The ferry horn blared as they approached a tiny port—just a wooden pier, a single building, and one battered taxi waiting like a loyal dog.
Everything was smaller, quieter, more remote than Max had imagined possible.
The taxi driver, Mr. McLeod, was a weather-beaten man in his forties with eyes that twinkled with secrets. He spoke with a musical lilt that made ordinary words sound like poetry.
"So you'll be taking the croft for the full month?" he asked as they climbed into the back of his taxi.
"Yes," Max's mother replied.
"You know there's no' much to do here except walk and fish?"
"Yeah. We know," Max said, rolling his eyes.
"I just want some peace and quiet," his mother said earnestly.
"Well, that you'll get," McLeod said. "No' much happens here. And there's no one around for miles. Just the way some folk like it."
As they drove along the coastal road, they passed a fenced-off military base. Concrete buildings bristled with antennae and satellite dishes. At the centre sat a massive white dome that seemed to pulse with secret purpose.
Max's eyes widened. He sat up straighter. "What's that place?"
"Och, that's just the airbase," McLeod said casually.
"What do they do there?" Max's mother asked.
"Well now, I don't rightly know. They keep it all very hush-hush. Something to do with monitoring air traffic and suchlike."
"A secret base," Max said, genuinely interested. "That's actually kind of cool."
His mother shot him a warning look, but Max barely noticed. He was already imagining what secrets might be hidden behind those fences.
* * *
The taxi pulled up to an isolated stone cottage, an old croft, perched above a dark loch that mirrored the grey sky. The landscape was stark, beautiful, and utterly empty.
"Here we are," McLeod announced.
They climbed out. The silence was profound—no traffic, no neighbours, just wind through heather.
McLeod unloaded their bags and handed Max's mother a key and business card. "You'll find all the supplies you ordered on the kitchen table. That's the house key and my card. Just ring if you need me to take you anywhere."
"There's mobile signal here?" his mother asked hopefully.
"Aye. One of the benefits of having the military nearby."
"And there's broadband in the cottage, right?" Max asked.
“There’s no internet here.”
Max's face fell. “What about a mall? Internet café? Anything?"
"Just a wee supermarket near the base."
Max turned to his mother with a look of betrayal. "What am I supposed to do for an entire month?"
"You could go on some fine rambles in the heather," McLeod suggested kindly. "There's lots of wildlife about. And you can fish and row on the loch."
Max's mother brightened. "That's perfect! You can learn to row. Then you can try out for the school rowing team next term."
"Right," Max said skeptically. "And who exactly is going to teach me to row?"
"Well now. There's my daughter, Maggie," McLeod said. "She's a champion rower." He pointed toward the loch. "That's her boat there, on the shore."
Max could see a small wooden rowing boat lying upside down on the stony beach.
McLeod climbed back into his taxi and drove off. The engine sound faded quickly into the vast silence.
"This is perfect," Max said sarcastically. "No malls, no internet, and I have to hang out with some random girl."
He grabbed his bag and trudged toward the cottage, already counting the days until they could leave.
