Lost, page 6
'Desperate people have done worse for an addiction.'
'I know, but they're not me. I've seen and heard as much as you have. I won't go there, I promise.'
Mac looked back across the loch. Tom had seen addiction from all angles, he worked with addicts every day. He had started with psychology and become a psychologist. First with the NHS, then going private, and then setting up his own practice. When the job had worn him down enough, he quit to work with addicted teens, and now ran a clinic working to get kids off the junk they plied into themselves trying to keep up with their peers.
Mac's thoughts trailed off as movement caught his eye across on the other mountain. He watched and waited. His eyes fixed on the area right at the top where he thought he had seen activity. There was movement again, but not solid, more like a swirl. A mist he supposed. With each gust of wind, it was gone, with each stillness it came back.
Mist wouldn't disappear like that. What the heck is it?
'Mac, are you still there, bud?'
Mac had been staring so intently at the mountain that Tom's voice made him physically jump.
'Yeah, think I lost you for a second there,' he lied. 'What did you say?'
'I said, I can't understand what the hell you possibly get from a smoke, anyway? It must…'
Smoke, Mac thought.
Smoke. It's smoke!
'Nothing, Tom.' he said stubbing the small cigarette end out on the rock. He wet his fingers and pinched the end so that it cooled too much to cause a fire... but someone obviously has a fire going over on the other side of the loch. 'I'm throwing the pack when I get back. You're right. It was silly to start again. I'm over it, last one just gone.'
'Mac…' Tom started.
'No, Tom, really. You're right. They're gone. I promise you.'
'Well, I suppose I'm happy about that.'
'Good. Tom, is this area used for hiking a lot? I mean, is it a well-known route or just off a trail?'
'What?'
'Do many hikers use this place, these mountains?'
Tom seemed to take forever to answer as he wrapped his head around the change of subject. A sign of age, Mac thought, as he waited.
'Hikers? I suppose it's free hiking country, there may be a few. It's not near any major walking trails though, and if you're out climbing today, you've seen the tracks you have to follow. Deer tracks. There are no paths, really.'
'So no-one comes up here - except you and Josh, obviously.'
'I can't answer that Mac, I don't know. What I do know is that in all the years we've been going there, we've never seen a soul up on the mountains. And we've traversed much of the area in one way or another over the years.'
Mac nodded, although Tom couldn't see him anyway, so he didn't know what the hell for. He squinted at the mountaintop. It was smoke; he was sure of it. Which must mean other campers. Maybe he would have some company tonight if they came down to the cabin. Whether it would be the sort of company he wanted was another matter altogether.
'Mac? Why do you ask?'
'No reason. I just wondered how alone I actually am here.'
'Totally. Absolutely. Completely. Mac, I promise you there is no-one around to spy on you or sneak pictures to the press out there. No one.'
'Okay, I hear you.'
'But Mac, I'll warn you now the mind can play some terrible tricks when you're all alone. It can imagine all sorts of ghoulies, believe me. When I've been up there alone-'
Mac spluttered a laugh, cutting Tom off. 'Yeah, Tom. You know who you're talking to, right? I'm well aware of the way the mind works. I've studied it to the nth degree. I study it every day.'
Mac heard Tom heave a sigh.
'I know you know. But knowing and experiencing are two different things. You know how the mind works in theory-'
'I've also been down there. I’ve been in the depths of depression, Tom. I've experienced. That's why I can help others down there. I understand the way it works.'
Or I could, before I thought it was a crock, anyway.
'I know that Mac, and I don't want to argue with you, but loneliness and isolation aren't the same. This is a new experience. I'm just saying it will get hard.'
'And you think I won't cope? So why push to get me here?'
Mac stood, shook out his legs and climbed onto the small boulder to see if he could see any more. He was less interested in some argument with Tom, than finding out where that fire had come from. He craned his neck, but the source was just too far away.
'I know you'll cope. Of course you will, but don't think it isn't hard, okay?'
'Because you think I've had it easy here so far?'
'Well, you don't seem to have struggled yet.'
Mac sighed and climbed down from the rock.
'Okay, so it's going to get harder. Anything else you think I should know?'
'Mac, please don't-'
'Maybe I should write a daily diary and email it to you so that you can check my mental wellbeing?'
'No, Mac, of course that's unnecessary. I wouldn't be human if I didn't worry about you out there, that's all.'
Mac raised his eyebrows and looked at Rolo, who was sitting up now that Mac had moved. He ushered him forward, and upward. If they got higher, maybe they could see the source of the fire.
'Good, because I wasn't intending to do it anyway,' Mac said. 'I'm a grown adult, and you are my brother, Tom, not my doctor, or anyone else’s doctor, for that matter. I will be fine. Trust me.'
Mac heard Tom push out a long breath.
'Well, let’s keep in touch then. A call with an update once a week, and I promise I won't worry. Okay?'
Mac stepped back into the cover of the pines and followed Rolo through the trees.
'Sounds like a plan,' he said. 'I'm going to carry on my hike now. I'll call you next Friday unless I hear from you first.'
'Okay,' Tom said, 'You can call me anytime, not just Friday.'
'I know. Take care, Tom.'
'You too, Mac. Be careful.'
Mac cut the connection before he realised what Tom had said.
Be careful? He just told me there's nothing and no-one out here.
A glance back through the trees toward the loch revealed the white swirl of smoke - just a strip but visible all the same. I guess we find out if that's true then, he thought, urging Rolo ahead.
The tree line thinned as they climbed higher and finally, they reached grass and scrub. It was easier to see, easier to climb, but each time Mac looked over to the other side of the loch, the mountain concealed where the smoke was coming from.
Just below a patch of scree, Mac flopped onto the grass in frustration. It was windier the nearer the top he climbed, which was beginning to feel precarious, and he wanted a drink but hadn't thought they would be out long enough to need one. When he looked how far they had climbed right up to the higher parts of the terrain, he kicked himself.
He was almost at eye level with the crest of the smaller mountain across the loch, which had kept him going, kept him climbing, but now the bend of the loch was in view and behind it the mountain fell away before another rose. The smoke fell behind the mountain with it, or maybe it had always been there, but Mac would need to hike three times as far as he already had to get around the bend of the loch, and even then, he still may not be able to see. The only thing to do right now was to go back to the cabin and keep an eye out. If he could see the smoke from there, then he could climb that side tomorrow if the wind had stilled a little by then.
Rolo lolloped over, tongue hanging from the side of his mouth. He put a paw on Mac's knee.
'Ready to go?'
The retriever cocked his head, and Mac removed his paw to stand again.
He stretched his back, felt the ache in his calves, and started back the way they had come. His mouth felt full of sawdust, and he suddenly knew it was going to be a very long walk home.
Chapter Twelve
Tom placed the phone on the counter with a smile.
'All good?' Meg said, serving spaghetti from the colander onto plates ready for their family dinner. The children were older now, Beth was ten, Josh thirteen, and Amy sixteen, but Meg still insisted that they eat together every evening. Their days could vary wildly with where they were, and what they were doing, but dinner time stood at 5pm sharp. If you couldn't attend, there'd better be a damned good reason for not doing so.
'Fantastic,' Tom answered, grabbing a string of spaghetti, and placing it into his mouth before his wife could do anything about it. He chewed as she gave him a sharp look.
'Dinner is ready. You couldn't wait until it made it to the table?'
There was a flash of red at the kitchen door, and Meg was immediately on it. She missed nothing.
'Get here, young lady,' she shouted, her Scottish accent thick. There was a sigh and a blonde head popped itself around the doorway. Amy was as different from Josh as night and day. She was fair skinned with white-blonde locks to Josh's thick dark hair and olive skin. To confuse matters, Beth was a redhead, with freckled skin and blue eyes. Tom often wondered what the hell was up with his gene pool. He had been waiting anxiously to see if Mac had children, whether he would have the same kind of mix. Unfortunately, Sula had lost their only baby at seven weeks, just a short year before she followed on. Now it was looking increasingly unlikely that Tom would ever find out.
At least Amy's eyes were the same as Beth's. It had to count for something, he thought, looking at his oldest daughter.
'I know I'm late,' she said, although in reality she was barely five minutes past the hour. Then she glanced at the spoon in her mother's hand. 'You're late too, so it's only fair,' she finished.
'Never a better job,' Meg said, pulling open a kitchen drawer. 'Get the table laid, I'm bringing it through now.'
Amy rolled her eyes but came in to collect the table mats, knives and forks, salt and pepper, and a large container of Parmesan cheese. Balancing it all in a teetering tower, she disappeared from the kitchen and into the dining room.
'So?' Meg said, going back to the spaghetti. 'How's our Mac?'
'He's good. Doing way better than I thought he would, to be honest. He sounds brighter than he has in a long time. I think he's enjoying it.'
'I'm not surprised at all.'
Tom frowned at his wife's back, marvelling that she seemed to have gauged Mac far better than he had. 'You're not?'
Meg threw a glance over her shoulder at him as she moved the colander to the sink.
'Well, of course not. Good Scottish air would do anyone good. It should be a natural therapy. You and Josh always love it up there too, don't you?'
Tom smiled. 'We certainly do,' he said, omitting the thought that he would enjoy any kind of desolate mountain wilderness pretty much anywhere.
Sorry Scotland.
'Is he coping with the log burner and such? I presume he's having to light it now?'
'It certainly seems like he has everything covered.'
Meg finished spooning the bolognaise meat into a dish and turned to look at him, red curls ringed with sweat hanging down her freckled face, she used her wrist to push one aside exposing a ruddy cheek.
'Then you can relax now, can't you.'
'Yeah, I suppose,' he said, following her to the dining room with the plates.
She went back for the dish, calling to Josh and Beth as she went. Amy sat at the table, busy in phone-land, head down, fingers tapping.
'You don't sound so sure,' she said as the others sat down and began to serve themselves. Tom and Meg sat back. The children always went first at dinner time, something Meg had never had the privilege of when she was growing up. Her father had to eat first and, being a selfish brute - her words - there was never much left for Meg or her five sisters. She had promised herself that her children would never feel unworthy, or ever go hungry.
Tom looked at Meg's satisfied smile as food disappeared onto three plates. Regardless of the children, his wife always put others before herself. She was the kind of woman who would go the extra mile with gifts, something personal, and would almost always get it right. Which was why it wouldn't have been out of character for her to have the piano delivered, but as yet, she hadn't admitted to the plan.
Meg looked back at him, eyebrows raised, a small smile on her lips.
'I am,' Tom said, 'It's just, well... you know the whole-'
'Ach, don't start with the blessed piano thing again. It's there because it's a blessing. Mac saying that he won't play only reinforces the fact that he will. It was meant to be, don't question it.'
'I think I want to question who has been in my cabin, piano or no piano,' Tom murmured.
'I thought Uncle Mac was at the cabin.' Josh said, kohl-lined eyes just visible under his hair.
'He is, but the piano was there before him, and now your dad thinks he had an intruder who brought a piano along for the ride,' Meg paused, glancing at Josh, 'Heck, I suppose if I'd got to lug a piano all that way, I may leave it in the cabin at the other end too.'
'There's a piano at the cabin?' Josh wrinkled his nose and looked at his dad. 'What-'
'Oh, don't you start,' Meg cut in.
'What a lovely idea,' Beth said dreamily. 'Now uncle Mac can play again. I used to love to listen to him play.'
'Exactly,' Meg said. 'It's a lovely idea. If he plays again, what's the harm. It's there. Let’s just leave it. You're giving me a headache.'
Tom smiled to himself. If he knew his wife at all, then he would think she had just made a confession. It had to be Meg, and if it was, then so be it, and he would relax. Tom smiled and leaned to kiss his wife's temple.
'It is a lovely idea,' he said, 'very thoughtful.'
Meg bat him away with a fork and narrowed her eyes at him before breaking into a smile.
There was a beat of harmonious silence, the sounds of a family enjoying their food, and then Amy piped up.
'Mom, dad? I was wondering… would it be okay if I went to Switzerland with Franco next month?' she said brightly.
The harmony was lost, and the piano forgotten in the fray.
Chapter Thirteen
Rain beat at the window, long streaks running down the glass in the growing gloom. It was half-past six and Mac had just finished a tin of spaghetti and sausages with toast for his dinner. What had taken a couple of hours to climb up had taken nearly three to descend. They had run out of path and had to backtrack too many times to count coming down. Exhausted, thirsty, blisters on his heels, and a throbbing headache to boot, Mac thought that being able to see the dot of the cabin in the distance was torture beyond comprehension. So close, yet so far. In the end, it had been keeping the cabin in his blurred vision that had got him back. After gulping a pint of water, he had removed his shoes and decided to make tea before he sat down and wasn’t able to move again.
Now, with his empty plate before him, full bellied, warm and comfortable, he had completely seized up.
He decided he would investigate the mountain on the southern side of the loch tomorrow and see if he could see where the fire had been. He made a plan of when he would start, what he would take to eat and drink, and plasters for his heels. It didn't really matter who was out there, of course, free country after all, but it gave him something else to think about while he was here. The wood had been chopped, the rest of the cabin was in order, all except for the 'vegetable garden', which Mac had no interest in right now. All he had left to think about was himself, Rolo, and Sula.
Unfortunately, Sula still took up the majority of his time.
He sniffed and stared out at the darkness outside, at the water sliding down the pane of glass, and waited for the familiar tears to well as they usually did during the evening's here when he wasn't busy.
It was the evenings that hurt the most, when he felt the most loss. Evenings with Sula had been fun, even when they were travelling and he was doing shows, or the popular three-day events - which let’s face it, was more often than not - they had always set a time to be 'home'. Even if home was a hotel room, even if they had been together all day, even if they were in different cities. Each evening was a ritual. To come together, to wind down, to get back to what mattered after the rush of their respective days.
Sula travelled with Mac as much as she could, and as she worked alongside him - she helped build the company and the brand, booked events, sorted his diary, sorted links, files, worksheets, landing pages, even answered emails, and everything else that came with running a business both on and offline these days - she would be with him most of the time. The times that she couldn't travel with him, she stayed at home, and they came together via Skype, Zoom or WhatsApp video calling where they would chat, laugh, and play games until late into the night.
7pm was their time. It was an unspoken and never broken agreement. All events were at an end by 4pm and they would be home alone by 7pm. This usually gave Mac enough time to mill around and speak to people after the event, which was the other bit of the job he loved - getting real stories from real people. Listening and understanding what worked for them, what their thoughts were, and getting ideas for where to go next. It was a heavy price to miss the opportunity when a show ran late, but getting together with Sula was priceless.
Evenings would always start with food. Sula was a wonderful cook and would use her skill where she could, but hotel rooms would usually be room service, and video call nights they would often get a takeout and eat together over video. Sometimes they went out, mostly they dressed down and spent the time together alone.
Mac smiled out of the window at the loch, lost in thought.
Sula would have lots to say about his dinner of spaghetti and sausages and what was in the tin. He remembered the last time she had caught him opening a tin of tomato spaghetti during one of their video chats. Even from five hundred miles away, she had forced him to bin the contents and go to the shop, where she had talked him through the ingredients he was to buy and watched as he made his own pasta and tomato sauce.
