Free GUILT TRIPPER by Geoff Small

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lounge, the ground floor of the crofter’s cottage up in Gairloch was now
dominated by a flagstone kitchen with an oak table, which almost spanned the
room and seated thirty people. It was to be during long evening dinners here
that Danny believed his little community would be cemented. These soirees would
be overlooked by his mother’s portrait, which took pride of place on the back
wall, directly opposite as you entered from outside. Fortunately, this painting
had avoided the apartment fire, having been moved to Katy’s house just after
Mrs. White’s death, because it had been upsetting her son too much.
     As for the byre,
well, its wooden walls had been replaced with red brick and white stucco, its
tin roof with terracotta tiles. Inside, either side of a long corridor stood
six small rooms, just large enough for a bed, wardrobe and a writing desk with
a computer on top. Meanwhile, the ablutions were situated at the far end,
beneath a loft conversion which served as a recreation suite, featuring a TV,
pool table and library.
     On a blazing day at
the end of August, Fin drove six lads and six girls up to this new Highland
home, in a custard yellow, Ford Transit Minibus. The journey was a silent
affair where suspicious, sideways glances were the only communication. But, as
they pulled up outside the cottage, the sight of eight local students lounging
about on the grass seemed to bring the Glaswegians together at last, against a
common foe. Throughout the next hour, the two groups remained stand-offish
until they were called in for their welcome dinner, cooked by Judith and Angie
who, along with Hamish and Danny, had already been in residence for a
fortnight.
     Townies and
Highlanders were alternated around the table so that they had no choice but to
mix, with the five adults making up the numbers. At first it was uncomfortably
quiet, but as soon as everyone had finished their aperitifs a pleasant murmur
was developing. The townies were a tad cautious about their food, though. “Urrs”
and “yuks” accompanied the smoked salmon starter, much to the amusement of the
locals, who scoffed theirs enthusiastically. Each student was allowed one glass
of wine during the main dish — grouse in black cherry sauce — helping to create
a more boisterous atmosphere by the time desert arrived at the table. By now
there was something of a first night on vacation mood about the newcomers, so
much that the locals reluctantly boarded Fin’s minibus back to their villages,
many wanting to stay behind with their exciting new friends instead.
     That night, raucous
laughter bellowed from the student accommodation until dawn. At one point
Judith was woken by cheering and, as she looked out of her dormer window she
caught the pink flash of a teenager’s backside, streaking across the meadow. For
the next hour she lay in darkness, sharing the kid’s amusement as the young
naturist pleaded to be readmitted to the byre, its door and windows having been
so cruelly locked in his wake. Judith entertained Angie with this recollection
next morning, while they prepared a massive picnic in the kitchen.
     The local students
arrived at around eleven and everyone walked to Big Sand Beach. While a mass
game of water volleyball ensued in a turquoise and cobalt sea, Judith sat on a
dune admiring the Torridon Mountains, situated across the bay. There, the
students would run wild for the next month, hiking, canoeing, learning to fish
and generally bonding. All except Danny’s scar faced friend, Ryan Kearney, who
chose to disassociate himself and write a book in his room, where he’d work day
and night. Whenever Judith went out the back for a cigarette in the early
hours, his light was the only hint of life in an otherwise sleepy byre. His
curtains were never shut and she’d often stand in the darkness, just feet from
the window, marvelling at the boy’s stamina and commitment. Usually, he’d be
bent over his desk scribbling so frantically