Fortitude

 

Alasdair eased himself up from the kitchen table, and crossed to the window.

It was wild out there! Clouds fled across a low gibbous moon. The wind skirled through the garden, bullying the rowan tree, flattening lilies, producing peal after discordant peal from the wind chimes.

The wind chimes. They fostered harmony, Ishbel said; balanced the yin and the yang. Alasdair had only to glimpse them for his hackles to rise. Now they were keeping him awake. It was 3 am. He was close to tears.

Alasdair didn't trust yin and yang. They'd been in Ishbel's macrobiotics course. He'd failed to understand why his very yin - or perhaps yang, Ishbel said - home-grown tomatoes wouldn't balance his very yang - or yin - home-grown potatoes. Ishbel had been quite short with him. It wasn't a question of arithmetic but of emotions, she said. And, as she frequently reminded him, her counselling homework had shown Alasdair was no good at emotions.

He'd grant her that. But he knew what he liked. And he liked his garden.

Now the garden was under threat. Ishbel's feng shui course worked outdoors as well as in the house; in fact, Ishbel said, without the garden bit, the house part was a complete waste of time. Alistair had been sure she'd start indoors, and, since indoors was a big project, he'd counted on the course finishing long before she was ready to move outside.

But there were advanced complications in the house Ishbel said. The front door needed moving; at least one bedroom wall was in the wrong place. She'd be better starting with the garden. The obstacles were smaller and, if necessary, she could always re-landscape.

The lions turned out to be obstacles. Sitting on top of the gate posts, they created a negative energy vortex on each side of the drive, Ishbel said. They had to go.

Alasdair needed those lions. His heart lifted when he walked between them.

He became a man of substance - 'gravitas' he called it, when he was sure no one could hear.

The wind gave another screech and buffeted the side of the house. There was another percussive outburst from the wind chimes. Iron entered Alasdair's soul. The lions would stay. He was going to have it out with Ishbel. Now.

He turned from the window and walked purposefully towards the stairs.