Annie consulted her brochure. “Wally, if you and Ian can each buy a kilt before noon you could enter the Bonnie Knees contest.”
The face of the quiet handyman flushed, but he laughed at the suggestion. “Annie, you’re one of my best customers, along with Ian, but there’s no way you could get me in one of those things. No matter what fancy word you use, it’s still a skirt.”
“I guess it’s a good thing you’re not Scottish then,” Peggy said, straightening a corner of the blanket and sitting down. She looked across the field to see the bands arranged in neat lines. “Looks like it’s starting soon.” She patted the blanket beside her. “Come relax after your busy week.”
“Do I have to sit?” asked Emily. “Can’t I just stand right here?” The ride from Stony Point had been more than enough sitting for the young girl.
Understanding, Peggy looked behind them to make sure her daughter wouldn’t be blocking the view of other people. “It’s all right, as long as you don’t forget and dance in front of folks so they can’t see.”
“I won’t,” the girl promised. She reached down to hug her mother and then stood beside the blanket swaying like a young sapling in the breeze. “Here they come!” she squealed as the stewards gave the signal and the first bagpipes-and-drum band marched onto the fields playing God Bless America, led by three flagmen.
It had been several years since Annie had heard bagpipes being played. As the following bands joined the first, and the sound swelled, her attention was captured by the unique sound. She reached into her bag and fingered the solitary ferrule. Had any of her family members played the haunting instrument?
“They have funny shoes,” Emily commented, holding back a giggle. “Or are they funny boots?”
“They’re called spats, Emily,” answered Ian. “They are made from thick canvas, usually, and attached over boots or shoes.”
Emily’s eyes were trained on the bands, but her slim body kept moving to the rhythm of the drums. “Spats. I like that word. Snazzy spats.” She did giggle that time. A moment later she gasped and pointed to the band that had just stepped on the field. “Look at the band in red and black. See that kid? He looks about my age!”
Wally shielded his eyes with a hand as he peered at the band. “He sure does, Em.” They all watched as the pint-sized piper moved smoothly across the field in perfect step with the rest of the band.
“He’s got a good sense of timing, you can tell,” said Annie. “I wonder how heavy those bagpipes are. Do you know, Alice?”
Alice shook her head. “Not really. I’ve never held one, but I suspect they come in different weights, especially since they can be made from different types of wood and with plastic or metal parts.”
“Sounds like a good question to ask those vendors you’re planning to visit, Annie,” Ian suggested.
A gust of breeze threatened to snatch Annie’s hat off her head. She grabbed it just in time and settled it more snuggly. “If I remember, I’ll ask. Or maybe Alice and Peggy can do that while I concentrate on the sporran and ferrules.”
“I love watching the guys with the bass drums,” Peggy declared. “Em, see how they twirl the mallets in between the beats?”
Having lost sight of the boy when the band turned to position themselves behind an earlier band, Em moved her attention to the drummers of a band closer to where they were sitting. “I wonder if they ever hit themselves with all that twirling and whirling.”
“The beaters look kinda puffy to me,” said Wally. “That might soften the blow if they mess up.”
Emily laughed at that before turning her attention back to the finale, as all the bands played Scotland the Brave and then marched smartly off the field.
Alice nudged Annie as the bands turned about-face and moved away from them. “Look at all those sporrans out there. Never thought about them being worn in the back, but it makes sense with the pipes and drums. Ian’s suggestion to come here for information was spot on.”
Annie smiled over at Ian. “Well, you know our mayor, Alice. He’s always one to serve. We may have to treat him to a haggis lunch.”
“What’s haggis?” asked Emily.
Ian pictured the traditional Scottish savory pudding that includes some of the internal organs of sheep. He clasped the shoulder of his young friend. “Trust me, Em,” he said, “you don’t want to know. Not before you’ve had lunch, anyway.”
6
Peggy folded the Carsons’ quilt and tucked it into her bag. “What should we do next?”