:45 we had eaten lunch and were at the entrance to the park. Our meeting with Mr. Zeebarth was scheduled for two.
"Let's walk around for a while," Arrow said. "It's such a pretty day and pretty place."
Indeed, we were blessed with nice weather. We strolled along one of the walkways. Arrow and I were being cordial to each other. We hadn't spoken about what if anything had happened between her and Larry. I didn't want to know.
Larry was already eating breakfast the next morning when we went down. He and Arrow spoke casually to each other, but there were certain inflections in their voices. Or was it my imagination?
Young women, perhaps the famous British nannies, pushed babies in prams; older children gamboled on the grass; young adults did things on the grass that Americans generally reserve for a more private place; pensioners walked slowly or sat on the benches. Ducks paddled on the snake-like pond, called the Serpentine.
"If I'm interpreting his directions correctly, we're supposed to meet Mr. Zeebarth over there," I said, pointing to some benches. "He'll be wearing a tam and carrying a walking stick."
"There's a gentleman there already who meets that description," Arrow said.
I saw him too, sitting on a bench, and wondered if our man had arrived early. We were still some distance from him. As we watched, another man sat down beside him, a younger man, dressed much more casually, with his hair shaved off. The two started talking.
"That must not be him," Arrow said. "Those two seem to know each other."
It looked that way. The conversation grew more heated as we approached and suddenly the younger man shoved the older man, almost knocking him off the bench. Arrow did a sharp intake of breath. I looked around quickly but nobody else seemed to notice.
I ran toward them and called, "Mr. Zeebarth." The older man, who was trying to recover his balance, looked at me. I said, "May I help?"
"Who the bloody hell are you?" asked the younger man, although his "who" sounded more like "ooh."
"I'm a friend of Mr. Zeebarth," I said, coming up to them.
The younger man stood up. He was shorter than I was, but his body was thicker and more muscular.
He stepped toward me until we were nose to nose and said, "This is none of your bloody business."
I stood my ground, despite a strong compulsion to step back. I said, "We've come to talk to Mr. Zeebarth."
"Mr. Zeebarth can't see you today," he said. "Get along now."
I was partially prepared when he shoved me, but it happened so fast that I staggered backward. Then he charged me, driving his head into my chest. I fell over onto my back, with him on top. He knelt over me and pummeled me with his fists. I tried to ward off his blows with my arms, mostly unsuccessfully.
Before I had a chance to try anything else, Arrow jumped on his back. They struggled briefly and then he suddenly screeched so loudly that my ears rang. His head jerked sharply to one side. He shook off Arrow, stumbled to his feet and ran away through the park, not looking back.
Arrow watched him for a few seconds and then bent over me and said, "I don't think he's coming back. Are you all right?"
"I don't know," I said. I took inventory. "The back of my head hurts and my cheek hurts."