Worse Than His Bite

Chapter 17: It's dinner time!

Alasdair was carved differently than all the other names. It lacked the craftsmanship and skill the other names had. The handwritings and styles differed from name to name, but they always had a professionalism to them. The lines of the names deep in the stone, only years upon years of damage could fade those names — even longer to destroy them. That's how there could be names dating back to the third century. Except for Alasdair and his families names. There names were hardly carved in, more scratched. White lines contrasting the earth tones of the stone. That's all there was to carve their names into eternity.

A father, a mother and two young children (presumably a brother and sister to Alasdair) scratched onto the stone not carved. Was it done in a hurry? Or by someone who lacked means? What had happened to that family for them to be the last and for their names to only just manage to join the ones of their ancestors?

Phineas wanted to look closer, to run his fingers over the lines and feel the history behind them. But he didn't dare. He feared even the act of moving towards them could cause a draft that would blow away the scratched on names and lose them to the oblivion of the past.

His eyes lingered on one name in particular. Alasdair. The lines engraving themselves into his memory. Could he be... surely not...

"Have you had time to look around the island?" Asked Angus. He had legs the size of tree trunks, Phineas noticed, as he spread his legs to a wider stance. He was incredibly hairy, bristling with black hair all over his body.

"Unfortunately, not." Phineas admitted. "I've only really been in the forest area where we're situated and the village."

"That's a shame. There's a rich history to be explored on this island that I do believe should be explored, but only by the right people. I'm sure you've heard of the accident that befell the last English pricks that came to the island."

English pricks. Jesus, Phineas had no idea his predecessors had been so disliked. Their 'accident' was beginning to seem a lot less accidental. That... that was fine. Phineas just needed to not be an English prick. Guess that meant Leo was done for.

"I'll show you around myself at some point." Angus announced.

"You don't need to," said Phineas, "I'm sure you're far too busy to help me out."

Angus scratched his great black beard. "Not particularly."

Oh. Not exactly what you want the head of an entire island to say.

There was a groan at the table. Low and guttural. Leo and Phineas' eyes met in a mutual 'what the fuck was that' as they looked around for the culprit.

Callum's grandma was hunched over, her frail hands grasping her stomach as she groaned in pain. "I'm hungry." She moaned. "I'm so hungry."

"You'll have to excuse my mum." Said Angus. "She's not been very well lately."

"I hope she feels better soon." Phineas said, but he kept an eye on her.

She rocked back and forth in her chair, clasping her stomach, her head rolling on her shoulders. Angus and his wife ignored her behaviour. Chatting away to Leo and Phineas respectively as if the grandmother wasn't begging for food. Callum attempted to replicate the behaviour, but even Phineas noticed how tense he was every time she moved. She sat on Callum's right with Leo on his left. Every time she moved, his arm would block her from Leo. Blocking her from doing what? Phineas wasn't sure.

She didn't do anything, but Callum was acting like she would.

"How did you two meet?" Angus's wife asked Leo.

"Well, Phineas and I went to the pub on our first day here." Leo's voice acquired this dream tone as if telling of a highly romantic story. "Our eyes met across the room and he asked me if I wanted a drink, and things just naturally developed from there I guess." He laughed and held onto Callum's arm. Callum's face was bright red and he held Leo's hand as if it were something precious, his eyes admiring the way their hands fit together.