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of his renowned vinegar.
I d like a brief moment of your time, Mr. Gilpin. There s something I need to ask
you.
Of course, he agreed. You shall have it that is, if you don t mind talking on
the hoof. Iain will tee off, and you can ask away. Suit you?
Down to the ground.
Good. He retrieved his golf bag both men had slender quivers containing only
three clubs each and began striding away.
James fell into step beside him. Can I take those clubs for you?
You want to caddy, too? he asked, glancing around with a raised eyebrow. No,
sir. I carry my own clubs. The day I have to tip a caddy is the day I lay down my
putter.
They arrived at the third tee, and Iain smacked a dribbler down the center of the
fairway. There was no height at all, but the ball bounced and carried a surprising
distance. Solid, he said, and walked on.
I ll catch up with you on the green, Howard called after him. To James, he said,
Now then, this question that could not wait let s have it.
It s to do with my parents, James began, suddenly uncertain how to proceed. He
hesitated. Sorry, I m not sure I know how to ask this.
Never mind, he replied. It s moot.
Pardon?
Doesn t matter. Howard gazed after his friend on the fairway. I knew this day
would come sooner or later. I ve been expecting it ever since I heard your parents
passed away.
I m not sure I understand.
I have something for you. I ve been keeping it in my study at home.
What is it?
I m not at liberty to say. Come see me tomorrow.
I could come by this afternoon, James offered. Or, this evening if you prefer.
Ah, no, he smiled, that wouldn t do at all. I never work on the Sabbath. It s
against my religion. Howard bent down and placed his tee.
I was taught the Sabbath was from sunset to sunset, James countered.
You are anxious. He steadied the golf ball on the tee, assumed his stance, and
took a practice swing. Glancing up at James, he said, Are you a betting man?
Not really, no.
Pity, replied the old solicitor. I was going to make a wager with you: if I make it
to the green in two, you can come by my office tonight. If I go three, you wait until
tomorrow.
You re on.
He smiled again. You remind me of your father. He lined up his swing, and struck
the ball with a satisfying thwack. The ball landed well down the fairway a good
shot, but it would take an even better one to reach the green.
They walked out onto the fairway. Iain had already taken his second shot. Howard
alerted him with a shout which James reckoned was exceedingly optimistic of him
and proceeded to line up his shot, still using the wooden driver. James kept quiet
and let him concentrate. The old golfer centered himself over the ball, drew back the
club, and swung.
Although he did not appear to have put much into the swing, the ball leapt up as if
rocket-charged, arcing out in a high shallow curve too shallow, James thought, to
reach the green. But as the tiny white missile gained altitude, it seemed to grow
wings. It sailed on the wind, dropping onto the edge of the green; it bounced once
and rolled towards the pin.
James congratulated him on a fine shot, adding, I guess I ll see you this evening
then.
I guess you will, Howard remarked. James thanked him for his time, and wished
him a good game. He stood and watched for a moment as James walked away, then
shouted, Say, you wouldn t want to follow me around the rest of the course, would
you? With your luck behind me, I bet I could beat Iain, for a change.
I m not really a betting man, James hollered back. See you tonight.
Returning to his vehicle, James continued along the river road. Glen Dee at Braemar
is especially scenic. The river sweeps along in majestic silver swoops bounded by
wide green meads beneath brooding dark hills planted in pine. He passed the
Birkwood nature reserve below the dour Morrone of Morven, a black, bald-headed
crag, and turned off the highway at the Linn of Corriemulzie, proceeding along the
granite-chip road to Braemulzie, the farm of Sergeant-Major Owen Evans-Jones,
Retired.
My Jenny, as her father liked to say, is bi-racial. I m Welsh, and her mother is a
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