‘Cal could fence what off?’
We all jumped as the back door opened, and I saw Cal’s bulk filling the frame.
‘Evening all.’ He stepped inside, closely followed by Charlie. ‘Me and the Laird were feelin’ left out down at Kinnaird, so we came up tae join the party.’
‘Come in out of the cold, please, the pair of you,’ urged Fiona.
‘Sorry to arrive unannounced, but Cal has told me about the new arrival. I wanted to see him,’ said Charlie. ‘Where is he?’
‘Welcome, Laird.’ Hamish stood up to shake his hand. ‘It’s an honour tae have yae here.’
‘He’s down here, Dad,’ said Zara, sweeping up the ginger kitten before he escaped out of the open door. ‘His name is the same as his dad’s: Pegasus. He’s a miracle.’
Charlie walked over to the range and bent down towards the calf, who I could see was wriggling about trying to work out how to stand.
‘Hello,’ Charlie whispered as he put out a hand to stroke him. Pegasus immediately nuzzled it and I knew he was hungry.
‘I’ll warm a bottle on the range,’ I said as I stood up.
‘Here’s a saucepan, Tiggy,’ Fiona offered, bringing one down from the rack and handing it to me. ‘Right, kids, can you clear the table?’
‘And I’m going tae open something special tae celebrate,’ announced Hamish, leaving the kitchen.
‘He is a miracle,’ Charlie breathed, looking up at me. ‘Is he healthy?’
‘Very,’ Fiona told him, ‘and from what you said, Cal, that’s thanks to Tiggy and her magic hands. I might have to poach her from you sometimes and have her work with me. Look, he’s almost up!’ Fiona pointed. ‘Can you help him, Charlie?’
We all watched as Charlie put his hands gently round the calf’s middle and lifted him to standing.
His legs collapsed the first time, but finally, on the fourth try, they understood what they needed to do and bore his weight. And Pegasus’s son took his first tentative steps, before collapsing onto Charlie’s knee.
We all cheered as Hamish arrived back in the kitchen with a bottle of whisky.
‘Goodness, are you really opening that after all these years?’ Fiona teased him.
‘Aye, that I am.’ Hamish opened the seal and poured the liquid into seven glasses, which he handed round. ‘The old Laird gave me this years ago after I’d helped him wi’ digging the newborn lambs out after a snowfall . . . I’d say this was the perfect moment tae drink it. Tae new beginnings.’
‘New beginnings,’ we toasted.
After knocking back his whisky, Cal reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a round object, about the size of a large grapefruit, wrapped in muslin.
‘What on earth is that?’ I asked, as he thumped it down on the table and all eyes in the room fell upon it.
‘’Tis a haggis, lassie. But I reckon I’ll be needin’ another dram before what comes next.’ He held out his glass to Hamish, who obliged with a hefty refill.
‘I once promised Tig that if a white stag was seen on the estate, I’d run around naked wi’ only a haggis coverin’ my bits ’n’ pieces. An’ I’m nothing if not a man o’ my word,’ he explained for the benefit of the assembled company as his stout fingers moved to his shirt buttons.
‘Cal, I don’t think that’s a promise I’m going to hold you to.’ I stopped him as we all laughed. ‘Besides, I think you’ve already done enough for both Pegasuses, don’t you?’
‘I think this one is hungry.’ Charlie indicated the calf, who was squirming in his lap, searching for milk.
‘Take him next door into the sitting room where it’s quieter,’ Fiona suggested as I removed the bottle from the hot water and tested it on the back of my hand.
‘Thanks.’ I made to take Pegasus from Charlie.
‘I’ll carry him through,’ he said. When we reached the sitting room, he settled Pegasus on my knee and the calf suckled eagerly on the teat.
Charlie stood watching me; I saw his eyes were misty, as were mine.
‘Did you see Beryl?’ I asked, breaking the silence.
‘Yes. After a lot of tears and endless apologies on her part, I managed to persuade her to come back.’
‘Thank goodness! She’s the only one who knows how to work those ovens.’
‘Actually, we both agreed they should go and we’d get a range put back in.’ Charlie raised an eyebrow. ‘Ditto those industrial lights, and that monolith of a centre unit. I kept the original pine table in the barn, so that’s being reinstated too.’
‘The kitchen’s definitely the heart of a house, as we’ve just seen,’ I agreed.
‘I also had a word with Cal on our way up here. I was thinking about it before Fraser appeared on the scene at Christmas, but after all Cal’s family’s years of service, it’s about time he had his own patch of land. So as a wedding present, I’ve told Cal I’m giving him and Caitlin a hundred acres, just near the entrance to the estate. There’s an old bothy on it – that’s a cottage to you, Tiggy – which has been empty for years. With a bit of work, it could make him and Caitlin a decent home.’
‘That’s so lovely of you, Charlie, I bet he was thrilled.’
‘He was, but it’s nothing less than he deserves. I also told him I was going to sell off some land to my neighbours, which, as well as funding the divorce, will pay for some extra staff, plus a new “Beryl”.’
‘Wow, you have been busy,’ I said with a smile.
‘Yes, I needed to be, to stop me thinking about what you’ve been thinking.’
‘Right.’
‘I mean, if you need some more time . . .’
‘I don’t, Charlie.’
‘So, will you stay, or are you running away to Africa and your lions and tigers?’
I looked down at Pegasus, who had guzzled the whole bottle and was dozing contentedly. Then up at Charlie.
‘I think I have enough wildlife to conserve here, don’t you?’
‘You mean, you’ll stay?’
‘Yes. Though I’d like to see those lions and tigers one day.’
‘So would I.’ He reached out his hand to me for the second time that day and I took it without hesitation.
I watched as he kissed it tenderly, then he moved his lips to mine.
‘I’m so happy, Tiggy. Truly.’
‘I am too.’
‘It won’t be easy—’
‘I know.’
‘But together, we can at least give it a shot though, can’t we? I mean, the estate, the animals, us . . . ?’
‘Yes.’
‘Right then.’ Charlie stood and pulled me and Pegasus gently to standing. ‘Time to go.’
‘Where?’
‘Back to Kinnaird of course,’ he smiled. ‘We’ve got work to do.’
Electra
New York
February 2008
The Sun
39
I looked up and saw snow was falling and settling on the windowsill above me. Maybe that would help dull the sound of the continuous Manhattan traffic below my apartment. Even though the rental guy had said it had triple glazing, nothing stopped the humming of stationary engines, interspersed by the beeping horns of irritable drivers thirty-three floors beneath me.
‘Shut the hell up!’ I moaned, realising I was focusing on the sound, which only made it louder. I took a deep swig from the bottle, but knowing the vodka wouldn’t help drown it out, I dragged myself up from the kitchen floor and staggered into the living room to turn on some music. ‘Born in the USA’ blared out of the hidden speakers.
‘Hey, I’m happy you know where you were born, mister,’ I shouted to Bruce, as me and the vodka bottle swayed across the room to the music. ‘’Cos I sure don’t!’
Despite the music playing at full volume, the horns were still blaring in my ears, and I double-checked the china bowl I hid my special medicine in. Apart from a light dusting around the edges, which, with a moistened finger, I wiped onto my gums, there was nothing left
.
Ted, my supplier, had been meant to arrive an hour ago with some more, but so far he was a no-show. It would be easy to take the elevator down to the lobby and slip Bill, the concierge, a hundred-dollar note like I knew other residents of my building did. And as if by magic, ten minutes later, a ‘package’ would arrive for me by hand at my apartment door. But however desperate I was, I knew I couldn’t take the risk. One whisper leaked to the press and I’d be headlines all over the world. Especially as I was brand ambassador for a ‘natural’ cosmetic product they were marketing to teen girls, and had recently done a feature for Elle outlining my ‘healthy’ living regime.
‘Natural? Yeah, right . . .’ I muttered as I wobbled towards the phone to check with Bill that my visitor hadn’t arrived yet. At the shoot, the make-up artist had told me it was all a con – that the basic ingredients might be sourced from nature, but the chemicals they had to use to replace the animal fats in the lipstick made the product as toxic as hell.
‘Why is everything a lie?’ I shook my head piteously, the swaying motion comforting me and making me dizzy at the same time, so I sank onto the floor where I was. ‘Life is just a pile of them. Even love . . .’
I cried then, big wet tears plopping out of my eyes and dripping from my nose, wondering for the thousandth time why Mitch had dumped me only three weeks after asking me to marry him. Okay, fine, the proposal had been in bed, but I’d believed him. I’d said yes, ‘YES!’ When he’d left for LA the next day, I’d even been stupid enough to lie in bed thinking which designer I’d ask to make my dress, and of possible venues. I fancied Italy – some big palazzo in the Tuscan hills. Then . . . silence. Even though I’d texted and emailed him, left voicemails asking him to call me, I’d heard nothing. Okay, so he was playing the Hollywood Bowl, but, Christ, could he not spare the time to call his fiancée . . . ?!
I’d finally got a message – a message! – from him, saying it was probably time to cool things off, ‘baby’, adding that we were both busy people and now was not the time to get serious. Maybe in a few months, when his world tour was over . . .
‘Jesus!’ I screamed, hurling the empty vodka bottle across the room. ‘Why does everybody let me down?’
Maybe he thought that ’cos I was Electra, I could just stroll out onto the sidewalk and hook up with another guy. In theory, I could, but that so wasn’t the point. I’d fallen in love with him, like, head over heels in love. He could not have been more perfect for me; fifteen years older but super-fit and a global rock superstar, used to being in the spotlight. He was past partying, preferring to hang out at his beach house in Malibu. He could even cook – liked to cook – didn’t do alcohol or drugs, and was a real good influence on me. I’d loved his calmness and no-nonsense approach – I was bored with getting away with murder. I’d even cut down my own chemical intake and not even missed it, and had decided I was prepared to move to California to be with him.
‘He looked after me,’ I moaned, ‘knew how to handle me . . .’
Yeah, he was a father figure, a replacement for Pa Salt . . .
‘Shut up!’ I told the voice in my head, because in all sorts of ways, that idea was messed up. Besides, I hadn’t felt a thing when Pa had died – like, nothing. Given my sisters were all over the place with grief, I’d felt like a freak. I’d tried vodka, which had made me cry like it always did, but it hadn’t succeeded in generating any real emotion. All that was there when I thought about his passing was a numbness.
‘And maybe some guilt,’ I whispered as I stood shakily upright and pulled another full vodka bottle out of the kitchen cupboard, checking the time and seeing it was past eleven now.
Picking up my mobile I dialled Ted again, but as I did so, the concierge rang to say my ‘guest’ was here.
‘Send him right up,’ I said, relief pouring through me. I went to find the dollars I’d need to greet him at the door to do the swap and waited impatiently in the apartment lobby.
‘Hi, doll,’ said a guy who wasn’t Ted as I opened the door. ‘Ted sent me. He’s busy tonight.’
I was pissed that Ted had sent someone else who may or may not be trustworthy, but I was so desperate I wasn’t gonna tell him he’d got the wrong apartment.
‘Thanks. Bye.’ I was just about to shut the door in his face when he put his hand out to stop it.
‘Hey, you havin’ trouble sleepin’?’ he asked me.
‘Sometimes, why?’
‘I just got some great prescription tabs that will knock you out and send you off with the angels.’
Now this was interesting. My doctor here in New York had refused to prescribe any more Valium or sleeping tablets. I’d been using vodka as a substitute, especially since Mitch had dumped me.
‘What are they?’
‘Got them from a qualified doc. They’re the real deal.’ He whipped the packet from his pocket and showed me.
‘How much?’
He named the price for a blister pack of Temazepam. It was outrageous, but who cared? The one thing I had was money to burn.
When he’d left, I went into the living room and, my fingers shaking in anticipation, did a line.
‘Never take drugs or ride motorbikes,’ had been Pa Salt’s mantra when we were young. I’d done both and plenty more I knew he wouldn’t approve of since. Just as I was collapsing on the sofa feeling calmer, my cell phone rang. Out of instinct, I picked it up to see if it was Mitch, because maybe he’d changed his mind and was begging me to come back . . .
It was Zed Eszu. I waited a bit until the cell phone told me I had a voicemail, then listened to it.
‘Hi, it’s me. I’m back in town and wondered if you wanted to come to the ballet tomorrow night. I have a couple of tickets for Maria Kowroski in the premiere of The Blue Necklace . . .’
Even if it was the hottest ticket in town just now, I wasn’t in the mood for two hours of bendy bodies and a gaggle of media outside asking me why I hadn’t been at any of Mitch’s sell-out concerts. I knew Zed used me to up his own media profile and, occasionally, it had suited me to go with him. He also happened to be very good in the sack – even though he wasn’t my type, there was some kind of weird sexual alchemy between us, but our occasional sleepovers had stopped when I’d met Mitch last summer.
That at least had pleased Pa, who had called me up when a photo of me and Zed at the Met Ball had hit the front pages last year.
‘Electra, I don’t wish to interfere in your life, but, please, stay away from that man. He’s . . . dangerous. Not what he seems. I—’
‘Too right you shouldn’t interfere,’ I’d said, my hackles rising as they did every time Pa had tried to tell me I should do this or that. My sisters hung on every word he said, I thought he was a control freak.
Even though Zed, like the rest of the world, had known that me and Mitch were together, he had still persisted with his calls and I’d ignored them all. Up to now . . .
‘Maybe I should go out tomorrow night with him,’ I muttered as I did another line, thinking that the sleeping pills would knock me out later when I was coming down. ‘Get my face on the front pages – that would show Mitch.’
I lit a cigarette, the hit from the coke taking hold and making me feel more like the kick-ass Electra I usually was. I turned the music up loud again, took another swig from the bottle and danced towards my walk-in wardrobe in the bedroom. Rummaging through the endless racks, I decided I had nothing stunning enough to wear. I’d call Amy, my PA, in the morning and get her to have Chanel bike me over something from their new season’s collection – I was due on the runway in a month’s time for their show in Paris.
Texting Zed back to say that yes, I could make it, I decided I would also call Imelda, my publicist, and have her alert the media to my appearance at the theatre tomorrow night. I hadn’t been out for a while, even cancelling a couple of work assignments, unable to bear anyone mentioning Mitch’s name to me. The thought of the life we could have had – that I’d dreamt of since the momen
t I’d met him – gone forever, had torn me apart. I had enjoyed the kick that he was even more famous than me, that he didn’t need me to boost his profile – he’d had more famous models and actresses than he could notch up on the widest bedpost – I’d truly trusted that he wanted me for me.
I’d looked up to him . . . I’d loved him.
‘Screw him! Nobody dumps Electra!’ I shouted to my four tastefully painted beige walls bearing priceless canvas guests covered in bright-painted squiggles, but which looked to me as though someone had puked all over them.
Feeling that awful sensation of a downer starting to seep into the pit of my stomach, I took off my top and sweatpants and walked into the living room naked to retrieve the Temazepam the guy had left me before the feeling spread further. I took two and washed them down with some vodka, then lay down on my bed.
‘I just need to sleep now,’ I begged the ceiling, something I hadn’t done naturally since Mitch had said goodbye. I lay there, but the ceiling spun uncomfortably and closing my eyes only made it worse.
‘Just get through tonight, and tomorrow you’ll be back to yourself,’ I whispered, feeling the onset of more tears. Why did nothing work on me any more? Two Temazepam plus the vodka should be enough to knock out a polar bear.
‘Have you ever thought of rehab?’ my therapist had asked last time I’d seen her. I hadn’t replied, just stood up and walked out of her office, outraged at the suggestion. I’d fired her then and there via her receptionist. I knew no one except Mitch who was clean – coke and alcohol was how we all made it through . . .
I only just made it to the bathroom before I vomited, cursing the guy who had given me the Temazepam. It was obviously made of chalk dust and Christ knew what else and I should never have trusted him. After vomiting again, I must have passed out, ’cos I had a weird dream that Pa was there holding my hand and stroking my forehead.
The Moon Sister Page 60