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Quaranteam - Hebridean Hame Ch.03
🕑 Added 2025-01-05 23:50:03 +0000 UTC---|I|---
Quaranteam -- Hebridean Hame, Chapter 3
Saturday evening, 26th September 2020
Eilean Arthriagh, Inner Hebrides, Scotland
The hours after Callum and Mira returned to the Lodge were hectic. Alison, Emma, and Catherine asked a barrage of questions. All three were concerned about the lateness of the hour, especially given how dark the island got and how dangerous the coastline pathways could be.
He'd left Mira to answer the various questions while he sorted water and a minimal amount of dry dog food for Karl, placing a handful in a soup bowl. He caught Emma's attention while she listened to Mira give her account of finding Karl and the wreck, quietly asking her to give Karl another handful of food in half an hour, but not too much. Frequent small amounts would be better, or Karl might be sick.
Callum then left the kitchen to make the phone call. He rang 999, selected the option for Coastguard and waited through several messages telling him operators were busy and to please hold the line, interspersed with advice about dealing with Covid and maintaining quarantine regulations. After waiting a few minutes, he got through to an exhausted-sounding call handler.
What followed was a lengthy conversation about what he had seen and where.
The call handler noted what Callum told them before carefully reading it all back. Callum then passed on the 'what3words' locations he had taken, making it clear which one was the shoreline nearest the vessel.
He noted the particular question as to whether the wrecked boat was flying a yellow flag.
Callum stated he was unsure but described the yellow cloth he had seen, which appeared to have been intended as a flag. The call operator sighed before asking Callum questions about how close he had come to the boat, whether he had seen or touched any bodies, and warning him to stay away from the wreck. They seemed relieved when he confirmed he had not been near any casualties - something he had already told them. The call handler had to be following some form of script, suggesting this might be a regular occurrence.
To confirm his suspicions, Callum had asked what the significance of the yellow flag was. The answer came quickly but was spoken sadly. A Yellow Jack means a vessel has sick people on board and is under quarantine. The call handler stated that it was possible that those aboard had been evacuated and the yacht had drifted somehow. But there might also be bodies on board. Someone would be out to check the vessel, but they had no idea when. They reminded Callum to stay away in the meantime.
Only when the call ended did Callum realise that the operator sounded so tired and spoke so monotonously that he couldn't determine whether he had spoken to a man or a woman. His heart went out to all the emergency service staff struggling through the pandemic.
When he returned to the kitchen, Emma had plated some food for him. A steaming bowl of chilli and a mountain of white rice awaited him—Emma knew he loved lots of rice with this meal. The Chilli was only mildly spicy, mainly consisting of beans, chickpeas, and some vegetables she had managed to find for this dish.
"Thanks, Em," he called to her. Suddenly realising how hungry he was, he flopped into the chair and hurriedly ate. It was, as usual, delicious.
The food had so taken his attention that he hadn't noticed Catherine sitting at the opposite corner of the dinner table - daintily holding a cup and saucer, until after he'd made a decent dent in the food. At the same time, he noted the absence of Mira, Alison, and Karl. Skye was curled up on one of the dog beds in the corner, and there was no sign of Piper.
"Alison and Mira have taken Karl for a bath. Somewhere upstairs." Catherine helpfully stated as she watched him look around. "His fur was in such a state, the poor animal, that they decided to try and clean him up a little." From upstairs came a distant howl of laughter followed by various knocks and bangs. "I believe Piper may have gone to 'help'."
Callum nodded his thanks to Catherine, returning to his food.
He grinned at the distant shrieks of the two women as they discovered how little Karl enjoyed a bath and how hard it was to keep an unwilling dog in a slippery tub.
***
Having finished his food, Callum headed upstairs. Loud laughter and voices guided him to one of the smaller bathrooms on the first floor, probably because it had a shower over the bath rather than a separate shower cubicle and a standalone bath, unlike most other bathrooms in the Lodge.
As he approached, he could see water on the floor outside the bathroom - and not an insignificant amount. Popping his head into the open doorway, he quickly pulled himself back with a loud "Crap! Sorry!"
Mira had been kneeling on the floor, wearing trousers but no shirt - only her bra. She held the shower head over the bath while Alison, in panties and a bra, sat at the end of the tub, holding Karl still.
He had seen Emma before in a swimsuit, but this was the first time he had seen the other two in anything other than form-hiding clothing.
He took another step back down the corridor, away from the door - his embarrassment fighting against the thrill of what he had seen. In the room, both girls laughed - presumably at his antics. Suddenly, Piper emerged from the bathroom, pleased as ever to see him - he hadn't even noticed her in the room.
The two nearly naked women had fully taken up his attention.
He had to give himself a shake as his brain refused to move on from what his brief glimpse had revealed. Alison was the taller of the two, but unexpectedly, she had a much slimmer build than Mira. Her skin was pale, and, to his astonishment, she had several delicate but bright watercolour-effect tattoos of wildflowers. One narrow line of flowers was on her right shoulder, below her collarbone. Another line of other wildflowers was visible below her left breast, curving around her side. They were in places hidden by most normal clothing, and she had never mentioned having them.
Even from his brief glimpse, he recognised the art style as hers. She was wearing a dark blue bra and green panties, her breasts small but perfectly sized for her slight build. She had been smiling while she tried to hold Karl still, and the smile hadn't changed when she saw him appear in the doorway. She hadn't seemed bothered by the muddy water from the dog's fur or the splashes of muck covering her torso and face.
Mira's skin tone, on the other hand, was a warm shade of light brown - almost like dark honey. She was shorter than Alison but more filled out - as might be expected for someone at the start of their thirties. Not that she was overweight by any means; he would describe her as healthy-looking. He'd gotten a good look at her elegant long neck atop narrow shoulders as he glanced down at her, mainly because she had her hair tied up. He'd noted she was wearing a dark brown bra which enclosed much larger breasts than Alison's. The bra showed significant cleavage, possibly accentuated by how small Mira was and the act of her holding the shower head up.
If his arm was twisted and he had to guess, he would say Alison wore an A-cup bra very well, while Mira wore a C or D-cup exceptionally well.
Mira had responded to his gasped apology with a laugh. "It's fine, Callum, we've got this sorted. Go down, and we'll do the grand reveal once he's cleaned up."
Making the most of the offered escape, Callum headed back downstairs.
***
Callum was still in the kitchen, giving Skye some idle attention and chatting with Emma and Catherine about Monday's shopping list, when he heard the others come down the stairs - Piper leading the procession, with Mira and Alison, now changed and fully clothed.
Alison carried Karl down, which caused Callum and the other two at the table to laugh. Callum noted that despite her light build, Alison was strong enough to carry the adult dog - although he was lighter than might be expected due to his period of starvation.
After his bath, the ladies had used hairdryers to dry Karl.
The result was the amusing vision of the slight woman carrying a decidedly poofier German Shepherd. Karl posed in Alison's arms like a king addressing his subjects, but as they laughed, he began to look decidedly sheepish. Alison carefully placed him down, and he limped gamely over to Callum, sitting opposite Skye and avoiding eye contact with everyone.
This lasted until Mira sorted another small bowl of dry dog food for him, and then he was at her side.
The decision had been collectively made that Callum should spend the night at the Lodge. Driving back would require focus and concentration that even he wasn't sure he could manage. Alison had arranged one of the spare rooms for him despite his protestations that he could manage himself.
When it came to bedtime, Karl followed Callum. The traitors, Skye and Piper, went with Mira and Alison, respectively, much to Emma's disgust. Catherine had long since bid everyone goodnight and headed home.
Callum couldn't remember the last time he had been so physically and emotionally exhausted. He struggled up the stairs, his legs shaking and aching from the earlier physical exertion. Upon entering the bedroom, he quickly stripped between the door and the bed before collapsing on the mattress and pulling the duvet over himself. Callum was almost asleep when Karl whined at him from beside the bed, sticking his nose into Callum's face. He sighed, got up, helped Karl jump onto the bed, and then collapsed back himself.
***
Sunday, 27th September 2020
Eilean Arthriagh, Inner Hebrides, Scotland
Callum woke with a groan - early morning autumn sunlight shone through the windows, the light falling squarely on his face. The room had been so dark when they came to bed last night, and he'd been so exhausted that he'd forgotten to draw the curtains. He squinted as he looked around the familiar yet unfamiliar room, shielding his eyes with an outstretched palm. He was tempted to bury his head under a pillow but was already too warm.
He'd been in this room several times but had never slept in it. The larger-than-double bed should have given him plenty of room, but he was perched on the edge of the mattress, with a small corner of the duvet only covering his chest and legs.
Beside him, Karl sprawled out diagonally across most of the bed. He lay on top of the duvet with the back of his head and shoulders pressed against Callum. One of his ears twitched in Callum's direction, indicating the dog was awake.
"How are you doing this morning?" Callum asked as he reached over to ruffle the fur on Karl's head and scratch his ears. Karl's tail thumped lightly against the bed at the attention.
Callum started to get up. He had no idea what time it was, but the house was silent. Early, he guessed.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, he used his foot to pull yesterday's clothes closer. He checked his phone, which he had dug out of his trouser pocket, but it wouldn't turn on. 'Fuck' he thought, realising he hadn't thought to ask for a charger.
Callum sighed and contemplated a shower but realised he'd be putting dirty clothes back on afterwards. It was better to wait 'til he got back to the house. As he yawned and rubbed a hand through his hair, he thought about the previous day's escapades - and wondered what today would bring.
Standing from the bed and stretching, he looked down on the now much less fluffy Karl. It struck him that he had no idea about Karl's routine, diet or family life. They would have to learn to fit together somehow, along with Piper and Skye.
Although... he was potentially falsely assuming Karl was his now, which wasn't necessarily the case. Given the lockdown, they likely would be together for a while. But it was also possible that his owners had been evacuated to a hospital for treatment and would want their dog back. Remembering the number on Karl's collar, Callum intended to give it a ring later.
For now, Karl remained spread out on the bed, only his tail, ears and eyes moving as Callum got organised to head downstairs. It had been hard to put an age on the dog yesterday, but today, cleaned up and rested, Karl didn't look much older than Piper - possibly around two or three years old. They discovered he was well trained, quickly responding to most standard commands. Even during the bath the previous night, he followed the lady's commands despite his initial attempts to escape.
Taking advantage of Karl's relaxed state, Callum moved around the bed to try and get a better look at the injured leg. Karl seemed happy to let him look but whined loudly when he attempted to touch it gently. Finding a vet was likely to be today's primary task.
Turning away, Callum pulled his trousers on and found himself standing in front of the room's full-length mirror. The bright copper hair he'd been born with had lost some of its colour over the years, darkening to a mid-auburn shade. He'd last had it cut by Mira a fortnight ago and already needed another trim. She would never take it as short as Callum wanted, always leaving too much on top. His darker auburn beard remained short as he maintained it himself. Having previously let it grow out, it had proven a nuisance in the summer, so he cropped it back.
Strands of grey hair had also started appearing, mainly in his beard, which gave him another reason to keep it short. Leaving those for too long earlier in the year when his beard was grown out had been partly responsible for the 'grandad' nickname.
Above his beard, his face looked much more weatherbeaten now than when he first arrived on the island last year. He'd lost weight despite Emma's cooking. That had been apparent when he'd had to buy new clothes over the summer. He hadn't weighed himself in years but could feel a difference since last winter. Having arrived on the island as a former office worker who had spent a few too many years sitting around, he'd lost the start of the gut that had been developing and now had what he would describe as a healthy 'dad bod'. He was probably fitter now than he had been as a teenager. In a relaxed pose, he had no visible arm muscles; there was some tone in his upper arms if he self-consciously tried to strike a pose - the result of all the days spent cutting wood, shifting logs and undertaking other manual tasks around the island.
If he had to pick one feature about himself he disliked, it would have been his height. Not that he was particularly short, standing at 5'10", he was two inches taller than the Scottish average for men. But he believed his height had affected his relationship with Sarah. As a teenager, he'd fervently believed that she would have stayed with him if he had been taller. That one incident had led to him becoming somewhat self-aware of his height - and it hadn't helped when many of his school friends had grown taller than him.
Later, once he had the wisdom of age, Callum realised that if his height had been the issue, the problem was with Sarah, not him.
He'd overcome his shyness when he reached university, gaining some of the confidence Sarah seemed to find attractive. Not for her, but because he had to. At the same time, he had become much more comfortable with his physical appearance. His height became a negative only really in relation to Sarah, and as their lives eventually drifted apart, he'd spent less time thinking about it.
He finished putting on his clothes and then helped Karl out of bed before taking him downstairs for breakfast.
***
After letting Karl out of the house into the brisk morning air - and keeping an eye on him to make sure he returned when called, Callum filled and switched on the kettle and then started to search for breakfast. The kitchen clock showed it was just before 8 am.
Having returned to the Lodge without any problem, Karl wolfed down the small portion of food Callum had set out before finding Skye's spot from the previous night.
Searching through the cupboards, it was apparent to Callum that the ladies were in much the same state shopping-wise as he was, with few breakfast options to hand. He did find a sizeable half-full sack of Scottish oats, so he decided on porridge.
He'd just popped some oats, water, and salt in a suitable pan and tried to figure out how to get the electric hob on the AGA working when he heard someone descending the stairs. No dogs accompanied them, so Callum automatically cringed slightly as he turned to the door, knowing who to expect.
He'd been caught red-handed.
Emma appeared in the doorway, stopping to lean casually on the doorframe with a hand on her hip. She wore the same silky nightdress, though thankfully with shorts.
While it had been an attractive garment in a darkened room, in the light of day, it was apparent how the material clung to her body - and that she wasn't wearing a bra this morning either. The sight of Emma in that item of clothing after their encounter on the sofa caused Callum an immediate physical reaction. Despite being fully dressed, he was thankful the kitchen island blocked his lower body from her view.
"Good morning!" she offered brightly before her smile turned ever so sharp. "Now, I know you're not messing with my kitchen! You have more sense than that!"
"Morning Em, sorry - I thought it would be a nice surprise for you to have someone else make your breakfast."
She quirked her lips disbelievingly but gave him a small smile before sashaying across the kitchen, her hips swaying. She stopped at the kitchen island opposite him, leaning forward on her elbows, arms crossed. The view of the cleavage she was deliberately presenting him was spectacular.
"Ok then, let's see what you've got. I'll watch from here - and supervise." There was a definite gleam of mischief in her eye.
Callum attempted to play it cool, keeping his eyes on her face - or at least above her neckline. She seemed amused by his attempts not to let his eyes wander to the soft, smooth flesh she deliberately showed off. Not that his efforts were particularly successful - the view was truly spectacular.
She raised an eyebrow at him.
"Well, are you going to stand there and enjoy the view all morning, or am I going to get some breakfast cooked for me?"
"Oui, Chef!" he barked, immediately tearing his eyes from her and returning to the cooker, which caused Emma to chuckle. With a few directions from her, he got the cooker working. Then, it was just a simple matter of getting the pan on the stove.
Over his shoulder, he queried, "It would have been better had the oats soaked overnight, but I'll do what I can. Do we have a spurtle?"
Emma looked at him in appreciation and walked over to one of the kitchen drawers on his side of the kitchen island. She removed a 10-inch-long, 1-inch-diameter rounded piece of round wood topped by a carved thistle. She moved beside him, bumping his hip with hers and handing him the stirring implement.
"I'm impressed at the traditional approach. Do you know the rules?" She examined the pot's contents. He could tell she was fighting the urge to take over, even with this simple recipe.
"Oui, Chef," Callum replied. "Stir with the right hand clockwise only, else the devil will turn up and bring bad luck." The last part was said with an exaggerated highland accent. Callum paused for effect, continuing in the same accent. "Don't worry, my right arm is the strong one." He gave her an exaggerated wink.
Emma let out a small laugh.
She remained beside him, watching him stir. After a few seconds, she turned to face him and leant in. She placed one hand on his lower back, and using her other, she delicately trailed her fingertips from his shoulder to elbow, which was now pressed against - no, between - her breasts. Her hand held his arm against her warm body.
She paused momentarily, checking his reaction, obviously more wary this time. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as he stirred the porridge.
"What?" he asked with a slight grin, repeating some of their conversation from the other night and letting her know he was currently consenting to whatever she was planning. Panic at her closeness had started to bubble up but came along with excitement - the knowledge of why he might be having a worried reaction was now a little more apparent.
Taking his response as permission, Emma stood slightly on her tiptoes and leaned into him until her lips almost touched his ear.
"Your right hand had no problem gripping and stirring me the other night..." She whispered breathily, swaying so his arm pressed against her breast bone, and he could feel her heavy breasts rubbing on his skin.
He turned his head slightly towards her. The two of them shared a look. Had things been a little different, he'd have moved to kiss her - and then fuck her hard over the kitchen island. Emma was one sexy woman - her smell, that little knowing smile, and the bold glint in her eye were enough to drive him crazy. Or at least, they would have been enough if things weren't more complicated.
But now he was properly aware of how much trouble any sexual connection between him and any one of the women would cause the others. So, instead of allowing things to escalate further, he went with the other, safer option—deflection with humour.
Jokingly, he responded with a wink and a cheeky smirk. "From that picture you sent me afterwards, it looked like you did some decent stirring on your own."
Emma briefly raised her eyebrow again, noticing his swerve but acknowledging it was done tactfully. She took half a step back from him, her hand leaving his arm and going to her hip as her stance changed. Her hand on his back also dropped away.
The two of them shared another look. Emma looked quizzical, and Callum shrugged slightly, deliberately making his body language appear apologetic before sticking his tongue out at her.
They both laughed at the same time before Emma moved past him and smacked his bum hard.
She returned to her previous spot on the island, presenting a more modest view this time. Just as she did so, movement came from upstairs, followed by Piper noisily descending - heading straight towards the door to the garden. Emma hurriedly left the kitchen to let the desperate Piper out just as Alison entered.
Callum turned to smile at the newest arrival, making sure she could see his lips and calling, "Good morning, trouble!"
Catching sight of her, he did a double-take. She was displaying much more flesh than usual. Gone were her usually baggy and frumpy-looking pyjamas. She had also taken up something of a pose, leaning on the kitchen door frame.
Alison was wearing a light grey crop top with thin shoulder straps that exposed her midriff and shoulders - the grey's plainness contrasted nicely with the brightness of her two visible tattoos on her pale skin. The lack of straps and the bumps of her nipples poking through the thin material made it apparent she had no bra on. A pair of light green and grey shorts - very short shorts - completed her outfit. She looked like a sportswear model, her hair up off her shoulders in an unusual style.
She took a few tentative steps into the kitchen and deliberately extended her arms upwards before she returned his greeting mid-stretch. The movement clearly intended to showcase her body, with an arched back, slightly crossed legs and interlaced fingers pushing up to the ceiling as she stood on tiptoes. He noticed that even braless, her small but shapely breasts remained pert under her top. Her cheery "Mornin'" seemed drawn out due to this movement, which also caused the light crop top she was wearing to lift slightly, exposing her modest underboob.
As she moved to sort herself a hot drink, Callum could more clearly see the tattoo below her collarbone and how both tattoos curled around her back.
From her position at the kitchen worktop, Alison glanced back at him. With a slight blush, she deliberately dropped her teaspoon on the floor with an 'oops' while maintaining eye contact. She then turned her back on him and bent down at the waist to pick it up, presenting her very tidy posterior towards him—a posterior that was currently filling out and stretching those tiny shorts, not leaving much to the imagination.
He hurriedly turned back as she rose with the spoon in her hand, catching her glancing over at him in his peripheral vision. He could feel his ears warming at his blush. This open display of flirtation wasn't something he'd come to expect from Alison. Emma, certainly, but not this previously quiet and shy woman who was now doing her best to get a rise - literally and physically - out of him.
In all the months Callum had been around the ladies, either in the mornings or late in the evenings, he had only ever seen them wearing baggy pyjamas or jogging bottoms and fleece tops - generally with a dressing gown as well. Other than the recent notable occasion with Emma, of course. What was happening now was unusual in the extreme. The only plausible explanation was that they were messing with him.
Having sorted herself some tea, Alison checked what was on the stove while giving him a side hug. This one lasted slightly longer than usual, with her hand slightly lower than expected, almost cupping his bum. In amusement, he slowly shook his head as he stirred the thickening porridge before throwing her a mock scandalised look. She replied with a wink and an extremely cheeky smile before she moved to the kitchen table.
Emma returned with a far calmer Piper, the dog making a beeline for Callum, her tail swishing quickly as she bounced around him - as if missing him for a night hadn't been her choice. Emma returned to her previous spot, watching him as breakfast neared completion.
With a far quieter descent than Alison and Piper, it was Mira and Skye's turn to arrive. Skye headed to Callum before seeking the garden but behaved similarly to Piper - acting as if he had been gone for weeks.
Mira stopped in the doorway, saying "Good morning" to the room before twirling once all eyes were on her. Alison grinned at her and gave a small 'golf clap' while Emma rolled her eyes and glanced at him, muttering about the game being given away while checking his reaction.
Callum had turned to say good morning, then stopped stirring as his eyes fell on Mira.
Emma sighed, stepping around the kitchen island and using a single finger to push Callum's lower jaw up. This caused him to blink a few times before returning Mira's "Good Morning."
Mira was barefoot and wearing a distinctly Indian subcontinent-style garment, either Indian or Pakistani, looking both modest and sexy. And this was made all the more attractive by Mira's long black hair, which had been done in a 'it's morning, and I've just been fucked' style.
Her dark green top had short sleeves, but the material was sheer from her elbow to her shoulders, showing her skin underneath. From her shoulders to just below her breasts was a thicker, luxurious-looking dark green silky material, which showed a tasteful but significant amount of cleavage and hinted at greater things. The almost transparent material returned where a bra band would sit, hanging loosely over her midriff to the top of her thighs. Two large slits ran up the sides to just above her hips. The whole garment was covered in golden embroidery, focusing attention on her cleavage and shoulders.. Baggy silk trousers, which sat low on her hips and ended at her knee, completed the outfit.
The whole effect was that of some form of classy but slutty harem member. He was sure he would be in trouble if he made that comparison out loud. Mira's outfit was conservative but suggestive at the same time, her hair adding to the look.
Watching her enter the room, slightly shyly despite her earlier twirl, he couldn't help but ponder the stupidity of the man who had let her go.
As he returned to the now slightly overcooked porridge, he shook his head and announced, "Outstanding, ladies. You all get five stars for effort."
Despite their best efforts over breakfast, he refused to be drawn on any form of ranking. He might have been oblivious sometimes, but he knew a trap when he saw one. The ladies thought the whole escapade had been hilarious, if only for the look on his face. Emma declared his porridge as being 'passable', and the others had no qualms in rating it.
***
After breakfast, Callum returned to the house with all three dogs, grabbed a quick shower and change of clothes, and dug out Rory's contact book, spending several hours trying different phone numbers. Most of the morning was occupied by searching for a vet.
When the Buchanans first moved to Eilean Arthriagh, they quickly realised that the community operated mainly on a 'who you know' basis and that the local economy was as favour-based as monetary. This led to Rory keeping this little book of 'who's who', noting those people he had met or had dealings with in the past, along with contact details and notes on what they did, could help with, and might need.
Before deciphering Rory's handwriting, Callum's first thought was to look up 'local' vet numbers online. However, he fully recognised that the definition of 'local' became somewhat flexible when you lived in the arse-end of nowhere. These initial attempts were a bust. None of the numbers found online led to anything - either an automated message stating the business was shut down due to lockdown or just no answer. He then checked Rory's book, but finding no vets listed, he tried some of the local farmers.
This was slow going, with phone numbers no longer in service or ringing out. At least twice, a phone was answered and then immediately hung up.
He puzzled over those calls before remembering that the West Highlands had many 'Wee Frees' - members of the Free Presbyterian Church of Scotland and its offshoots. Followers of those extremely Calvinist faiths took Sundays very seriously, with no work, play, or any other activity that might interrupt Bible study on the Sabbath.
Rory had often joked that the 'Wee Free's' would put the Taliban to shame when it came to religious laws. There was no dancing as it was too much like sex standing up. There is no music in church, as the instruments might be worshipped as idols, and the bible requires only singing. There were no coffins in church during funerals - in case these were worshipped as idols. Just hours worth of the surviving family being preached to about hellfire and damnation while trying to deal with their grief. Rory had recounted stories from his youth of the local churchmen closing down playparks and tying up swings so that kids couldn't play out on a Sunday.
Some areas of the highlands and islands still had tiny clusters of these people. Thankfully, the popularity of this faith has declined significantly over the years.
Eventually, Callum managed to find someone willing to answer the phone. An old farmer Rory had previously dealt with. This gruff-sounding man, with a broad highland accent, proved challenging to engage in conversation. He'd briefly denied knowing Rory until Callum had mentioned Eilean Arthriagh. The island's name seemed to jog his memory, making him slightly more helpful. He'd expressed his sadness when hearing of Rory's passing and eventually provided a phone number for a vet he had used recently for his livestock.
A call to that number did result in Callum speaking with a vet. Unfortunately, the vet couldn't help—the Scottish Government had mandated qualified vets focus on caring for farm animals during the pandemic, and there were concerns over the food supply. However, he was able to provide a number for a 'young trainee' who he had heard was looking after people's pets.
He immediately tried the landline number provided, sitting his mobile on the kitchen counter while he searched for something worthy of being called lunch. He struggled to find anything other than some dubious cheese and out-of-date oatcakes. When the outgoing call rang five times without being answered, he was ready to hang up and try a different approach.
However, as he reached to end the call, he heard the rattle and click of someone answering a very old-fashioned telephone—the type that had been common in the 1970s.
"Hello?" The voice on the other end of the call seemed to quiver slightly as if expecting bad news. They also gasped for air as if out of breath. In the background, Callum could hear multiple dogs barking. The sound faded as there was the squeak of a door closing.
"Hi there, I hope I've got the right number. I found a dog and was told you might be able to help me..."
The woman cut him off, sounding resolute but with that same quiver. "I'm sorry, I really can't take any more in. I've already got too many here, and I'm..." Her Geordie accent grew stronger as she got more worked up. "I'm really struggling, and I appreciate you might not want to look after someone else's dog, but you can't just expect me to keep taking more and more! I'm getting to the point where I might have to... you know... euthanise some of the older ones." Her voice cracked with emotion as she finished her mini-rant.
Callum took the opportunity provided by her momentary pause to correct her assumption before she could start again. "No! No, sorry. I'm not looking to get rid of the dog. He's been injured, and I was told you might be able to take a look at him."
The silence continued for a few seconds. Only the sound of her breathing and the distant barking of dogs could be heard. "Oh, I see. I'm sorry. I mean, I'm sorry I jumped to a conclusion, not that I'm sorry I can't help. It's just recently all I've had are calls from people wanting me to look after dogs and cats. I think I can help, possibly. I'm not fully qualified, but can do most things short of major surgery. What type of injury is it? What kind of dog?"
Callum let out a quiet sigh of relief while raising an eyebrow at the fast-paced Northern English accent and the stream of consciousness he'd just been exposed to so far during the call. "His name is Karl. He's a German Shepherd and has hurt one of his front legs, but I don't know how he did it. He was limping when we found him and is unwilling to let us touch it."
"Oh, the poor boy. Do you know how long ago he was injured?" Callum was touched by the genuine sympathy for Karl that her tone expressed.
"No idea, sorry. We found him yesterday, and I guess he's been alone for a week or so. He was half starved, so we've been feeding him little and often."
It was her turn to sigh. "Well, I can certainly have a look at him. I'm afraid if it's been broken for a while, he could need surgery to make sure the bone was set correctly. There might not be much I can do. I'm not qualified and don't have the equipment to do much. That's not to say it is a break. It could be a sprain, something stuck in his paw, or another injury. But I can check him out if you can bring him."
"Where are you based?" He'd immediately responded, realising he knew very little about this woman. She rattled off an address, describing it as just outside Kinlocheil. That put her just under an hour's drive from them.
Callum quickly pulled up the app on his phone, which he used to track the tide times. He had missed low tide this morning, and the next wasn't until almost midnight. "Damn," Callum muttered quietly to himself. He focused on Karl, who was lying on the kitchen floor, and in the same low voice, said, "Looks like we're going over the water, Karl."
Turning back to the phone, Callum scrubbed a hand through his hair, quickly checking the weather outside through the kitchen window. "I should be able to make it to you by around half two this afternoon. Does that work?
"That's fine. It's not like I can go anywhere. Errr... so are you okay with doing this at a distance? I'll be masked up and everything, but I'd rather we kept to the quarantine rules."
"That's not a problem." Callum was pleased she'd brought it up. "I've got a whole getup with a mask and a face shield." A thought suddenly occurred to him as he looked at Karl. "I don't suppose you know if dogs can..."
She cut him off, pre-empting the rest of his question. "I think so, for Covid at least, but you could tell if he was sick with Covid. I think. What I've read suggests pets can catch it. I mean Covid. Or they can transfer it if contamination gets on their fur and then spreads to other surfaces. Or to hands. But I think you should be fine if he were alone for a week before you found him. I think. Probably. Make sure you wash your hands any time you touch him, and don't let him lick your face. It'd also be worth bathing him, but watch for the water spray."
Callum shook his head at not previously considering whether Karl might be contagious. It was too late now, he thought; all of them had been in close contact with Karl since his arrival. He mentally kicked himself for not considering it possible when he discovered the yellow jack's meaning.
In those moments of silence, he could hear the dogs barking distantly in the call's background.
"Ok, thanks. It's something I should have thought about yesterday, I suppose. I'll see you this afternoon. Oh, I'm Callum, by the way."
"Ah, yes, names. Hi Callum. I'm Nicole."
There was another awkward silence, as the conversation hadn't come to a natural close, and each waited on the other to end it.
"Oh, Callum," Nicole said over him just as he was about to say goodbye. They had another moment of speaking over each other, telling the other to speak first - before Callum realised he'd be best just shutting up.
"I don't mean to be rude, but I've got a lot of mouths to feed here. Do you have any dog food spare? I'll happily take that instead of money... you know, instead of charging for... er... treating him." She sounded nervous at this. Having no idea what she looked like, Callum envisioned her chewing her fingernails as she'd made this request.
"I'm going shopping tomorrow, so I have some I can spare. Just dry stuff, if that's ok?"
Her relief was evident in her voice as she replied. Callum couldn't tell whether it was because he had dog food or hadn't gotten upset at her expecting payment.
"That's fine - thank you. I'll look out for you this afternoon. Bye!" Click
"Bye," Callum said to a now disconnected line.
***
It was closer to four PM before Callum and Karl arrived at the address Nicole had provided.
Having taken Karl via rowboat across the narrow channel separating the island from the mainland, he'd discovered his parked-up older model Skoda Octavia Estate had barely any battery and at least one slightly flat tyre. The car had sat for several weeks without any maintenance or running. Callum had cursed both himself and the car loudly. The only silver lining was that he had discovered this today and not the following morning when he had shopping to collect.
Leaving Karl tied to a suitable fence post, Callum rowed back to the island and walked the half a mile back to the house to fetch a jump starter kit and electric tyre pump from the workshop. Having ensured the battery of the starter kit was charged, he headed back to the rowboat and over to the mainland, where he'd spent a while getting the car to start and then fixing the tyre pressure issue.
He'd gotten Karl into the car, put his own seatbelt on and then remembered about the dog food. His loud 'Fuck' echoed slightly off the surrounding hills.
After a total of five trips back and forth, he was well and truly sore from the rowing. There were better ways to spend what should have been a lazy Sunday, he thought as he navigated the narrow track to the main road.
Thankfully, the lack of traffic had allowed him to make up some of the lost time, and once the car was running, it seemed fine. Just in case, the battery pack was recharging while he was driving. He was almost halfway to Nicole's when he realised there wasn't merely an unusual lack of traffic but a total absence of other cars. He eventually spotted some tractors working in the distance, but not coming across any other traffic was extraordinary, even for a Sunday.
Eventually, he pulled up to Nicole's, which was a short distance back from the road. The house was an old 'but and ben' style cottage, a single floor with an attached outbuilding and a scattering of sheds. A wooden fence, reinforced with chicken wire, surrounded the property and included a wide wooden gate.
Callum carefully donned his makeshift PPE, including a good-quality mask he'd found in the workshop—designed more for dealing with sawdust and paint particles than anything biological. He also had a pair of enclosed safety goggles and, over that, a full chainsaw safety helmet with a drop-down full-face visor. He'd also donned a set of disposable gloves.
Leaving Karl in the car and feeling warm even from the short walk up to the gate, he examined the latch before frantic barking proceeded a large pack of all shapes and sizes of dogs which surged around the corner. Most of the dogs seemed to be barking at him or at other dogs who were barking. Some looked happy to see a visitor. Some looked ready to kill him. He stepped back as several larger dogs stood on their hind legs and tried to reach him over the gate - with the same mix of friendly and unfriendly animals.
There was a barely audible whistle that made Callum's eardrums itch. The pack calmed down enough that only the dedicated ones were barking at Callum, and the majority of the pack moved towards the waifish figure wearing oversized Wellington boots, a yellow unfastened raincoat, and what appeared to be a homemade face mask, who had just appeared around the corner.
The figure gave a little wave, which he returned and stopped about three metres away. Callum was surprised to see non-European brown eyes peering at him over her mask. She looked caucasian, with maybe a slightly better light tan than most locals would have. Her dark brown hair was tied back and up, but thin whisps framed her face. He was struck by how young she looked.
Callum tried an initial hello, but the sound of the dogs drowned it out. Raising his voice, he tried again. "Hi, Nicole. I'm sorry we're late. I had some car trouble. I'm Callum."
While he couldn't see her mouth due to the facemask, her eyes looked like she was smiling. "Hi, Callum. No trouble. I wasn't sure how far away you were." She looked over his shoulder at his car, where Karl sat in the front passenger seat staring out the windshield. "That must be the patient? If you can bring him to the front door, I'll get him in once you've stepped back. I'll take him into the front room, and you can watch through the window." She gestured to her left, where a path left the driveway leading to the house's front door.
He nodded and returned to the car while Nicole headed around the house, with most of the dogs following her. Callum's return with the limping Karl caused another reaction as the pack raced back to the gate, and the barking started again in earnest.
Leading Karl to the front doorstep, Callum instructed him to sit and backed away.
Once he'd retreated a few metres, the front door opened, and Nicole went through the motions of letting Karl sniff her, giving him a treat and some fuss, and then picking up his lead and taking him inside.
Callum shifted so he could watch through the living room window as Nicole worked. Despite being called a trainee, she seemed remarkably sure of herself. She carefully muzzled Karl before lifting him up to lay on a table.
Nicole then carefully examined Karl from tail to nose, checked the injured leg and took an X-ray using a portable machine. Appearing satisfied, she applied a splint to the leg, Karl pressing the muzzle against her hand is displeasure. Shortly later, she brought Karl to the door, where he hobbled quickly over to Callum.
"As far as I can see, he's got a low-grade sprain. I don't think he'll need surgery, but.." She shrugged. "Keep the splint on during the day. Try not to let him chew it."
She dug a packet of pills from her pocket. "I'm afraid I've not much I can give you medication-wise. Use these sparingly. They're anti-inflammatories, one a day. You might be able to find somewhere online that has them in stock, but when it became hard to get human medicines, the nut jobs started on the animal ones. The name is on the packet."
She tossed the pack to Callum.
He caught it neatly. "Thank's. I'm glad it's nothing more serious. I've got a sack and a half of dry dog food in the car for you. It looks like you need it. Let me know how much I owe you, and I can transfer it." Callum reached down and fussed with Karl's ears.
"The food will be enough. There wasn't much needed treatment-wise. Really I'm grateful for what you've brought. It's a constant struggle to keep them all fed."
Callum glanced back at the pack still gathered around the gate, the barking having tailed off slightly. Karl stood facing the other dogs, his ears up and alert. He then shifted to place himself between the gate and Callum.
"How did you end up with them all?" Callum asked as he turned back to her. The pack comprised many breeds: big dogs, small dogs, working dogs, and pets.
She sighed. Hard enough, Callum could hear it even at the distance they stood apart. "It started months ago, just after lockdown. My boyfriend was a paramedic, and he was attending calls where people needed to go to the hospital but had no one to look after the pets. I started volunteering to take them in while the owners were in hospital. I've got an outbuilding full of cats as well."
Callum glanced again at the number of dogs, which was easily more than thirty.
"And you've ended up with all these?" He gave a half laugh. "I bet you'll be glad when they get picked up again."
She shook her head sadly. "No one's ever come for them."
He frowned. "Is your boyfriend able to check on any of the patients. He must have some idea where he collected them from?"
Nicole shook her head again, her expressive eyes blinking as she looked away from him and focused down the driveway instead. "He died. A couple of months back, it was in the middle of May. He'd moved into temporary accommodation in Fort William that they had opened for NHS staff. He was afraid to pass anything on to me if he came home after his shift. This is his house." She gestured at the cottage. "He called me one night with a cough and looked scared. More scared than I've ever seen anyone be. His good night and 'I love you' seemed a bit final. Then I was told he was in a hospital ward, then that he'd died." She raised the sleeve of her yellow raincoat to wipe her eyes. "But the animals keep coming. Police or Paramedics. Sometimes, the coroner's van. Sometimes, whoever comes just puts the animal over the gate, and sometimes, they ring the door."
"Shit." Was all Callum could muster. "Can I help with anything? You ok for food and stuff?"
She glanced back at him, looking surprised. "I'm, well, I'm ok. I always need things for the animals. Dog and cat food." There was a hitch in her voice, and she shifted her position. "Flea and tick treatments, poo bags, even toys. Anything you have spare."
Callum noticed that she had flinched slightly at the mention of food and moved to press her hand to her stomach. He felt his heart sink as he glanced again at the dogs. "Just a sec, " he told her.
Taking a few more steps away from her, he removed the various items of PPE from his head and face. Once his face was exposed fully to the cool air, he looked back at her with what he hoped was a friendly smile. He knew lying to someone's face was more challenging than a masked-up stranger.
"When did you last eat anything, Nicole?"
Nicole stood frozen, staring at him with what he assumed was a shocked expression under her mask, given the sudden lifting of her eyebrows. He had no idea when she had last seen a person with no mask in the flesh.
"I'm snacking." She managed after a pause. "Biscuits, crackers and... and things."
Callum raised his eyebrows and tilted his head slightly at her, clearly stating with his body language that he knew she wasn't telling the truth.
"When was the last time you had a meal? I get the impression you're struggling to feed the dogs, and you don't strike me as the kind of person who would put your welfare above the animals under your care."
She seemed to shrink slightly as her shoulders dipped. "I came up here as soon as we knew lockdown was inevitable. The university courses either went online or were going that way. Tony was the one working. He was paying all the bills, and I just had what was in my bank account for any bits I needed. I've been waiting for someone to kick me out for months, I've no idea if the bills are still being paid." She wiped her eyes again, but her voice remained steady. "I've been trying to eke out my student loan, but that's meant I've had to decide between feeding myself or trying to feed the animals. Most of the shopping I do is for pet food."
Callum nodded, frowning at Nicole's situation. After giving her a moment to compose herself, he continued, "Do you know sign language?"
She shook her head. In response, he crossed his arms in front of his chest and squeezed himself gently. "I've got a friend who uses it, and I've been learning over lockdown. This sign is the one for 'hug'. You look like you could use one."
She wiped her eyes again and copied the gesture. "Thanks, Callum. It has been lonely, though they," she gestured at the dogs, who had calmed down, "keep me busy."
He nodded, then stood up straight. "Right," Callum said, adopting his much-practiced professional persona. "First things first, the dog food is a donation. Do you have a mobile phone?"
She nodded, pulling an old beat-up iPhone from her pocket. He called out his number to her.
"Good. Now text me your bank details, and I'll pay you for helping Karl. I think £100 is fair."
Nicole made to interrupt, but he held his hand up in a 'stop' gesture.
"£200. Every time you argue, I'll put it up. I've two other dogs at home, Skye and Piper. They've not had any checkups in a while. If you can do that, I'll also bring them one day. Next up, do you have any allergies? Vegetarian? Vegan?"
She shook her head, apparently too startled at the direction of the conversations to speak.
"Right, tomorrow I'll be collecting an online shopping order in Fort William, which takes me past your door. I'll try to get you some more dog food and some basics so you can at least eat until you can sort out some proper shopping for yourself. OK?"
She nodded slowly.
"I'll also post in some local Facebook groups, saying you need pet food donations. I'll get a picture of the dogs before I go. I suggest you pick a spot at the end of your drive and put up a sign saying, 'Donations here please'. It might be worth putting a sign on your door and gate asking if whoever is dropping animals off could try to bring whatever food there is for the animal as well."
She nodded again.
"Okay then. I'll text you tomorrow when I'm leaving town. If I don't have your bank details by then, I'll take cash out and leave it with your shopping - which would put me at extra risk from handling possibly contaminated cash."
She swallowed hard, answering with a quiet "Okay."
Finally, moving to snap a picture of the dogs at the gate, he called over to her, "If you have any other problems, you can contact me, okay?"
Still stunned, she managed a "Thanks, Callum, I will. Thank you."
He turned to walk down the drive. He was halfway to the car when she shouted his name.
"Callum!" He turned. She had removed her mask, revealing an attractive young face with just a hint of an oriental look. She repeated the 'hug' sign to him, and he nodded with a smile.
He turned to leave again, but she continued. "There's something that worries me, that keeps me up at night, and you should think about it if you are going to take risks for others."
He turned fully around, giving her a questioning look as he continued backwards towards the car.
She glanced back at the dogs before turning to him again.
"Not everyone has a pet, Callum - less than half the population. I checked online. Tony told me it was bad. It's worse than the news said. And no one has come to pick up their pet from me. No one. Be careful. Not everyone has a pet." She made a sweeping gesture back at the large pack of dogs in her yard.
He stopped and nodded his understanding, looking past her at the more than thirty animals. He returned the 'hug' gesture and hurried back to the car.
***
He hadn't gone far from Nicole's when he pulled into a layby, knowing that this was the last section of the road with reliable mobile phone coverage for a while. He quickly called Mira to let her know that he was on his way back and that Karl was okay. He checked the cutoff time for the shopping order and asked her to add a few of each of the largest bags of dog and cat food available. And enough extra food for a single person for two weeks, including all the basics, such as toothpaste, toilet paper, and female sanitary products. He knew she would be desperate to ask why, but he preempted this by telling her he would speak to them all when he got home.
He knew he could trust Mira to pull the others together and devise a sensible shopping order.
After that call, he remembered the number on Karl's collar that he still had not tried. Typing it into his phone, he looked at Karl. "Let's see who we can find" Somewhat disappointingly, the number went straight to a generic automated answer phone message. He left a message saying who he was, that he had found Karl and left his contact details. It was all he could do in the circumstances.
Done with the calls, Callum pulled onto the empty road and continued back to the Island. He reviewed Nicole's words and their implications: the wrecked boat with a quarantine flag, the slow response of the operator, Graham's odd mortality rate figures and the Police decision to stop recording death information. All those people he knew who had stopped posting on social media or stopped returning calls or texts. Were they so isolated on the Island that they hadn't noticed how bad things were? Had that useless English fucker Boris decided to go with the whole 'herd immunity' nonsense, and the government and press were just keeping quiet?
His thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a red Nissan Micra travelling in the opposite direction. It was the first car he had seen on the road all day.
The small car weaved back and forth, occasionally crossing the centre line before swerving and almost hitting the verge on its side of the road. Immediately wary, Callum slowed from the 60mph he had been doing to the low 30s. He slowed even further as the two cars got closer, moving over as far as he could on his side of the road. He fought the urge to stop completely - he'd been in these situations before, unfortunately.
An unfortunate side effect of living in the highlands was driving among tourists who were not used to driving on the left, drunks thinking they were a law unto themselves, and old folk who should have retired their driving licences twenty years ago, who were often also drunk. The cultural aversion to drunk driving that had developed in the lowlands had been slow to take hold here. As with many things, the locals had 1980s mindsets regarding such things, and it was unfortunately common to see cars driven erratically.
His experience was that the old or drunk driver would overly focus on the other car, which led to them heading towards it rather than avoiding it. Callum selected a low gear, ready to accelerate should he need to, and moved even further onto the grass verge, giving the Micra as much room as possible to pass.
He wasn't shocked when the cars had closed enough at their respective low speeds to see an old woman driving and an old man sleeping or otherwise passed out in the front passenger seat.
He carefully watched the Micra's movements, trying to measure where on the weaving route it would be when it reached him. As it got closer, the weaving worsened to the extent that the Micra was now hitting both verges. The driver's overcorrecting became more extreme as they steered one way and then the other.
Callum's heart thudded in his chest as he cursed old drivers and old drunk drivers.
He took a breath as he realised they were going to hit him. The Micra hit the opposite verge, running along it briefly before turning back towards him sharply. He pressed the accelerator hard and tried to move along the verge, trying to get outside the arc of their turn. His front passenger tyre spun briefly in the grass and earth as the increased torque met a non-road surface. The back end of his car had just started to feel like it might be forced into the road due to one tyre spinning and another gripping before both tyres had the purchase needed to surge him forward.
He watched the Micra cross the centre line in slow motion, looking like it would impact his door. His car started to pull forward, dragging the likely impact point to his rear passenger door.
Then, in a heartstopping moment, they passed behind him, the crunch Callum expected not coming.
Passing close enough that Callum had a clear view of the old woman's bloodshot red eyes staring at him and a trail of thick mucus hanging from her nose. Next to her, the old man's eyes were closed, but Callum was sure he saw a mix of mucus and blood hanging from his nose and chin. There might have been blood around his eyes and ears as well. The old man hadn't moved as the Micra weaved around the road.
He watched in his mirrors as the red car, hitting the verge where he had been seconds before, made one more tight drunken swerve on this straight section of road just after it passed him. The Micra turned even more sharply, crossing the road, running over the opposite grass verge and into the young silver birch trees beyond. It hadn't been moving fast but still took out a few of the trees with the snapping and crunching of a collision. There was no sign of any brake lights.
Callum had stepped on the brakes immediately after the Micra had passed him safely. In disbelief, he'd watched through his mirrors this slow-motion car crash.
The Micra came to a stop amongst the broken trees and branches.
Callum took his mobile phone from his pocket and was glad he had some signal. Still watching in the mirrors, he told Karl to 'stay' and opened his door, planning to go to the driver's aid while calling for help.
As Callum looked back from his open door, the Micra driver's door slowly opened, and the old lady staggered out. Blood and mucus were now trailing from her mouth and nose, which she tried to wipe with her sleeve, smearing it and causing more to bubble out. She turned towards Callum's car and took a few steps, making it out from the broken trees and onto the verge before beginning to cough. She stopped to lean on the rear side of her car as the coughing continued. Eventually, she coughed so hard that she staggered forward and fell onto her knees on the road surface.
Callum watched in horror from his open car door, having only gotten one leg out of the car. He wanted to help. It wasn't in his nature to walk away from people in need. But this? He could hear his pulse in his ears. He could only think of Nicole's comment, 'Not everyone has pets'. This didn't look like the symptoms of the Covid victims he had seen in the news for months. It didn't look like the effects of a low-speed car crash. This was something else. Something terrible. Something that had been present in the car before the crash.
The old woman stopped coughing and looked up at him pitifully. He could see she was struggling to draw a breath. Blood now ran from her eyes and nose. Even at this distance, he could see her lips turning blue as her grey skin grew even more unhealthy in pallor.
She raised a hand and arm towards him as if imploring him for help.
Then, her arm, followed by her whole body, shook so badly Callum thought she had started to fit. She began to cough again, it being more of a choking sound as she struggled to pull air into her lungs. Mucus and blood dripped onto her clothing and the road as her body was wracked with shaking and her attempts to breathe. This time, she fell over onto her side, her arm still outstretched towards Callum.
She continued to lie on the road, writhing and gasping.
However, the shaking and movement quickly stopped. The figure on the road lay still. Callum had no idea if she was unconscious or dead. Remembering the coastguard call handler's words the previous night, he did not want to get close.
Callum resolved to stay in his car. He grabbed his phone, his own shaking hands dialling 999.
