The Skye Collection, page 17
‘Well, then you should find a quiet place to sit and talk to her.’
‘Can I sit with you for a minute?’ he asked politely.
‘Of course.’
He lowered himself to the bench and they sat in silence for a while, enjoying the peacefulness of the location. ‘Do you think you’ll get married again one day?’ he asked out of the blue, as children were wont to do.
‘Oh, gosh.’ She laughed, taken aback by his directness. ‘It’s not something I’ve thought much about, but honestly? I… I really don’t know.’
He turned to face her with pleading in his eyes. ‘People do get married again though, don’t they, after divorces and things? They do get to be happy again, don’t they? I mean, my mum did, but that was… different, I suppose.’
Juliette nodded, wondering how much the boy really knew about the circumstances of his parents’ split. ‘Lots of people do, yes. But it’s a very personal thing, Evin. There are no rules or guidelines. Every person has a different experience. You just have to follow your heart.’
Evin nodded and absorbed her words again. ‘I… I suppose it’s hard though. I mean… I’ve heard Uncle Kendric telling Dad to forget my mum and move on, but I don’t think he wants to. Although he doesn’t seem happy as he is either. Grown-ups are so confusing.’
She smiled again, this time at his innocent take on things. ‘That’s just it though, Evin. People don’t always want to move on. Moving on almost makes it seem like you’re forgetting.’
‘But… if you keep remembering the past, won’t you be lonely for the rest of your life?’ There was an edge of desperation to his voice as he spoke. ‘That’s what worries me about my dad. I can see he’s lonely now, and so sad. And I want him to move on. And I do want him to forget about what happened with my mum. But he won’t.’ He sighed and stared at the ground. ‘I can sometimes hear him crying. And when I go into his room, he pretends it was the TV or something. He turns his back so I can’t see his face. But I’m not daft. I always know it was him. And… I feel bad for still loving my mum even though she hurt him.’
Juliette’s heart ached for the boy. No child should have to choose between their parents, but it was clear Evin was feeling he did. She reached out and squeezed his hand. ‘No, no, you mustn’t feel bad, sweetheart. She’s still your mum. And your dad wouldn’t want you to stop loving her. Believe me when I say that.’
He shook his head. ‘I just wish things were back to how they used to be. Not with Mum there or anything. But… I really wish Dad could forget. You know, like how one of those mind-wiping things works in Men in Black? Only for him to just forget the sad bits. And I wish he was happy again.’
Juliette softened her voice, wishing she could do more to help him. ‘I know you do. I can’t speak for your dad, and I know our situations are very different. But I know that in my situation I don’t want to forget. Laurie is part of who I am. He’s part of what made me who I am today. And I’m guessing that’s how your dad feels about your mum. Just because she hurt him doesn’t mean he wants to forget. And he doesn’t want to forget because your mum is part of you too. And you are a very special thing that came from them being together. So, to forget your mum would be to forget the happy times they had, and that includes you coming into the world.’
‘But I don’t know what to do to make him happy. I used to make him laugh, but I think he’s forgotten how.’
‘Hey, none of this is your fault, okay? It may take your dad a while to heal from the sad things that happened, but some day he’ll be able to look back and just see the happy things. That’s what I’m trying to do. But it’s difficult. Grown-ups don’t always let themselves ask for help, and they don’t always know how to tell people how they feel. Just give your dad time. And if you do need to talk to someone who can answer you, you know where I am.’
Evin turned, and with bright eyes, he said, ‘Maybe he’ll see me at the talent show and that’ll make him happy!’
She thought back to Reid’s words about the talent show and hoped he was just lashing out, that he would support his son and be proud. With a lump of emotion tightening her throat, Juliette slipped her arm around his shoulder and squeezed him to her side. ‘Absolutely. I think he’ll love it. You’ll make him so proud.’ She only hoped she was right.
18
Aside from being busy in the museum with the tourists passing through, preparations for the games were on everyone’s minds. Juliette was getting to meet more of the locals as she attended various meetings to finalise who was doing what on the day. Thanks to lots of local publicity, a huge crowd was anticipated, and the village was buzzing. As each day passed and the event loomed closer, more decorations appeared around the place, adding to the festivities. Each house was dressed to impress. The flowers in every window box and garden pot seemed to be blooming too, and Juliette hadn’t seen a sight as pretty for a long time. Everyone was out in force, ready to make these games the best ones yet.
A huge marquee was erected on the field and inside it was a temporary stage, tables and chairs. It was a bright space and Juliette was surprised at the size. Surely, it wouldn’t be filled?
Father McAllen, the local vicar, had been away on sabbatical but had returned in time to help with the preparations and had wasted no time in introducing himself. He had come into the museum midweek.
‘Ah, you must be Mrs Fairhurst. You’re quite the talk of the town,’ he’d said as he held out his hand.
She shook it and said, ‘And you must be Father McAllen. It’s lovely to finally meet you.’ He was roughly mid-fifties with grey hair, a beard and, overall, he bore a striking resemblance to Father Christmas. She had made a mental note not to call him this.
‘And you. And please call me Geoff, or Father Geoff, if you must.’
Don’t call him Father Christmas, don’t call him Father Christmas. ‘Father Geoff it is,’ she’d replied, relieved that the right name popped out.
They had chatted at length about local history and had even got onto classic novels and his love of Walter Scott’s writings. Laurie had been a fan of Ivanhoe, but his particular favourite by Scott was Marmion. Juliette remembered, above everything else, the quote about tangled webs and deception and smiled at the memory of Sunday mornings in the garden, her head in Laurie’s lap, long before his illness took hold, as he read aloud to her.
That thought led to more reminiscing and she remembered a haunting conversation they’d had on one such day when his illness had been hitherto undetected. They were sitting in their cottage garden on a spring morning as he read to her from her favourite Brontë classic, Wuthering Heights. They had reached the part of the story where Heathcliff demands that Cathy haunt him, that she can’t leave him alone. It always tugged at Juliette’s heart and, as she’d wiped away the tears, Laurie had placed the book down and said, ‘Would you want me to come and haunt you? You know, if I died?’
She had sat up straight and laughed. ‘Erm, probably not keen on that idea, as much as I love you. And why the talk of death all of a sudden?’
He’d shrugged. ‘Well, I’m ten years older than you; stands to reason I’ll go first.’
She had shaken her head. ‘Maybe we should read something a bit more light-hearted next time, eh? I don’t particularly want to talk about you being dead, Laurie.’
He’d held up his hand, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. ‘No, no, come on, humour me for a moment. So, you wouldn’t want me to communicate with you if I could?’
She’d cupped his face and planted a kiss on his luscious mouth. ‘I’m not exactly sure how I’d feel about some floaty, transparent version of you hovering at the end of the bed. It’s a little bit too A Christmas Carol-esque for me.’
‘Okay, so maybe not a ghost then. How about if I visit you as something else? Like a… like a… I don’t know, a bird or something?’
She’d shaken her head and smiled, playing along for a little longer. ‘But there are a gazillion birds in the UK, so how would I know it was you?’ She’d stood to pour some more tea.
He’d thought for a moment, then said, ‘I’ll come back as a robin or something, but at the wrong time of year. When you wouldn’t expect to see one. That way you’ll know it’s me. I’ll make sure it’s at a significant point though, not just because it’s a Tuesday or something silly like that. I’ll wait until… I don’t know… a time when you’re needing support, or to know you’re on the right track.’
‘But robins are here all year,’ she had told him with a smile as she stroked his cheek, thinking of a hundred things she’d rather be doing with him right then than talking about the aviculture of the UK.
He’d pulled her into his lap, which was far more to her liking, but, much to her chagrin, he’d continued, ‘Yes, but you don’t see them in the summer usually. Food is plentiful so they stay out of sight. That’s why they’re a Christmas card symbol, because they’re much more visible in winter.’
‘Okay, deal, so if I need you, you’ll come back as a robin. If it’s ever necessary, I’ll look out for you,’ she’d told him, keen to get off the rather morbid but fantastical subject. ‘Now, are you going to take me to bed or what?’
With that, he had scooped her up in his arms, causing her to squeal in delight, and carried her upstairs.
A week later, he had presented her with a silver locket – the same locket that had adorned her neck since he had passed – a friendly robin engraved on its front side and a photo of him on the inside.
It was Thursday evening and the final meeting was taking place in the church. Caitlin was seated beside Juliette and Morag flanked her other side. The atmosphere was tense with excitement and anticipation. Reid was nowhere to be seen and, in fact, had been noticeably absent for most of the preparations, which was, she was told, rather odd. She still hadn’t plucked up the courage to visit him and, as she looked around the people in the pews, a sense of guilt niggled at her insides. She had seen Evin walking with Chewie a couple of times, but when she had enquired after his father, he had been somewhat evasive. She vowed that she would go to see them straight after the meeting.
Kenneth stood at the front of the church near the altar and brought the meeting to order. ‘Now, ladies and gentlemen, we know that there will be quite a crowd here on Saturday. There are plenty of holidaymakers who’ve never witnessed a Highland event before, so we need to make this extra special. The Scouts have agreed to be on litter patrol and we really appreciate them doing this as I’m sure most, if not all of them, would rather be having fun at the gala. So, they’ll be working in shifts to give them a chance to enjoy the day too. Caitlin has done just about enough baking to sink the MPV Jura.’ A rumble of laughter travelled around the gathering. ‘And, of course, this year she will be ably assisted by everyone’s favourite dog whisperer, our current museum guardian, Jules.’ A rumble of laughter traversed the church.
These people really weren’t willing to forget her crazy act of heroics. Her cheeks heated with the attention.
‘There’s the tombola, which is around twice as big as last year, the bouncy castle, which I’ll be keeping well away from… bloody deathtraps, those things.’ More laughter. ‘And we have the Fire Service here with one of their engines for the wee ’uns to climb on and look at. The usual flower stalls, craft stalls, coconut shy and dunk the teacher will all be set up by the end of Friday evening in readiness. The Highland games events and other games will be at the west end of the field where there are no houses… Bobby Duncan…’ Kenneth glared, but then winked at someone on the front row and a roar of laughter and jeers aimed at the poor victim almost raised the roof.
Caitlin leaned towards Juliette. ‘Quoits. A bit too much enthusiasm, a broken window and lots of embarrassment, you get the picture.’ She rolled her eyes and grinned with a shake of her head. Juliette giggled at the mental image.
When the laughter had subsided, Kenneth continued, ‘And we’re very fortunate to have guest prize giver, Gregor Edmunds, with us on Saturday. For those of you who don’t know, shame on you because he was the 2007 Highland Games Champion and he’s a top bloke too.’
A cheer erupted, followed by raucous applause and whistles. Clearly this Gregor chap was a firm favourite.
‘So, we’ll be at the field from seven in the morning and the event starts at eleven. We have plenty of time to get set up. The Toilichte Hens will be playing music in the main tent throughout the day. We have a caller for the dances, but all those who already know the steps get yourselves in there and show our visitors how it’s done, eh? We’ve agreed on five pounds as the standard entry charge, but people are welcome to donate more, if they wish. And let’s hope they wish. The police have already put cones along the roads where parking isn’t permitted, so let’s be vigilant about that, folks. We have to keep the way clear for the emergency services should they need to get through. Now, obviously I haven’t gone through every single stall and event, as you all know the score, and for those that don’t, it’ll be a nice surprise on the day. So, that’s it, folks. Have a fantastic Highland games!’
A final applause vibrated through the pews and people began to leave.
Caitlin linked arms with Juliette. ‘So, are we off to The Coxswain for a cheeky glass of vino?’
Juliette cringed. ‘Oh, no, do you mind if I don’t? There’s something I need to do.’
Caitlin frowned. ‘Ooh, Mrs Fairhurst, that sounds fairly cloak and dagger. Is everything okay?’
Juliette’s face warmed, but she forced a laugh. ‘Of course. Everything’s fine. I just have some last-minute stuff to do, you know, before the gala.’
Caitlin shrugged. ‘Okay, well, if you change your mind, I’ll be in there. I think Archie is going for a pint, so I won’t be too lonely. See you soon!’
The friends parted company at the junction and Juliette waited for Caitlin to disappear out of sight before she headed to Reid’s. She didn’t want to set tongues wagging, after all.
As she walked up the lane, she thought about the last time she had been there. With the starlit sky above, it could’ve been quite romantic on that night. Sadness tugged at her insides again, but this was soon replaced by a twinge of guilt. Why on earth was she thinking about romance, for goodness sake?
She arrived at the detached stone cottage and admired the pretty exterior she hadn’t seen the last time. It looked a little tired and in need of TLC, but the bones of the building showed its true character and age. There was no sign of Reid, but Evin was outside with Chewie practising tricks in the overgrown garden. He approached as she walked up the front path to the door.
‘Hi, Sparkly Jules, w-what are you doing here?’
‘Hi, Evin. I just thought I’d stop by and see your dad… about…’ Dammit, I haven’t thought this through. ‘… the gala. Yes, the stalls and other bits and bobs.’ She shook her head and waved her hands around, hoping she sounded genuine.
His eyes widened. ‘Oh, erm, he’s not feeling too well today. I… I think it’s the flu or something, but it’s probably best that you don’t go in. You don’t want to catch it.’ His insistence worried her.
‘Oh, I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’ve had my flu jab. Maybe I can make him some soup.’
Evin gave a weak smile and stood in front of the door. ‘Oh… I don’t think he really wants any. I don’t think he’s hungry. You know, it’s just the flu. Like I said.’
Juliette folded her arms across her chest and cocked her head to the side. ‘Evin, what’s the matter? You’re being very cagey.’
Another forced smile. ‘No, I’m not, honest. He’s just… snotty and coughing and looks a bit disgusting, that’s all. No one wants to see that, believe me.’ He pulled out his tongue and feigned vomiting to add to his dramatic performance.
She stepped closer to the door. ‘Well, in that case I won’t stay long. I just need to have a quick chat to—’
Evin blocked her path. ‘Please, Jules! Could you just come back another day? I’ll tell him you stopped by, I promise.’
She sighed deeply and reached out to touch his arm. ‘Evin, you’re really worrying me now. Is he okay? I mean, really okay? Can I do anything? Do you need any help with anything?’
Tears welled in the boy’s eyes and his lower lip trembled. ‘I’m looking after him, I really am. I’m doing really well. I’ve cooked his dinner and everything. And I’m making my own food, too. And I hoovered and tidied up all the rubbish from the living room.’ His eyes widened. ‘Not that there was loads of rubbish or anything. He’s really tidy, you know, when he’s not all snotty.’
His emotional reaction and the way he protested wasn’t lost on her and she knew something was seriously amiss. She decided to go and speak to Morag. Surely, she’d know what to do.
She softened her voice and smiled kindly. ‘Okay. I believe that you’re looking after him, Evin. You’re a good son. But please, please call me at the museum or the house, or…’ She scrabbled around in her bag for a scrap of paper and a pen and quickly scrawled down her mobile number. She thrust the paper at him. ‘You can get me on my mobile if you need anything. Anything at all. Okay?’
His smile widened and he swiped at his eyes. ‘Ugh, hay fever. But at least it’s not the flu like Dad. I’m fine, honest. Dad will be fine too. Honest. But I need to practise my tricks with Chewie now.’
Juliette took all the ‘honests’ with a pinch of salt and the not-so-subtle hint that he was done talking. She resisted the urge to hug the boy. ‘Right, well, I’ll see you soon, okay?’
He nodded vigorously, but, as she walked away, she knew she couldn’t leave things alone.
She arrived at Morag’s and knocked at the door.
Kenneth opened it. ‘Oh, hi, hen. If you’re after my better half, you’ll find her in the shop. I’m going to join her in a few minutes as there’s been a huge delivery ready for Saturday.’
