Two Kinds Of Truth

by Lynette Creswell

  “She also said something else.”

  “Oh, yeah; like what?”

  “That she’s going to tell Callum we’re having an affair.”

  He takes a sharp intake of breath. “She actually said that?”

  I nod and Jamie pushes me to arm’s length, and I stare deep into his eyes.

  “Her accusations are unfounded and he’ll ne’er take her seriously. And, more importantly, he loves ye, not Ally.”

  “Then what am I going to do?”

  “You’re not to let that woman’s poison affect ye, that’s what you’ll do.”

  I feel my eyes prick with tears. “I can’t believe she told me to my face that’s she’s going to take him from me.”

  Jamie puts his arm around me and guides me away from the tents.

  “She can try, but Callum would die for ye, so dinnae think for one moment he would ever leave ye. Now, forget her and let’s go and eat cake and enjoy the rest of the evening.”

  I pull away from him. “No. I can’t.”

  Jamie shrugs. “Why ever not? Ye said ye loved cake.”

  “Yes, I do, but I still need to pee.”

  Jamie shakes his head. “Aye, all right. I’ll stand guard outside the door in case Ally decides to show her face again.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate the offer.”

  We retrace our steps and hurry over to the Portaloos, where I rush inside a vacant one, but the moment the door closes, I’m scrabbling inside my bag for my mobile. I need to speak to Callum, to tell him what’s happened. I push a few items aside and find my phone at the bottom of my bag, swipe the screen and then press his number. When I hear his voice, I breathe a sigh of relief, but then realise I’ve reached his answer phone.

  “Hi, this is Callum McKinley. Please leave your message after the beep.” I hesitate, then force my voice to sound light and airy.

  “Hi, it’s me. Nothing’s wrong; I’m just checking in,” and I end the call with a sigh, not wishing to upset him or cause him alarm. But I need to talk to him and put my mind at ease. I tell myself he’s sure to ring me back as soon as he gets my message, but then again, the signal’s pretty lousy up here. Resignedly, I shove my phone back inside my bag, use the toilet then wash my hands. When I open the door, Jamie’s waiting for me.

  “Are ye okay?” he asks as I approach, and I read concern in his eyes.

  I nod and push the corners of my mouth into a smile. “Yes, I’m fine. It’s just that I don’t know how to handle Ally,” I confess. “I’ve never been in this kind of situation before.”

  He offers me his hand and I take it, his calloused fingers grasping mine.

  “I’ve told ye already: you’ve nothing to worry about. She’s just making waves, and what she doesnae realise is that she’ll be the one to drown by them.”

  I squeeze his fingers, grateful for his reassurance, but there’s something else, too. It’s as though a veil has been lifted from my eyes. I no longer see him as Callum’s identical twin. Instead, there are certain traits and qualities held within him that I now recognise are so unlike Callum. There’s no trace of arrogance or superiority. In front of me stands a man who’s kind and gentle. He pulls me close and holds my gaze, his eyes soft and sincere.

  There’s a cry and then a shout, and Jamie lets go, swinging around to a drunk who’s just spilt ale all down his arm and the side of his jeans. “Can ye not see where you’re going?” Jamie curses under his breath.

  “Be cool, man,” says a guy who’s the spitting image of Bob Marley, and at whom Jamie only glares. The Rastafarian staggers to a halt, his arms swaying like suckered tentacles, and I swear he’s about to fall over. I take a step forward, my hand outstretched to steady him when he swiftly turns tail and hurries away into the darkness.

  “Complete imbecile,” Jamie mutters, shaking off the last droplets of beer from his clothes.

  “Oh, don’t be too hard on him,” I say with a smirk. “After all, it was an accident.”

  Jamie shakes his head, but his anger has already melted away. “Come on, then; I think it’s time we went and found the others,” and he grabs my hand and pulls me into the crowd of revellers and leads me back to the safe bosom of my new friends.

  The atmosphere is heavy with winter cloud, but this doesn’t dampen my spirits. We join in with a small band of gypsies who are enjoying a good old sing-song. The music is soulful and I clap my hands to the beat. I spot Rhona and Gordon dancing together. They make a fine couple, and Rhona seems quite merry. Her cheeks are flushed and she’s giggling. Gordon’s happy to hold her steady, to have his arms wrapped around her waist.

  “’Tis a guid job Malcolm’s staying the night to look after Findlay,” Jamie shouts over the din. I laugh, because he’s right. No doubt, by tomorrow morning, they’ll both suffer from stinking hangovers.

  “On that note, do you fancy a special brewed ale?” I say.

  Jamie chuckles. “I’ve ne’er been one to turn down a free drink.”

  “Then stay put and I’ll be right back.”

  I head over to a stall selling wine and beer. There’s plenty on offer, a table littered with an assortment of ales, most of which I’ve never heard of. I ponder over the different varieties and buy two bottles of Old Speckled Hen. On the way back, a woman, waving her hands, catches my eye. I realise it’s Bridget and she’s pointing to the memorial stone. I nod and lift the bottles of ale and point them in Jamie’s general direction. Bridget holds up five fingers. I nod again and she gives me a thumbs up, at which I hurry over to where Jamie’s watching a young girl dance to a fiddle, offering him the ale.

  “Slàinte mhath,” he says as he makes a toast.

  “Good health to you, too,” I say, “only I’ve just seen Bridget and I’m going to meet her down by the stone.”

  Jamie halts, the beer to his lips. “What? You’re going now?”

  I nod. “Yes. I said I’d be there in five.”

  “Do ye want me to come with ye, in case ye bump into Ally again?”

  “No, I’ll be fine, thanks. Besides, I won’t be long.”

  I make my way down to the water’s edge. There’s barely a sliver of moonlight but I can hear the water gurgling downstream. It tinkles along over and between the stones, the sound giving me a moment of pure serenity. A biting wind is heading down from the mountains and I pull my cloak a little closer, taking a swig of beer as I stare out into the darkness, my imagination sweeping me away. I’m now waiting for a huge barrage of men to break through a veil of creeping mist, seeing the clansman, their faces covered in mud and deadly weapons in their hands.

  A firework whizzes through the air, drawing my gaze. It explodes with a whistle and a bang, then silver stars and a colourful rainbow fall from the heavens, a trail of grey smoke lingering in the air. When my gaze lowers, I notice the crowds are starting to disperse. A lot of the children have gone to their beds, and there, sitting on the ground, a few die-hards cover themselves with tartan blankets and waterproofs to help keep the cold at bay. Many others have moved closer to the bonfire, still burning, still crackling and popping with life. I sense no one really wants to go home. There’s a real sense of belonging here.

  I search out Bridget and spot her, sitting on a camping chair, a glass of something resembling red wine in her hand. I stand still and rest my gaze upon her. There’s something rather charismatic about her. She’s all the things I’d like to be: confident and self-assured, the kind of person people are drawn to like a magnet. She’s alluring and poised, and tonight, sitting there by the fire, her silhouette has a golden aura to it. She reminds me of a beautiful but as yet to be discovered orchid, her form oozing a unique mixture of delicacy, sensuality and intoxicating beauty. I’m in awe of her, and as though she senses me watching, she turns around and waves. I’m soon beside her, and she points to a blanket upon the ground, where I sit, cross-legged, by her feet.

  When she points to a drink under her chair, I shake my head and lift my bottle of beer.

  �
��I’m good,” I say, and we both turn and stare towards the stone.

  “I think it’s simple but effective,” Bridget says. “And it always amazes me how the stone brings all walks of life together.”

  I nod and take a sip of my drink. “I find it a little eerie,” I confess. “You know, how the stone draws everyone to it. And this place, the people, it’s as though I’ve known every person here forever.”

  “That’ll be the beer talking,” Bridget chuckles into her glass.

  I smile. “Perhaps. But I certainly feel like we’ve met before.”

  “Maybe we have; in another life.”

  “Do you believe in such things?”

  “Oh, yes, and in so much more.” She places the glass down by her feet and lets out a deep sigh. “Can I ask you something?”

  I sense a shift in the conversation and turn to face her. “Sure; what is it?”

  Her eyes pierce through mine and her mouth gains a seriousness. “The man you’re with; do you love him?”

  She’s caught me off guard and I let out a cough and a splutter.

  “Are you, all right?” she asks and pats me firmly on the back. I regain my composure and wipe the tears from my eyes, but I also avert my gaze.

  “Erm…maybe I’d better not drink any more of this stuff,” and I pour the rest of my beer over the ground.

  Bridget slides to the edge of her seat. “Maddie, look at me.”

  I feel myself stiffen.

  “I sense you do; love him, I mean.” I stare up at her, the light from the flames flickering across her face, and I see a seriousness about her.

  I shake my head vigorously. “No. You’re mistaken. I’m married to Jamie’s brother, Callum. They’re identical twins. Perhaps you got them mixed up?”

  Bridget sits back in her chair. “But he loves you.”

  “Who, Jamie?” She nods and I burst out laughing. “Seriously, I understand how you dabble in love rituals and stuff, but you’re way off the mark this time.”

  She taps the side of her nose. “I think you’re wrong, because I know something you don’t.”

  “Oh, yeah, like what? After all, he’s my husband’s double, so there’s bound to be some chemistry between us.”

  “No. That’s not it.”

  “It isn’t? So, tell me.”

  Bridget leans closer, her face just inches from mine. “Because of what Jamie wr—”

  “Och, there ye are. I’ve been looking for ye everywhere.”

  I’m startled by the intrusion and look up to see Jamie standing there.

  “Oh, hi. What are you doing here?”

  “Looking for ye. Rhona and Gordon are ready to go home.”

  I jump to my feet. “Oh, right,” and I stare apologetically at Bridget. “Sorry, I’d best go.”

  Bridget nods and slides her fingers inside an invisible pocket. I turn to leave but she calls “Wait” and jumps to her feet, takes a step towards me and presses a small piece of paper into the palm of my hand. “It’s my number; ring me. I’m here until the end of next month.”

  I pull a frown. “I’ll be leaving in a few days.”

  She smiles. “Best be quick, then.”

  “Okay, I will.”

  Bridget walks toward one of the makeshift tents. “I’ll be waiting,” she calls out without a backward glance.

  I push the piece of paper inside my bag and then we head towards the music. Jamie leads the way.

  “Ye seem to be getting rather pally with Bridget,” he says.

  “Yes, she’s nice. I like her.”

  “’Tis guid to see ye making friends.”

  “Yes, I’m even surprising myself this time.”

  “What do ye mean?”

  “Well, I don’t make friends easily. I never have.”

  Jamie turns to me as a bright fragment of moonlight shines across the side of his face. His brows furrow.

  “Och, why is that, then?”

  I shrug. “Oh, I don’t know. I guess I’m a bit of a loner. I tend not to let people in.”

  Jamie lets out a grunt. “Oh, I would ne’er have guessed.”

  I tug at his hand and he stops dead in his tracks. “Before you say anything, I simply can’t help it,” I tell him. “You learn to protect yourself from the outside world when you’re raised in foster care. People often pretend to be your friend when they’re only out to hurt you.”

  “What happened to you?”

  I feel my muscles tense. “You don’t really want to know.”

  He presses his hand against my arm. “Maddie, that’s where you’re wrong. I do.”

  I take a deep breath. “When I was in care, particularly foster homes, the families treated me like I was something disgusting they found off the streets. They would invite me into their homes, but many did it just for the money. The men were usually the worst culprits. They would segregate me from their children and their wives. Leave me home alone whilst they went on day trips to the zoo or on family picnics. From an early age, I suffered seclusion and a life without love. I was never kissed goodnight or hugged, and if I ever fell and grazed my knee, they would ask my permission to touch me.”

  “But surely that’s nae all foster families?”

  “Perhaps not, but I was never lucky enough to meet the others. Instead, I grew up believing I was a freak. I made my way through society unloved and unwanted, building a wall so I could protect myself.”

  “But not everyone’s yir enemy.”

  “I know, Jamie, but I’ve been burned too many times to dare to reach out and touch the flame.”

  “Is that how ye see me?”

  My jaw drops. “No, of course not.”

  “Then why won’t ye let me in?”

  “Jamie, it’s nothing personal. After what I’ve been through, especially with men, I…I just can’t.”

  There’s a peel of laughter and I swing around. Through the last of the stragglers I see Rhona and Gordon heading our way.

  I breathe a sigh of relief and dash towards them.

  “Och, we’re ready for our beds. Are ye ready too?” Rhona asks, pulling me into a drunken embrace.

  “Actually, yes, I am,” I say as she hugs me to her bosom.

  “What about Jamie?”

  He nods. “Aye, we all may as well call it a night.”

  Rhona links her arm inside mine. “Come on, let’s get out of here. It’ll take us at least another hour to walk home.” She pulls me close and whispers in my ear: “I hope ye wish comes true.”

  “How do you know what I wished for?” I ask.

  She shakes her head and lets out a sigh. “Ye dinnae need the brains of an archbishop to work that one out,” she says, and I laugh because it’s true.

  Rhona and I wander along the track, laughing and dancing and hugging one another, as though we were born sisters. The men are close behind, but we’re surrounded by darkness. The only light illuminating our way is the new moon’s bright silvery crescent. We’re halfway through singing The Bonnie Banks o’ Loch Lomond when Rhona stops and says: “This is where we have to bid ye a fond farewell.” She hugs me tight. “It’s been a memorable day and one I’ll cherish,” she slurs. Gordon comes over and hugs me too and then slaps Jamie on the back. We both wave goodbye as Gordon throws his arm around his wife. They stagger, somewhat drunkenly, onto a track that will lead them to a spot where they’ll be picked up by a close family member.

  Jamie and I carry on the last leg of our journey. He walks beside me and I laugh as he keeps bumping into me.

  “You’re drunk,” I say.

  “Aye, and so are ye,” and he gives me a sharp nudge in the ribs with his elbow. I giggle and grab his arm, allowing my fingers to slide towards his hand, which he locks in his own. He pulls me close and we walk together in silence, contented in one another’s company. I stare ahead to see the dark silhouettes of the approaching barn and outbuildings. The wind rustles through the trees and a security light flashes on as we approach the farm gate. Jamie lifts the
latch and we push our way through, then head down the path to the Garden House.

  Like teenagers we stand outside the cottage, facing one another. The last of the dark cloud has lifted enough to allow the moonlight to shine down onto Jamie’s face once again.

  “I’ve had the most amazing day,” I say.

  Jamie shrugs. “It was a pleasure. We’ll have to do it again sometime.”

  I nod. “I’d like that a lot.”

  “Aye, so would I.”

  I can’t help but look up into his eyes. They’re soft and meaningful yet hypnotising, all at the same time.

  “Would you like to come in for coffee?”

  “Maddie, I dinnae think that would be a guid idea.”

  “Why ever not?”

  He heaves a sigh. “I think ye ken why.”

  I drop my gaze, and even in the darkness, I feel my cheeks burn. I try to make light of his rejection, laughing lightly, but it sounds false, even to me.

  I turn away from him. “Goodnight, Jamie. Sleep tight,” but I don’t wait for his reply. Instead, I hurry inside the cottage and shut the door behind me, where I chide myself over and over. After all, I’ve just set myself up for a fall.

  I drag my tired feet, one by one, up the wooden stairs. Once I reach my bedroom, I take off my boots and drop, exhausted, onto the bed. I close my eyes, and behind their lids, an array of dancers move along the ground in bare feet. A wind blows through their hair, their heads covered in a halo of wild roses, cyclamen and pretty snowdrops.

  Letting out a sigh, I open my eyes. My head is still buzzing and I need to unwind. I get up and place Claire’s cloak on a hook behind the bedroom door, along with the hessian bag, then take out my mobile phone and place it on the bedside table. At the dressing table, I take the feathers and beads out of my hair, unzip my dress and allow it to fall to the floor. Once I’ve stripped off my thermals, I stand there, in front of the mirror, in just my underwear. I stare at my reflection. Although I’m tired, I can see there’s a healthy glow to my skin and the fresh air has done wonders for my complexion. I un-braid my hair and force my fingers through the tight waves. It falls softly down my back and I stroke a stray curl away from my face.