Inside, I’m crushed, but I try to think rationally. After all, he’s busy doing what any half decent grandson would do for his elderly relative. My attention is still on my husband when he thrusts the gearstick into first, hits the accelerator and drives away.
Chapter 4
The breakfast tray lies abandoned on the bed, the coffee stone cold. I can no longer stomach food or even the thought of it. With a heavy heart, I head for the shower, climb inside the cubicle and hit the power button. A stream of hot water hits my face and I close my eyes and breathe in deeply. I enjoy the sensation until my skin tingles with the heat, whereupon I open my eyes and get on with scrubbing myself clean. When I climb out, I wrap a thick purple towel around my body. The cold slabs of slate beneath my feet would normally seep through my soles, but I don’t let them, walking on my tiptoes over to the basin. A layer of condensation clouds the mirror, and I wipe it clean with the flat of my hand, staring at my revealed reflection. A lonely figure stares back and I’m forced to turn my face away.
I get dressed and head over to the cattle shed, to see how Jamie’s doing. The distinctive smell of the farm fills my nostrils, the stench of cattle dung and urine overpowering, so I pinch my nostrils together until I get used to it. I’m dressed in an old pair of jeans, a polo necked jumper and a waterproof coat I found behind the front door of the cottage. I’m also wearing a pair of wellington boots that I brought especially for the trip. They’re bright pink with colourful blue and yellow daisies stencilled on them. It had been Kiera who’d helped me pick them out, and I smile, remembering her insisting I purchase them so they would remind me of her. And she was right, they do.
As soon as I enter the shed, I hear Jamie shout “Whoa, will ye stay still, ye stupid idiot. Ye cannae go out until you’ve been seen.” He’s in one of the metal pens, slurry splashed all over his bright yellow jacket, a layer of thick khaki-coloured manure. He’s oblivious, though, his only concern is for the animal.
His strong hands stroke the back of a large golden-brown beast, its head secure in a cattle crush. I don’t know much about cattle, but what I do know is that these Highland varieties are one of Britain’s most distinctive breeds. With long, thick flowing coats and majestic, sweeping horns, these animals are truly exceptional. When I’m only a few feet away, it lets out a deep-bellied groan. The bull is clearly in pain and continues to bellow, its large bulbous eyes now staring right at me, a surge of hot breath shooting from its nostrils. It’s cold inside the shed and the bull’s vapours fill the air, reminding me of steam issuing from a boiling kettle.
As I draw nearer, I can see Jamie’s doing his best to calm the animal. His devotion to the farm is clear, even to me, an outsider.
The last time I visited, I witnessed him saving a new-born calf. The latest addition had become entangled within its afterbirth, about to be trampled upon by the herd. Jamie had run between the cattle, shooing the mammoth beasts aside, as though they were overgrown flies. He’d reached the calf and cleared away the membrane from its body, and within seconds had the calf standing on all fours, clear to those who’d witnessed his courage that he’d saved the mite from certain death. For me, I’d seen at first-hand his dedication. He’s simply a natural.
I move a little closer. There’s splashes of red mingled within the hay and I notice splats of blood on the concrete floor. Realisation hits me as to just how injured the bull must be and I grow concerned for Jamie’s welfare. If it gets violent, a kick from one of those powerful hind legs could be fatal. I edge my way to the barrier, which keeps me free from harm.
“Hey, Jamie, is everything okay?”
He turns and his brows are creased with concern. He moves to one side, revealing a thick bandage wrapped around the animal’s foreleg. It’s crimson with dried blood.
“Hi, Maddie. Nah, not really. As ye can see, he’s lost a lot of blood and there’s nae sign of the vet.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?” I know it’s a silly question, but I ask it anyway. What can I do in this kind of situation? Make tea?
“Aye, can ye just reach inside my overcoat pocket and get my mobile out.”
He points to a dark green jacket lying on a bale of hay, just a few feet away.
I hurry over when I hear the urgency in his voice, fumble in the pockets and find his phone, quickly passing it to him. We’re both taken by surprise when it rings.
He answers the call and the look of relief is instant.
“Aye, the gate’s open,” and he nods at me. “I’m waiting for ye. Come straight to the main cattle shed.”
He ends the call and offers me the phone, which I dutifully place back in his pocket.
“Is he going to be okay?” I ask, and again, I know it’s a stupid question, but what else can I say?
Jamie shakes his head.
“I cannae say hen, but let’s hope so, eh?”
It’s my turn to nod, and as I do so, a car door slams out in the yard.
“He’s here,” I declare, and dash off to greet the vet. I don’t know why, but I’m expecting an elderly man with grey hair and brown breeches. So, I’m taken aback when I offer my hand to a thirty-something woman dressed in tight jeans, a waterproof anorak and a pair of green wellies. A baseball cap holds back long brown hair tied up into a ponytail. She’s pretty and slim.
“Hi,” I say. “Thanks for coming so quickly.”
“No problem. I’m Ally,” she replies in a curt tone. “And you are?”
“Oh, I’m Maddie. Callum’s wife.”
A look of astonishment crosses her face. “Wife? You mean, he brought you here?”
“Yes, that’s right. We’re on holiday.”
Ally pulls her mouth into an unflattering line.
“Is there a problem, only you’ve turned rather pale?”
“No, I’m fine. Is the injured animal inside?”
I jump back and out of her way. “Oh, yes. Sorry, Jamie’s waiting. Please hurry.”
She dips her wellington boots into the disinfectant Jamie’s left outside the shed door and then makes her way inside. I hesitate, as I’m out of my depth here, but I don’t want just to walk off back to the farmhouse. I decide to follow her, in case they need an extra pair of hands. When I reach the pen, Ally’s already assessing the damaged limb.
“Barbed wire?” she asks Jamie, and he nods.
“Aye, it’d come loose up on the glen, but ‘tis fixed nah.”
Ally heads back to her car and returns with an assortment of medical supplies, neatly organised inside a plastic tray. She places the tray on top of a bale of hay, so she can wash her hands in the stone sink in the corner of the shed. After snapping on a pair of latex gloves her fingers rummage through an assortment of drugs, sealed bandages and medicines. Finding what she’s looking for, she turns her attention back to the injured animal. She cuts off the bloodstained cloth from around the leg, and washes down the wound with a hosepipe, then wipes away all traces of blood and dirt with saline and a sterile gauze.
“Don’t worry, the laceration isn’t as bad as you first thought. This bull won’t be going for slaughter. Not today, anyway.”
Jamie lets out a sigh of relief. “Och, that’s guid news, and just what I wanted to hear. We cannae afford to lose him, not at this time of year.” He places a small bucket of cattle cake in front of the crush, and the bull dips his head inside.
With the animal distracted, Ally bobs down onto her haunches and her fingers push the jagged pieces of skin back together.
“I can stitch up the leg,” she says, “but you’ll need to keep him away from the fold for a few days, at least.” As she speaks, I notice for the first time that she doesn’t have a Scottish accent. I try to place the soft intonation in her voice, but I can’t quite pinpoint the dialect.
From a safe distance, I watch Jamie help the vet. They’re a good team. Jamie appears to know her every move, and I stare, fascinated, as they work together. Jamie’s right by her side and holds the bull steady whilst Al
ly prepares a large syringe and injects the wound with anaesthetic. The animal calms and the bellowing stops.
It takes well over an hour until the vet’s done the best she can. Once the stitches are in place, she packs the medical equipment away and I hear her tell Jamie she’ll be back in a few days. I walk back to the entrance of the shed and wait for her.
“Thanks for all your help,” I say as she approaches.
She nods. “No problem,” but her eyes don’t meet mine and she carries on walking. I feel my brows loft in surprise. Head down, she goes straight to her car and drives away, leaving me staring after her taillights. I ponder what I might have said to cause her to be so dismissive towards me, coming up with nothing; a big fat zero.
“Maddie, where are ye?” Jamie calls, and I hurry back inside, convinced I must have been mistaken.
***
Fresh air, dark rolling hills and a backdrop of white misty mountains are enough of an incentive for me to help Jamie pack the winter picnic.
“Where are we going, exactly?” I ask as we head out into the farmyard. I’m dressed in warm boots and a thick woolly jumper, thankful there’s no biting wind, but it’s still cold. I pull a tartan scarf from my coat pocket and wrap it around my neck.
Jamie taps the side of his nose and heads over to the Land Rover. Throwing open the back door, he places the wicker basket onto the floor, alongside a red blanket.
“You’ve packed enough sandwiches to feed an entire army,” I say, amused.
“I cannae have ye going hungry,” he tells me.
“Hungry! Are you serious? Have you seen the size of those pieces of madeira cake? I swear, I’ll be on a strict diet the second I’m home.”
Jamie stops what he’s doing to look me up and down.
“Och, I’ve seen more meat on a sparrow’s kneecap.”
“Oh, is that right?” and I raise my nose in the air. “I guess you must get up close and personal to a lot of birds, then.”
I shove on a woollen hat with built in earmuffs that cover my ears and push my hair out of my eyes.
Jamie smirks, opens the passenger door and I jump inside. The Land Rover has no soft-padded seats or instant heat. It’s what I’d call prehistoric and it’s rather basic, but at least the engine’s in good condition. He goes around to the other side and climbs in beside me, slamming the door hard so the metal groans in protest.
He turns to me and smiles.
“It’s a heap of shite, I ken, but it’ll get us to where we wannae be.”
He playfully tugs at one of the tie-strings dangling from my ears, taken by surprise when my hat falls off. I’m quick to catch it and he laughs a huge belly laugh.
“Ye look silly wearing those earflaps,” he chuckles. “All ye need is a pair of goggles and you’d have a canny resemblance to Biggles!”
I burst out laughing, and Jamie gives me a wink, a cheeky grin across his face. He starts the engine and I pop my hat back on. He thrusts the gearstick into first, and with a sharp jolt, off we go.
“It’s one hell of a bumpy ride,” I say, just a few minutes into the journey.
“Aye, I’m afraid the roads are little more than dirt tracks around here.”
“I can tell. I think you’ve managed to hit every pot hole so far,” I say with a smirk.
Jamie lets out a chuckle. “Sorry, I ken it isnae comfortable sitting in this tin can, but I promise ye the view will be worth it.”
I stare out of the window. Although it’s almost at the end of February we’re still lucky with the weather. Little snow has fallen over the Highlands this year, although Alasdair says it’s coming. I gaze wistfully at the white snow-topped mountains, but then Jamie points towards one of the peaks.
“There’s snow all year round on them there bens,” he tells me.
“Bens?” What do you mean?”
“Mountains. Ye ken, it doesnae matter how warm it gets, the snow ne’er melts.”
I nod and smile. Sometimes, I just haven’t a clue what he’s talking about, but I like listening to him—a lot. We continue to chat about the passing countryside until we come to a fork in the road. There’s no one else around, just Jamie and myself, and I can see for miles and miles. The Glen stretches out before me like a warm brown carpet and I can’t wait to plant my feet onto its rich dark earth.
Jamie takes a left and the loch shimmers in welcome just a few miles away. The mountains roll up against a backdrop of dark green forest and its overarching pale-blue sky. I’m lucky enough to spot a wild hare dashing to its burrow and am thrilled when Jamie points out a red deer grazing in the distance.
He stops the Land Rover and we both clamber out. Jamie goes to the back of the vehicle and pulls out the picnic basket and the thick red blanket, passing them to me before fiddling about under one of the back seats. Out comes an old metal box, a pair of binoculars revealed when he lifts its lid. He places them around his neck and then closes the door, taking back the blanket and basket from my hands.
I amble behind as he edges closer to the water. The loch glistens as we approach. There’s a tiny island in the middle filled with tall aspens and common alder. I stare way beyond the trees, though, to the majestically peaked mountains, their summits swathed in white fluffy clouds. If only Callum could see this.
I assume it must be hard for Jamie to bring me here to the loch and not his late wife. Callum says she was an Irish colleen, born in the county of Cork, with raven black hair and ocean green eyes. She must have been stunning. Callum once told me how a famous New York designer spotted her in a restaurant whilst visiting on holiday and practically begged her to become his fashion model.
“What was she like…Claire, your wife?”
Jamie turns to look at me, mid-stride, and I notice his brows knit together.
“Och, she was the most remarkable woman I ever met.”
“I bet you miss her terribly,” I say, treading carefully. “I mean…she must have been a big part of your life?”
He slows so he can walk beside me.
“Aye, I cannae deny that, and leaving me the way she did left a gaping hole in my chest where my heart should be. She was my everything,” he whispers. “My sun and moon and stars all rolled into one. She had this crazy energy about her, so full of life, and when she died, a part of me died along with her.”
I gulp and take a breath. I hadn’t expected him to be quite so honest and open.
“How long were you married, before she became ill?”
“Just short of four wonderful years. I met her at the county fair, ye ken? She was visiting an old schoolfriend and they’d travelled down for the day. She was eating candy floss when I first clapped eyes on her, and I thought her the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen. Jet black hair right down to her waist, and those eyes…Wow. They were green, like ocean pools. She stared at me and her dazzling smile simply blew my breath away. It was love at first sight, for the both of us.” He lowers his head and lets out a loud sigh. “A lifetime wouldnae have been long enough for that kind of love.”
He drops to his knees.
“This’ll do here,” he says, and spreads the blanket over the ground. I hear water lapping over the tiny stones along the shore as the waves wash over them, and I sit down beside him, take off my gloves and help him unpack the lunch basket. I put two empty melamine plates onto the blanket and Jamie peels back tin foil to reveal ham and pickle sandwiches. He places them onto the plates and then fills two plastic cups with sweet white wine.
We eat and drink, side by side, in blissful silence.
I’m halfway through my second sandwich when Jamie jumps to his feet, startling me. I try not to choke, but my mouth’s full of food and I swallow quickly. I want to ask him whatever’s the matter, but before I get the chance, he picks up the binoculars. I’m busy brushing the crumbs from my fingers when he looks down at me, his eyes sparkling, a huge grin across his face.
“They’re here,” he cries, and offers me his hand.
“Who,
the goosanders?” I ask, and strong fingers curl around mine.
“Aye, lassie; come see.”
I jump to my feet and he offers me the binoculars, then points to the other side of the loch. My eyes and fingers take a few seconds to get the image in focus, and sure enough, he’s right. The birds are there, right in front of me. I take a sharp intake of breath. There must be at least a hundred, maybe even two, floating on the top of the water. They’re bobbing about, preening and washing themselves, oblivious to my prying eyes. I watch a few stragglers land, their wings beating against the water passing beneath them, creating a vortex of strong ripples across the surface of the loch.
“Wow, this is truly amazing,” I say, turning my attention back to Jamie. I look down to find him lying on the blanket.
“See, I told ye,” he says, cutting a scone in half and spreading lashings of strawberry jam on both sides. “And I wager ye dinnae ken that these birds nest in trees, either.”
He’s right, I didn’t, and I raise my eyebrows in surprise.
“Honestly? Is that true, or did you just make it up?”
He laughs, and bites into the scone.
“Aye, they do,” and he swallows. “They build their nests in holes in trees, or even tree stumps.”
“But what if there aren’t any trees? What then?”
“Och, if there’s a problem, they’ll nest on the ground, find a place where there’s enough cover of vegetation.”
I purse my lips together and nod. “So, the bottom line is that they’re really not fussed where they build their nests?” I laugh, and Jamie laughs with me, and I feel there’s a connection between us. I can’t deny there’s something about him that brings out the best in me. I’m sure it’s because he’s so laidback. Then again, perhaps it’s because he’s so approachable. Whatever it is, I like it.
I turn back to the goosanders to watch their escapades until my fingers grow numb with cold.
When I can’t bear it any longer, I drag myself away to sit beside him. He’s had the sense to bring a flask of piping hot coffee, and I’m grateful when he pours me a cup. I sip the sweet liquid and enjoy the sensation as it slides down my throat, but then I notice the sun’s disappearing, that it’s getting much colder.
Two Kinds Of Truth Page 5