“What do you mean it isn’t your bag?” Fenny mused as she looked up to take in the castle again.

“What do you mean, what do I mean? It’s not my bag,” Brad declared exasperated.

“What are you saying, dude? A squirrel swapped your backpack for a replica because it has some sort of fetish?” Greg chided as he sat up.

“Look,” Brad huffed, “my bag had some rolls of film, a sweater and my wallet in it, right?” He looked at Fenny for confirmation.

“Ah huh,” she nodded, her eyes not moving from her sketchbook.

“Well, this bag is full of rolled up wads of cash and a…a large knife,” Brad declared, his voice wavering slightly as he pulled the sheathed knife from the backpack.

“Oh my god,” Fenny gasped, her eyes going wide.

“Fucking hell,” Greg said, equally as shocked.

“But, how…we’ve been here the whole time,” Fenny flustered.

“There has been other people around, though,” Greg piped up.

Brad shoved the knife back in the backpack and zipped it up. “Shit, I took it when I went round the other side.”

“You left it alone?” Fenny asked.

“For a few seconds, I was trying to get a great shot of the turrets,” Brad replied.

“Why would someone want Brad’s backpack?” Greg queried.

“It was probably just a mistake,” Fenny shrugged. “I mean, you wouldn’t leave thousands of pounds and a weapon just lying around, would you?”

Brad looked at the backpack like it had done something wrong, and then unzipped the front pocket, hoping to find some identification of some kind.

“You shouldn’t snoop,” Fenny declared.

“I’m looking for anything that might tell me who this belongs to. Judging by the contents, I don’t think they’re going to be thrilled when they realise they’ve lost it, do you?” Brad scorned as he pulled out a wallet. “Bingo.”

Greg snatched it from him and scoured the contents. “Fifty bucks, one ribbed, strawberry condom, out of date. Credit card, ticket stubs…Here we go,” he perked, pulling out a drivers license, “Donald McIver…what the fuck.”

“Is that the traditional Scottish name?” Brad jeered.

Greg gave Brad a quick glare. “I’ll need to go into accent, so I apologise – Auchnacloich.”

“What the?” Fenny mumbled.

“I’m not repeating it,” Greg said matter-of-factly.

“This Auch place, how are we supposed to find it?” Brad grumbled.

“…And then I started humping Pippa’s leg, so she kicked me, the taffeta from her dress poked me in the eye. So, there I am trying to sing the song with my eye weeping, half blinded and I accidentally grab Marina’s tits…”

“GINA,” a trio of voices rang out.

Gina and Paul looked up to see Fenny, Brad and Greg hurrying in their direction.

“I was in the middle of a story, fellas,” Paul huffed.

“There’s plenty of time for your anecdotes, McDermott,” Greg scorned.

“What’s going on?” Gina asked noting the serious looks on her friends’ faces.

“Something’s come up,” Fenny replied.

“What? Like a ‘Greg stepped in mud’ something or a ‘we could die’ something?” Gina queried.

“The latter,” Brad sighed, unzipping his backpack. “My bag’s been swapped, instead I have thousands of pounds and a large knife.”

“Why do I feel I’m going to end up hurt?” Paul mumbled to no one in particular.

“Jesus, can’t we just ditch it?” Gina shrugged.

“No, (a) this is the property of someone with a bowie knife and (b) there was a used roll of film in that bag that I want back…desperately,” Brad said poignantly.

“You want us to possibly risk our lives for a roll of film?” Greg sighed.

“Is it that important?” Fenny asked, looking at Brad.

“Yes, it’s got…it’s…” Brad leaned over and whispered in Fenny’s ear, “It’s got that picture of us in the hotel.”

“Oh my god,” Fenny peeped.

“Reckon it’s photos of them doing it?” Paul whispered to Gina.

“Oh yeah,” Gina grinned.

“So how are we supposed to know where to start looking for the owner?” Paul piped up. “Since I assume no one saw anybody suspicious.”

“And how do you assume that, dude?” Greg asked.

“It always happens on TV like that, something freaky happens right under the victims’ noses. No one sees a thing and they all end up dead,” Paul replied.

“You’re never watching Scooby Doo again,” Gina huffed.

“Besides, we’re not on TV,” Fenny added.

“Speak for yourself,” Greg chided.

“We found a drivers license,” Brad declared and handed it to Gina. “Do you know where Auch-whats-its-name is?”

“Auchnacloich,” Gina stated. “Well, I’d hope it’s before John O’Groats.”

The reply was lost on Fenny, Brad and Greg.

“It’s the last place in Scotland…End of the land kinda thing…” Gina raised an eyebrow. “Forget I said that. There’s a map back in the SUV.”

“What are we waiting for, then,” Brad perked.

“Do we have to do this? I really don’t want to meet anyone with a bowie knife,” Paul whined as he got to his feet.

“Don’t be such a girl, McDermott,” Greg chided.

“I’m not being a girl, Proops, I just happen to like all my limbs,” Paul hissed.

They took the opportunity to split up and give the castle grounds one last search for Brad’s backpack, even when they knew it was futile. They regrouped back at the SUV and piled inside as the clouds grew threatening. This time Brad made Fenny sit in the middle, much to her chagrin.

“You found it?” Gina asked looking over at Paul who had put on his glasses and was studying the map.

“Yeah, it’s in the middle of whoop whoop,” Paul declared.

“Well, what’s the closest place I’ll know?”

“You heard of Aberfeldy?”

“Nope.”

“Dagluse?”

“Nope.”

“Fortingall?”

“Nope.”

“Blairgowrie?”

“Nope.”

“Pitlochry?”

“Yep.”

“Pitlochry it is then.”

“You guys are too funny,” Fenny giggled.

“You do have some idea where you’re going don’t you?” Greg asked.

“Not a clue, but hey, it’ll be an adventure,” Gina smiled.

“I nearly got killed last time we had an adventure,” Brad sighed.

“I’ve got a gig tonight,” Greg announced.

“Phone in sick,” Fenny shrugged.

“I can’t just take the night off, it’s not the done thing, is it Paul?” Greg scorned.

“No, but Genie isn’t driving back to Edinburgh tonight. So, if you want to get back you’ll have to start walking,” Paul mused.

Greg crossed his arms and slid down in his seat.

“Hey, at least we’ve got a radio this time,” Fenny perked.

“I was kinda fond of our rust bucket,” Paul smiled.

“At least it was warm in Australia,” Brad sighed.

“How can you fondly reminisce about a situation you were nearly killed in?” Greg asked, exasperated.

“It wasn’t all bad,” Fenny shrugged. “Not only did I get Brad back, but I made a brilliant friend in Paul.”

“And not only did I get Pauly back, but I got to see Brad butt naked,” Gina perked.

“You finally got into Gina’s panties,” Brad mused, to Greg’s un-amused expression.

“I got broken ribs, a fat lip, black eye and severe trauma,” Paul grumbled.

“See, now you two miserable bastards are bringing down the karma in here,” Fenny declared.

“Gee thanks, Tam,” Paul jeered. “What to feel around my aura as well?”

“I thought it was called Satan?” Gina asked.

Paul sniggered, and Fenny shook her head. The comment was lost on the other two.

An hour and a half later, Gina stopped the SUV at another spectacular castle.

“Why are we stopping?” Brad asked.

“Lunch,” Gina declared, “I’m starving.”

“But what about…”

“We can’t fight evil on empty stomachs,” Paul stated as he slid out of the SUV.

“And it’s sunny now and were at a funky castle and I want to do some sketching,” Fenny perked. “We’ll deal with the bag thing later.”

Brad let out a defeated sigh before unbuckling his seat belt and joining the others.

By the time Brad got to where the others were, he suddenly felt like a father on a Sunday family get together. Greg and Paul, who had been given the simple task of laying out the blanket, had taken to wrestling over it instead, as Paul wanted to sit under a tree, while Greg wanted to be on top of a slight mound. Fenny was sitting on a rock and already eagerly sketching all before her, and Gina was trying to sort out the sandwiches. Once the blanket debate had been sorted (Gina insisting where they were was fine) everyone wolfed down their food and then went back to doing very little, apart from Fenny who went back to sketching.

“Thank god you’re not as obsessive as her,” Gina mused, looking at Paul who was lying back on the blanket.

“Genie, you should know she can’t help it,” Paul scolded as he sat up. “She’s American, most of them don’t know there’s a whole world past Las Vegas.”

“Some don’t even know there’s a whole world past Mississippi,” Greg added.

“You’ve got to get over that Mississippi thing, buddy,” Brad sighed.

“We discussed it in counselling, actually,” Greg nodded.

“What’s Mississippi got to do with you committing adultery?” Paul asked.

“I really don’t know,” Greg replied, looking at Paul bemused.

“I’m bored,” Gina announced as she got to her feet.

“Nah, you’re more like a nice cotton weave fabric,” Paul chided.

Gina looked down at him and smiled. “You’re an idiot.” She ruffled his hair before walking back to the SUV.

“Always with the hair,” Paul grumbled.

“Like it makes a difference,” Brad jeered.

“I’d take a look in the mirror before you start on hair, mate,” Paul countered.

“What’s that?” Greg asked, pointing to a soccer ball that rolled past. Brad and Paul looked over to where he was pointing.

“It’s a ball, Greg. Sometimes children and sports people use them,” Gina teased.

“I know it’s a ball, but why is it here?” Greg demanded.

“Exercise. I’ve been cooped up in a little flat for six months. I have energy that’s screaming to get used,” Gina enthused. “Anyone up for a kick?”

“I get winded doing a crossword puzzle,” Greg sighed and leaned back on the blanket.

Gina looked at Paul. “I’d love to, but my old footy injury is playing up,” he said grabbing his ankle and feigning pain.

“You lying hound,” Gina scorned. “Brad?”

“Ok, why not?” Brad perked and jumped to his feet.

Brad and Gina walked onto a flat patch of ground a short way from the others and began to kick the ball to each other. The more they played the faster they got and the more out of breath they became.

“Come on shortass, try and get it past me,” Brad announced.

“Easy,” Gina perked and made her way towards him. He stuck his arms out and waved them about, trying to put her off. It didn’t phase Gina, and she jogged toward him, dribbling the ball. Brad dashed toward her and tried to steal the ball, but they both ended up just tripping over each other and falling onto the grass. As they sat giggling, Fenny looked up from her sketchpad, realising she was feeling a tad jealous and how stupid that was. She went back to her sketch as Gina and Brad got to their feet. This time, she nearly got past him, when he grabbed her around the waist and held her off the ground.

“Hey, no fair,” Gina squealed, her legs flailing.

Brad tapped the ball away and then set Gina down. He dashed for the ball, but slid on the grass. Gina couldn’t stop herself and tumbled over him. This time they were lying on the ground, breathless and laughing hysterically. Fenny couldn’t take it anymore — in her mind her best friend and lover were flirting. She closed her sketchpad and headed toward them. Paul and Greg watched on, amused.

“Fen, you come to join in?” Gina perked as she dusted herself off.

“Well, I can try,” Fenny mumbled.

“It’s not hard, just remember to kick with the side of your foot, not your toes,” Gina smiled and gave her a short demonstration, before tapping it to her. The ball rolled past Fenny and she scurried to get it.

“Kick it to me,” Brad announced. “Don’t give it to the shortass.”

Gina gave Brad the finger and he laughed as Fenny kicked the ball. It wasn’t hard enough and the ball bounced off a clod of grass and rolled to a stop. Brad retrieved it and booted it back. It flew past both the girls, bounced off a rock and smacked Greg in the head. His glasses fell into his lap.

“Fuck,” Greg yelped. “Do that again and I’ll fucking pop it,” he grumbled and chucked it toward Fenny.

The ball went straight past Fenny and Gina tapped it to her. Fenny looked at the ball, angrily imagined it was Eddie, and booted it. It flew straight past Brad and he had to sprint to get it.

“Good shot,” Gina chirped. “Keep practicing,” she added and jogged over to Paul, who looked at her suspiciously.

“Come on, come play,” Gina whined as she grabbed his hands and attempted to pull him to his feet.

“No, I don’t want to play. I’m terrible at sport,” Paul whined back as he let himself get dragged to his feet.

“You can kick a ball at least,” Gina cooed.

“Have I mentioned I want a divorce lately?” Paul groaned.

“Twice yesterday and once this morning,” Gina smiled as she led him to where Brad and Fenny were practicing.

“So it’s two on two then?” Brad perked.

“Girls on guys?” Gina mused.

“We’ll kick your asses,” Brad sneered.

“Dream on, Sherwood,” Gina sneered back.

“WAIT!” Greg ordered as he got up. “We’ll use these two water bottles as a goal,” he announced and placed them at one end of their makeshift pitch, “and Fen’s backpack and Paul’s grandpa cap can be the other goal.”

“Does this mean you’re the referee?” Paul asked.

“Damn straight,” Greg grinned.

“Dear god,” Fenny mumbled.

The game began with Gina easily getting past Brad, and kicking the ball to Fenny. Who missed it and tripped over the ground. Greg stuck two fingers in his mouth and gave loud whistle, the game stopped.

“I’m giving that clump of grass a yellow card, one more attack on Fen like that and you’re off, man,” Greg announced.

The game restarted and Brad kicked the ball to Paul, who tried not to look gawky and was doing well until Gina came at him. They tussled over the ball, then gave up on that and just tried to trip each other. Gina won out and Paul landed front first on the grass. Greg whistled again.

“Free to Paul, man, for the brutal attack by his wife.”

Paul got to his feet, looking like he was about to burst into tears and walked in circles pretending to have done a hamstring. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Brad dashed over to console him. “It’s ok, if she does it again she gets sent off,” he soothed, patting Paul on the back.

“She’s evil, mate,” Paul nodded, “I’d watch yourself, she’ll get you next.”

“Will you take the fucking free kick?” Gina sighed as Paul lined himself up in front of goal, Gina and Fenny trying to distract him, Fenny afraid she was going to get hurt. Paul took several steps back. Studied the goal. Pulled up his socks. Took a couple of steps forward. Rubbed his hands on the grass. Took a few steps back then booted the ball. It flew straight through the makeshift goals. Brad pulled his shirt over his head and Paul jumped into Brad arms as they whooped.

Greg whistled. “Score check, the Monkey Duo on one and the Wenches, nil.”

“Next Loch we come to, he goes in,” Fenny declared.

“We’ll tie him to the spare tyre,” Gina agreed.

The game restarted and Fenny started with the ball, not quite sure what to do.

“Come on Fen, put some effort into it,” Gina teased.

Fenny dribbled the ball and was set upon by Paul, who was promptly smacked out the way by Gina. Fenny, now giggling, booted the ball to Gina who headed toward goal. Brad took it upon himself to play goalie and bounced around in front of goal. Fenny, realising that there was no way in hell Gina was going to get past Brad, turned to Paul.

“Help me,” she ordered and they both dashed forward toward Brad. Brad’s eyes went wide as he was bowled over and Gina scored the equalizer.

“YOU’RE ON MY TEAM,” Brad yelled at Paul as he got to his feet again. “YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO TACKLE ME!”

“Yeah and she’s my wife,” Paul snapped back. “You’re not going to make me sleep on the floor if we lose.”

“Since when was fucking Gina more important than sport?” Brad hissed.

Greg whistled. “Fucking Gina has always been more important than sport,” he declared. “You’re getting a yellow card for being rude, man.”

“What!” Brad gasped. “Fuck you, Proops.”

“Another yellow card for Bradley,” Greg mused. “Next goal wins,” he added.

Brad kicked the ball to Paul, who was instantly set on by Gina.

“Get away from me, mad woman,” he giggled as Gina tried to get the ball from between his feet. He pushed her away, and she came back and hip and shouldered him, they started to grapple with each other, the ball rolling off toward Fenny. Fenny, on the realisation that it was hers, nearly fainted. She gingerly dribbled it forward and watched as Brad made his way toward her. He laughed as he grabbed her and tried to kick the ball away, she turned her back and tried to push her way past him but he wrapped his arms around her and wouldn’t let her go.

Greg whistled. “Gina and Paul, you’re off, no sucking face on the pitch.”

Gina and Paul, who had obviously given up on the game, trudged off with Paul yelling over dramatically at Greg for being “a white maggot.”

“What the fuck is a white maggot?” Greg mumbled as Brad and Fenny continued.

“It’s an Aussie thing,” Gina reassured him.

“Let me go,” Fenny squealed.

“Never,” Brad cackled and started tickling her. Fenny kicked the ball forward and burst into giggles.

“I bet I can make you let me go.”

“Go on.”

Fenny moved her one free arm, forward, then thrust it back, elbowing Brad in the stomach. He gagged and let her go. “Sorry babe,” she smirked and then bolted forward and kicked the goal. Gina and Paul dashed onto the pitch to congratulate Fenny, who was ecstatic that she’d kicked her first goal ever. Brad rubbed his stomach, retrieved the ball and headed back to the SUV.

“I do believe he’s sulking,” Gina mused.

“I really don’t care,” Fenny giggled, “I won, I won, I won.”

“She’s never allowed to play sport again,” Paul declared as they packed the rest of the stuff up and headed back to the car.

They arrived at Pitlochry mid evening and knocked on the door of a small bed and breakfast. A silver haired lady appeared and greeted them warmly.

“Hello,” she smiled; her accent was thick.

“Hi, you wouldn’t happen to have three rooms would you?” Gina asked.

“Aye, I do. Ye looking for somewhere to spend the night?”

“Yes, please,” Gina smiled.

“Ye better come in then,” she perked and moved aside. “I’m Betty by the way.”

“I’m Gina,” Gina smiled.

“Greg,” Greg piped up.

“Fenny,” Fenny added.

“Brad,” Brad nodded.

“Paul,” Paul cooed.

“Ohh, are ye American?” Betty chirped.

“Myself, Fenny and Greg are,” Brad perked.

“Paul and I are Australian,” Gina added.

“What on earth are ye doing oot here then?” Betty asked.

“Sightseeing,” Greg piped up.

“Oh aye, well there’s plenty to see,” Betty smiled. “Now, ye ken take yer pick. There are twa rooms just up the stair and the attic room. All have double beds but ye have to share a bathroom.”

“That’s fine, we’re used to it,” Gina mused and received a strange look from Betty.

“Have ye eaten?” Betty queried. “I’m quite happy te whip ye up something.”

“We don’t want to put you out,” Fenny breathed.

“Oh no love, it’s what I’m here fer,” Betty cooed. “Ye go an organise ye beds and I’ll let ye know when it’s ready,” she added and disappeared into the kitchen.

The five friends looked at each other and headed up the stairs.

“Who wants what?” Brad asked.

“I want the attic,” Paul perked.

“Trust him to want the place that’s most likely haunted,” Gina sighed. “Come on,” she added as they ascended the smaller, narrower staircase.

“We’ll take the room at the end of the hall,” Fenny announced and led Brad off in its direction.

“I’ll just take the other one then,” Greg grumbled and headed in the opposite direction.