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Caim

Page 27

by T. S. Simons


  We had taken the surveillance equipment from Illy's former home and temporarily set it up in our bedroom, not wanting the children to see it. It was my reaction to it I hadn't expected. An icy chill crawled up my spine every time I saw the monitor set up on our chest of drawers, knowing the last time I had watched that screen, I had seen Cam lying in a puddle of his blood and Luca, dead. After a few days of constant prickling down my back and waking with my heart racing to see it ominously looming over us, I draped a sheet over it. Illy wasn't convinced that Clava wouldn't come after us. We had heard from Tadhg that Auckland had come to their rescue, and together they had salvaged several ocean-worthy vessels to moor at the now partly usable Inverness harbour.

  Illy had been shellshocked from the beginning when I first suggested she may be pregnant on that rocky beach, holding her hair as she heaved. She had accepted it as we neared Angus' property but was terrified of what lasting effects there may be on the baby after our time on Clava. On our second day back home, and with grim determination, Sorcha had steered us both towards the clinic, and after an x-ray on my face, had performed a dating scan. As suspected, Illy was nine weeks pregnant, confirming that the baby was indeed Luca's.

  'The baby looks fine,' Sorcha remarked, making Illy's chest sink, her eyes closing as I had squeezed her hand.

  Illy's first pregnancy had been twins, with gestational diabetes, but also complications because of her physical size. She was large this time, but not as large as the first time around. "Her belly enters the room a full five seconds before the rest of her," Luca had teased her. As the pregnancy progressed, Sorcha monitored Illy closely but advised that she was healthy, and so was the baby. As the only two people who knew exactly what we had endured, Illy and I remained fearful of the impact on the baby, but Sorcha couldn't see anything of concern. However, she admitted it wasn't the most high-tech ultrasound equipment. Illy had readily agreed to a mid-gestational ultrasound, which confirmed that this was a single baby, and to her mixed emotion, was a boy.

  'Luca would be so proud to know he finally had a son,' she said as we went for our increasingly slow evening walk around Roseglen. 'He desperately wanted a boy.'

  'He said that?'

  'Of course not.'

  Illy was so perceptive she could pick what someone wanted for dinner.

  'But you are worried about raising a son alone?' I guessed.

  'I am an only child, a late in life child. A happy accident my parents always called me. All of my cousins were much older and remained on Orkney when my parents migrated. Some moved to Edinburgh or London as they got older. I lost touch with most of them when my parents died. I have limited experience with young boys. I understand girls. Boys need a strong male role model. This little guy will grow up with no father.'

  'That's not true. He has Fraser, Cam, Jamie, and lots of other wonderful men here. Cam will happily be his father in all ways that count. Teach him all the important things.'

  'Like what?' she looked up at me, curious.

  Memories of Cam teaching Sam, Louis and Thorsten flitted through my mind.

  'How to rough play, but not hurt the other person. Kick a ball. How to treat people with respect. Fart jokes. How to wash all your stinky bits. Teaching them to piss straight whilst standing. You know, man stuff.'

  'Oh God,' she moaned unexpectedly. 'Teenage boy smell! I had several army colleagues with teenage boys, and they all complained about the smell.'

  'Tell me about it! Sam is only thirteen, and already his room has an odour to it. Sorcha waits until he goes to school and quickly opens the windows to air out his room!'

  'Did she tell you that Sam is going to take on my market rounds for me? Not forever. Just for a few weeks whilst I can't do it.'

  'No. That is a wonderful idea.'

  'I have promised to teach him about trade and what is a fair price. How to track what people give you, and what you give others. The importance of keeping detailed records.'

  'He is a good kid. What about the vital bit? Reading people?'

  'He is quite an intuitive young man. He will do just fine.'

  'When will he start?'

  'He is coming with me from next week. Can you believe I am thirty-two weeks already? I am hoping to stop and take a break from thirty-five weeks. Sorcha says there is no reason this little one shouldn't go full term, being a single birth.'

  Her words struck me like a bullet to the chest. Thirty-two weeks since we lost Luca. It had to be her yardstick, too.

  'You won't be alone. I will be there for you, every second,' I said, low and calm as we walked.

  'I know. I couldn't do this without you.'

  'You could. But I know what you mean. It is just a shame that the building teams can't build our house link before winter, but I understand they need a rest.'

  By long-standing arrangement, the building teams worked long hours, seven days a week for eight months of the year. Unlike most of us, who worked a five-day week, their work came in bursts, aligned to the months of the year when the daylight hours were longer. Late November to early March, there were too few daylight hours to do much outside, so this was their time to spend with their families or work on their own homes.

  'You will be fine,' I assured her, sensing her tense beside me. 'One of the girls can come and fetch us. We will do the rest.'

  The tension was evident as soon as I approached the kitchen; Katrin and Ceri were circling each other like wildcats. Judging by the ingredients strewn around the kitchen and the cookbook open on the bench, they were baking Christmas gingerbread cookies. Katrin's frustration filled the room. The high colour of her cheeks and the tenseness of her posture betrayed the fact that she was furious at her new sister. Ceri was haughtily defiant and clearly would not back down. Recognising the volatile situation instantly, I stepped in.

  'Kat.' I breezed through the open door. 'Just who I need. Could you give me a hand for a moment?'

  Katrin mumbled something but dutifully wiped her hands and followed me into the bedroom before I closed the door.

  'What's going on?' I set the tone, hoping she would follow suit and keep the volume low.

  'She's driving me mad! She doesn't listen. She doesn't know how to do anything but refuses to take instructions either.'

  'You realise she's probably never baked before.'

  'Okay, but it's not that hard. Get the ingredients and mix them. It's just not hard.'

  'You forget, sweetheart, that someone showed you. You were new to baking once. Someone showed you how to read the recipe and follow the steps. Cream the butter and the sugar. Someone showed you how to measure the flour, how to sift it without making a mess. We all have to learn. We all need to start somewhere. So no, while it's not difficult for you, perhaps it is for her. Be kind. Please be patient.'

  'Fine!' Katrin stormed back to the kitchen.

  Pondering whether to follow, I hung back for a while, listening to Kat's curt tones as she gave instructions. Ceridwen said little, but from Kat's humphing, I gathered she wasn't following them to the level Kat expected. Maybe this would teach her tolerance?

  Lurking in the bedroom until I finally heard the oven door slam, I returned to the kitchen, peeking my head inside. Kat was sitting at the table, seething, her face bright red.

  'Where is Ceri?'.

  'Living room.'

  'What are you reading?' I asked kindly, popping my head in the door.

  Ceri looked up guiltily, like she had been caught in the act of something prohibited.

  I smiled at her, casting my eye over her on the sofa.

  'A book.'

  'I can see that. One from here?'

  'No. One I brought with me from… before. He… Father, I mean, said I could read any of the books in the library.'

  I nodded, not wanting to start a conversation that might lead to her asking about Angus. 'What is that?' I gestured with my chin towards the crumpled brown old pages.

  Ceri shrugged
and handed them to me.

  'I found them in the lining inside the back cover.'

  Noting the letterhead, Duncan McTavish, Private Investigator, I folded them and smiled at her. 'I'll read them later. Now, would you like some lunch?'

  Any situation could be improved for Ceri with the addition of food. It made me wonder what she was fed when she was raised on Clava, and if lack of nutrition was why she was smaller than her siblings. Louis had already told me that Angus was no cook, something I knew all too well. While we all took turns to prepare meals on the Selkie, Angus' meals were tolerable, bland and with no seasoning at all. At least Luca, Jakob, Nate, and I tried to change up a boring diet of packet and tinned meals.

  The smile lit Ceri's face like a sunbeam. Discretely pocketing the papers, I steered her into the kitchen where we made sandwiches, talking about our favourite fillings. As we talked, Kat slunk out of the room, leaving me to retrieve the delicious smelling gingerbread cookies from the oven, showing Ceri how to use the oven mitt. Closing her eyes with joy as she tasted steaming gingerbread made her look so much like her mother. Katrin loved baking and sugar in any form. One day, I promised myself, I will tell her everything about her biological mother.

  It was several hours before I was alone and could read the old typewritten pages, which turned out to be several letters. All addressed to "Dear Robert". The oldest, dated over fifty years before, was an investigation on Amara Kalayani Siriporn, the first wife of Angus' father. Laetitia's grandmother. It was an executive summary with promises to send a complete file. The summary spanned two pages and detailed Amara's early life as the daughter of a wealthy banker in Bangkok. She had attended the Bangkok International School and, as Cam had believed, she had indeed completed a Bachelor of Laws with Honours from the University of Sydney. Returning to Thailand after her graduation, she had worked as a human rights lawyer for a prominent international firm but had disappeared after an arranged marriage with a much older, well-connected gentleman had been negotiated. Publicly shunned, she had been eliminated from the family will.

  The second was a preliminary forensic report. Amara's car had travelled off the road and down a steep embankment, ending in the ocean. A single bullet had been removed from the front driver's tyre. Promises to send a full report when it became available were noted, but it wasn't included in the papers I had. Folding the letters, I returned them to my pocket. It wasn't until after dinner that I found time to show them to Cam. He read them through twice, then tucked them away in his bedside drawer.

  'Are you okay?'

  'I guess. There wasn't much that I didn't already know or suspect. But it was good to have confirmation. Amara was murdered then. Not too many ways a bullet ends up in a driver's tyre.'

  'True.'

  'It will be good to tell Louis about her, that she was a human rights lawyer and helped people. I will need to explain what that is, of course, but it helps, a little. Just knowing.'

  Cam's face betrayed the turmoil lurking beneath. His eyes shadowed, brow crinkled, and lips drew tightly together.

  'Is there something I can do?'

  'I'm not tired. I might just take a walk.'

  My heart stopped. 'Do you want company?'

  'No, it's okay. I'll be back soon.'

  Cam laced up his boots silently and slipped out without saying goodbye.

  The gale buffeting the shell far above me, hollow but rhythmic, kept me awake. Shuddering, I rolled over to face the empty side of the bed, closing my eyes and willing sleep to overtake me as the hole in my heart throbbed with loneliness.

  Rising early, unable to sleep, I found the kitchen cold and empty. Making a coffee, I waited for his return. Finally, I woke the children, making them breakfast and slipping out to Illy's, offering to help her on my day off so Sam could go to school. One look at my face, and she knew something was wrong, but was friend enough not to ask. My heart sank when I realised she was headed down the valley first. But with her pregnancy now at an advanced stage, I knew I couldn't abandon her.

  I hadn't seen Jorja and Bridget in the months since I had returned, other than a quick hello at public events like Luca's service. Bridget saw the children daily, but I still couldn't see those girls and not envisage Katrin lying in that bed. Me tied to mine.

  Jorja broke the ice almost instantly as I stalled getting out of the cart.

  'I know you likely don't want to hear it, but I need to say this. I am sorry, Freyja. Truly. For all of it. If I had known that was where you were going, I would have warned you how obsessed they are about the project and advised you not to go.'

  I sniffed, unsure how to respond. Eventually, Illy did.

  'We have had this conversation before, Jorja. We needed to go. We thought they had Louis.'

  Illy and I had spoken many times over the past few months about the horrors we had endured. Held prisoner. Murdered. It still haunted me, and I knew it affected her too.

  Jorja nodded. 'But what we did to your sister, and what they did to you. It was unforgivable. I hope one day you can forgive me for my part in it.'

  I paused, choosing my words carefully, not wanting emotion to control me. 'I forgive you, Jorja. It took me a long time, I will admit. But lying in that bed, things became clear. If I understand nothing else, I understand that desperate need to protect your children. I don't like what you did, but I accept it wasn't easy for you either. They were very controlling, and I realise you had little choice. You took a great risk in coming here to tell me. I am grateful for that. You are part of the community here now, so unless there is anything else…?'

  'No, nothing,' she rushed to say. 'But… if you don't mind… now that she has been here a while, I would like Ceridwen to spend more time with her sisters. Do you think she could come and stay for a few days? The three of them are sisters. It might help her. Illy tells me she is struggling to acclimatise here. The funny thing is, Bridget says she doesn't see it at school. She is a very attentive student.'

  'Actually, that would be great. My kids need me, and Cam and I want to help Illy prepare for the baby. Ceri needs a lot of time, and we don't have it to give to her right now. She loves to learn, but she is difficult, I will warn you. You can't turn your back on her. If you are sure, I'll bring her over after dinner if that suits you?'

  'That would be wonderful. I want our girls to be close. I was never close to my sister, and I want this for them.'

  'You had a sister? You never mentioned her.'

  'I do, or rather, I did. An older one. Farah.'

  'I am assuming by the use of past tense she wasn't chosen?' Illy asked.

  'I think so, although I never found out what happened to her. But I didn't go looking either. We really weren't close.'

  'We lived together for weeks. Bridget told us about her brothers, and you told us about yours. Why have you never spoken of her?'

  Jorja sighed. 'Farah was estranged from my family. She was always difficult, but she was loved and was given the same opportunities I was. Then she met her husband, and within a year, she married him. That was when the big change occurred. She became controlling, judgemental, and made it very clear that she disapproved of me and my life choices. They obviously talked, as all couples do, but it was like they fed off each other. It often felt like a tiny matter became a monumental one overnight when nothing had changed. Except that likely they had spent hours discussing it and blowing it out of proportion.'

  Illy and I said nothing, and Jorja continued, a wry look on her face.

  'I remember a gorgeous, older family friend telling me you can't usurp the matriarch until the matriarch has died. She nailed it. That was exactly the situation in the early days. Fairly quickly after Farah married, she had children, and our brother and I didn't. Her role changed in that she became a mother, but she also thought that her role in our family had changed. She seemed to think that the extended family should revolve around her and her children. But our mother was the family matriarch, and she was st
ill very much alive. Important events were always hosted at our family home, and my parents treated as equals. Soon there were squabbles over who would host Eid al-Adha, or other important events. I mulled over that for a long time, and it makes sense. In so many cultures, there is a matriarch, and always it is the oldest woman. The wise woman.'

  'And that was the case in your family?' Illy asked.

  'We are Persian, as you know. My birth name is Gulzar, but I so desperately wanted to fit in at school, so I anglicised it. Farah was lucky—her name was a lot easier. But yes, our family always centred around the matriarch. When my grandmother passed, that was my mother.'

  'Were you very family-focused?'

  'Absolutely. My mother's children and grandchildren were treated equally in the family home. Each Friday, we all had dinner at my parents' house. They had a large house set up for family. You had to be dead or dying not to attend. Just because my sister changed from a solo woman to a mother didn't automatically make her the matriarch. She tried to take over hosting Friday dinners, but that didn't work. Christmas and Eid al-Fitr too, once she had children. We were relaxed Muslims, and after my family moved to Australia, they tried to incorporate both cultures. But celebrations were always hosted by my mother. Then she cut ties with my parents over a simple petty squabble. She had two young children by then. I mean, who does that? Cuts their grandchildren off from their grandparents for no reason at all? A misunderstanding that should have been resolved in a day. But it snowballed and became so big it was impossible to turn back. Things were said that couldn't be unsaid. Then my brother, his wife, and I got caught up in it. I'm not even sure how.'

  Jorja paused, and I asked, 'What happened to her?'

  'I don't know. Years passed. She was married with three kids by the time the pandemic struck. Wrapped up in her own life, focused on her husband and children. Once she married, they took precedence. I doubt she had any idea what I was up to. It was many years since we last spoke. I did my postgraduate study, work placements. Got a job and then accepted the role here.'

 

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