Chapter 7
When I reach the farm gate, I see Jamie sitting on a low wall next to one of the many raised flowerbeds. His rich curly hair has fallen into his eyes and I have a sudden urge to go over and brush it aside. He looks up and waves. I lift my hand and automatically wave back, then push open the gate and make my way along the path towards him, the gravel crunching noisily beneath my feet.
He’s playing with one of the farm dogs, a cute black fluffy Collie with a white patch splashing one ear. Its inquisitive eyes flick towards me, then he barks and jumps up onto his hind legs, keen to make my acquaintance. A long, narrow nose twitches as he takes on board my scent. Jamie holds his collar and the dog wags its tail. I hold my hand out and it’s diligently sniffed before the tips of the fingers are licked. I chuckle, the dog’s tongue is like sandpaper, and it tickles.
“What happened to ye,” Jamie asks, pointing to my filthy jeans. I look down and see streaks of dried mud running past my thigh, right down to just below my knee.
I shrug. “Nothing much. I just had a fight with a tuft of grass.”
He chuckles, and I’m about to confess all about my good Samaritan when Callum calls my name and I see him heading from the cottage towards us.
“Hey, you’re back,” he says. “Did you enjoy yourself?”
I nod. “Yes, very much, and to be honest, it was quite an eyeopener.” He pecks me on the cheek then turns to his brother. “Have you finished up for the day?”
“Aye, I have, and I’m making the most of it.” He throws a tennis ball down the yard for the dog, who shoots off like a bullet out of a gun. I laugh, and so does Jamie.
“He’s fast,” I say.
Jamie grins. “That he is, and he’s intelligent, too.”
The dog comes back with the ball in its mouth and drops it at my feet.
“Och, he likes ye,” Jamie teases, and I roll my eyes and grin. I crouch down to pick up the ball, but Callum kicks it out of my reach.
“Hey, what did you do that for?” I moan. “I wanted to play.”
“Never mind the damn dog, we’ve got to decide what we’re going to do with the rest of our holiday.” The words have no sooner left his mouth when his phone rings. He reaches into the back pocket of his jeans and removes it, peering at the screen.
“I’ve got to take this,” he says and pushes a button, placing the phone to his ear.
“Hello. Yes, this is Callum McKinley speaking.” His voice, his tone, is now sweet, like honey. He can be such a charmer and I move closer, curious to learn who’s on the line, but he walks away from me, although I can still hear his every word.
“Uh-huh, are you sure? So, when did this happen? Yes, of course. Leave it with me and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
He swivels around, his face a picture of pure joy, his elation so infectious that I smile back at him.
“Who was that?” I ask, “on the phone.”
“It was Lord Fornhill’s solicitor. By all accounts, his lordship has sacked Bradley. The solicitor says the millionaire wishes to come back to the firm.”
He scratches his head, clearly unable to digest the unexpected conversation he’s just had, then he looks back at me.
“Apparently, he’s seen Bradley for the conniving scumbag he is and requested that I run his account.”
He beams at me and I’m genuinely pleased for him.
“That’s fantastic news, honestly; I’m so thrilled it’s all worked out in the end.” My smile fades. “But does this mean we’ll be leaving straightaway?”
He shakes his head. “No, of course not, but I’ll have to set off early Thursday morning.”
He does a sideways glance at Jamie, who then jumps to his feet.
“Right. I’ll…er…leave ye to discuss yir plan of action,” Jamie says, and strolls off, the dog close at his heels.
“But tomorrow’s Wednesday,” I huff at Callum. “It doesn’t give us much time.” A wave of sadness washes over my entire body, and I guess it shows in my face, because he comes closer.
“Don’t worry. I won’t be gone forever. Why don’t you stay here and I’ll come back once everything’s sorted?”
I force my lips into a pout. “And how long will that take?”
“Not long. Just a few days. I’ll be back after the weekend. Stay here and unwind. Keira won’t mind running the shop for a few more days, surely? She loves it.”
I seriously don’t know what to say. Part of me wants to stay, but the other wants to return with my husband.
“But, Cal, there’s no point me being here on my own. This trip was supposed to help us reconnect. It isn’t right me being here without you.”
He shakes his head. “Maddie, I insist. There’s no point in us both being dragged back to work. Enjoy your time away and get to grips with the great outdoors. We’ve got the rest of our lives together, so a few days apart won’t hurt. And besides, this place is good for you. Already you’re far more relaxed than I’ve seen you in ages.”
“Okay,” I whisper, without an ounce of enthusiasm. “If that’s what you want.”
He nods, “It is. And this way, everyone’s a winner,” and his cheeks dimple into a smile. “Come on, let’s go inside and tell granda the good news.”
***
“I’m telling you, you could have knocked me over with a feather.”
Granda lets out a chuckle. “Well, it dinnae take Bradley long to show his true colours. And what a bonus. Fancy Lord Fornhill askin’ for ye personally.”
It’s after supper, and I’m sitting in one of the red Chesterfield sofas, listening to Callum talk tirelessly about his return to favour. I snuggle down. The leather is soft against my skin and the room warm and cosy. A fire roars in the hearth. The orange and red flames dance wildly and the heat has turned everyone’s cheeks pink.
The room reminds me of something out of Country Life magazine. It’s quaint with its large picture windows and classy antique furniture. The floor is highly polished, covered in thick colourful rugs, and the pristine curtains are made of raw silk. I’m aware it’s down to Hetty keeping everything spick and span. I’ve yet to meet her. She’s like a ghost, invisible, and I swear she only comes out at night. Yet, when I went into the kitchen earlier, I found a mountain of goodies she’d brought up from the village.
On the wall, there’s a large coat of arms. The McKinley crest is red, emblazoned with two stags, both standing tall on their hind legs. I’m reminded of Callum’s heritage, of a family tree which originated on the rocky Hebridean islands. Their name is said to go as far back as the tenth century.
I know little of my own. My parents were killed in a car accident when I was just nine years old. Their death left me with no family. I’d been in the car with them when it happened, but I have no recollection of the accident. My only memory is of being in hospital and of the kind nurse who tended to the severe cuts and bruises I suffered. I clung to her as though she was a lifeline, but it was no use. Within days she’d been sent to another ward and I was left to fend for myself.
A strange man with narrow eyes and large black glasses came to visit me whilst I was still in hospital. He carried a shiny black briefcase with a gold-plated combination lock. He opened the case to reveal a thick wad of official paperwork. He explained to me, in words which I was too young to understand at the time, that I was deemed far too old for adoption and therefore fell under the care of Social Services. He checked my details, my date of birth and my last known address, before taking my hand in his and guiding me to his car, a sleek racing green Jaguar, as I recall. I sat on the cold back seat, fearful of where I was heading—terrified of being left alone.
I stand up and go over to the mantelpiece, from where I pick up a photograph of Callum’s mum and dad, both living in America now. I glance over at Callum. He’s discussing with Jamie the undoubted demise of Bradley O’Conner. I glance back at the photograph, staring down at a woman who barely finds the time to speak to her sons twice a year.
I brush my fingertips across the glass, over her face, as though this gesture will enable me to touch her physically.
“Can ye see a resemblance?” Alasdair asks, close to my ear.
I replace the picture and turn towards him.
“Yes, I can; it’s the curly auburn hair.”
“Aye, and the shape of the eyes. Dougal ne’er got a look in.”
I glance at their father. He’s a thin weedy man with a long neck and jet-black hair.
Alasdair’s right: the twins look nothing like their father.
“Have you heard from your son or daughter-in-law lately?” I ask.
Alasdair shakes his head and sighs. “Are ye kidding me! They’re both too busy dinin’ with the president of the United States to think about the likes of us.”
I too let out a sigh. “I understand what you mean. They didn’t even make it to our wedding. She wrote us a letter, explaining that, with his dad being in the oil business, they couldn’t possibly get away at such short notice. Strange, considering we gave them eight months. More than enough time, I would have thought, to make any crucial arrangements so they could attend their own son’s wedding.”
Alasdair pats me gently on the hand. “It pains me to admit it, but they’ve grown a wee bit big for their breeches. However, their loss is my gain.”
I cup his hand in mine. He’s been a wonderful father figure to both Callum and Jamie. It must have been hard for the boys, though, to live at boarding school for most of their young lives and then to come home to just one grandparent. He raised them to work hard and be independent young men, and although he doesn’t have much money, Callum would never ask his parents for a penny.
I let go of Alasdair’s hand and he heads over to the drinks cabinet. To my surprise, he pulls out a bottle of Bollinger.
“I think we should toast Lord Fornhill for coming to his senses,” he declares, unscrewing the small metal cage that protects the cork. He throws it onto the counter before forcing the champagne cork out with his thumbs. “May he come to realise that a McKinley is always the right man for the job.” The cork flies into the air and hits the ceiling with a pop.
I clap my hands in celebration and stare over at my husband. He’s beaming from ear to ear, and I can honestly say I’ve never seen him look so proud.
Alasdair pours the bubbly into four crystal flutes, coming over and placing one in my hand. He gives me a wink.
“I always have a bottle handy. Ye ken? Just in case.”
I don’t catch his meaning, not at first, but then, to my horror, he gently pats my tummy. My heart skips a beat as I realise what he’s been trying to say. I suddenly feel like my life has no purpose without the child Alasdair’s expecting to appear at some point in my married life.
He turns away, unaware of the pain he’s caused, and offers a glass of champagne to Callum. “Ye see, boy, ye just needed a little patience. If this here Lord Fornhill has his wits about him, he’ll be thanking ye for taking him on.”
Alasdair thrusts a glass into Jamie’s hand and we all move to the centre of the room, so we can toast Callum’s success.
I refuse to let Alasdair’s innocent comment ruin the entire evening. It’s tough, but I’ll have to learn to live with unexpected remarks like his for the rest of my life.
“To Lord Fornhill,” Alasdair cries.
“To Lord Fornhill,” we echo and raise our glasses into the air.
I sip my drink and the bubbles go up my nose. I laugh out loud, rubbing my nostrils to relieve the tickle.
“You’re supposed to drink it, not snort it,” Jamie chuckles, and I suffer a fit of the giggles.
“Oh, now you tell me,” I say, and my attention flicks over to Callum.
I don’t know why, but I expect him to be watching me, but he’s too busy talking to granda, thanking him for the champagne.
Jamie offers me a tissue, which I readily accept. His gaze jumps from me to Callum and then back to me again.
“Mark my words, he’ll be head of the company by the end of the year.”
I nod. I don’t doubt it for a second.
“So, are we still on for tomorrow night?” I ask.
To my surprise, Jamie chokes on his champagne, but he’s quick to regain his composure.
“Er, sorry, what do ye mean?”
My brows knit together. “The quiz night at the Scran and Sleekit.”
The tension in his face dissolves and he lets out a light sigh.
“Och, aye, that’s still on the cards if ye wannae go?”
“Yes, of course I do. I’ve been looking forward to socialising with the locals.”
“Aye, they’re a friendly bunch,” he declares, “and it’s guid you’re keen to mingle. Tell me, though, how did ye get on at the memorial stone today? Ye ne’er did say how ye ended up covered in mud.”
Heat flushes my cheeks, only this time it isn’t from the fire. I laugh again, take a gulp of champagne and give a dismissive flick of my hand. “Oh, it was nothing. I just wasn’t looking where I was going and ended up in a heap.”
Jamie’s forehead creases with concern. “Ye sure ye dinnea hurt yourself?”
I rub the back of my head to find the lump is still there. “I’m fine, if not a tad embarrassed,” I admit and quickly change the subject. “Besides, I saw a golden eagle on the way and took a photo to prove it.”
I search for my mobile, but I’ve left it in the cottage and let out a sigh. “Oh, never mind. I’ll show you tomorrow.”
“And what of the stone? Was it as ye imagined?
“Oh, no. The memorial wasn’t what I expected at all.”
“And what did you expect?”
I shrug. “I can’t quite put my finger on it, but the words…they…well, they struck a chord. All those brave clansmen and women who lost their lives.”
“Aye, and all we have left are ghost stories to scare the wee bairns. Many say they can feel the clansmen’s presence. Did ye?”
“I’m not sure,” I confess. “Although, it was as though the dead knew I was there remembering them. To be honest, I found the place a little eerie. And, I met this…”
Jamie interrupts my flow with a nudge from his elbow. “Talking of eerie, did ye ken it’s a new moon this Saturday? There’s a festival this weekend, and the local witches are holding a pagan ritual down by the water at dusk.”
My eyes grow wide. “No, you never said.”
He grins. “Aye, well, ’twas Claire who got me interested in paganism. She liked having flowers in her hair and nothing on her feet. She said it made her feel closer to nature.”
“Oh, I have to agree. I visited a pagan festival once. I was still at college and got invited by a friend. It was held near Stonehenge, and I confess, the music stole my heart. Such haunting melodies. The drums they used were soulful, and the guitars… Everyone was swaying to the beat and dancing. Some wore homemade sandals, whilst others went barefoot. It was uplifting to see young and old mixed together in perfect harmony. And when I left, I felt so at peace with the world.”
“Aye, it can have that kind of an effect on ye.”
“Will there be a priestess performing the ritual?”
Jamie’s voice turns into a whisper. “Och, aye. Usually, she makes an altar close to the stone, then welcomes in the new moon. Most of the local women dress in long flowing robes and chant a few wee spells. It’s a great evening if it doesnae rain. Then they have a cake and ale ceremony; that’s my favourite part.”
I’m intrigued. “I’ve never seen practicing witches before, or witnessed a cake and ale ceremony. Would you take me, please?”
Jamie nods and sips his champagne. “Sure, if ye can handle such excitement, and all in one night.”
***
It’s late by the time I ring Keira again. “Hey, it’s me. Sorry, did I wake you?”
“No, of course not. I’ve been sitting here waiting for your call.”
“I’m sorry…about this afternoon. I shouldn’t have burdened you with my mess-of-a-life.”
Keira’s tone changes in an instant. “Seriously, if you hadn’t and I’d ended up hearing it from somebody else, I’d physically kill you.”
I chuckle because I know she would.
“So, how was tonight?” she asks.
“Much better. But that’s mainly due to Callum receiving a phone call offering him the Fornhill account.”
“Wow, that’s great news. Does this mean you’re coming home?”
“Well, Cal says he’s leaving for work first thing Thursday morning, but wants me to stay on until after the weekend. I said I’d come home, but he insisted. I’m just concerned he might be delayed and you’re left—”
“I seriously hope you’re not worrying about the shop?”
“No, but I wouldn’t want you thinking I’m taking advantage of you, that’s all.”
Keira lets out a sigh. “As if.”
“I’m serious. I wanted to check with you first, to make sure you’re happy to continue running the florist in my absence.”
She clicks her tongue in the roof of her mouth—an annoying habit she picked up after hitting puberty.
“Like you need to ask. Of course, it’s fine. I’ve told you before: stay as long as it takes to get you two back on track. Besides, the shop’s thriving and I haven’t run off with the takings…yet.”
“I’d hunt you down and stab you with a prickly rose if you did,” I tell her, and Keira lets out a chuckle.
“Ah, just the thought is enough to keep me on the straight and narrow,” but then she hesitates. “And what about Jamie? Have you given him a wide berth?”
“I told you, he was a mistake.”
“Good. I’m just checking. I don’t want any more revelations that could cause me sleepless nights.”
I play with a strand of hair and curl my feet under a cushion on the sofa. I enjoy hearing her voice. She cares what happens to me and it soothes me. By the time we finish catching up, the clock on the wall chimes midnight.
I’m far more relaxed when I end the call and head to the bathroom, to clean my teeth and undress. The bottom of my spine still hurts, though. I turn on the tap, fill a glass with cold water and take two painkillers, then swill my mouth and replace the glass.
My bare feet fall silent as I come out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. I adore this room, decorated with its blue and white chintz. The bed frame’s white, the mattress thick and luxurious. I switch on a bedside lamp and smooth my hand over the duvet before flicking over the corner, then climb into bed, easing my aching limbs onto the cold sheet. Once I’ve punched my pillows into shape and made myself comfortable, I pick up a book from off the bedside table and open it at its bookmark. I want to try and wait up for Callum, to talk to him. So far today, we’ve hardly had the chance to say two words to each other.
I’ve only read a few pages before my eyelids grow heavy, unaware when the book slips from my fingers and onto the floor. I don’t hear Callum come to bed an hour or so later, or feel the gentle kiss he plants on my forehead. Nor am I aware that he picks up the book and places it onto the bedside table, or that he strokes my face as he switches off the light.
Chapter 8
Jamie
I enter the kitchen and sit at the table, reaching for the morning paper. My stomach tightens as I glance at today’s date: Wednesday, 23rd of February.
I feel a draught against my cheek as the kitchen door swings open.
“Hey, bro, looks to be the start of a mighty fine day.”
I tear my eyes from the newspaper. “Speak of the devil and he’s sure to appear,” I say, turning over the page.
Maddie enters the room. She comes and stands beside me.
“Morning, Jamie,” she says lightly, “any tea in the pot?”
I nod, glare at Callum and then focus my eyes back towards the headlines. Brexit is still hitting the news and I try to digest the words, but I swear to God I can feel Callum’s eyes burning right through the back of my skull. I throw the newspaper down onto the kitchen table and the chair scrapes against the stone floor as I rise.
“Going somewhere?” Callum asks, cocking his head to one side.
“Aye, I’m off to clean out the stables.”
Maddie takes a sharp intake of breath.
“Oh, would you like help with that?”
I stop and turn towards her. I want to say no, to ask her to stay away from me, but I can’t. She’s standing there, her eyes keen, and I clench my jaw, unwilling to give in. But she bounces from one foot to the other, like a little school kid.
“Come on Jamie, let me.”
I lean against the doorframe. “Aye, all right, if ye wannae come, that’s fine with me.”
She gives me the widest grin I’ve ever seen as she dashes past, then I hear her scrabbling about in the hallway, searching for her boots.
I turn to leave, but Callum rushes over and grabs me by the arm.
“Tell me you’ll go through with it,” he hisses, close to my ear. My muscles tense and I yank my arm free, then turn towards him, our faces just millimetres away from one another. We’re so close, our noses almost touch.
“Nae. I’ll do no such thing,” I say through gritted teeth. “Not now, not ever.”
His eyes search mine as though he’s looking deep inside my soul, his expression unfathomable, until he lets out a defeated sigh. I turn away, leaving him standing there, alone.
“Are you all right?” Maddie asks when I slam the kitchen door behind me. I thrust my fingers through my hair and put on a painted smile.
“Aye, I’m grand, lassie. I just need to get a move on.”
“Wait for me,” I hear her cry as I make for the outer door, but I don’t. I keep on going, out into the yard. I’m angry and afraid, afraid of what I might say to her. I can’t do what my brother asks of me, yet I’m filled with guilt. I’m not to blame for the predicament they find themselves in, and I curse my brother for ever having told me the truth. However, no matter how much he begs, I could never fulfil this wildest desire of his.
I lift the latch and pull open the door to one of the large sheds. Inside, I fish out a wheelbarrow and a couple of pitchforks and a shovel. I throw them into the barrow and use it to push the doors wide as I make my way out.
“Out the way, Maddie,” I cry; “I dinnae want to run ye over.”
She laughs and grabs hold of one of the pitchforks.
“You just try it and you’ll feel the sharp end of a prong up your arse,” and she pretends to stab my backside with the fork.
A smile reaches my lips. “Och, I’d better watch out, then.”
She giggles. “Yes, you’d better, or you’ll not be able to sit down for a week.”
I push the barrow through the yard and she follows. I really don’t want her around me, but although I’m loath to admit it…my dark mood is lifting, if just a little. Perhaps having Maddie around isn’t so bad after all.
We head straight for the stable block. Starsky has his black head out of the stable door. As we approach, he shakes his mane and lets out a snort. It’s his way of saying hello. Maddie lets out a squeal of pure delight.
“He’s such a character,” she says, “and gorgeous with it.”
My heart lurches in my chest. In a different life, a different time…I could say the same about Maddie. I put down the wheelbarrow and head over to the tack room, where I grab a headcollar and lead rope.
“Let’s start with the stallion,” I say when I get back, and I offer the collar to Maddie. She takes it and strokes the horse’s forehead before pushing the straps up over his nose and towards his ears. She makes sure it’s snug and secure before clipping the lead rope onto a ring on his headcollar, now at the side of his mouth.
She nods to say she’s ready and I unbolt the stable door.
“Why don’t ye take him down to the lower field?” I suggest. She stares at me as though I’ve gone stark raving mad, but then her expression changes to one of pleasant surprise.
“Are you sure it’s okay?” she asks, leading the stallion out into the yard. “Only, I’ve never handled any of the horses before.”
“Och, you’ll be fine. Keep him on a short leash and you’ll have nae bother.”
She grins and I can see her excitement grow. I’m amazed how such a small gesture has made her day. I keep a watchful eye on her as she guides the horse away from the stable block and onto the track that leads to the field. She’s a natural with horses, that’s plain to see, for Starsky’s now become putty in her hands. I can hear her talking to him, passing the time of day as if he were human, to which he snorts and grunts in reply. Yes, Maddie certainly has a way with horses.
I concentrate on mucking out the stable, soon filling the wheelbarrow with a mixture of manure, and damp hay and straw. I’m almost done by the time she gets back. Maddie helps me cover the floor, laying a fresh straw bed which quickly drowns out the musky odour of urine with its own dry and dusty smell.
“Maddie, can I ask ye something…something personal?”
She stops what she’s doing and leans on the pitchfork.
“Yeah, sure; what is it?”
I stare at her, not sure where to begin, then clear my throat. “The thing is… Callum told me something the other night when I took him into town.”
“Oh, yeah. Like what?”
I lick my lips. “Och, Maddie, I dinnae wish to pry, but he said that ye couldnae have a bairn. I’ve been cut up about it ever since he told me. Is there nothing anyone can do to help ye?”
She drops the pitchfork, lets out a deep sigh and then goes and sits on a small bale of hay.
I swallow. I’ve clearly upset her.
“Maddie, are ye all right, lass?”
She puts her head in her hands. “What? Oh, your question… Yes, it’s all true; we can’t have children, and no, no one can help us.”
“I’m sorry, Maddie, I had nae right to ask.”
She lifts her head and glares at me. “Then why did you?”
I sense her anger, her bitterness, and shrug. “I dunno. I think I just dinnea believe it, ye ken? ’Tis a lot to take in.”
She turns her head away, but not before teardrops drip from her lashes. I’m then by her side, down on bended knees.
“Maddie, I dinnae mean to make ye cry.” I frantically search for a hanky, pulling one out from inside my pocket, and go to wipe her face. I expect a rebuff, or for her to slap my hand away, but she doesn’t. She allows me gently to wipe the tears away, but more continue to fall.
She finally looks back at me. “We’ve tried everything,” she whispers. “Even three sessions of IVF.” Those same teardrops catch the light and now sparkle like diamonds. They may be beautiful, but they only enhance her look of sorrow.
“Did Callum tell you why we can’t have children?”
I heave a sigh. “Aye, he did. Said he’s infertile.”
She nods. “Yes, that’s right. The last time they managed to find one living sperm and placed it with my egg. I knew then it was our last hope, so when it failed…”
“I’m sorry, Maddie, for yir loss; and for asking.”
She dries her eyes with the palms of her hands and rises to her feet. “It’s fine. You’re my brother-in-law. You should know what we’re going through. It’s been horrible having to suffer without the support of close family.”
“Och, you’ll always have mine,” I tell her, and rise to squeeze her shoulders gently.
She stares deep into my eyes. “Do you know what the worst thing is?”
I shake my head; I can’t even begin to imagine.
“It’s the baby hunger. I’m tormented, every minute of every day, no matter where I go. If I visit the park, all I see are mummies and daddies pushing their prams, swinging toddlers and buying their kids ice cream. Or…or…I’ll log onto Facebook to find my newsfeed full of ultrasound scan pictures, their threads filled with expressions of congratulations to the happy couple.”
Again, I shrug. “It must be hard for ye both.”
She turns on me then and bares her teeth, like a wounded animal.
“Hard? Christ, that doesn’t even come close. What pain do you think comes after all that? Well, I’ll tell you: it’s their birth, their first steps, first words, their first birthday. It’s listening to other women moaning about being a mother while I’m dying to be one,” and she thumps her chest with her hands, over and over.
“Maddie, it’s okay; I understand,” I soothe, but she isn’t listening. She’s consumed with grief, then her voice rises as she pulls away.
“Being unable to have a baby sours friendships and destroys marriages,” she cries, just inches from my face. “For Christ sake, Jamie, look at mine.”
She bursts into tears and I pull her towards me, taking her in my arms. I hold her close, rock her two and fro as she sobs unconsolably against my chest.
“I’m such a dick,” I chastise myself. “I’ve hurt ye and I ne’er meant to. I just wanted to hear yir side of the story, to get to grips with what’s happened from yir perspective.”
She sobs for what seems like an age, until the cries turn to whimpers. She’s calmer now, just light sniffles, and then she pulls away. Her shoulders are hunched over, her eyes red and swollen. She glances up and offers me a weak smile.
“I’ve…er…got to go,” she says, and before I can stop her, she dashes from the stable. I chase after her, but to my despair I see Alasdair walking towards us. I stop dead in my tracks as Maddie runs towards him and he opens his arms, embracing her. I can see his lips moving, but the wind catches his words, sweeping them away. Although I can’t hear what he says, when he looks across at me, I can read the expression on his face. Oh, yeah; I really am a complete prick.
***
When I open the main door to the farmhouse and take a deep breath, I inhale a spicy aroma: beef curry, my favourite dish. My mouth waters at the thought of eating some tender chunks of sirloin covered in a rich madras sauce. Then Maddie’s laughter comes to my ears and a niggle of uncertainly crawls down my spine, unsure what kind of a response I’ll receive when I open the kitchen door.
I hang up my jacket, take off my boots and reluctantly head for the warmest room in the house. Tonight, though, I expect a chill in its air.
I push the door wide open.
“Oh, there you are,” says Callum, cheerily. “I thought you were never coming home.” He’s standing at the cooker, stirring the curry sauce whilst Maddie lays the table for supper. I try not to make eye contact, but I’ve already clocked that she’s wearing a pretty red blouse and a tight black pencil skirt. The top is flattering and shows off her neckline, revealing milky white skin. Her skirt clings to her thighs and I force myself to avert my gaze.
I clear my throat. “We don’t usually have curry on a Wednesday,” I say to Alasdair, who’s busy serving up rice.
“Aye, ye right; ’twas Callum’s idea. He thought ye deserved a treat.” He turns towards me, his eyes narrowed: his way of telling me that he doesn’t agree. My gut churns. Let him believe what he likes; after all, he isn’t aware of what’s really happening here.
“What time does the quiz start?” Callum asks, pouring the madras over the rice.
I have to think for a second. “Er, about seven o’clock.” I head over to the sink and give my hands a thorough scrub, ready for supper.
“I’m not too fussed what time we get there,” Callum explains, “but Maddie says she’d like to enter.”
I turn towards her, my hands covered in soap. She’s been busy folding napkins and placing them inside the wine glasses, but looks up on hearing her name.
“Isn’t that right?” Callum says.
She nods and gives a warm smile. “Yes, why not. After all, there’s no point going if we can’t take part.”
Callum’s eye catches mine and we exchange glances. I’m no fool, and I don’t have to be his twin to know what he’s really thinking. Irritated, I turn away.
I rinse my hands under the hot tap and dry them on a hand towel. I can’t explain it, but my nerves are jangling like alarm bells and my stomach’s churning into knots. I try to shake off the feeling of trepidation, but it won’t budge. I’m dreading tonight. Callum appears to be living in hope that I’ll sleep with Maddie. How many times do I have to say no before he gets it into his thick skull that it’s never going to happen?
I head over to the kitchen table. As I approach, Maddie sits down, and I take a seat at the opposite side of the table.
Alasdair and Callum bring over the food and the smell makes my mouth water yet again. As the plate is placed in front of me, I take a deep breath and inhale the spicy aroma of Turmeric, Cumin and Ground Coriander, licking my lips in anticipation. Although my stomach’s in knots, I’m still ravenous.
As I pick up my fork, Maddie flicks her napkin and folds it neatly across her lap.
“Alasdair, why don’t you come along tonight?” she asks.
He shakes his head and chuckles. “Nae, lass, it’s not my idea of a guid night out. I’d have more fun chewing a brick.”
She laughs, “Oh, don’t be such a spoilsport. We’re going to need all the help we can get.”
“Aye, maybe so, but if it’s brains you’re after, you’ve come to the wrong place.”
I watch Maddie out of the corner of my eye. She’s thoughtful and loving, and right now, at this very moment in time, I believe Callum doesn’t deserve her. The light shimmers across her face and I notice the long silver earrings she’s wearing. They elongate her neck and her dark red lipstick emphasises her cupid-bow lips. I don’t mean to catch her attention but I do, and she blinks those liquid blue eyes at me.
“What about you, Jamie? Are you a walking encyclopaedia?”
“Nah, I take after granda. I’m more brawn than brains. Get me to wrestle a pig or a sheep and ye might be onto a winner.”
Her gaze flits towards Callum. He’s now sitting at the kitchen table, an amused expression on his face. Her gaze returns to me. “I’ll have to remember that the next time I need some muscle.”
“Och, you dinnea need mine, not when you’ve got Callum.”
She shrugs. “Really. Now that would be a first.”
After dinner, Callum grabs a set of car keys from off the table.
“I’ll drive,” he says, waving them above his head. “And before you protest, I’ll not hear any arguments.”
I hesitate. I thought he’d want to enjoy a few pints at least, tonight.
“Don’t look so surprised,” he says, reading my expression. “Contrary to belief, I don’t actually drink—all of the time.”
I shake my head. “Och, it’s fine. It’s yir holiday. I’ll drive so ye can make the most of yir last evening together.”
I lean forward, to grab the keys, but Callum clutches them tightly to his chest.
“No, not tonight. Like I said: my treat.”
Maddie puts on her coat and reaches for her handbag. “Come on, let’s go. I’m feeling lucky,” she says. I follow them out of the house, but I’m aware I’m dragging my feet.
I open the car door and climb into the back. Maddie goes around the front and sits beside her husband.
“Brrr, it’s freezing,” she says with a shiver. She isn’t dressed for the weather, in a thin padded jacket with a belt that nips in at the waist. On her feet, there’s a pair of red high heels and her legs are clad in black nylon. It’s not what women wear around here. It’s all wellington boots and waterproof jackets. It’s no wonder she’s freezing, and tonight, dressed like that, she’ll have every man in the room drooling over her.
Callum starts the engine and I catch his gaze in the rear-view mirror, his eyes relaying a message I don’t wish to read. They’re telling me tonight’s the night he hopes I’ll sleep with his wife. I glance out of the window, but it’s dark and there’s nothing to see except my own reflection. A lonely man stares back at me. I close my eyes and rub my thumb and forefinger across my temple. Inside my mind, I try to conjure Claire’s face, but it’s Maddie’s that floats behind my eyes. I blink, and the vision vanishes. I switch my attention towards my brother, his eyes still fixed on mine.
“What are ye looking at?”
“Nothing,” he chuckles, averting his gaze. “Besides, I can think of better things to stare at than you.” He glances over at Maddie, tips her a wink and then sets off. I can’t shake the sense he’s still watching me, but every time I flick my gaze at him, his own is fixed elsewhere.
A flicker of light from a nearby farm catches my attention. Its golden glow, its warmth, reminds me why I adore my homeland, although there have been times when I’ve been tempted to leave this place, this country. Losing Claire destroyed my life, but whenever I think it’s time to move on, I look at granda struggling on the farm, and I lose heart.
Callum hits a bump in the road and I avert my gaze from the window.
“Perhaps it’s best if I drive,” I say as he swerves to miss the curb.
He laughs out loud. “Now, don’t be a party pooper. After all, where’s the fun in that?”
We arrive at the market square with half an hour to spare. I quickly push open the car door and clamber out, hit by a biting wind which sends a chill straight through to my bones. I watch Maddie pull her jacket that bit closer and Callum puts his arm around her shoulders. It’s odd: apart from a kiss, it’s the first time during their visit that I’ve seen him physically touch her.
I look up at the dark sky, catching a glimpse of the crescent moon as it’s swallowed whole by thickening cloud. The cold night air has left the streets deserted. Only the light from several street lamps illuminates our way to the Scran and Sleekit. I hold the pub door open for Maddie and Callum, the warmth from the wood burner hitting my cheeks as I follow them in. I’m thankful to be indoors. Maddie points to a vacant table in the far corner of the dining section, and we make our way over, passing a crowd of young revellers enjoying shots at the bar.
“How about I get a round of drinks in?” I say.
“Sounds great. But they’re on me,” Callum tells me. “Maddie, what will you have?”
She smiles up at him. “A Gin and Tonic, please. And easy on the ice.”
“Jamie? What about you?”
I shrug. “I’ll come with ye and have a look what’s on offer.”
Maddie sits down at the table and I point to the pub menu. “Why don’t ye have a look for next time ye visit. They cook great food here, and I promise ye, the Rosemary and Minted Lamb is to die for.”
“All right,” she says, and places her handbag down onto the chair next to her before picking up the laminated menu.
“We’ll be right back,” I say, and Callum and I head towards the pub’s entrance and make our way to the front of the bar. The bartender is stacking glasses, and Callum waves a hand in the air to catch his attention. The man puts down an empty crate and hurries over.
“Hey, Stuart, how’s it going?” Callum asks.
“Not too bad, thanks. I’m just covering for a lassie who’s sick tonight.” He greets us both with a firm handshake. “Okay, lads, what can I get ye?”
“I’ll have a pint of Stella,” I say. “Callum? What will ye have?”
He moves closer to the bar, pondering the choices, leaving me free to steal a quick glance over at Maddie. She’s still studying the menu, but she looks lost sitting there, all on her own. There’s other customers milling around her yet it’s as though she’s the only person in the room.
“Isn’t that right, Jamie?”
“Eh? Sorry, what was that?” I say as I snap my head back towards Callum.
“Stuart, here, reckons his team’s going to win tonight, but I’ve told him we’ve got a secret weapon in Maddie.”
I laugh and grab my beer. “Yeah, sure; whatever ye say, bro.”
“Here,” and he thrusts his wife’s drink into my hand. “Can you take it to her. I’ll be over in a minute.”
I nod and head back towards the table. I notice a look of relief sweeps across Maddie’s face as I approach.
“Sorry about that,” I say. “Callum’s busy telling anyone who’ll listen that we’re going to win tonight. The bartender’s an old mate from university.”
“Oh, it’s fine with me,” she says and takes a sip of her Gin and Tonic. “It isn’t often he gets the chance to see any of his old friends.”
“’Tis true; he’s rarely home these days and is a sight for sore eyes to some.”
Maddie nods and takes another sip of her drink.
“So, what’s yir first impressions?” I ask, pointing to a black and white picture of a famous sculpture of two horse’s heads known as The Kelpies. “I think they’ve done a great job giving the old pub a modern twist.”
“Yes, it works,” she says. “It’s certainly pleasant enough, and it seems popular with the locals.”
I lean a little closer. “Maddie, about earlier, in the stable. I really am sorry.”
She looks down at her drink and wipes condensation off the side of the glass with her index finger.
There’s a noise beside us and a door flies open. I glance up to see the landlord make an entrance. He shakes my hand as he passes. “It’s guid to see ye here tonight,” he says and gives Maddie a welcoming nod. I’ve known Malcolm since I was a child; played rugby for the county with two of his sons.
He dashes off and goes to stand beside a table that’s been prepared especially for tonight’s quiz.
“Guid evening, folks,” he says, picking up and blowing down a microphone. “I’ll be round shortly with pens and paper whilst Susie,” he points towards a barmaid, “will be taking yir money.”
The pub is much busier now. Most of the tables are occupied and there’s a buzz of excitement in the air. There’s a commotion, and I turn in my chair to see the regular customers, sitting at the other tables, start to clap their hands and cheer. I glance at Maddie, but her eyes are on them, too. I strain my neck to try and see what’s created such an uproar and spot a young couple making their way through the crowd at the bar. The man is all smiles and waving, and the woman, who I recognise as the landlord’s daughter, clutches something small to her chest.
My jaw drops when I realise she’s carrying a new-born baby, all wrapped in a white knitted shawl.
I turn back to stare at Maddie and watch as her face turns to stone. She doesn’t move a muscle, her eyes fixed solely on the child.
Once again, the landlord picks up the mic. “Come here, ye two,” he says, gesturing for the couple to make their way over. When they reach him, he puts his arm around his daughter and pulls her close.
“Ladies and Gentlemen. I’m sure ye all recognise young Rhona and her husband, Gordon. And I’m most proud to announce the safe arrival of our first grandson, Findley Fraser McGregor.” The whole place erupts with loud cheers and whistles.
I reach out and squeeze Maddie’s hand.
“Are ye all right,” I ask, but she’s quick to snatch her hand away, then jumps to her feet.
“Er, sorry, I have to go to the toilet,” and she grabs her bag and hurries through the applauding crowd, into which I watch her disappear. I imagine the sorrow she must feel looking at the child in its mother’s arms: to be physically able to bear children and yet not conceive, for the sake of her husband. Maddie’s determination to live a life under such constraints reminds me of Claire. All we wanted was to be a family, to have children of our own, but that and our every desire was snatched away in an instant.
I head over to the bar where Callum is still chatting to his old Uni pal. I nudge him and gesture for him to come and talk in private.
“Whatever’s the matter?” he asks, his brow creased.
“It’s Maddie; did ye see her reaction when she saw the bairn?”
Callum sighs. “Yes, of course I did. But there’s nothing I can do.”
I shake my head. “It kills me to see her like this. It must be pure torture for her.”
Callum places a hand on my shoulder. “She suffers in silence every day. However, as you well know, only you have the power to change all that.”
I continue to shake my head. “I cannae do it, Cal. I just cannae.”
He drops his hand. “What you need is a stiff drink,” he says, and goes to turn towards the bar.
I stop him and give him a half-hearted shrug. “Nah, thanks. I’m not in a drinking mood right now.”
“I understand,” Callum nods. “Maybe later?”
“Aye, maybe.”
Callum turns his attention back to Stuart, and I head towards the table and take a seat. In a little while, Maddie steps out from the ladies’ toilets. She’s wearing a stiff upper lip, and as she approaches, I notice her eyes scan the crowd to see if anyone is looking at her; judging her from afar, I guess.
“Is everything okay?” I ask when she sits down.
“Yes, I’m fine,” and she gives me a weak smile before finishing the last sips of her Gin and Tonic. Her eyes have become bold, her insecurities gone now she’s reapplied red lipstick.
“Would ye like another?” I ask, and she nods and offers me her empty glass.
“Sure, why not?”
I stand up from my seat and turn to face the bar. Malcolm, the landlord, is walking towards me, carrying the baby in his arms.
“Ye can tell this wee ’un’s made of McGregor stock,” he chuckles. “He’s got a grip that’s as strong as an ox.” I look down at the little cherub, at its blue eyes and light tuft of red hair.
“Can I hold him please?” and we both turn our heads to see Maddie standing next to us.
“Sure ye can, lassie,” says Malcolm with a broad grin. “Go on, sit thee down and I’ll pass him over to ye.”
Her expression changes to one of excitement as she hurries back to her chair. There’s a spark in her eyes that I’ve never seen before. Malcolm places the child inside her arms and she gasps then giggles.
“He’s as light as a feather,” she declares. “Somehow, I thought he’d be heavier.” The baby starts to cry and she pulls him closer to her breast.
“Shhhh, there now. Everything’s going to be all right.” She rocks the mite gently, all the while keeping her voice low and soothing. She brushes her lips against his tiny cheek and the baby murmurs then falls silent.
“You’re guid with bairns, I see,” says Malcolm, clearly impressed. “His mammy says he usually screams his head off for a feed about now.”
Maddie turns towards me, her smile triumphant, then she stares down at the child and her expression yields to a look of grateful satisfaction. There’s a complete transformation in her body language. She’s kind and gentle, and I find this makes her deeply womanly. I’m drawn towards her muliebrity; it’s like a hormonal magnet.
She glances up, catches my eye, and smiles. It’s soft and tender and I go weak at the knees. Just as quickly, she breaks eye contact when the bairn grabs hold of her little finger.
“You’re right, he is strong,” she giggles, and her long lashes flicker as she looks up to hold my gaze once more. “I bet if you ever have a boy, Jamie, he’d be a strapping wee man, too,” she says, and it’s then, right at that moment, that I come face to face with what I must do.
***
Susie the barmaid comes and taps Malcolm on the shoulder.
“It’s time for the quiz,” she says.
“Och, aye, you’re right,” he acknowledges. “Sorry, lassie, I’ve got to go.” He bends down and takes Findlay from Maddie’s arms. I notice the light in her eyes goes out. Malcolm turns, just as Rhona, Findlay’s mum, appears.
“Here ye go, darlin’, back to yir mammy,” he says, pride still in his voice, and Rhona takes the child into her arms, but then she turns to Maddie.
“Hi,” she says, “are ye Callum’s wife?”
Maddie nods and jumps to her feet. “Yes. That’s right. I am.”
“’Tis nice to meet ye. I’m Rhona, and I see you’ve taken a shine to young Findlay. If ye ever want to pop in and see him, you’re more than welcome.”
Maddie gives the biggest grin ever. “Can I? That would be lovely,” she says.
Rhona flicks a finger towards me. “Jamie, here, knows where I live. He can bring ye next time you’re in town.”
I nod. “Aye, I can do that.”
Rhona waves goodbye. “I’m off to take the wean home,” she says and makes a beeline to her waiting husband, standing at the door.
We both sit down, just as Callum returns from the bar. “I’ve got the pens and paper and I’ve paid the entry fee,” he says, and places the items onto the table. “We just need to think of a team name, and quickly.”
“Any ideas?” I ask.
Callum sniggers. “How about Norfolk and Chance?”
Maddie rolls her eyes and sighs. “Do you have to be so uncouth?” she chastises.
Callum looks down at her. “Can you think of something better?”
She nods. “Yeah. I thought we could call ourselves Les Quizerables.”
I take a swig of beer and chuckle into my glass. “I like it,” I say. “It sounds classy.”
“Yup, something you’ll never be,” Callum jokes.
“Ye, neither, arsehole,” I comment, and we both laugh out loud.
Callum jumps up and heads over to register our team.
“’Tis a great name,” I say, and Maddie swipes a lose curl away from her cheek.
“Thanks. I stole it from the internet.”
Callum rushes back and sits down. “The quiz is set to start,” he explains, and a hush sweeps across the entire pub.
“Right, folks, if I can have yir attention,” says Malcolm over the mic. “We’ll begin with question one: Which James Bond theme song, which starts with the words Meeting you, was the only double-O-seven theme song to reach the US charts?”
I can feel a blank expression crossing my face. I flick my gaze towards Callum, who has the exact same look on his face, too.
Maddie picks up a pencil and taps it lightly against the end of the table. “Off the top of your head,” she says, “give me some pop artists who were famous for singing on the James Bond movies.”
“Shirley Bassey,” I say.
“No way,” Callum replies, pulling a grimace. “She’s way too old.”
“How about Sheena Easton; she went to America.”
“Hmm. Think of the clue: Meeting you,” Maddie says and starts humming. “Wait, I think I’ve got it. Meeting you…with a view to a kill.”
“Aye, that’s it,” I say, and lower my voice to make sure the other teams can’t overhear. “Wasn’t that a hit for Duran Duran?”
Maddie nods enthusiastically and writes the answer on the piece of paper. “Yes! That’s it. Well done, Jamie.”
I grin smugly at Callum who glowers at me.
“Beginners luck,” he says.
“Ye either have it or ye dinnea,” I reply, and Maddie and I mark our victory with a high five.