Two Kinds Of Truth

by Lynette Creswell

  “Aye, well, let’s get going then.”

  I’m stung by his rebuff. It’s as though he still doesn’t want me to touch him, to get close, and a rush of despair sweeps through my gut. There’s so much I want to say to him, but the words simply won’t come.

  Instead, I grab my coat and follow him downstairs.

  We leave the cottage and Alasdair’s waiting for us by the gate. He looks at me side-on, a glint in his eye, and I wonder what he’s up to, what surprise he has in store for us.

  “So, what’s the big secret?” Callum asks, his voice light, carefree.

  Alasdair taps the side of his nose and heads towards the stone barn, the one used for storing grain and the farm’s machinery.

  As we follow him, I hear birds singing in the surrounding trees, and a gentle yet cold breeze trills through the last of the leaves.

  I realise we’re heading for the stables, instantly forgetting Callum’s rejection. The thought of spending time with the horses fills me with utter pleasure.

  “I’d like to own my own horse, one day,” I say to granda.

  “If ye come and live here, ye can have whichever horse ye want.” He slides back the bolt and I realise I’m holding my breath.

  “I want to show ye a new addition to the family,” he explains, and drags open the stable door. I’m already by his side, breathing in the woody smell that invades my nostrils. It’s sweet, like new hay, and I see a flicker of a black ear from one of the stalls.

  “You’ve bought a new horse!” I declare with glee, clearly stating the obvious, and Alasdair chuckles.

  “Ye dinnae say, lass,” he smirks, and his large hand takes mine and guides me closer to the magnificent beast.

  “He’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen,” I say, and he is.

  Callum lets out a long whistle and the stallion throws its head and neighs.

  “Whoa, steady, me beaut,” Alasdair soothes, and he reaches out and strokes the animal’s soft velvety nose.

  “He’s gorgeous,” I have to admit, and turn to look at Cal. I’m surprised that he doesn’t appear the least bit impressed. “Don’t you think so, too?”

  I raise my eyebrows and nudge him with my elbow, urging him to say something nice about the horse.

  “If I’m honest, I think you’ve wasted your money, granda,” Callum finally says.

  My jaw drops at the insult, but Alasdair doesn’t bat an eyelash. He simply continues to stroke the animal, and turns to me, instead.

  “Would ye like to pat him?”

  He stands aside and waits for me to approach. I’m a little apprehensive. The horse’s black eyes watch me closely; they’re like two large pieces of jet. I want the horse to like me, but I sense he’s wary. When I take a step forward, the animal whinny’s his mistrust.

  “Oh, dinnae bother about him, lass,” Alasdair insists. “He just thinks he’s at the top of the peckin’ order.”

  Behind me, Callum gives a deep sigh.

  “Whatever’s the matter?” I ask, turning my head towards him.

  “This isn’t floating my boat,” he huffs and leans against the wooden doorframe.

  My brows knit together as I turn my attention back to the horse. Slowly, I lift my hand and brush my fingers against the dark hairs on the stallion’s jawline, soon tickling him under his chin, the skin silky soft beneath the stiffness of his whiskers.

  I turn to Alasdair.

  “What’s his name?”

  “I’ve called him Starsky.”

  I can’t hold back the giggle that wells up inside my throat. “No, seriously, what’s his name.”

  Alasdair stares at me. “I’m serious, hen; it’s Starsky, after my favourite TV show.”

  I laugh, and Alasdair laughs with me, but Callum lets out another huff.

  “I’m off to find Jamie, see if he needs a hand.” He shoots out of the stable, back to the farmhouse, I assume, but when I stare at granda, he just chuckles.

  “Dinnae mither about him, lass. He’s ne’er had an interest in anything with more than two legs.”

  My laugh deepens. I find him incredibly funny. The last time I was here, he managed to tug out a more light-hearted side of me. I want to be like that again.

  The light’s fading as we stroll back to the main house, my arm linked with his, his hand patting mine as we talk nonstop about all things equestrian. A loud noise behind me makes me look around, seeing Jamie enter the yard, driving a tractor. He disappears around a corner, heading for one of the sheds.

  “So much for Callum giving him a hand,” Alasdair says.

  We enter the farmhouse and it’s just as I remember; old and musty, warm and welcoming. The panelled hallway leads to several reception rooms, but we both head for the kitchen, which turns out to be cosy and smelling of pie. A red tartan cloth is spread over the table and a large brown teapot dominates its centre.

  “Have you been cooking in preparation of our arrival?”

  Alasdair slips me a wink.

  “I thought ye needed a bit of meat on ye bones the first time ye came here. I dinnae think much would’ve changed, and I was right. Ye still look as though ye could do with a decent meal inside ye.”

  I smile and love him that little bit more.

  ***

  Once I’ve washed away the smell of horses from my hands, I help to set the table for supper. The house is alive with chatter as soon as Jamie and Callum enter the kitchen, both eager to rekindle their strong brotherly bond. If it wasn’t for their clothes, I wouldn’t be able to tell them apart. Both speak Scottish, but Callum can turn his accent off and on like a tap. Yet tonight, chatting with his brother, that sweet lilt to his voice is deliciously clear.

  The table is set with an assortment of steaming blue dishes. Callum sits down and pours white wine into four glasses. I pull up a chair and sit beside him. A homemade venison pie has pride of place and is surrounded by hot mashed potato, buttered vegetables and two large gravy boats. The aroma is divine.

  Granda offers me a piece of pie and Jamie passes the mash potato to his brother.

  “So, what’s yir plans for tomorrow?” he asks as he waits for the dish.

  Callum ponders his question, busy spooning hot potato onto his plate.

  “I’m not too sure. We haven’t made any plans as such.”

  Jamie glances over at me and grins. “Surely, you’ll take Maddie out to the loch? I understand it’s a wee bit cold still, but there’s a flock of goosanders on the water.” His grin broadens and his enthusiasm grows. “It’s a spectacular sight to see. Maybe ye could take a winter picnic and make a day of it?”

  I wipe the corners of my mouth with a napkin. “Sounds terrific. Shall we go?” but Callum shakes his head.

  “Nah, I’d rather take a rain check if you don’t mind. I’ve never been keen on the feathered variety,” and he averts his gaze, pouring a little gravy over his vegetables.

  I hide my disappointment by taking a gulp of wine. The last thing I want is to turn this into a big deal. After all, it’s just a flock of birds. However, it’s clear Alasdair thinks it’s a good idea and won’t let the matter drop.

  “Aye, lad, ’tis a sight to see all right, and not one to be missed.” He points a knife in Callum’s direction. “Go, take young Maddie up to the water. You can borrow the Land Rover if ye like?”

  Callum frowns. “Are you ganging up on me?”

  Alasdair chuckles. “Aye, lad; we are.”

  “And you won’t take no for an answer?”

  “Och, no. Maddie’s our guest, and it’ll not hurt ye to take her out.”

  Callum sighs. “Okay, if I must. But hunting’s more my style.”

  Alasdair shakes his head and raises a white brow. “Buck season doesnae start ’til the first of April. You’ve a couple of months to wait yet, lad.”

  “Aye, more’s the pity,” Callum replies, stabbing a carrot with a fork and thrusting it into his mouth.

  I shudder inside. Hunting is a big part of the
McKinley’s lifestyle, but it’s still alien to me. Callum offered to take me hunting once, on our honeymoon, but the thought of killing one of those magnificent beasts seems unnatural. I can’t even bring myself to hold a gun, let alone shoot another living creature. And if I ever saw a stag being pursued by hunters, I’d be horrified; his fear would become my own fear. I do understand it’s all part of their conservation programme, to ensure they don’t become overrun with wild deer, but I still find it hard to come to terms with this part of their way of life.

  After supper, we move closer to the fire. Alasdair pulls out a pipe from his cardigan pocket. To my surprise, he doesn’t fill it with loose tobacco like he usually does after a meal.

  “I’ve given up smoking,” he explains when he catches my eye. “Sucking on this old thing helps ease my cravings.”

  I nod in agreement. “If it helps your health, then that’s all that matters,” I say. “Although, I admit I’m a chocoholic, and there’s no way I’m ever giving any of that up.”

  He laughs and pats me on my knee. “Aye, well, the doctor’s advised me to stop. Says at my age I need all the help I can get.”

  Callum pulls out a small table, places it by my feet and then brings over a plate of cheese and biscuits. He takes a couple himself, then sits in the chair opposite. “So, what’s been happening on the farm since we last visited?” he asks.

  “We had to buy a new tractor,” Jamie tells him, coming over to slide a cracker off the plate. He stuffs the whole biscuit into his mouth, chews it quickly, and then says, “Old Bertha coughed and spluttered her last breath just after the harvest.”

  “Aye, and the price of a new vehicle near killed me, I’ll tell ye,” Alasdair roars in exasperation. “Back in the day, I’d have bought twenty houses for the same price.”

  “You’ve had that tractor for as long as I can remember,” Callum says.

  “Aye, I bought if for less than a hundred pounds, second hand in the sixties.”

  Jamie chuckles and slides down his chair a little. “I thought granda was going to have a heart attack when the dealer told him how much it would cost for a replacement.”

  Alasdair noisily draws on his empty pipe. “Aye, and I’m sure I suffered a slight stroke when I was forced to part with my hard-earned cash.”

  Callum’s laughter fills the room. His eyes are bright and his cheeks rosy from the fire.

  “You’ve always been a tight-fisted old goat,” he says.

  “Och, well, it takes one to know one,” Alasdair grins.

  “Hey, less of the old, and stop casting aspersions on my good character,” Callum teases.

  As the evening draws to a close, both myself and Callum offer to do the dishes. There’s no dishwasher in the house, no Wi-Fi or cable TV. The farmhouse is my retreat. The pressure of living in a digital society seems miles away when there’s no electronic distractions.

  I fill a bowl with hot soapy water and slide in a few dirty dishes. Callum comes over, a tea towel dangling from his fingertips.

  “You okay?” I ask, “only you’ve hardly said a word to me all evening.”

  He nods. “Yeah, I’m just a little tired. It’s been a hard drive and a long day.”

  He reaches for a plate covered in suds. The way he snatches hold of it tells me he’s tetchy.

  I stop washing up and turn towards my husband. “Callum…”

  “Look, Maddie, I said I’m tired.”

  “I know, but I was just—”

  “What? Making small talk? Let’s just finish up here and then you can get yourself off to bed.”

  “So, that’s it? I’m dismissed, like a child, on your say-so?”

  “No, I’m not saying that.”

  “Then what are you saying?”

  He shakes his head and lets out a deep sigh. “Look, forget it. Go and do whatever makes you happy, but I’m having a wee dram with the men before I retire to bed.”

  I turn back to the dishes and stare down at the bubbles, willing myself not to show any hurt, to hide it from him. I want to have a drink with the men, too. And doesn’t he realise it’s spending time with him and his family that makes me happy? I thought coming here, to Scotland, would rekindle the magic we once shared together, before our love life became focused on endless sperm counts and unsuccessful egg fertilisation. But now I think it’s just about Cal seeing his brother and grandfather again.

  I feel a surge of anguish and thrust my hands deeper into the hot water, determined to hold it together. There’s no point getting upset. My energy would simply be lost on him.

  We finish the washing up and I decide to call it a night.

  “Goodnight. I’ll see you all in the morning,” I announce.

  “Night,” Callum replies, planting a kiss on my forehead. I study his face for a moment, trying to read his expression, but Alasdair interrupts my train of thought when his arms wrap around me.

  “Sleep tight and dinnae let the bed bugs bite,” he chuckles, giving me a tight squeeze.

  “Aye, guid night, lassie,” Jamie says, reaching inside a cupboard and pulling out three glass tumblers. “I guess it’s been a long day for ye.”

  I stop at the door and watch the three of them as they prepare to enjoy a bottle of fine malt whisky. For the first time since I became a part of this family, I feel like I’m an English outsider—a Sassenach. I turn one last time, and Jamie catches my eye. His cheeks are pink and flushed. He gives me a wink, completely unaware of my torment and the sadness that plagues Callum and I. He doesn’t know about the babies I cannot have. Without uttering a word, I return to the sanctuary of the Garden House.

  ***

  The next morning, Callum wakes me with breakfast in bed, a tea tray in his hand. I smell the wonderful aroma of coffee and sit up.

  My lip curls into a smile. “Hey, good morning. Is that for me? What a lovely surprise.”

  He has the decency to look a little sheepish.

  “It’s from granda. He thought you needed spoiling.” I lift an eyebrow and my smile slips from my lips.

  “Oh, and you don’t, I suppose.”

  He offers me the tray and I take it, placing it on my lap. He doesn’t say another word yet his eyes hold mine.

  “Talk to me,” I whisper. “Please, Callum, tell me what’s wrong.” He lets out a sigh and turns away, but I quickly grab his arm, forcing him to turn back to face me.

  “I’m sorry; I can’t take you to the loch today. Jamie’s supposed to take granda into Inverness this morning, but the farm’s prize bull has gashed its leg and it’s badly hurt. Jamie’s going to have to wait for the vet, as he’s the only one who can control the beast, so, I’ve agreed to take granda, instead.”

  It’s not what I expected him to say. Still, it doesn’t matter.

  “No problem. Give me five minutes and I’ll go with you.”

  “I don’t think so. Not this time, anyway.”

  I tilt my head in shocked surprise. “But—”

  “I mean, thanks for the offer, but we’re off to the farmer’s market. Granda’s eyesight isn’t very good and Jamie and I don’t want him driving all that way on his own. We’re delivering livestock to sell and we’ll be gone for the best part of the day. I’ll also be helping him to unload the animals when we get there.”

  “But I can help, too,” I pout.

  “No, that’s just it; you can’t. Those heifers can be dangerous, and the market isn’t safe for a greenhorn like yourself. The bottom line is that it’s no place for a woman.”

  I throw back the covers, refusing to listen. He’s implying I’m a liability and that’s simply ridiculous. This is our holiday and I don’t mind where we go…as long as we’re together.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll dress up as a bloke,” I joke. “I’ll put on a pair of jeans and borrow one of Alasdair’s flat caps.”

  I put the tray aside and jump out of bed, but Callum uses his body to bar me from taking another step.

  “Look, Maddie, I said no for a reason.”r />
  I shrug. “I hear you, but I’d like to come, anyway.”

  He stiffens, pushing his shoulders back, his eyes tightening in frustration, but I stand my ground. He’s so close now, our chests almost touching. I stare at his lips as I wait for him to say something—anything. I desperately want to go with him, but it’s clear by his expression that he’s not about to change his mind.

  “It’s simply not a good idea,” he finally explains with a sigh. “Plus, the cattle pens stink to high heaven and the filth is ankle deep. The men are coarse and foul-mouthed, and I simply wouldn’t want—”

  “Your wife stopping you from having fun with the boys?”

  Callum takes a step back. “No. What I was actually going to say was, my wife having to tolerate such disgusting conditions.”

  “But I don’t mind.”

  “Aye, be that as it may, but I do. Besides, I’ve spoken to Jamie and he says that if the vet gets here by midday, he’ll take you to see the ducks in my place.”

  I throw back my head and laugh for the first time, forcing the tension between us to ease.

  “You make me sound like I’m a five-year-old,” I snort, admitting to myself that I’m not going to get my own way this time.

  He smiles back at me and the stiffness leaves his body. “Whatever you say, daffy,” and a look of relief spreads across his face.

  A car horn beeps, and I go to the window, sliding back the net curtain to see granda inside a Range Rover, behind which a livestock trailer’s been hitched.

  “I’ll be back long before dark,” Callum promises, and he gives me a peck on the cheek before dashing off, his boots thumping down the stairs.

  I push open the window to see Callum climbing into the Range Rover and taking over at the wheel. I’m positive he’ll sense me watching him and will him to look up at me. I find I’m holding my breath, hoping against hope that that special bond between us is still intact. It’s silly of me to think like this, most likely building myself up for a fall, and sure enough, seconds pass, and to my dismay, his eyes not once search out mine.