Chapter 9
It’s almost midnight by the time we arrive back at the farm. It’s been an entertaining evening, and although we didn’t win the quiz, we certainly gave the other contestants a run for their money.
“I’ve had a fab night,” Maddie says, kicking off her shoes. She stands on each leg in turn, so she can massage the balls of her feet. She bends a little too far and loses her balance, grabbing the arm of a nearby chair to stop herself from falling. “Oops, I think I’ve had one too many,” she giggles, then plonks herself down into the chair and tucks her feet underneath her.
“I enjoyed tonight,” she adds. “The locals made me very welcome and they’re such lovely people.” She sits back and closes her eyes. “Oh no, everything’s spinning. I think I’m going to suffer a cracking hangover in the morning.”
“Away with ye. One more for the road won’t kill ye,” I say and pour three shots of Whisky. We’re in the study and I walk over and nudge her knee with mine. She forces her eyes open and I offer her the nightcap.
She tries to stifle a loud yawn as she takes the tumbler. “Thanks. But after this, I’m off to bed.”
I pass a glass to Callum. He’s sitting in one of the fireside chairs. “Slàinte mhath,” I say and we tip our glasses simultaneously, knocking back the golden liquid in one large gulp.
I go back to the bar server and refill both glasses.
“What does that mean?” Maddie asks, thoughtfully.
“Good health,” Callum explains, and he raises his glass towards his wife.
Maddie tries to pronounce the words in Gaelic. “Slanj-uh-va,” she says with a hiccup, then she giggles again. “Was that even close?”
Callum grins. “Not bad for a Sassenach.”
“Aye, we’ll make a Scot out of ye yet,” I joke.
“I doubt it,” Maddie replies, rolling her eyes. “I didn’t even know until tonight that the Loch Ness monster inhabits the second largest lake in Scotland.”
“Ah—that maybe so, but remember the loch has the freshest water. ’Tis also the deepest in the whole of Scotland, and why it’s able to hide monsters.”
Callum chuckles. “Oh, wee Nessie. The folklore never ceases to amaze me. Every time I come home, there’s been at least one more sighting.”
I lean against a large mahogany desk that sits in the centre of the room.
“And don’t forget there’s supposed to be more than one monster in the loch, ye ken?” I tease.
Maddie’s eyes grow wide. “You mean Nessie’s had babies?”
“Aye, so they say, but no one’s ever seen them. It’s pure speculation.”
Maddie turns towards her husband. “Oh, Cal, that reminds me: did you see the new-born baby tonight at the quiz? Wasn’t he adorable. Rhona, his mum, says I can pop by and see him anytime I wish.”
Callum’s grin slides from his face and he takes a large gulp of Whisky.
“That’s nice,” he presently says, “but don’t go getting emotionally attached.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean: perhaps it isn’t such a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“You know why. Don’t make me spell it out.”
She heaves a sigh and pulls her lips into a tight frown, then stands to place her empty glass on a nearby table.
“I think it’s time I went to bed,” she says, then makes her way over and kisses me on my cheek. “Goodnight, Jamie, and thanks for a great evening.”
She goes to Callum’s side but hesitates before her lips rest against his. “Night, Cal.”
“I’ll come with you,” he says, and starts to rise from his chair. His movements are slow, half-hearted.
Maddie put’s a hand against his chest. She shakes her head and smiles, but her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “No, you stay. Finish your drink. You can join me later.” She shoves her shoes back on and heads for the door, and without a backward glance, closes it behind her.
“I can’t carry on like this for much longer,” Callum whispers into his glass. “I feel so guilty that I’m unable to give her what she wants. I know she pretends everything’s okay, but without a child of her own, it’s as though she’s on self-destruct.”
I throw back my head, downing the last of my Whisky. “Are ye sure you’re not willing to adopt?”
Callum shakes his head. “No, as selfish as it sounds, I just can’t. It wouldn’t be Maddie’s baby or mine. I couldn’t bond with someone who wasn’t ours from the start. The thought makes me shiver inside. I’d always be…detached.”
“And you’ll nae reconsider?”
“Never. It’s our blood or nothing.”
I clear my throat nervously.
“Okay. Against my better judgement, I’ll do it.”
Callum shoots me a confused stare. “You’ll do what?”
“I’ll sleep with Maddie, if ye still want me to.”
Callum bolts upright. His jaw drops, his eyes now wide in disbelief.
“Are you serious?” he asks. “I mean: you’re not fucking with me, are you?”
I slam my empty tumbler down onto the desk. “Christ, Cal, like I’d ever joke about sleeping with yir wife.”
Callum jumps to his feet and grabs hold of me, pulling me close. His eyes search mine, as though if he stares long enough he’ll find the answer there.
“What changed your mind?” he asks.
I let out a sigh, shrug him off and go and sit in one of the fireside chairs. Callum follows and sits directly opposite.
I look down at my hands. They’re shaking. “If I’m honest, Maddie did.”
“But how? When?”
“I spoke to Maddie at the stables. I asked her, when we were mucking out the horses, what it was like not being able to have children.”
“And what did she say?”
“More than I deserve. I shouldn’t have gone prodding and poking about in her personal life like that. I simply had nae right.”
“Just tell me what she said that changed your mind?”
I jump to my feet. “I cannae pinpoint one exact moment,” I confess.
Callum lets out a frustrated sigh. “But something must have triggered this change of heart?”
“Aye, tonight at the quiz. When I spoke to her, it was as though something just clicked inside my head. It was as though I understood her pain. I came to realise just how much she desperately wants…no, needs a child of her own. It’s as though without a bairn she’s empty inside, and my asking her those questions earlier must have ripped her heart out.”
“Sit down,” Callum insists. “I need to get my head around all this.”
I stumble into one of the chairs and Callum presses a hand to my shoulder.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” he tells me. “You just wanted to learn the truth from both sides.”
“Aye, maybe you’re right. But tonight, at the pub, I saw her face when she held that bairn in her arms. I’ve never seen her look so radiant. She was a different person. She came alive and she was happy. I cannnae turn my back on her now, and I cannae deny her a chance to become a mother, either.”
I watch Callum go back to the bar server, where he pours two more Whiskies, soon placing one in my hand. “Here, drink this, then we’ll change clothes.”
I stare up at my brother. “Do you understand the implications of what I’m about to do?” I whisper. “They’ll be no turning back once I leave this room.”
Callum drops his voice an octave. “I understand and take full responsibility.”
“And if I do this, it must remain our secret forever.”
Callum nods. “I’ll take it to the grave if I have to.”
“Then let’s pray we don’t ever live to regret what we’ve now agreed to do.”
***
I open the front door and let myself into the cottage. Large black shapes, silhouetted by the darkness, rise and fall before me like ghostly giants as I make my way through the living room and head for the doorway to the stairs.
The only sound is my own breathing, which does nothing to help calm my taut nerves. When I reach the bottom of the stairs, I look up towards the landing, a part of me expecting Claire to be standing there, waiting for me to come to bed. We had such hopes, such dreams together.
I curl my fingers around the bannister, the wood cool against my skin, then lift my foot and take the first step, climbing each in turn. My heart beats loudly in my chest and I’m fearful of waking Maddie. It’s as though my own body will betray me.
I’m dressed head to foot in Callum’s clothes. Our tastes are not so different; jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. We’ve changed everything, right down to our socks, shoes and underwear. I pull the neck of his shirt away from my throat, smelling his aftershave on its collar. It’s clean and fresh and citrusy. When I reach the top of the stairs, I stand there in the darkness for what seems like an age. There’s a slit of light shining down the hallway from the master bedroom, the door slightly ajar.
Slowly, I make my way towards it, inching closer to the bedroom with each step I take. I’m filled with nervous energy, my hands shaking when I lift them into the light of the moon coming in through a window, then it seems I’m there, pushing the door wide open.
I don’t want to disturb Maddie. She’s fast asleep, her tousled blond hair fanned out across her pillow. It reminds me of yellow corn, and I can’t deny she looks beautiful lying there. Her cupid-bow lips are alluring and seductive and her long dark lashes flicker, like butterfly wings, in her sleep.
As I draw nearer, I slowly unbutton my shirt and gaze at her beauty, her skin creamy white, like porcelain. A deep sigh escapes me, for her lips are so tantalisingly plump and moist. They make me want to kiss her, to taste her.
As though in a dream, I gently brush my lips against hers and she stirs and I take a step back, afraid she’ll awaken and realise I’m an imposter. I convince myself there’s no way she could tell the difference between Callum and me. Even Alasdair has difficulty telling us apart at times.
Taking a deep breath, I chide myself for overreacting and close my eyes and calm my beating heart.
When I blink my eyes open, it’s to let out a sigh of relief at seeing Maddie still sleeping.
I brush my hand across the counterpane of the bed; it feels familiar, the quilt soft beneath my fingers, and a vision of Claire materialises inside my head. I see us both naked, wrapped in each other’s arms, making love on this very bed. Even when I squeeze my eyes tight shut, to obliterate the memory, it doesn’t fade. I sit on the edge of the bed and untie my laces, then take off my shoes.
“Callum?” Maddie murmurs without opening her eyes.
I freeze for a moment, then whisper, “Go back to sleep,” and she turns onto her side and mumbles something incoherent.
I wait for her to settle and listen to her breathing, watching her chest rise and fall. When I think it’s safe, I gently pull back the covers.
“I love you,” she mutters and flings herself onto her back.
I unclasp my belt and unfasten my trousers, letting them slide past my hips and down onto the floor.
***
Maddie
“Callum, don’t leave,” I say.
“Maddie, I have to,” he replies, picks up his bags from the driveway and flings them onto the backseat of the Peugeot. I take a step closer and pull at the sleeve of his jumper.
“Please. Stay here with me,” I plead.
“I wish I could, but I can’t.” He’s clearly controlling his face, trying not to grin—again. He’s been laughing and joking all morning. I guess it’s down to the amazing sex we had last night, and I hide a shy smile behind the back of my hand. He woke me up at some ungodly hour to make love to me, just like in the old days.
He gives me that stare, the one which makes his eyes smoulder. I know what he’s doing. He’s trying to make me blush, to relive the passion we both shared together in bed.
I feel like we’ve only just met, shy and giggly and not wanting us to part ever again.
He kisses me on the lips and gently slides his tongue into my mouth. It’s warm and seductive, and my body responds, but he lets go.
“There’ll be more of that when I get back,” he says, huskily, then opens the driver-side door and eases down into the leather seat. Clicking on his seatbelt, he closes the door and winds down the window.
“See you next week.”
“Ring me when you get home,” I say and wave goodbye as he drives away, my hand halting a mid-farewell gesture as an emptiness engulfs me. I look towards the rolling hills and hate that I need Callum to be happy.
Back in the kitchen, I make myself a pot of tea. In the background, an old battered transistor radio is playing famous songs from the seventies. I glance at the clock; it’s almost eight. Alasdair should be back soon. I grab yesterday’s newspaper and go and sit by the fire. It’s a frosty morning and I enjoy warming my toes over the glowing embers.
I’m glancing at the lonely-hearts page when I hear a car approach outside and sit bolt upright. I wonder if it’s Callum, whether he’s forgotten something important, and listen for the front door opening. When it doesn’t, I fold up the newspaper and place it onto the chair, leaving my cup on the kitchen table before hurrying through the hallway, to peer out of the front window. I push back the net curtain and see the back of a woman’s figure, someone who looks oddly familiar. But then I recognise the long dark hair and her slimness: it’s Ally, the vet. She’s dressed in tight blue jeans that make her legs look deliciously long as she stands beside a white 4 x 4. She slams the car door and kicks one of the silver wheel hubs. Then she lets out an infuriated scream. She’s pissed off about something, and so I press my nose closer to the glass to see whether she’s suffered a flat tyre, but doesn’t seem to have, not as far as I can tell. I’m about to pull on a pair of boots and go outside and investigate when I see Jamie hurrying towards her. As soon as he’s within earshot, Ally raises her voice and shouts: “I need to see him, now.”
I crane my neck a little closer to the glass and see Jamie’s face turn deep crimson. He throws his arms into the air, and in return, Ally points an accusing finger close to his chest.
“Don’t come here causing trouble,” he says, and they engage in a full-blown argument. My eyebrows knit together with concern, so I dash into the hallway and pull on those boots and grab a coat.
Just as I’m opening the front door I hear Jamie shout “Get back in yir car and get off our land”.
“Hey, what’s going on here?” I ask, hurrying towards them. I’m just a few feet away when Ally spins on her heels, her mouth twisting into an expression of disgust. Her green eyes now bulge wide as she looks at me as though I’m something she’s found stuck to the bottom of her shoe.
“Oh, look who we have here. If it isn’t the temptress herself.”
“What do you mean by that?” I say.
“I thought he would have chosen someone a little more…educated, but then again, he always had a weakness for a pretty face.”
“I don’t think there’s any need for you to talk to me like that,” and I jut out my chin in disdain.
Jamie clears his throat. “I’ll not tell ye again, Ally. I said get yir arse off my land!”
She spins around and glares at him. “Fine. If that’s the way you want to play it. But just make sure Callum knows I need to talk to him,” at which she grabs the door handle and climbs into the front seat of her car, starts the engine and slams the door shut. There’s a crunch of gears and the back tyres spin before she releases the hand-break and leaves the farm in a cloud of smoke.
“What’s got her all riled up?” I say.
Jamie shakes his head and takes a deep breath.
“God only knows, but she’s mad about something.”
“Why, what did she say?”
“Och, she was upset. Kept repeating over and over that she needs to speak to Callum.”
“About what?”
“I couldnae say.”
“Was it animal stuff?”
“Nah; I dinnae think so.”
“What then?”
Jamie takes in a deep breath, letting it out slowly before he turns away from me, as though trying to find a means of escape.
“Jamie, tell me; what is it?”
He rubs the back of his head with his fingers, then thrusts his hands inside his pockets and takes a steadying breath. “I hate to be the one to tell ye, but she’s Callum’s ex.”
“Oh?” I gulp. “He never said.”
“Aye, and I’m sorry to be the one to break it to ye. However, she dinnae leave me much choice.”
I pull my coat a little closer. “No, I guess not. But I just don’t get it. I mean, why now? What’s the meaning of her turning up here, unannounced, and shouting the odds?”
“I dinnae know for sure. I thought she was coming to check up on the bull, but as soon as she got out of the car, she demanded to see Callum. I explained he’d returned home and she just flew off the handle.”
My eyes search out his. “But why the sudden urgency to speak to Cal? Did she give you any clues at all?”
“Nah, she talked in riddles. Said she wasnae willing to keep secrets any longer.”
I suffer a shiver of unease. “Secrets; what secrets? What the hell is she talking about, Jamie?”
He shrugs. “You’ll have to speak to Callum, I guess.”
I bite my lip. “Don’t worry, I will.”
Jamie shoves his hands deeper inside his coat pockets and takes a step closer.
“Are yir all right, lass?” he asks, “because ye look a wee bit upset.”
“I’m fine,” and I give him a wide smile to prove it.
“Do ye want to do something today?”
“Like what?”
“Perhaps take a drive into Camburgh to do a bit of shopping?”
I shake my head. “Thanks, but I don’t think so. Maybe another time.”
“If ye like, we can always call in to see Findley on the way back?”
My head snaps towards him and he laughs out loud.
“Aye, I thought I’d catch yir attention if I mentioned the wee bairn. Do ye want to go and visit him?”
“Yes, that would be great.”
“Then I’ll see ye once I’ve finished workin’ in the barn,” at which he strides off across the farmyard. I hesitate, just a tad, and then head back to the sanctuary of the farmhouse.
***
I’m inside a quaint little shop that sells an array of Scottish souvenirs. There are shimmering glass cabinets filled with silver brooches and bright shiny pins, jewelled daggers and highly polished whisky flasks. It’s eye catching, but not enough for me to want to buy.
“Let’s go and grab a coffee,” I suggest to Jamie.
He heaves a sigh. “I thought you’d ne’er ask,” and he turns and grabs the door handle.
A small bell jangles overhead as we step outside.
“Huh, where did the rain come from?” I huff and pull up the collar on my coat.
“The sky maybe,” Jamie suggests with a snigger as he quickly zips up his jacket.
“Oh, very funny, but I didn’t bring a brolly with me and I’ll get soaked.”
“There’s a café in the department store over the road,” he tells me, and points to a black and white building. “It isnae grand, but it’s close enough so ye dinnae get yir hair wet.”
We make a dash for it, crossing the road and pushing our way through a set of revolving doors. It’s how I find myself sitting in a somewhat mundane café on the third floor of House of Fraser. It’s all beige walls and plastic chairs, but I have to admit, the coffee’s pretty good.
The shop’s heaving with a multitude of daily shoppers. Damp coats from the unexpected downpour cover the chairs, and sodden pushchairs filled with baby bottles and towelling bibs block the aisles. Young children share muffins and kick each other under the tables, whilst grandparents give each other warning glances as they sip their Frappuccinos, looking frazzled.
Jamie’s oblivious, enjoying a large Mocha with a convoy of marshmallows floating on the top, which reminds me of white fluffy pillows. Considering I wasn’t in the mood to shop, he’s surrounded by several large shopping bags. Inside one of these is a new transistor radio for Alasdair.
Jamie lets out a contented sigh. I’ve pretty much dragged him halfway around Camburgh today and yet he’s never grumbled once. I thought he’d be miserable or even moody after the explosive argument with Ally earlier, yet it doesn’t appear to have dampened his spirits one iota.
Jamie drains his cup of the last marshmallow and I help gather up all the shopping bags. We head towards the escalator, which will take us back towards the perfume counter. I’ve still to find the perfect gift for Keira.
I don’t know how, but we haven’t come back the way we came in, taking us past a brightly coloured decorated section filled with miniature tutus, bright buttoned onesies and a selection of I love my mum bibs. My heart sinks as I spot the baby clothes, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop myself from pawing at the soft material of a little boy’s sailor suit. It has a tiny beret, edged with blue ribbon, and there’s matching booties, too. Miniature dolphins jump over wiggly blue waves, too much for me not to resist lifting the outfit off the hanger and letting out a sigh.
“It’s cute,” Jamie says, and I nod in response. I’ve developed a lump in my throat as I visualise the little boy, my little boy, who should be here to wear it.
“Yes,” I rasp, reluctantly putting it back. “I guess we should be going.”
“Why not buy it for Findley?” he suggests.
Surprised at his thoughtfulness, I turn and face him. I can read his expression, though, the sorrow he feels for me, and my spine stiffens.
“No, it’s okay,” I say and turn to walk away.
“Och, don’t be like that. ’Tis a lovely gift, and I’m sure Rhona would appreciate the gesture.”
I reach out to take the suit and his fingers brush against mine. Just for a second Jamie’s eyes meet mine and there’s a moment of shared understanding. We both jerk back, though, as if we’ve each touched a live wire.
“Sorry,” we both say simultaneously, and then we laugh at our awkwardness.
“Best take this wee suit to the cashier’s desk,” Jamie says, and I nod and open my handbag, lifting out my purse.
“Put yir money away,” Jamie insists. “I’ll get this for the bairn.”
“But—”
“Nah, no buts. It can be a gift from the two of us.”
I follow Jamie to the counter and watch the assistant place the sailor suit inside a pretty yellow and white cardboard box, which she then ties up with white ribbon. Jamie pays the assistant and then presses the package into my hand, as though the gift is for me.
“Here, take it,” he says, and my fingers cling to the bow as though I’m carrying something precious inside.
“I’m positive Rhona will love it,” I say, and we make our way to the escalator.
We head over to the perfume counter and I pick out a beautiful boxset of perfume with matching body lotion. “Keira will adore these,” I tell Jamie. “She loves anything that smells of flowers or the orient.”
“Have ye been friends for long?”
“Yes. Since school.”
“Ye seem to rub along well together.”
I laugh. “That’s one way of putting it.”
“Is she married?”
I give him a sideways glance. “Why, are you interested?”
He chuckles, opens the door to the department store and stands aside to let me pass as he shakes his head. “Nah, I’m just curious, that’s all.”
I’m pleased to see the rain has stopped, but it’s left an assortment of grey puddles, shimmering like silver mirrors along the road. We dash along the pavement, careful not to get our feet wet, and cross the street to where Jamie’s parked the car.
“She’s divorced, actually,” I say as I wait for him to open the back, so we can pile in the shopping bags.
“Is that why she’s always happy to help run yir shop?”
“One of the reasons, I guess,” I say and walk around to the passenger door. “We both have a passion for nature, especially flowers. But she’s extremely creative and makes the best bouquets and arrangements. Keira’s even taken top prize at The Hampton Court Palace Show and came runner up in Interflora’s Florist of the Future Award.”
“Really; she sounds very talented. So, what about ye?”
“Me?”
“Aye, haven’t ye won any awards?”
“Yes, of course I have, but we were talking about Keira.”
“So, tell me about yir accomplishments.”
“What would you like to know?”
“Everything.”
“Oh, well, let me see. I’ve been crowned Interflora’s florist of the year—twice.”
“Wow, I’m impressed.”
“And I was runner up in the British Florist Association, last year. That competition was fierce, and my Brazilian headdress was pipped at the post by a woman from Woking.”
“Aye, well, truth is, ye cannae win them all. Come on, jump in. I want to show ye something.”
“Show me what?”
“Well, if ye don’t get in, you’ll never ken, will ye?”
I’m intrigued by the sudden air of mystery in his voice. I’m keen to find out where he’s taking me, so I quickly strap myself into my seat as Jamie starts the engine. He clicks on the indicator and turns, leaving the centre of town behind. The buildings soon fall away, and open roads stretch before us. I wonder if we’re going to Inverness, but when he doesn’t turn off at the exit, my excitement grows. My gaze notes the road signs, and then, after another sixteen miles or so, he steers the Range Rover off the main road. That’s the moment I realise we’re driving past a deep inlet of the North Sea.
I suck in my breath as my eyes devour the passing scenery, staring out of the car window as Jamie concentrates on the road ahead. We follow a straight road until we reach a quaint fishing village with row upon row of whitewashed houses. Out to sea, there’s a harbour wall, and the water sparkles like diamonds as we pass by. The tide is out and the water is still, the surface of the sea shimmering despite it being as smooth as glass. I glance towards the shore, seeing ripples in the sand and barnacle shaped rocks protruding out of the ground.
“Where exactly are we going?” I probe.
“Wait and see,” Jamie says, clearly refusing to give anything away. His foot eases off the accelerator as we come into the village, then we’re out the other side, soon surrounded by open countryside again. He slows even more, though, when he sees horses on the road ahead, but then he indicates left and pulls up just inside a small carpark. Killing the ignition, he gets out of the car.
“And here we are,” he says as I climb out of the passenger side, to stare at a beautiful church standing in front of me.
“Is this what you wanted to show me?”
Jamie grins. “Nah, not exactly, but it’s breath-taking nonetheless.”
There’s a sign to one side of the church which says: “Welcome to Ochmore Gallery”. I let out a deep sigh. I’ve seen a few old churches turned into living accommodation, but never an art gallery before.
“Let’s go inside. There’s something I want to show ye,” Jamie says.
He hurries ahead and I follow him in through a set of double doors, whereupon I’m left speechless by what now lies in front of me.
Rising over two floors and with multi gallery spaces below it, a large church window anoints an array of unique paintings, crafts and silverware, the room shimmering with golden rays of sunlight. The entire gallery is bright and airy, and there’s sleek white boxes on which the glass art, sculptures and ceramics are shown off. I’m in awe of this place in seconds, and it makes my creative juices flow. I’m like a river that’s swiftly transforming into white water rapids.
I follow him to where a painting rests on a large wooden easel. The wood has been sanded down to look distressed and it’s very affective in drawing one’s eye to the painting, but before I’m even up close, I’m in love with it. The image is of a potted plant, a fuchsia, but it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Its dark green leaves are vibrant and bold, and the tiny dancing ballerina flowers, with their purple and pink skirts, are plump and heavy with colour. The backdrop is a vivid blue, the whole painting alive and vivacious.
“It’s stunning,” I say, tentatively stroking the canvas with the tips of my fingers. “The colours: they pulsate with life, and the picture lights up the entire room.”
Jamie nods, “Aye, I thought it might be to yir taste.”
“I have to buy it for Keira,” I insist. “My God, but this painting will make her year.”
I flick over the small white tag and catch my breath at the price. It’s over one hundred pounds and will take most of the money I have left, but I don’t care; I must buy it for her. I’m quick to grab the sales assistant and point out the painting.
She smiles then nods. “Yes, it is rather beautiful,” she says in a posh British accent.
“Will ye take eighty for it?” Jamie asks. I swing round in surprise and he tips me a wink.
I turn back to notice the young assistant’s cheeks are now flushed pink. She flutters her eyelashes, as though she’s got something in her eye.
“Well, I’ll have to speak to the manager,” she tells him and hurries off to the office.
“Ye have to barter,” Jamie says with a shrug. “Ye ne’er willingly pay the full asking price.”
I hear tip-tapping of high-heels on the floor as the assistant makes her way back.
“Yes, we’ll accept eighty pounds,” she says and goes over to the painting and takes it off the stand. Her nimble fingers are soon busy wrapping it up, as though it’s a priceless piece of art—which it is to me. And I just know how Keira will react the moment she claps eyes on it.
“Jamie, I simply can’t thank you enough for bringing me to this wonderful place,” I say as we walk back to the car. “The picture: it’s simply perfection.”
“I’m glad ye like it. The gallery is one of my favourite places,” he says.
“I can see why. I’ve never seen so much talent under one roof.”
“Aye. I’m proud to say the local artists around here are second to none.”
“I’d have never put you down as the arty type.”
“Haven’t ye seen the paintings in the Garden House?”
“Yes. The watercolours…they’re magnificent.”
“Aye, and they’re all originals, too.”
“You bought them? You’ve surprised me,” I admit.
Jamie shrugs. “Quite often, there’s more to a man than first meets the eye.”
We get back into the Range and travel the rest of the way listening to the radio. It’s a farming programme and they’re discussing which fertiliser to use on this year’s crops. I glance out of the window as the car weaves around tight bends and pushes its way over lush green hills. We hit the crest of one, and as we descend, the road dips and I catch a last glimpse of the sea. It sparkles and I let out a sigh. Outside it may be bracing, the sun often dull and the breeze cold, but there’s something special about this place, this haven.
We arrive back at Camburgh just as the radio presenter announces it’s time for Woman’s Hour. Jamie fiddles with the dials and Mr Blue Sky blares out. I clap my hands with glee.
“I love this song,” I say.
Jamie grins. “Och, so do I,” and we both sing along to it. As the orchestra reaches a crescendo, I put on my best interpretation of an operatic voice.
Jamie puts a hand over his ear and winces. “Guid God, woman, ye sound like you’re being strangled,” and we both burst out laughing. We head straight through the town centre, and Jamie pulls up outside a quaint little cottage.
“This is Rhona’s house,” he explains, and switches off the engine. He gets out and I follow him to the back of the Range Rover, where he pulls out the present we’ve brought especially for Findlay. He presses the box into my hands.
I turn to stare at the pretty whitewashed house with its pale blue door. There’s a wooden trellis attached to the wall from which a well-established climbing rose hangs. The flowers aren’t quite open, but there’s a splash of yellow at their tips.
Jamie opens the garden gate and stands aside to allow me to pass. I wait for him, and together, we walk up the path. I go up to the door and tap gently.
“Just a minute,” a soft voice calls out from within, then the door swings open and Rhona welcomes us with a warm smile.
“I hope we’re not intruding,” I say.
“Nah. Not at all. ’Tis lovely to see ye both,” and she stands aside. “Well, don’t just stand there; come on in.”
It’s like walking back in time. There’s a row of quaint little shelves filled with pre-war porcelain and colourful nick-knacks. I spot a couple of Scottie dog bookends and a figurine of a Royal Lothian soldier. There’s even a basket-hilted sword, a claymore and a silver dirk hanging on the wall. I brush my fingers across the dirk. Centuries ago, nearly all clansmen carried such weapons. I stare at its hilt; it’s cleverly carved with a curious interlaced design.
“It’s Celtic,” Jamie whispers in my ear, and his warm breath causes me to shiver.
“Yes, I thought as much,” I say.
We enter a small parlour. “Please, take a seat,” Rhona says. “Make yourselves at home.”
There isn’t much furniture. The cottage is tiny, just enough room to fit a single chair and a two-seater sofa. Both face the hearth. Rhona gestures for us to take the sofa and she takes the chair. I go to sit down but the sofa is barely big enough for two.
“Och, come sit here, next to me,” Jamie says, having already plonked himself down. I hesitate, but he grabs my hand and pulls me down beside him. I feel my cheeks burn at his close proximity and avert my eyes, over to where Rhona’s sitting.
Findlay is asleep in a beautiful hand-carved crib by her side. I watch him sleep. His red hair makes the sheet he’s lying on look pure white. He stirs and Rhona presses her hand to the crib and rocks him gently. He goes back to sleep and I feel a stab of disappointment.
“Gordy, have ye got that kettle on?” she yells, and I’m surprised to see Findlay doesn’t stir.
“Aye, I’m just doing it now, dear,” a voice bellows from an open doorway, and there’s the clunk of a switch and an array of creaking floorboards before Gordon appears from the galley kitchen to greet us.
Jamie stands and shakes his hand and I go to do the same, but Gordon wraps his arms around me and squeezes me into a bearhug. I’m taken aback and it must show on my face, for both Jamie and Rhona laugh out loud.
“Take it easy, young Gordon,” Jamie says. “Ye dinnae want to kill yir visitor just yet.”
Gordon chortles and releases me. I take a gulp of air. He’s definitely not the kind of guy to pick a fight with. Well over six-foot-tall and just as broad, he has a long ginger beard and mischievous blue eyes.
I turn to offer Rhona the gift we’ve brought along. “It’s just something we bought for Findlay in town today,” I tell her.
Rhona’s eyes grow wide and she grins. “Oh, ye dinnea have to do that.”
“No, really, I…we wanted to buy him a small token.”
Rhona’s grin broadens. “Well, thank ye for being so thoughtful. Shall I open it now?”
I laugh. “Yes, please. After all, that’s the general idea.”
She unties the white ribbon and pulls out the sailor suit. Her eyes shine with pure delight.
“Och, it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, and he’ll win a few more hearts wearing this.” She glances down at Findlay. “You’re going to look a wee bonnie bairn, that’s for sure,” she adds and places the suit, with care, back inside the box. She comes over and kisses us both on the cheek.
“’Tis really kind of ye to bring Findlay a gift. Thank ye both for yir generosity.”
She goes and sits back down.
“So, how’s yir trip to Scotland been so far?” Gordon inquires, jovially.
“Oh, it’s been lovely,” I smile, “if a wee bit cold.”
“Och, ye think it’s cold now. Wait ’til the snow comes.”
“The snow…what snow?”
“Haven’t ye heard? It’s all over the news. It’s blowing in straight from Norway.”
“No. I had no idea. When?”
“Monday. That’s what the met office are saying.”
“I hope my husband’s back by then.”
“Callum’s away?”
“Yes, on business.”
“You’d best warn him. The last thing you’ll want is for him to be stuck in a snowdrift somewhere.” Gordon rushes off to the kitchen and then reappears with a tea tray filled with goodies. He places it onto a small table in the centre of the room.
“I hope ye like Dundee cake,” he says, and I nod enthusiastically.
“I adore cake of any kind,” I say, “especially when it’s filled with mixed fruit and topped with almonds.”
“I made the apricot jam myself,” Rhona says with pride. “And I’ll give ye a couple of jars to take home.”
I glance at Jamie and he nods. “Aye,” he says, “that would be grand.”
Rhona busies herself pouring the tea when Findlay starts to grizzle.
“I’ll pick him up if you like?” I say, trying not to sound too eager.
“Och, would ye? Thanks,” and Rhona sounds relieved. “I cannae have two minutes to myself these days.” I jump to my feet and dash over. The baby’s face is all red and he’s trying to put his fingers into his mouth.
“I think he’s hungry,” I say, holding him to my chest and rocking him. He smells of baby shampoo and talcum powder, and I breathe in the aroma. I love the smell of babies. His skin is soft, like velvet, and I rub my cheek against his forehead and kiss the top of his head.
“You’re probably right, as I’ve only just changed his nappy,” Rhona agrees. “Gordy? Will ye be guid enough to get him a bottle?” but Gordon is already halfway into the kitchen, and within minutes he’s back with the baby milk.
“Would ye like to do the honours?” he asks and offers me the bottle. I take it willingly.
“Sit in the chair; it’ll be easier to feed him that way,” Rhona says. She stops what she’s doing to push a bib over Findlay’s head. “Be warned: he’s a guzzler, so be sure to wind him halfway through the feed,” she advises.
I’m thrilled she trusts me. I place Findlay in the crook of my arm, and the second the bottle’s in his mouth, he stops crying. He looks up at me and I feel a rush of love.
“He’s such a gorgeous wee man,” I say, and glance up to smile at Rhona, but catch Jamie’s stare, instead, suffering a shudder of unease. I’ve never seen him look at me that way before. It’s so…intense.
“Have ye got any plans for this weekend?” Rhona asks.
I nod. “Yes. Jamie’s taking me to a pagan festival.”
“Been to one before?”
“No, not here in Camburgh, but I did visit a festival close to Stonehenge once. It’s a few years ago now, mind.”
Rhona sits a cup and a thick slice of Dundee cake onto a small wooden stool by my feet. “It should be a grand turnout. I’ve already seen a few young ’uns camping down by the brae.”
“I’m excited,” I admit. “There’s something magical about these ancient traditions, and I love having the chance to embrace nature.”
She tips me a wink. “Aye, best makes sure ye get yir wish ready.”
My brow furrows. “Sorry, I don’t understand what you mean.”
She looks at me in surprise. “It’s a new moon. Ye have to write yir deepest desires on a bay leaf and give it to the priestess.”
“A bay leaf?”
“Aye.”
“Whatever for?”
“So she can burn it during the ritual.”
“And to what end?”
“To ensure the pagan Gods make yir wish come true, of course.”
“You believe in such things?”
“Sure, why not? I’ve seen many wishes come to fruition.”
“You have?”
“Aye; I remember once…”
I can’t help it, I catch Jamie’s eye. I want him to share our enthusiasm, but he’s wearing an expression I can’t quite read.
“Och, it’s all just fun and nonsense,” he eventually interrupts, sounding blasé.
Rhona turns to him, a piece of cake halfway to her lips. “Really, Jamie? Since when did ye become so cynical?”
He stiffens. “Since I lost Claire.”
Rhona has the decency to look away.
Findlay lets out a cough and a splutter, and I sit him up, put down the bottle and pat him gently on his back until he stops. He lets out a huge burp. Gordon and Rhona both applaud, as though I’ve done something amazing.
“Well done, Lassie,” Gordon grins; “ye can come here again.”
“Do ye want me to hold him so ye can enjoy yir tea?” Rhona asks, stuffing the last of her cake in her mouth. I shake my head vigorously. I’d forfeit all the tea in China to have this beautiful child in my arms for just a little bit longer.
“If you’re sure,” she says.
“Oh yes, I’m positive,” I assure her. “If only you knew how much.”