AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I squeezed his knee. “You’ll be wonderful.”
He managed a quick smile. He stood to a hooting and cheering crowd and walked to the MC, taking the microphone.
“Before I start, a wee dram being poured right now around the room. It’s a taste of a new whisky recipe I trialled five years ago and brought some here tonight for ye to try.”
Stuart held up his glass, and the room followed, his eyes settling on me.
“Slainte Mhath!” he called out and the crowd yelled it back, and we all drank. But Stuart’s eyes never left mine as calls of ‘well done’ and ‘wonderful’ came up from the crowd.
Everyone fell silent again as Stuart placed his glass down.
“I’ve been practising the first poem for weeks now. It’s a pretty poem we hear every year on Burns Night, one that I hadn’t thought much about until,” he locked eyes with mine and then continued. “Until I felt the same way Robbie Burns did. It’s ‘Ae Fond Kiss’.”
The crowd applauded and whooped, then went silent again, as Stuart began.
“Ae fond kiss, and then we sever;
Ae fareweel, alas, for ever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I’ll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I’ll wage thee.
But to see her was to love her;
Love but her, and love for ever.
Peace, enjoyment, love and pleasure!”
He winked at me, both of us remembering how he’d said the same thing the night we’d met. Stuart let out a long breath, his face sad as well as full of desire, as he said the last lines.
“Ae fond kiss, and then we sever!
Ae fareweel, alas, for ever!”
Several guests jumped to their feet in applause, cheering Stuart on. Even his father clapped, swiped at both his eyes, and Lorna kissed him on the cheek. Stuart rubbed his sternum, looking like a deer caught in headlights. He gave a quick wave of thanks and moved to sit down. But the MC called him back.
“Now, now Stuart! Ye need to call upon the crowd for the right of reply!”
Stuart held out his arms and called for volunteers to say some words. Several older gentlemen shouted out for attention but the MC ignored them all. I grinned, ready with a surprise of my own.
“What about guests from Australia then?” the MC asked, his eyes landing on me. “Do they not have a poem they can share with us tonight?”
I stood, adjusting my tartan sash and the gum leaves, and started to walk over to the MC. Stuart shook his head and whispered to the MC but I called out in my best Scottish accent.
“Aye, I do!” The crowd laughed at my poor attempt. “I mean, crikey! Too right I do!”
The crowd cheered, several people raising their glasses to me. Stuart stared.
“I’m here as a guest of Stuart and Lachlan, Laird of Gallanach, for which I thank them both. I’m Amanda and I’ve been working at the Gallanach distillery these few weeks. I’d like to sing you a bush ballad by Banjo Patterson, son of a Scots immigrant, about colonial life in Australia. It’s called Waltzing Matilda. Ewan, if you wouldn’t mind a few notes please.”
Stuart coughed in surprise as Ewan stepped forward with bagpipes. The MC handed me the microphone, and within seconds, I sang about jolly swagman, jumbucks and billabongs.
The crowd clapped along, cheered and even joined in for the last chorus. I received a rousing applause, far louder and more drunk than the crowd at the singing competition I won when I was eight years old.
I gave a small curtesy and headed back to my seat, Stuart behind me. I went to sit down but he gently squeezed my arm, whispering in my ear.
“Keep going outside, hen.”
