Sign of the Times by Susan Buchanan Page B

an absolute song.   Tom thought if you were any good at DIY, it really was worth buying a house requiring a bit of TLC and making it your own.   Houses were like people. They needed care and attention.
    They’d decided to knock down the walls separating two bedrooms and create one larger room and an ensuite.   It was handy too, as when Holly was home, she spent ages in the bathroom.   It was more a necessity, than an extravagance.
    The kitchen, however, was Tom and Holly’s favourite room.   Ironically for Tom really, as he hadn’t a culinary bone in his body and didn’t know one end of a fondue set from the other .   An antique oil stove was already installed when they viewed the property.   It was still in good condition and dominated the twenty feet room, but what Holly and Tom adored were the original wooden beams, which vaulted the ceiling in a graceful arc.   The whole house sported similar beams and some rooms boasted slanting roofs.   They had loved it at first sight and had immediately put in an offer.   Making it habitable took a long nine months.
    Tom padded through to the kitchen, popped a beef casseroleinto the microwave and went to check his email.   There was another from Simon, asking if Tom knew anyone else who wanted to do the ridge walk.   So far there were eight of them.   There was a brief note from his sister, Francesca, reminding him he had promised to come for dinner.
    His sister fussed over him so much.   Their parents had been killed when they were young.   Since then, Francesca became anxious over the slightest thing. Tom wished she would settle down, find someone who’d make her as happy as Holly made him, someone who could perhaps ease the pain Francesca so openly wore on her sleeve.   It was as if she blamed the whole world for their parents’ death and not just the drunk driver who had collided with their parents’ Austin.   Scrolling down, Tom saw an email from his bank manager, requesting a meeting.   That sounded ominous.
    Disheartened, Tom closed his email and was on the verge of shutting down, when he saw it was still early.    Clicking Internet Explorer again, he logged onto Chat.   Surveying the possibilities, this time he elected Sportaholics.    There were hundreds of people there.    He watched the chat unfold between Chelsea and Man U fans re an upcoming game.   Deciding he wasn’t interested in their point scoring, he moved on, coming across a conversation about the World Athletics Championships, before noticing there was a menu sub-dividing the various sports.   Clicking on Walking, Tom entered the room which held eleven guests.
    Ed 421 : “ I climbed Buchaille Etive Mhor last year.   Conditions were appalling and afterwards I was told we’d gone up the wrong side.   Even the goats would be lucky to get up that way.”
    Climbinggirl:   “It makes all the difference if u get a good day.   Never did see the point, if the weather isn’t in ur favour, as u put in all that effort and then u don’t even have a good view at the top to make it worthwhile.”
    Ed421: “I know what you mean and sometimes it can be dangerous.   I did the Aonach Eagach ridge walk a few years back and the weather changed on us.   We’d to call out the Mountain Rescue.”
    Climbinggirl: “I’ve been meaning to do the AE for years.”
    Farmboy35 : “Hi. I noticed you’re talking about the Aonach Eagach.   I’m doing it in a few weeks.   Can you tell me any more about it?”
    Ed421: “Sorry, already late for work. See you.”
    Climbinggirl: “Bye Ed.”
    Tom waited to see what would happen next.   Then Climbinggirl said,
    “I can tell u about the AE. My friends have done it.”
    Farmboy35: “That would be great.”
    Tom and Climbinggirl chatted for ages.   Shutting down the machine he realised he was whacked.   Stifling a yawn, he got up from his computer desk and went to bed.   Passing the clock, he started.   It was after one!   He’d logged on