Renie also opened her eyes. “Where are we?” she mumbled.
“Thirty-five thousand feet above Planet Earth,” Judith replied.
Renie shuddered and went back to sleep.
Joe came by to check on his wife. “I saw you limp a bit when you went to the restroom,” he said, leaning across the aisle seat, which had remained blessedly empty. “Are you okay?”
Judith nodded. “Sitting so long bothers me sometimes. What time will it be in London when we arrive?”
“Around noon.” Joe checked his watch. “I’m already on UK time.”
“How much time between flights?”
“A couple of hours,” Joe said.
“How long is the second flight?”
“Not long.” He smiled mischievously. “See you at Heathrow.”
Judith couldn’t get back to sleep. She’d finished the novel she’d been reading and had flipped through the British Airways magazine. She was making a trek to the restroom when the pilot announced that they were beginning their descent.
By the time she reached her seat, Renie was awake. “I thought you left,” Renie said. “I heard the announcement. I like the descent part. If we crash, we don’t have so far to fall. Besides, we can jump up and down like people do on plunging elevators. If you’re up in the air when it lands, you won’t get hurt.”
Judith didn’t comment. Instead, she got out her compact and reapplied her makeup.
“You want to be a pretty corpse?” Renie asked. “I forgot—you can’t jump with that phony hip.”
“Shut up, coz,” Judith said. “We have only a two-hour layover. That means we can’t go into London. I’m kind of disappointed.”
“Maybe we can do that on the way back,” Renie said.
A half hour passed before the plane landed on the tarmac. Tired and stiff, Judith exited into the blur that was Heathrow. She didn’t feel as if she’d traveled ten thousand miles from Hillside Manor. She simply felt as if she’d had a very bad night.
“Sun,” she murmured to Renie as they waited in the customs and immigration line. “I can’t wait.”
This time there were no delays. The foursome was cleared in short order. Judith tried to hear Joe’s response when he was asked about their next stop, but he elbowed her out of the way and lowered his voice.
“Now what?” Renie demanded. “Hey!” She tugged at the sleeve of Bill’s jacket. “Remember me? We once took sacred vows in a church.”
But neither of the men would reveal anything. Judith didn’t pester Joe, conserving her energy to walk to their connecting flight.
Twenty minutes later, the cousins discovered the next stop.
“Aberdeen, Scotland?” Judith gasped.
“Why?” Renie asked in a bewildered voice.
“Sun-drenched beaches?” Judith muttered. “Not this time of year.” She turned to Joe, who was studying what looked like an itinerary. “Is Aberdeen our final stop?”
Joe didn’t look up from the printout. “No.”
Exasperated, Judith walked back to Renie. “We keep going.”
“How? By spaceship?”
Judith shrugged. “I’m beginning to lose my enthusiasm.”
The flight, however, was relatively short. By three o’clock, they were in misty Aberdeen. Renie complained that she couldn’t see the city from the airport.
“Don’t worry,” Bill said. “That’s not where we’re staying.”
Joe had rented a car. Fifteen minutes later, they were driving away from the city. Traffic was heavy. The Friday commute, Judith thought, and finally reset her watch.
“Are we there yet?” Renie asked sullenly from the backseat.
There was no answer from Joe behind the wheel nor from Bill, sitting beside his wife. After almost an hour, they left the highway where the mist began drifting onto the narrow, winding road.
“Are we there yet?” Renie asked again.
No answer.
“Where is there?” Judith inquired.
“You’ll see,” Joe said.
“I won’t see anything in this weather,” Judith retorted. “As much as I hate to use the words ‘husbands’ and ‘idiots’ in the same sentence, this is some terrible practical joke, or else…” She left the rest unspoken.
It had grown dark. Joe rolled down the window. “Smell the sea?”
“I smell a rat,” Judith muttered, she sniffing at the air.
Joe began to slow down, obeying the road signs giving the legal speed not in miles, but kilometers. “We’re getting close.”
“I’m starved,” Renie declared.
Moments later, lights glowed through the mist. “The village,” Joe said. “St. Fergna.”
“Who?” Judith asked.
“Fergna the White,” Joe replied. “A seventh-century abbot.”
“Who was Fergna the Black?” Judith asked dryly. “Or maybe Fergna the Black-and-Blue?”
“Fergna better have started a restaurant,” Renie grumbled.
From what Judith could see of the village, it was small and probably had a certain charm if it hadn’t been shrouded in mist. She spotted a half-dozen people on the winding cobbled streets. But Joe didn’t stop. He kept going seaward until they were on a steep dirt road.
“We aren’t there yet?” Renie demanded.
Joe stopped the car on the flat sands. A thick fog hid everything but their immediate surroundings. She knew they were near the North Sea. Not only could she smell it, but she could also hear the surf.
“Didn’t I promise you beach with a water view?” Joe asked.
Judith stared at him. “We’re camping?” Her tone wasn’t pleasant.
“No,” he replied. “Just wait.” He sat behind the wheel, hands folded on his slight paunch. After a few minutes, a light glowed in the fog. Joe flashed the headlamps. “Here’s the ferryman.”
“The ferryman?” Judith asked, aghast. “We’re going to an island?”
“Not quite,” Joe said. “Only when the tide’s in.”
Judith saw an elderly man approach carrying a lantern. He wore a peacoat, dark pants, and heavy boots. A fisherman’s cap covered most of his longish white hair.
“Gibbs here,” he said with a Highland accent. “Ye be Flynn?”
“Yes,” Joe replied. “Flynn and Jones.”
Gibbs peered inside the car, gazing with sea blue eyes at Judith and Renie. “These be your ladies?”
“Yes,” Joe repeated. “Mrs. Flynn and Mrs. Jones.”
“Come along,” Gibbs said.
Judith stepped out onto the wet sand and sank about half an inch. “I’m stuck,” she informed Joe. “Help me.” She refrained from adding, “Before I kill you.”
Renie disdained any assistance, her shoes squelching in the sand as she tromped toward a small skiff about ten yards away from the car. She swore several of her father’s favorites oaths along the way.
“Ah,” Gibbs said softly. “She be a rough ’un. Sounds like a sailor.”
“It’s hereditary,” Bill said.
Joe took Judith’s arm. She refused to look at him. When she was settled into the small craft, the wind changed and the fog began to roll out to sea. While Gibbs plied the oars, Judith could make out a rock formation with craggy, sheer cliffs. Her heart sank. She was sure they were going to stay in a lighthouse. With any luck, maybe the boat would sink, too.
Gibbs, who seemed very strong for his age, rowed the little group to the bottom of the rocks in less than five minutes. “Up ye go,” he said.
Joe helped Judith get out of the skiff and onto flat granite stones set in the sandy ground. “How,” she asked pointedly, “do we get up?”
“We follow these stones,” Joe said in a reasonable tone. “Look. There’s the lift.”
The elevator was an iron-grilled cage on cables that seemed to disappear into the clouds. Judith stared—and shuddered. “Is it safe?”
“Gibbs came down in it,” Joe said. “So now we go up in it.”
Renie was balking. “No way. I’ll sleep on the beach.”
“Move it,” ordered Bill, giving his wife a push. “Let’s go, let’s hit it, let’s boppin’, let’s—”