Judith sniggered at the irony.

 Once Danny and this particular lad had established some mutual respect, the rest of the meeting continued in an orderly fashion, ending with the handing out of application forms to be returned at enrolment the following week. Unfortunately, only three people were to turn up, including Scar Face and Belinda, who completely ignored one another.

 Poor student numbers were to be the least of Danny’s worries. After six months deliberation, Gairloch Community Council seemed set on denying permission for the college, fearing that drug addicts and razor gangs would invade their idyll. He was about to abort the project when, one cloudy afternoon in June, a Daily Herald journalist and photographer came knocking at the trailer home door. They wanted to know Mr. White’s feelings about his recent exhibition in London. Of course, Danny thought they had the wrong person, but they hadn’t. An anonymous dealer had organised the event, which resulted in a collector, who owned a string of kebab restaurants, paying one million pounds for the whole lot.

 Just as Judith had predicted, Bob Fitzgerald was now two hundred and forty thousand pounds richer for having been blackmailed. Thankfully, though, the journalists knew nothing about his involvement, otherwise Danny’s dream would have been sunk forever. As it was, the Daily Herald interview spawned a tissue of positive publicity, prompting Gairloch Council to change their minds. However, there were conditions. Places would have to be provided for local youth and the situation would be subject to quarterly reviews.

 Now Danny had discovered public relations, Judith went into Glasgow and selected him a wardrobe of clothes that the kids on the schemes would connect with. Undoubtedly, his hotchpotch of rags had repelled them up to now, so she purchased a pair of Nike trainers, Rockport boots, two pairs of Armani jeans, some check Lacoste shirts and a navy blue Stone-Island bomber jacket. At first he went berserk at the cost — a grand in total — until Judith argued it amounted to less than two pounds a week over the decade he’d gone without any new garments whatsoever. Once he’d calmed down about the cash, he went into one of his moral diatribes. He claimed it was principles and beliefs, not clothes, which made a person, and that a true socialist prophet would never set himself above those he professed to help, in any way. But Judith reckoned that people would only follow if they saw their own aspirations reflected in their leader. Just because he valued an ascetic existence, she said, he shouldn’t expect everybody else to. Eventually he wore the clothes, though not before having removed all the logos, including the swoosh from his trainers. This infuriated Judith, because she knew that without them Danny remained a nothing in their target group’s eyes.

 As the street kids got used to them being about, recruitment drives became less hassle and, by the middle of August, they had at last secured a full complement to take up north. The only thing they needed now was an English teacher.

 Rather than having to pay obscene salaries, Danny reckoned he knew unoccupied guys from his neighbourhood who were capable of teaching; their love of literature far outweighing any lack of formal qualifications. In fact, he argued that he’d sooner have self-taught guys with passion than some kid who’d been through the sausage machine of university, merely to attain an “easy” twenty grand a year in the classroom. But he was to be disappointed. The people he’d been banking on were too set in their beer, cigarettes and gambling ways to relocate to the wilderness, making him so angry that he vented his spleen on several, telling Judith that he’d be glad to get out of “this amorphous dump.”

 It was beginning to look like they’d never find a teacher, until Judith’s graduation day up at the university, where the White brothers were her guests. Here, she introduced them to Angie and Angie’s boyfriend Hamish, the couple having just collected first class English Literature degrees. On learning this, Danny wasted no time inviting them to teach with him up at Gairloch, in return for free board and lodging and a hundred pounds a week pocket money. Hamish – who had his sights on a career in journalism – declined the offer outright, until Angie agreed to go along for free. This caused an argument between them, but by lunchtime the next day both had committed themselves to the project. Just as things were looking up for Danny, events had most definitely taken a turn for the worse for Judith. The morning after her graduation, she awoke with a hangover to a letter giving notice of redundancy, from her employers at Worcester City Council, who were cutting staff in non-essential services due to a budget shortfall.

PART THREE

CHAPTER: 11

 But for a small 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.