Mhairi pulled her fleece up around her ears.  The wind from the sea blew cold and wet, seeping through her clothes and chilling her legs and arms.  She hurried along the front towrds the surgery.  Hellen was ready to leave by the time she got there, coat on, bag in hand.  Itching to run.  "Mrs Wilkinson cancelled her three o'clock and two more phoned in for the open surgery.  I wrote in in the book though.  See you tomorrow."  She, slaming the door twice before it caught on the latch.  "Yea, bye then Hellen" Mhairi muttered to her self.  There were four people in the waiting room, reading the months out of date Reader's Digests and Farmer's Weeklies.  She removed her fleece and drapped it over the back of the chair.  As usual Hellen had cleared the decks before she got there, she was a good egg Hellen.  They had emplyed a junior fresh out of school over the summer.  The idea had been for the Junior to cope with the filing, make cups of tea for everyone and pick up after the patients around the waiting room.  The Surgery had begun to resemble a war zone.  She got under everyone's feet and caused more mess than she ever managed to clean up.  There had been patient files all over the small desk, no one had been entirely confident that people's samples hadn't been mixed up, Mhairi had considered running a book on when they would have to tell some hairy old farmer that he was three months pregnant.  It had taken till October before all the filing was right again.  If they were going to have another Junior next summer then Mhairi would take an extended holiday.  Hell she would go back and work the summer in the prawn packers for the summer if it wasnt for the fact that it too would be full of kids either killing time till university was ready for them and they could make their escape or coming to terms with the fact that they might never have a better job, fretting over faithless boyfriends and missed periods.

The surgery had started life as a two room cottage like most of the other houses down the street.  At some point a loft conversion had added two more rooms upstairs, now used mainly for storage.  The small garden ad been eaten by a large single story extension that now housed the Doctors office, an examining room, the nurses room and a ver basic kitchen.  The nurse covered a large area encompasing sveral local Doctors but ran her surgery here about once a week.  Mhairi had little or no interest in what went on behind those doors, her job was to answer the phone.  She wrote up the apointments in a ledger, made sure that the relevant patient files where available to the doctor for whomever he had to see during her shift, put it all back in the rank of filing cabinates in her office.  She provided Dr Ross with numerous cups of tea and generaly kept the place looking nice.  She hardly noticed who had what, who in the area was about to bear another mewling brat, who recovered, who died.  Unlike Hellen she wasn't interested in the gossip and prattle that seemed to saturate every aspect of life in the village.  She was quite happy to do her job, lock up and go home to...well she could go home to her cat anyway.  This place was a major improvement over working in the packing plant.  There you got cold and wet, the water penetrated your gloves, got under your coverall.  Then there was the smell, it didn't seem to smell that bad while you worked, perhaps it was the chilled environment, perhaps constantly working just distracted you.  Once you got outside though, got home and warmed up, there was nothing quite so unapealing as the smell of stale seafood.  Lachie had always smelled of it.  He had worked in the factory right up until he had left, she made him shower before she would even kiss him hello.  You had to work an eight and a half hour shift plus overtime down there to make what she made here in four.  Not that she was pulling in a great wage or anything but it was enough to pay the rent and the bills.  She had enough to feed the cat and to run to the odd luxury like a book every now and again.  Without moving out of the area or hitting just the right combination of good qualifications and fantastic luck there wasn't realy anyway of doing much more than survive financialy but Mhairi was happy with that.

It was dark by the time she finished.  Dr Ross washed up and drove back accross the hill to his wife and family.  She wasn't sure how old he realy was but she doubted he was younger than fifty.  Mhairi wondered how much longer he would keep the practice, he didn't have an assistant to hand over to.  Perhaps he would sell up to someone new, perhaps the surgery would just close when he retired and everyone would have to drive that little bit further to find someone to listen to their gripes and hand out the pills.  The wind had dropped to nothing and the moon added it's white light to the harsh yellow of the street lamps.  The alarm stopped it's frantic get out quick bleeping as she turned the key in the lock and headed back towards her own nice warm house.  It was too late to catch the shop now, she had enough cat food and could drink tea without milk until tomorrow.  The only alternative would be to take the car down the Newton Stewart road to the garage but she could never remember how late it stayed open or what night it closed early, Mhairi was convinced they opened and closed on a whim.  It wasn't worth the hassle of driving all the way into town and with petrol that would be an expensive pint of mil to say the least.  Two lads loitered by the call box with one bike between them.  Could be the Dixon kids but she wasn't sure.  She had long ago lost touch with who all the children belonged to.  She remembered when she and her friends had hung around that self same call box, playing dare games, hiding in the dark, Jason O'Neil had stuck his hand up her jersey, she had knocked him on his behind and threatened to tell his mother.  Now it was Jason's daughter that wasn't allowed to be out there with the Dixon kids after dark.  Her father was only too aware of the dangers.

The cat snaked around her heels as she searched for her house keys.  He dunted her with his head and chirped.  "oh yea, I'm sure you are starving.  I've seen you with those poor wee mouses.  What happened to presents for you Mum?"  Her house looked identical to the sugery from the front, two dormer windows marking the bedrooms upstairs, the kitchen and living room filling the orgional two downstairs rooms.  Her extension was tiny containing only a small bathroom and a place for boots and shoes.  She had never been any sort of gardener, the patch behind the house was home only to long unkempt grass, now scrubby, yellow and flattend, and one bent and twisted tree.  It was an apple tree and produced blossom every spring but it's fruit was consistantly withered and hard, inedible, not fit even for pigs.  She cleared them with everthing else that died or fell in the garden into a pile in the corner that she liked to pretend was compost.  The cat loved the long grass and the interesting things it hid.  She opened the vents on the cooker, riddled it through and added some anthracite.  She yelled at the cat to get out from under her feet as she carried the hot ash out to the tin bucket by the back door.  It was the only thing she was known to shout at him for, risking a hot coal dropping on his head by loving his mum altogether too actively.

She filled the kettle and put it on the stove fetching down the cups and fullfilling her own tea making ritual.  A tea bag for me, one sugar and a tea bag for...it wasn't that she missed Lachie.  She didn't miss anything about him.  He had soaked the bathroom, dirtied her towels, left dishes and cups to steep in cold greasy water in the sink, started reading a hundred books and left them dogged and broken unfinished all over the house.  He lacked the ability to sit at peace, pacing and wandering through the small house.  Silence had driven him to distraction and he had the radio on whatever he was doing.  He would go out and stand in the garden smoking a joint leaving every door between him and her standing open for maximum draft.  He would prattle on about the girls at work and whatever their latest intregue, expecting a respose at least once per paragraph.  Lachie had driven her to complete distraction and there where few places to run but she couldn't quite come to terms with him not being here.  She rinsed the sugar from his cup and left it to dry on the otherwise empty draining board.

Lachie hadn't called, hadn't felt any need to get in touch, to tell her why.  Just that stupid over written note.  What the hell was it supposed to mean, I'm not me, who the hell did he think he was then?  No.  She refused to get angry with him.  He had got off his arse and done sothing she doubted she would ever have.  She wouldn't have left him, she couldn't have thrown him out either no matter how irratating he had become, it wasn't in her nature.  Her parents where still very much in love after nearly 40 years.  Everyone goes through rough patches darling, her mother had told her.  You should think about starting a family, Lachlan seems realy good with little ones, he'll make a wonderful father.  She didn't want a wonderfull father, she had one of those.  She wanted a quiet life and Lachlan sure as hell wasn't that.

She had first seen him dressed in bright orange waterproofs wearing a stupid little food prep hat.  Tall and well built, obvious even under shapeless coverall.  He had sharp features slightly softened with a few days growth of beard, handsom in a cliched way.  He didn't seem to know it though, there was no confidence to be seen in his manner, he lacked the strut that even the shortest most repulsive young farmers seemed to have.  He didn't say much either, didn't hit on any of the young girls working the line though they whisteled and joshed him.  Mhairi probably wouldn't have looked twice if it hadn't been for his eyes.  Almost as dark as his jet hair their downturned corners spoke saddness and loss to her.  He had the kind of face you wanted to help, one look and you would have given him your last farthing.  She hadn't talked to him then, not for a month or more but she had dreamed those eyes.  She had fallen into them so deep that she doubted she would ever have got out on her own.  By the time they ended up stacking the freezer together that day she felt like she had never wanted anyone so much in her life to that point.

That first day hadn't realy lived up to her expectations, in fact the whole week was a bit of a let down.  The freezer wasn't the best place to talk and lugging boxes around didn't make for the most relaxed mood but Lachlan hadn't been what you would call talkative anyway.  She did find out his name and that he was as she had heard living out of a camper van, this didn't make him some kind of new age traveler though as he had his van on a Caravan Club site complete with toilets, showers and mains electricity.  She felt there might be something there but he was holding it back.  He avoided anything to do with his past and even his present seemed to consist of work, eat, sleep and work again.  Mhairi tired of the one word answers and put his reticence down to lack of wit.  She filed him under pretty vacant and would probably have happily ignored him if it hadn't been for her sister Morag.

Morag worked in the office at the factory, it was her who had persauded Mhairi to take the job.  She had been gratefull, she realy had.  Somewhere along the line Morag had befriended Lachlan.  Lachlan seemed to be having an on and off relationship with one of Morag's friends and had definately joined her group.  Mhairi was four years younger than Morag and though she loved her sister dearly you couldn't really claim they socialised except in the usual sterile family way.  She would see Morag when she came back to the house, they took shopping trips to Ayr in Morag's car, Mhairi  would hide at Morag's house when things got a bit too much at her Mum's house but not what you would call conteporaries.  She still remembered some of Mroag's friends from school, they had had treated Mhairi with the distain you reserve for your friend's baby sister.  She had found them anoying.  Many of the people she had hung around with went off to college and university, only a few ever came back to live localy.

Mhairi had given university a shot.  Her parents had expected her to be the successfull one, they had been happy to fund her accomodation in Glasgow and had quickly come to terms with the fact that she wouldn't be coming back to the family home.  She had lasted eight months.  The course, Art History, had been uninspiring and deeply impractical.  She hadn't got much from the assumed social aspect of going to study in the big city, she had never been big on the drinking herself into a stupor and waking up with some foppish youth scene anyway.  She found living in the city was a noisy, smelly, uncomfortable existance and her last few months had been spent almost exclusivly in her tiny bedsit avoiding going to class and only traveling as far as the corner shop to stock up on coffee and milk.  Mum and Dad had seemed suspiciously keen on her sticking it out, they had offered to help her fund better accomodation, had suggested changing courses, even changing university but eventualy they had relented and Mhairi had come back to live in her old bedroom, in her own house.  She was certain that her parents had put Morag up to getting her the job with the Prwn Packers but she couldn't realy blame them for expecting her to pay her way.  She did however resent the fact that they assumed she might meet a nice lad, get married and start breeding.  Just like her big sister.  She was unapoligetic, it just wasn't in the plan.  Not that she had a plan but she was certain that should she discover one then a cowed husband and screaming kids wouldn't feature in it.

She had always disliked Hazel, Morag's best friend and Lachlans sometimes girlfriend.  It had been Hazel, while they had all been at the High School that had found her diary and made public certain choice passages.  The contents of her diary hadn't stayed amoungst just Morag's friends but had been elaborated on and expanded as they made their way round the suddenly small school.  It was the first time she had ever been the focus of such concentrated attention and it was just about as unpleasent as she could imagine.  She doubted if it had been a big episode in Hazel's life but given half an opportunity Mhairi would have happily pushed her down the stairs.  Hazel didn't work at the factory and the situation never realy arose but it was a comforting fantasy.  She felt the bile rising when she saw Hazel trying flat caps on Lachlan's head at the cattle show, she was certain the sentiment was false.  A week or two later at her Nephew George's birthday party barbeque Hazel was obviously showing him off.  While he talked whiskey and loft conversions with Dave, Hazel held court with Morag's objectionable gaggle of cronies.  Lachlan had that imense advantage of not being local.  The week after that Mhairi decided to take lachlan to lunch.  He had lost much of the shyness, even the way he walked spoke of a new found confidance.  He laughingly complimented her on her hairnet and wellies.  He behaved as if sharing sandwiches with her among the trees at the edge of the car park was the most refined meal you could expect to have.  He had become good company but when she looked at his face you could still see the pain behind the smile.  He gave a good show but she felt certain that that was what it was, a show.

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