Page 28 of A Wish For Wilma
Gus spluttered as his whisky went down the wrong way. Wilma slapped him on the back. Her hand connected with firm muscles and she let it linger a moment.
‘Making someone laugh is the greatest gift of all, in my humble opinion,’ said Gus, regaining his composure. ‘And boy, do you make me laugh, Wilma.’
Something inside Wilma deflated. She drew away, the heat from Gus’s back taunting her as it lingered on her palm.You foolish old woman!He enjoyed being with her, but not inthatway. She made him laugh. End of story.
A thump on the adjoining wall suggested that their neighbours didn’t approve of Sir Tom belting out his greatest hits. Gus turned the volume down just as his cover of Prince’s ‘Kiss’ played.
‘Well, it’s been an incredible day, Gus. Thank you.’ Wilma gave another yawn — a fake one this time — and picked up her handbag. ‘I’ll see you for breakfast and then we can do the castle thing. It’s meant to be stunning. I can’t believe I’ve never seen it before, but we Scots aren’t always good at exploring what’s right outside our front door.’
Gus reached for Wilma’s hand. He rubbed the underside with a calloused thumb, his eyes never leaving hers. ‘Often, it’s the stuff right at home that we miss until it’s too late. All those years ago, I should have…’
His words dangled in the air. Sir Tom kept singing. The faint thrum from the bar reverberated through the floor. Wilma needed to leave, but—Whatshould he have done?
As if in answer, Gus raised her hand to his lips and kissed its liver-spotted, veined surface.
‘Good night, lovely lady. May your dreams be sweet and your slumber undisturbed.’
Tucked up in bed, Wilma pondered what Gus had meant. She hoped for sweet dreams, but doubted her sleep would be undisturbed.
CHAPTER20
Wilma woke just after eight.She’d slept surprisingly well, the only dream she could recall featuring a gigantic DJ using her bed as a trampoline.
Shaking off the image, Wilma contemplated making herself a cuppa using the room’s basic equipment. But the weight of the duvet pinned her down, and she figured a few more minutes of shut-eye wouldn’t hurt.
The next time she looked at the digital bedside clock, it showed 9.15. When had they agreed to meet for breakfast? Fumbling for her phone, Wilma read a message from Gus.
Up with the lark, so went for a stroll and picked up a newspaper. They stop serving breakfast at ten, so see you there soon? x
Luckily, it didn’t take Wilma long to get ready in the mornings. She’d picked out her outfit for the day — comfy woollen trousers, a fleecy top and sensible walking shoes. Five minutes in the shower, complete with hideous plastic shower cap, and all she needed was a smidgeon of make-up and a squirt of her favourite perfume.
Following the sound of chatter and clanking dishes, Wilma found Gus already seated in the compact dining room. He leapt to his feet and pulled back her chair, then draped the napkin over her lap once she had sat down.
‘Merci, monsieur,’ said Wilma, as the waitress approached with two menus.
‘You speak French? Your talents are endless,’ replied Gus, taking the menus and passing one to Wilma.
Wilma grinned. ‘I just exhausted my entire vocabulary.’ Tempted as she was to ask Gus what he should have done years ago, she bit her tongue.
They pondered their menus in silence for a moment. ‘Much as I fancy a nice kipper, it’s a full Scottish for me,’ said Wilma. She had already clocked another couple with plates of sausage, bacon, fried eggs, white pudding and tattie scones.
‘You’ve twisted my arm,’ said Gus. ‘Not that it needed much twisting. My eyes were always bigger than my stomach.’
With a pot of tea to share and a rack of toast and creamy butter to get them started, they discussed the day ahead.
‘So, it’s dry and sunny again,’ said Gus. ‘As I suggested, let’s drive around and soak up the scenery before we head to Eilean Donan Castle. We can stop off anywhere you fancy. Your wish is my command.’
Wilma dipped a piece of scone in the runny egg yolk. Yet again, DJ sprang to mind.A wish for Wilma.She hadn’t the foggiest idea what to wish for. Right now, she considered herself very lucky and in no need of a wish. Despite last night’s brief despondency, she had everything she wanted, including a generous slice of delicious white pudding.
‘If we polish this lot off, we might need to jog to the castle,’ she teased.
‘Give me a head start, and you can catch up with me.’ Gus’s eyes twinkled with mischief.
They cleared their plates. Wilma groaned as she pushed back her chair, Gus again coming to her aid, and patted her stomach. ‘Jinnie might be having a bairn, but I’m definitely nursing a food baby. If I insist on lunch, tell me I’m a greedy pig.’
‘As if such words would pass my lips.’ Gus gave his own stomach a hearty pat. ‘We’ll go light at lunch, then maybe just bar snacks here in the evening?’
Wilma couldn’t imagine ever eating again. She thought that every time she over-indulged, then her brain performed a reset and said ‘Ooh, food!’ At least shehadan appetite. The few folk her age who she still knew ate minute quantities and got excited over a mug of cocoa and a Rich Tea biscuit at bedtime. ‘Right. I’ll just brush my teeth and get my bag. See you back here in ten minutes?’
