Ben MacDuff - Homecoming

First draft of the first chapter, I would love any feedback, positive or not so positive!

Chapter 1

Suddenly the overhead tannoy switched on with a bing bong high pitched noise, and a female voice blurted out “Would passenger MacDuff, please make their way urgently to gate number 47. This is an URGENT Final call, for passenger Ben MacDuff on the BA1468 10.15 flight to Inverness please make their way to gate 47, where the aircraft is waiting to  departure”.

The lone passenger seated at the bar, took a long last slow sip of his Balvenie fifteen-year-old single malt whisky, savouring the warm glow he felt trickling down his throat as he drained the glass. He slowly stood and slipped a twenty-pound note onto the counter.

As a nation we might not be good at many things he thought, but Christ almighty we still make the best damn whisky known to man, or woman for that matter.

“Thanks for your hospitality young lady and please do keep the change.” Ben said to the young blonde female tattooed bar tender.

“Oh, thank you so much and please call me Julie” replied the girl, she took the money with her left hand and simultaneously slipped over a receipt from her right hand with her mobile number handwritten on it.

“I do hope you will be back here very soon” she gushed rather too quickly, as her pale face suddenly started to turn a dark shade of crimson.

“You never know what life brings Julie, and many thanks again” said Ben as he touched his forehead at her.

Picking up his small dark grey Samsonite Pro-DLX cabin luggage, Ben sauntered out of the bar, glancing at the airport signage, hoping to see in which direction to proceed to find Gate 47. Spying a sign, Ben turned left and started to walk along the long moving walkway. Realizing that time was marching on, and that he was in jeopardy of missing his flight, he moved to the left of the walkway, or is it a travellator he thought, and started to speed walk. A couple of minutes later and he saw the sign for Gate 47. Having booked his journey straight through from Paris Charles de Gaulle airport with British Airways to Inverness stopping via London Heathrow, Ben knew full well that his suitcase was already stowed on the plane, and that they would not let the aircraft depart without him. Nevertheless, he did try to speed up, so as not to piss off too many fellow passengers.

“Mr MacDuff, I presume?” said the dark-haired British Airways Stewardess, named Clair according to the badge affixed to the lapel of jacket.

“Indeed, that is me, Miss Stanley” beamed Ben, in a slightly mischievous tone, knowing full well that his joke about Dr Livingstone and Mr Stanley had flown right up and over her head.

“Your boarding card please, the Captain and everybody else are waiting to depart. Just for your information I am not Miss Stanley, whoever she is” said the stewardess in a slightly irritable tone, her Cockney London accent starting to come through into her voice with more than a trace of annoyance at him. Taking the card, she ripped it in half, threw one half down onto the desk and thrust the other half back into Ben’s still outstretched hand.

“Follow me please and may you have a safe and very pleasant flight”. Said Clair to Ben.

Ben followed her onto the tarmac, before climbing the forward steps to the waiting Airbus A319. As he neared the top of the steps he caught the tail end of the Captains announcement and was not surprised upon entering through the aircraft’s door to hear loud jeers and boos coming from his fellow passengers. Whether they were cheers for his appearance and an imminent departure or boos and jeers at his tardiness he was not so sure, nor to be honest was he particularly bothered.

A smiling, but very pretty and rather petite brunette Stewardess called Ishbel quickly led him to seat number 3 A at the front of the aircraft. A couple of minutes later and they were airborne.

Four large single Malt whiskies, a rather insipid Marks & Spencer’s prawn sandwich (more bread and sauce than prawns) and an hour and a half uneventful flight later, they were rapidly approaching Inverness Airport, gateway to the Scottish Highlands and which also happened to be the birthplace of Ben, some forty-one years ago last August. After twenty years or so Ben was finally coming home.

With a churning sensation in his stomach, the plane touched down and awoke Ben from his reminiscing day dreams. What was he going to find in Easter Bonit? Only time could answer that question. However, find out Ben would certainly do and it would be sooner rather later.

Easter Bonit was his home village, and is situated on the A82 on the west shores of Loch Ness approximately twenty miles south west of Inverness. In all the twenty-one years living in and around Easter Bonit, he had never once seen or even heard the infamous Loch Ness Monster. However, he still had a sense of foreboding, as he knew there were other monsters lurking from his dim and distant past back in Easter Bonit. Well, he would surely confront them soon enough, come what may.

Collecting his Samsonite hand luggage from the overhead locker, he thanked the Stewardesses and made his way down the steps and into the small airport terminal. It certainly had been modernized since he was last here, welcome to the new Millennium he mused. Moving to the baggage reclaim area, he waited for the conveyor belt to start, and observed his fellow passengers patiently waiting for the bags. They really were a motley bunch, mostly made up tourists he figured. After five minutes the conveyor belt started to move, and he spotted his dark olive Samsonite Lite-Cube DLX suitcase moving towards him on the belt.

Ben collected his suitcase, and after taking a good look around him, spotted the Avis car hire service desk and made his way up to the counter.

“A very good morning to you sir, what will you be after the day” said a red haired twenty something year old young male name Tavish.

“A very good morning to you too Tavish, and well to be honest, I will be needing something for a couple of weeks, until I get myself a motor sorted, perhaps a mid-range saloon” replied Ben.

“Let me take a gander, and we will get you sorted in a jiffy” Tavish replied as he started to pound the keyboard vociferously.

“Ah, it seems we have only three vehicles available for the next two weeks. The first one being a white Volkswagon Caravelle Executive Van” Tavish said rather sheepishly.

“Hmm I think that will be a big no to the van, so what is the next one?” replied Ben.

“Ok, the second one is a Black Range Rover Sport and the third one is a burgundy coloured Jaguar F-type S Carbriolet Convertible. They are roughly the same price; the Jag is just a few quid more. Quite the lassie puller is the Jag” said Tavish.

Ben thought for a wee while, recollecting his last summer in Easter Bonit when he had driven his burgundy cabriolet Jaguar XJSC, and all the memories of Moira that it brought flooding back.

“Nah, I think I am gonna have to pass on the Jaguar, I’ll take the Range Rover, so here’s my credit card and driving license, now what else do I need to do to take it?” asked Ben.

Five minutes later and two thousand British pounds lighter in his wallet, Ben was starting up the V6 Engine, and heading out of the Hire Car Parking Lot. The silver lining in Ben taking the Range Rover was that it easily accommodated his six-foot frame, and it would be a breeze going off road whenever he was required to do so. Whilst he was not tall by today’s standards, Ben was still sufficiently tall and well-built that many cars were a pinch to get in and out of easily and quickly.

When the sun is shining brightly in the clear blue sky, there really are few more beautiful places in the world than the Highlands of Scotland, and this was one of those rare Scottish summer days, when there was not a breath of wind, absolutely no clouds and only a bright yellow sun shining bright in the sky. Well, the sun has decided to put his hat on, and it couldn’t have welcomed me home in a more fitting fashion, thought Ben. Now come on and let’s bring on those bloody monsters.

He navigated his way onto the A96 and drove past Culloden, giving a silent prayer as he passed. The Battle of Culloden was the final act in the Jacobite uprising of 1745.  It was here in less than an hour that the Jacobite army of Bonnie Prince Charlie were routed by the loyalist forces of the Duke of Cumberland on 16 April 1745. Ben made a mental note to come back and pay his respects another day.

In no time at all Ben had already zipped through the city of Inverness (the Capital of the Scottish Highlands) and was now driving through the small village of  Drumnadrochit. It was past 12 midday na and as he was feeling rather peckish, Ben decided to stop at the Little Drum for a bite to eat. Although primarily a hotel, it used to have two bars, a Lounge bar and a Public Bar. Ben used to frequent the Public Bar in his mid-teens when the law on underaged drinking in the Scottish countryside was much more relaxed than it is today. Pulling into the carpark, Ben noticed that the Drum had a beer garden now, how civilized he thought. More than likely though, this would have come about as a direct result of the No Smoking ban that had been introduced in Scotland and indeed the whole of the United Kingdom. The Scots and also many Brits do like a fag (cigarette) with their beer. Yes, he thought the beer garden was definitely added post ban, as in reality it seemed to be an area which was far more more suitable to drinking than for eating food.

Walking through the hotel reception to the Lounge Bar, Ben noticed some familiar pictures on the walls, indeed he even stopped when he saw one picture that had been taken during one Christmas Eve party with himself and Moira in it. Moira now there was the biggest potential monster from the past if ever there was a monster to be dealt with. Into the Lounge bar he walked, not recognizing the young waitress nor the barmaid. They both looked decidedly non-Scottish he thought, this was definitely a sign of the times, as many Europeans had come to the UK in search of better paying jobs and to send money back home to their families.

“Hello, are you looking to get something to eat, or just a drink?” asked the barmaid with a distinctly non-Scottish accent. In fact, Viktoria was from the Ukraine Ben would later find out.

“Actually, I was looking to have both, but may I please have a look at the menu first?” inquired Ben. “In the meantime, I will have a pint of your guest ale please”

Ben selected a small table which had been laid out for two people in the bay window overlooking the beer garden, but which still maintained a convenient view of the entrance to the Bar. Presently Viktoria arrived with Ben’s beer and a menu. Ben took a long sip of his beer, enjoying the foam on his lips and before he knew it half the pint had vanished down his thirsty throat. Heart of Blackness by 71 Brewing, not bad even if it was a Dundee pint he thought.

He watched as the tall blonde Viktoria walked back to the bar, both of them knowing full well that he was watching her from behind. Her long blonde hair flowing over a crisp white blouse, capped off with a tight black pencil skirt, revealing a very shapely bottom. He definitely noticed the extra little wiggle of her bottom when she turned to look at him as she went around to the back of the bar counter.

Get a fucking grip boy, he murmured to himself, two minutes in the country, and already thinking with the wrong head. As he was normally a brunette or dark-haired girl type of guy, the fact he ogled Viktoria’s bottom he found a wee bit strange. He set his pint glass back down onto the blue beermat and picked up the food menu. Scampi and chips, fish and chips, cheeseburger, lasagna all the usual bog standard bar menu items. Then glancing further down the menu, he spotted something that brought even more memories flooding back. Spaghetti Carbonara, made with prime Ayrshire Scottish bacon and fresh Scottish cream. Moira, there she was again. It was her favourite ‘go to’ dish accompanied with a bottle of red wine. More than twenty years of putting her out of his mind, and suddenly she is everywhere and all at once.

Ben was sorely tempted to have scampi and chips, but when Viktoria returned to take his order, he without realizing it asked for the spaghetti carbonara, and a pint of fresh orange and lemonade in lieu of the red wine. To change his frame of mind, Ben reached into his jacket pocket, and pulled out a blue smartphone. All this did was remind Ben of when he and Moira used to text each other on their old fashioned very light blue Nokia mobile phones, what would the kids of today think of those phones, haha not to worry, at least he had cheered himself up with that thought.

Ben MacDuff, International Art Dealer is the occupation listed on the UK passport in Bens pocket, but the first email account he checked was labelled as Archie Cameron. This email account was used solely to communicate between himself and Hamish MacCourt the family lawyer. There were no new messages, guess nobody has spotted me then, Ben mused. Next up was an encrypted call to a voicemail. Again, there were no new messages, well that was good as it meant he had no new urgent jobs. Feeling relieved, he decided not to check the other email accounts, until later.

Meanwhile, the young waitress had arrived with his food, and set down a bowl of steaming hot spaghetti carbonara before him. Born with an ‘asbestos’ tongue he was able to eat piping hot food, and in no time at all he had demolished the sarap carbonara. He had to admit that the food was tasty, credit where credit is due, and he realized he had been far hungrier than he had previously thought. He impulsively decided to have a dessert and chose a portion of a typical British pudding, namely Spotted Dick and custard, which brought back memories of meals at his old boarding school. That had been about the only pudding he got served at school that was worth eating because it filled you up. Upon finishing the Spotted Dick dessert, Ben settled his bill, and walked back to his rented Range Rover. The sun was shining, and it had suddenly got very warm and it really was a truly gorgeous day. Not long to go now he thought, I wonder if the old place has changed much.

To be continued ....

Thank you for reading.

Copyright @TengoLoTodo 2021 and yes All Rights Reserved. All images and words are from the author unless source mentioned. Lead Image from Pixabay.

Haste ye back.