Two Kinds Of Truth

by Lynette Creswell

  I search for my mobile, but I’ve left it in the cottage and let out a sigh. “Oh, never mind. I’ll show you tomorrow.”

  “And what of the stone? Was it as ye imagined?

  “Oh, no. The memorial wasn’t what I expected at all.”

  “And what did you expect?”

  I shrug. “I can’t quite put my finger on it, but the words…they…well, they struck a chord. All those brave clansmen and women who lost their lives.”

  “Aye, and all we have left are ghost stories to scare the wee bairns. Many say they can feel the clansmen’s presence. Did ye?”

  “I’m not sure,” I confess. “Although, it was as though the dead knew I was there remembering them. To be honest, I found the place a little eerie. And, I met this…”

  Jamie interrupts my flow with a nudge from his elbow. “Talking of eerie, did ye ken it’s a new moon this Saturday? There’s a festival this weekend, and the local witches are holding a pagan ritual down by the water at dusk.”

  My eyes grow wide. “No, you never said.”

  He grins. “Aye, well, ’twas Claire who got me interested in paganism. She liked having flowers in her hair and nothing on her feet. She said it made her feel closer to nature.”

  “Oh, I have to agree. I visited a pagan festival once. I was still at college and got invited by a friend. It was held near Stonehenge, and I confess, the music stole my heart. Such haunting melodies. The drums they used were soulful, and the guitars… Everyone was swaying to the beat and dancing. Some wore homemade sandals, whilst others went barefoot. It was uplifting to see young and old mixed together in perfect harmony. And when I left, I felt so at peace with the world.”

  “Aye, it can have that kind of an effect on ye.”

  “Will there be a priestess performing the ritual?”

  Jamie’s voice turns into a whisper. “Och, aye. Usually, she makes an altar close to the stone, then welcomes in the new moon. Most of the local women dress in long flowing robes and chant a few wee spells. It’s a great evening if it doesnae rain. Then they have a cake and ale ceremony; that’s my favourite part.”

  I’m intrigued. “I’ve never seen practicing witches before, or witnessed a cake and ale ceremony. Would you take me, please?”

  Jamie nods and sips his champagne. “Sure, if ye can handle such excitement, and all in one night.”

  ***

  It’s late by the time I ring Keira again. “Hey, it’s me. Sorry, did I wake you?”

  “No, of course not. I’ve been sitting here waiting for your call.”

  “I’m sorry…about this afternoon. I shouldn’t have burdened you with my mess-of-a-life.”

  Keira’s tone changes in an instant. “Seriously, if you hadn’t and I’d ended up hearing it from somebody else, I’d physically kill you.”

  I chuckle because I know she would.

  “So, how was tonight?” she asks.

  “Much better. But that’s mainly due to Callum receiving a phone call offering him the Fornhill account.”

  “Wow, that’s great news. Does this mean you’re coming home?”

  “Well, Cal says he’s leaving for work first thing Thursday morning, but wants me to stay on until after the weekend. I said I’d come home, but he insisted. I’m just concerned he might be delayed and you’re left—”

  “I seriously hope you’re not worrying about the shop?”

  “No, but I wouldn’t want you thinking I’m taking advantage of you, that’s all.”

  Keira lets out a sigh. “As if.”

  “I’m serious. I wanted to check with you first, to make sure you’re happy to continue running the florist in my absence.”

  She clicks her tongue in the roof of her mouth—an annoying habit she picked up after hitting puberty.

  “Like you need to ask. Of course, it’s fine. I’ve told you before: stay as long as it takes to get you two back on track. Besides, the shop’s thriving and I haven’t run off with the takings…yet.”

  “I’d hunt you down and stab you with a prickly rose if you did,” I tell her, and Keira lets out a chuckle.

  “Ah, just the thought is enough to keep me on the straight and narrow,” but then she hesitates. “And what about Jamie? Have you given him a wide berth?”

  “I told you, he was a mistake.”

  “Good. I’m just checking. I don’t want any more revelations that could cause me sleepless nights.”

  I play with a strand of hair and curl my feet under a cushion on the sofa. I enjoy hearing her voice. She cares what happens to me and it soothes me. By the time we finish catching up, the clock on the wall chimes midnight.

  I’m far more relaxed when I end the call and head to the bathroom, to clean my teeth and undress. The bottom of my spine still hurts, though. I turn on the tap, fill a glass with cold water and take two painkillers, then swill my mouth and replace the glass.

  My bare feet fall silent as I come out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. I adore this room, decorated with its blue and white chintz. The bed frame’s white, the mattress thick and luxurious. I switch on a bedside lamp and smooth my hand over the duvet before flicking over the corner, then climb into bed, easing my aching limbs onto the cold sheet. Once I’ve punched my pillows into shape and made myself comfortable, I pick up a book from off the bedside table and open it at its bookmark. I want to try and wait up for Callum, to talk to him. So far today, we’ve hardly had the chance to say two words to each other.

  I’ve only read a few pages before my eyelids grow heavy, unaware when the book slips from my fingers and onto the floor. I don’t hear Callum come to bed an hour or so later, or feel the gentle kiss he plants on my forehead. Nor am I aware that he picks up the book and places it onto the bedside table, or that he strokes my face as he switches off the light.

  Chapter 8

  Jamie

  I enter the kitchen and sit at the table, reaching for the morning paper. My stomach tightens as I glance at today’s date: Wednesday, 23rd of February.

  I feel a draught against my cheek as the kitchen door swings open.

  “Hey, bro, looks to be the start of a mighty fine day.”

  I tear my eyes from the newspaper. “Speak of the devil and he’s sure to appear,” I say, turning over the page.

  Maddie enters the room. She comes and stands beside me.

  “Morning, Jamie,” she says lightly, “any tea in the pot?”

  I nod, glare at Callum and then focus my eyes back towards the headlines. Brexit is still hitting the news and I try to digest the words, but I swear to God I can feel Callum’s eyes burning right through the back of my skull. I throw the newspaper down onto the kitchen table and the chair scrapes against the stone floor as I rise.

  “Going somewhere?” Callum asks, cocking his head to one side.

  “Aye, I’m off to clean out the stables.”

  Maddie takes a sharp intake of breath.

  “Oh, would you like help with that?”

  I stop and turn towards her. I want to say no, to ask her to stay away from me, but I can’t. She’s standing there, her eyes keen, and I clench my jaw, unwilling to give in. But she bounces from one foot to the other, like a little school kid.

  “Come on Jamie, let me.”

  I lean against the doorframe. “Aye, all right, if ye wannae come, that’s fine with me.”

  She gives me the widest grin I’ve ever seen as she dashes past, then I hear her scrabbling about in the hallway, searching for her boots.

  I turn to leave, but Callum rushes over and grabs me by the arm.

  “Tell me you’ll go through with it,” he hisses, close to my ear. My muscles tense and I yank my arm free, then turn towards him, our faces just millimetres away from one another. We’re so close, our noses almost touch.

  “Nae. I’ll do no such thing,” I say through gritted teeth. “Not now, not ever.”

  His eyes search mine as though he’s looking deep inside my soul, his expression unfathomable, until he lets out
a defeated sigh. I turn away, leaving him standing there, alone.

  “Are you all right?” Maddie asks when I slam the kitchen door behind me. I thrust my fingers through my hair and put on a painted smile.

  “Aye, I’m grand, lassie. I just need to get a move on.”

  “Wait for me,” I hear her cry as I make for the outer door, but I don’t. I keep on going, out into the yard. I’m angry and afraid, afraid of what I might say to her. I can’t do what my brother asks of me, yet I’m filled with guilt. I’m not to blame for the predicament they find themselves in, and I curse my brother for ever having told me the truth. However, no matter how much he begs, I could never fulfil this wildest desire of his.

  I lift the latch and pull open the door to one of the large sheds. Inside, I fish out a wheelbarrow and a couple of pitchforks and a shovel. I throw them into the barrow and use it to push the doors wide as I make my way out.

  “Out the way, Maddie,” I cry; “I dinnae want to run ye over.”

  She laughs and grabs hold of one of the pitchforks.

  “You just try it and you’ll feel the sharp end of a prong up your arse,” and she pretends to stab my backside with the fork.

  A smile reaches my lips. “Och, I’d better watch out, then.”

  She giggles. “Yes, you’d better, or you’ll not be able to sit down for a week.”

  I push the barrow through the yard and she follows. I really don’t want her around me, but although I’m loath to admit it…my dark mood is lifting, if just a little. Perhaps having Maddie around isn’t so bad after all.

  We head straight for the stable block. Starsky has his black head out of the stable door. As we approach, he shakes his mane and lets out a snort. It’s his way of saying hello. Maddie lets out a squeal of pure delight.

  “He’s such a character,” she says, “and gorgeous with it.”

  My heart lurches in my chest. In a different life, a different time…I could say the same about Maddie. I put down the wheelbarrow and head over to the tack room, where I grab a headcollar and lead rope.

  “Let’s start with the stallion,” I say when I get back, and I offer the collar to Maddie. She takes it and strokes the horse’s forehead before pushing the straps up over his nose and towards his ears. She makes sure it’s snug and secure before clipping the lead rope onto a ring on his headcollar, now at the side of his mouth.

  She nods to say she’s ready and I unbolt the stable door.

  “Why don’t ye take him down to the lower field?” I suggest. She stares at me as though I’ve gone stark raving mad, but then her expression changes to one of pleasant surprise.

  “Are you sure it’s okay?” she asks, leading the stallion out into the yard. “Only, I’ve never handled any of the horses before.”

  “Och, you’ll be fine. Keep him on a short leash and you’ll have nae bother.”

  She grins and I can see her excitement grow. I’m amazed how such a small gesture has made her day. I keep a watchful eye on her as she guides the horse away from the stable block and onto the track that leads to the field. She’s a natural with horses, that’s plain to see, for Starsky’s now become putty in her hands. I can hear her talking to him, passing the time of day as if he were human, to which he snorts and grunts in reply. Yes, Maddie certainly has a way with horses.

  I concentrate on mucking out the stable, soon filling the wheelbarrow with a mixture of manure, and damp hay and straw. I’m almost done by the time she gets back. Maddie helps me cover the floor, laying a fresh straw bed which quickly drowns out the musky odour of urine with its own dry and dusty smell.

  “Maddie, can I ask ye something…something personal?”

  She stops what she’s doing and leans on the pitchfork.

  “Yeah, sure; what is it?”

  I stare at her, not sure where to begin, then clear my throat. “The thing is… Callum told me something the other night when I took him into town.”

  “Oh, yeah. Like what?”

  I lick my lips. “Och, Maddie, I dinnae wish to pry, but he said that ye couldnae have a bairn. I’ve been cut up about it ever since he told me. Is there nothing anyone can do to help ye?”

  She drops the pitchfork, lets out a deep sigh and then goes and sits on a small bale of hay.

  I swallow. I’ve clearly upset her.

  “Maddie, are ye all right, lass?”

  She puts her head in her hands. “What? Oh, your question… Yes, it’s all true; we can’t have children, and no, no one can help us.”

  “I’m sorry, Maddie, I had nae right to ask.”

  She lifts her head and glares at me. “Then why did you?”

  I sense her anger, her bitterness, and shrug. “I dunno. I think I just dinnea believe it, ye ken? ’Tis a lot to take in.”

  She turns her head away, but not before teardrops drip from her lashes. I’m then by her side, down on bended knees.

  “Maddie, I dinnae mean to make ye cry.” I frantically search for a hanky, pulling one out from inside my pocket, and go to wipe her face. I expect a rebuff, or for her to slap my hand away, but she doesn’t. She allows me gently to wipe the tears away, but more continue to fall.

  She finally looks back at me. “We’ve tried everything,” she whispers. “Even three sessions of IVF.” Those same teardrops catch the light and now sparkle like diamonds. They may be beautiful, but they only enhance her look of sorrow.

  “Did Callum tell you why we can’t have children?”

  I heave a sigh. “Aye, he did. Said he’s infertile.”

  She nods. “Yes, that’s right. The last time they managed to find one living sperm and placed it with my egg. I knew then it was our last hope, so when it failed…”

  “I’m sorry, Maddie, for yir loss; and for asking.”

  She dries her eyes with the palms of her hands and rises to her feet. “It’s fine. You’re my brother-in-law. You should know what we’re going through. It’s been horrible having to suffer without the support of close family.”

  “Och, you’ll always have mine,” I tell her, and rise to squeeze her shoulders gently.

  She stares deep into my eyes. “Do you know what the worst thing is?”

  I shake my head; I can’t even begin to imagine.

  “It’s the baby hunger. I’m tormented, every minute of every day, no matter where I go. If I visit the park, all I see are mummies and daddies pushing their prams, swinging toddlers and buying their kids ice cream. Or…or…I’ll log onto Facebook to find my newsfeed full of ultrasound scan pictures, their threads filled with expressions of congratulations to the happy couple.”

  Again, I shrug. “It must be hard for ye both.”

  She turns on me then and bares her teeth, like a wounded animal.

  “Hard? Christ, that doesn’t even come close. What pain do you think comes after all that? Well, I’ll tell you: it’s their birth, their first steps, first words, their first birthday. It’s listening to other women moaning about being a mother while I’m dying to be one,” and she thumps her chest with her hands, over and over.

  “Maddie, it’s okay; I understand,” I soothe, but she isn’t listening. She’s consumed with grief, then her voice rises as she pulls away.

  “Being unable to have a baby sours friendships and destroys marriages,” she cries, just inches from my face. “For Christ sake, Jamie, look at mine.”

  She bursts into tears and I pull her towards me, taking her in my arms. I hold her close, rock her two and fro as she sobs unconsolably against my chest.

  “I’m such a dick,” I chastise myself. “I’ve hurt ye and I ne’er meant to. I just wanted to hear yir side of the story, to get to grips with what’s happened from yir perspective.”

  She sobs for what seems like an age, until the cries turn to whimpers. She’s calmer now, just light sniffles, and then she pulls away. Her shoulders are hunched over, her eyes red and swollen. She glances up and offers me a weak smile.

  “I’ve…er…got to go,” she says, and before I
can stop her, she dashes from the stable. I chase after her, but to my despair I see Alasdair walking towards us. I stop dead in my tracks as Maddie runs towards him and he opens his arms, embracing her. I can see his lips moving, but the wind catches his words, sweeping them away. Although I can’t hear what he says, when he looks across at me, I can read the expression on his face. Oh, yeah; I really am a complete prick.

  ***

  When I open the main door to the farmhouse and take a deep breath, I inhale a spicy aroma: beef curry, my favourite dish. My mouth waters at the thought of eating some tender chunks of sirloin covered in a rich madras sauce. Then Maddie’s laughter comes to my ears and a niggle of uncertainly crawls down my spine, unsure what kind of a response I’ll receive when I open the kitchen door.

  I hang up my jacket, take off my boots and reluctantly head for the warmest room in the house. Tonight, though, I expect a chill in its air.

  I push the door wide open.

  “Oh, there you are,” says Callum, cheerily. “I thought you were never coming home.” He’s standing at the cooker, stirring the curry sauce whilst Maddie lays the table for supper. I try not to make eye contact, but I’ve already clocked that she’s wearing a pretty red blouse and a tight black pencil skirt. The top is flattering and shows off her neckline, revealing milky white skin. Her skirt clings to her thighs and I force myself to avert my gaze.

  I clear my throat. “We don’t usually have curry on a Wednesday,” I say to Alasdair, who’s busy serving up rice.

  “Aye, ye right; ’twas Callum’s idea. He thought ye deserved a treat.” He turns towards me, his eyes narrowed: his way of telling me that he doesn’t agree. My gut churns. Let him believe what he likes; after all, he isn’t aware of what’s really happening here.

  “What time does the quiz start?” Callum asks, pouring the madras over the rice.

  I have to think for a second. “Er, about seven o’clock.” I head over to the sink and give my hands a thorough scrub, ready for supper.