by Iain North
The third was from George. ‘Hi old buddy. Amber showed me how to use this new fangled technology. Think I’ll just stick to pen and paper. All the best, G.’
Jim shut the machine down. He checked his watch. It was four o’clock. He wanted to call Amber, but Jenny was mooching about the villa and he couldn’t risk being caught on the phone to her.
He found the Ford Galaxy keys parked on the cane table by the front door. Jenny emerged from the kitchen just in time to see him lift them.
‘Where are you going?’
‘Out.’
‘You will be back in time for supper.’
‘Maybe.’
‘Sam’s coming round. ‘
‘Great,’ he muttered
The people carrier skidded out of the driveway on to the narrow cobbled road and headed up the hill, away from the town. The route twisted on to the headland above the bay, curving round the hillside, hugging the cliff top tightly. Jim pulled into a viewpoint lay-by about a mile from the villa and switched the engine off. He left the car and strode over to the edge, a low wall protecting the over-inquisitive from the sheer plunge into the rippling blue ocean below.
The mobile phone signal was good. He dialled George’s office first. No answer. He keyed in the Marine Hotel’s number and a woman answered.
‘Is George there?’
‘Hold on a mo’.’
The handset clunked down on to the bar. A moment later George was on the line.
‘Hi mate.’
‘Do you ever take a break, even when you’re on holiday?’ the old man chided him.
‘Are you ever out of the bar?’
‘Touché. Now, what’s up?
‘Is Amber there?’
‘You’re no’ wanting to talk to me, then?’
‘No offence.’
‘I’m not pretty enough, obviously.’ The phone hit wood again.
‘Hi Jim, It’s Amber.’
‘How are you?’
‘Busy.’
‘But not busy enough to spend Saturday afternoon in the pub,’ he laughed.
‘I couldn’t let George drink alone now, could I?’
‘You’re all heart.’
‘Thanks.’
‘What have you found?’
‘Right. Gerry Gallagher. He’s a fairly secretive man, but there were a few clippings.
He’s got an estate, not far from Kyle of Lochalsh. He still lives there.’
Jim was scribbling it all down in his small pocket notepad. ‘Is it the Gallagher family seat?’
‘I don’t think so. It used to belong to some clan or other, but it was commandeered during the war.’
‘What for?’
‘No one knows.’
‘And after the war?’
‘Gallagher got his hands on it.’ Which meant he was probably in his 70s, rather than his 50s. Amber continued: ‘He used to have his own company...’
‘Pharmaceutical ?’
‘Yes. But it went bust in the 1980s. He ploughed all his cash into a new drug.’
‘What kind of new drug?’
‘I don’t know. The information is all a bit sketchy,’ she continued. ‘But it never materialised. He took the job with Caleypharma and managed to hold on to the estate. That’s about it.’
‘Nothing more?’
‘There was a wee clipping from a medical journal saying his original research had been suspended. No reason why. Probably because he ran out of money.’
‘Any more?’
‘Like I said, he was secretive.’
‘Okay.
‘Tomorrow I’m going down and have a word with the old lady who lives next to the dock. ‘
‘The one who saw Billy Reid and Bennet?’
‘I thought it might be useful. I know we’ve kind of finished there, but I thought it would be good work experience.’
‘Let me know how it goes.’
Jim spent the next couple of hours driving the coast road, thinking and admiring the scenery. He arrived back at the villa shortly after 6pm.
‘Where have you been?’ Ron asked, slightly anxious. ‘I thought the car had been nicked.’
‘I needed some time by myself.’
‘Very sociable,’ Debbie mocked.
‘Anything important?’ Ron asked.
‘Usual stuff. Oh, and the fact my daughter’s dating a Majorcan waiter twice her age.’
Debbie interrupted sharply: ‘Shhhh!’
‘He’s in the kitchen,’ Ron added.
‘Great,’ Jim sighed. ‘I need a drink before I meet my future son-in-law.’
‘Come on.’ Ron grabbed his arm and led him into the front lounge. ‘Beer?’
‘Something stronger.’
‘Whisky?’
Jim nodded as Ron decanted the peaty contents of a bottle into two lead crystal glasses. He handed one over.
‘Cheers.’ Jim knocked it back in one and slumped down on to the sofa.
‘He seems okay to me,’ Ron said.
‘That’s what everyone says. I’m glad Kirsty has found Mister Wonderful.’
‘You’re not convinced.’
‘I don’t know.’ He turned to face Ron. ‘Have you had a holiday romance?’
‘Loads.’
‘And were any of them any more than that?’
‘No. They were usually just a quick shag and a lingering itch.’
‘Not what he wanted to hear.’
‘Just trying to put your mind at rest.’
There was a shriek from the kitchen. Debbie: ‘Dinner’s ready!’
‘Here we go.’
Sam was wearing slightly more than when they met on the beach – white shirt, open at the neck, light chinos and deck shoes. His short dark black hair was greased back and there was a light whiff of perfumed aftershave.
He nodded to Jim: ‘Mister Buchan. Good to see you again.’
‘Jim,’ Jenny reminded him. Jim winced.
‘Jim.’
‘Hello, Sam.’ Not over friendly.
Kirsty was already seated. She was wearing a short black dress, showing off tanned flesh and too much cleavage.
Jim seated his wife and perched uncomfortably next to her. She caught the overbearing father look in his eye.
‘I hope you don’t mind me joining you for supper,’ Sam said, offering Jim the wicker basket of bread rolls. He took one, forced a smile.
Jenny spoke for him: ‘It’s a pleasure.’ Not quite his sentiments.
‘Kirsty tells me your a journalist,’ Sam continued undaunted.
‘Aye.’
‘That must be interesting.’
Why did everyone think being a journalist was interesting? If the boy had spent 12 hours sitting in a cold car in the Highland rain, he wouldn’t think it was quite so bloody interesting. But it wasn’t Sam’s fault. People always said the same thing. That’s why he didn’t go to cocktail parties any more. That and the fact he hated quiche.
‘Sometimes it can be quite exciting but on the whole it’s a bit of a slog.’
‘Come on dad,’ Kirsty piped up. ‘Sam’s trying very hard.’
She recognised the chill in his voice. She was a smart girl, usually. He turned to his daughter. Her eyes were wide, expectant, like a puppy. She didn’t deserve this.
‘Sorry, Honey,’ he smiled. ‘It was just a bit of a surprise, that’s all.’
He glanced at Sam before returning his attention to Kirsty. ‘You’re still your old dad’s wee girl.’
She beamed at him. ‘You’ll like Sam. Just give him a chance.’
He would make an effort for her. But if Sam stepped out of line, God help him.
‘Okay, Honey.’
Jim switched his gaze back to Sam. ‘It’s an interesting job. I’ll tell you a bit about it later but I don’t want to bore Ron and Debbie with shop talk.’
Jim left the party after coffee and wandered down to the bottom of the garden for a smoke. He lit up and sat on the raised stone lawn edging. A draw of nic
otine helped subdue the shots of caffeine coursing through his system.
Jim stared out over the twinkling lights of the old town. He was knackered, a long day and stressful flight on top of a sleepless night in a strange bed finally catching up with him.
There was a soft whisper in his ear: ‘Dad.’
He looked over his shoulder. Kirsty was kneeling on the grass behind him.
‘Hi, honey.’
She was concerned: ‘Are you okay?’
‘I just needed a cigarette.’
‘You should stop - it’s dangerous.’
‘You’ll get your hands on the family fortune sooner in don’t,’ he joked.
‘That’s not funny.’
A moment’s silence followed as they watched the moonlight dancing on the blue water.
‘Are you and mum okay?’
He wasn’t really sure.
‘She seemed a bit off with you this afternoon,’ Kirsty pressed.
‘Nothing for you to worry about.’ Jim puffed on his tab.
‘What do you think about Sam?’ she asked.
‘The truth?’
A little nervous: ‘The truth.’
‘He’s a bit old for you, isn’t he?’
‘You’re older than mum.’
‘A few years.’
‘He’s only a few years older than me.’
‘He’s only a few years younger than me,’ Jim pointed out.
‘Not quite. Besides, I love him.’
‘You’ve only known him for a few days.’
‘I know. But...’
‘But you love him, yeah?’
‘Aye.’
‘What about next week?’
‘Next week?’
‘When he’s out here and you’re back home in Scotland.’
Kirsty silently contemplated the thought. ‘Maybe I could stay on here for a few more days?’
‘You’ve got college. Exams.’
‘But a few days wouldn’t hurt.’
Jim ground the butt of his cigarette into the grass. She wasn’t staying in Majorca, but he didn’t want to sound heavy handed. It was time to disguise parental concern with practicalities.
‘Where would you stay?’
‘I could stay here.’
‘Ron and Debbie are getting married tomorrow. They’ll want this place to themselves for a few days.’
‘I suppose so.’ Then a fresh idea: ‘I could stay with Sam’s family.’
‘I don’t think so.’
Her face drooped, the sparkle in her eyes fizzling out like the snapping of the filament in a light bulb. Where was the teenage antagonism he’d come to expect in situations like this? The fight was gone. Maybe she was in love.
Jim shuffled uneasily. He didn’t like to see his daughter upset. He held her shoulders, shone the beam from his own eyes into the two dark voids. It was time for compromise.
‘Come home with your mum and me. You can write to Sam. We’ll even let your telephone. Then in the summer, when your exams are over, you can come out and stay with Ron and Debbie.’
She sighed.
‘If he loves you he’ll understand.’
There was a tear in her eye.
Softly: ‘Come here.’
She slumped into his arms and he held her tight.
He knew what it was like to love someone you shouldn’t.
*****
Chapter 18
‘Thank God that’s over.’ Jim wrenched his bow tie off and tossed it on to the bed. His dinner jacket quickly followed.
‘It wasn’t that bad.’ Jenny was removing her make-up with a pad of cotton wool in front of the dressing table mirror.
‘If Debbie had taken any longer to say “I do” we would still be in the bloody church.’
‘She was nervous.’
‘So was Ron. Did you see the sweat dripping off his brow? I thought he was going to faint.’
Jenny carefully replaced her diamond necklace in its velvet box. Jim slunk up behind her, reached round and lifted it from its bed. There was one diamond, a big one, on a length of solid gold chain.
‘Do you remember when I gave you that?’
‘How could I forget,’ she replied.
‘Our tenth wedding anniversary.’
Their eyes met in the mirror.
‘It seems such a long time ago,’ she sighed.
‘It’ll soon be number 20.’
‘If we make it that far.’
Jim let the jewel slip slowly from his fingers into the box. He held his wife’s shoulders in his hands and delicately pecked the dark skin of her neck with his lips.
‘We can, if you want to.’
‘Do you think so?’ She sounded uncertain.
He was more positive. ‘I think we can.’
She turned to face him. ‘What about...?’ Paused mid-sentence.
‘There’s nothing there,’ he whispered. ‘I love you. Always have done. Always will do.’
‘I want to believe you. ‘
‘Believe me. ‘
She moved away from him, walked over to the window, looked out across the sun-bleached countryside.
‘But I can’t.’ Jenny paused. ‘I want to. But I can’t.’
Jim said nothing.
She picked at the flaky white paint on top of the radiator. ‘I need some time.’
Jim approached again. Their bodies were a hair’s breadth apart, but he held off on touching her. ‘Time?’
‘I’m staying out here.’
‘What?’
‘I’m staying in Majorca.’
Jim paused. ‘For how long?’
She shrugged her shoulders. ‘A few days, a few weeks, I don’t know.’
‘I’ll stay too.’
‘No.’ Her tone was insistent.
‘What good will it do?’
‘I want you to think about what you want.’
‘I know what I want.’
She turned. ‘Do you?’
‘I want you.’
She turned. ‘Do you?’
‘Of course I do. I love you.’
Jenny shook her head. ‘You don’t know what you want. Maybe you do still love me. But ever since you met her you haven’t known what you want. You’ve been a different man. ‘
‘How?’
She shrugged. ‘You’re distant. Always preoccupied with something. I know you and I know she’s on your mind.’
‘Rubbish,’ Jim scoffed.
‘Don’t tell me you’re not thinking about her right now.’
He took a step back. She was right.
Tears formed in Jenny’s eyes. ‘It hurts, to know you’re thinking about her more than you’re thinking about me. The last time we made love, were you thinking about her then?’
His eyes narrowed. ‘No.’
She shook her head. ‘I know you were.’
‘You’re going to have to decide,’ she sobbed.
‘Decide?’
‘Between me and her.’
Jim grabbed her arms. ‘But I want you.’
She shook free from his clasp and turned away towards the window again. ‘So you say.’
‘What do I have to do?’
‘Only you can decide. When you do, I’ll be here.’ Her soft voice faltered. ‘Just go.’
Jim raised his hands slowly. He wanted so much to hold her, kiss her and convince her she was the only one. But he knew if he couldn’t convince himself, how was he ever to convince Jenny?
He let his hands fall. ‘I will be back for you.’