Since You've Been Gone

by Anouska Knight

  “Me neither,” I said. “They won’t let anyone take the horses out without a buddy.”

  “So what? You haven’t got any buddies? I find that hard to believe.”

  “I talked Jess into it once, but it wasn’t really his thing. He complained about the saddle sore for nearly two weeks afterwards, so I didn’t make him come with me again.”

  “What about your sister? You mentioned a sister the other night. Martha, was it?”

  I couldn’t actually remember talking about Martha.

  “That’s right. Martha loves to ride, but she’s allergic. And her husband, Rob, is a little out of shape. They’re both busy at the moment anyway. They’re expecting a baby any day now.”

  “So you’re going to be an aunt? Congratulations.” He smiled. “That must be exciting? I always thought I’d make a good uncle, but being an only child kind of puts paid to that.” Ciaran touched the accelerator and the car pounced fluidly into a speed my van could only dream of.

  “So no brothers or sisters? You must have friends with children?” I asked.

  Waves of warmth started to permeate my backside. Was this a heated chair? Holy—

  “Not really. I don’t actually have that many people I’d count as friends, if I’m honest. Although the ones who do have children seem to be more trustworthy on the whole. Less cut-throat.”

  “Cut-throat? They’re not all like Freddy Ludlow, are they?”

  “Just for the record, Freddy Ludlow has never been a friend of mine. Fergie couldn’t have got himself caught out soon enough. It won’t be long before all ties between me and Freddy will be severed altogether. I won’t be sad to see the back of that prat.”

  Well, we were off to a good start. We did have some things in common after all.

  “Martha can be high-maintenance sometimes, but she’s great. I couldn’t stand having someone like Freddy Ludlow as my step-anything.” I sighed.

  “Well, he’s not usually short on women, that’s for sure,” Ciaran said.

  “Well, it can’t be his winning personality that they’re after. The man’s a moron.”

  “I think it has something to do with an inheritance estimated somewhere between the one-forty and one-sixty mark.”

  “One-sixty what?” I asked.

  “Million.”

  “One hundred and sixty million pounds? You are kidding?” His face said he wasn’t kidding. “Maybe I should have been a bit more receptive.”

  Ciaran looked at me to check my expression.

  “I’m obviously joking. But one hundred and sixty million pounds! All that money and not a bit of charisma. They do say money can’t buy everything.”

  “No, it can’t. But it can buy an awful lot,” Ciaran added.

  “What would you even do with that kind of money? I can’t even comprehend how much that is.”

  He grinned again. “I like shiny new things. I’m sure I could think of a few ways to spend it.”

  “Like flying pop starlets out to Hollywood motels?”

  “Let me assure you, that was no motel I took her to. That trip cost me a fortune.” He laughed.

  “Hmm. Money well spent, was it?”

  Ciaran shrugged. “What would you spend that kind of money on? If you had it?” he asked.

  “Me? Blimey, I don’t have a clue. I could say something lame, like finishing my house, but that kind of money could make some serious differences, to lots of people. I’d have to think about that one. I’d probably start with a very tall wall, though, to keep the likes of Freddy out of my hair.”

  “Believe it or not, Freddy’s okay until he has a drink. He’s been overindulged by his mother for too long—he doesn’t have a brake system in place for his behaviour.”

  “How nice for Freddy. I think he’s a lot like his mother. The rest of us don’t have their luxury.”

  “Do you think that’s a luxury?” Ciaran asked, turning to face me. “I think it’s a handicap. One you’re far better off for not having.”

  “I never said it was a luxury I wanted for myself. It just seems a wasteful use of their resources. They should put their good fortune to better use. There’s got to be more in their lives than flash cars and decadent parties.”

  As soon as I said it, I cringed. I had completely forgotten myself already. I sneaked a sideways glance at Ciaran, focused on the road ahead. I couldn’t see his eyes but there was the shadow of a smile at the edge of his mouth. “Sorry, Ciaran. I didn’t mean—”

  “Don’t be sorry. You’re not like most of the women I’ve met. Your views are...refreshing. If a little judgemental.”

  “You think I’m judgemental?” I was shocked. One of the perks of my life was that no one, bar my mother, ever said anything inflammatory to me anymore, for fear of me imploding or something.

  “Well...an expensive car doesn’t necessarily mean the driver’s a self-obsessed egomaniac any more than a battered old bicycle means its rider is of limited finesse. You wouldn’t disagree with that, would you?”

  Was I judgemental? I didn’t like to think of myself that way.

  “No. I wouldn’t disagree with that.” Damn it, I was judgemental. And he’d pulled me up on it. I mentally subtracted one of the brownie points I’d previously awarded him.

  Outside, grassy embankments were already merging into ever-thickening woodland as Ciaran’s car glided easily over the road. Autumn didn’t reach here, where evergreen Corsican and Scots pine held their ground against the changing months.

  “So they’re not all like Freddy, your circle of non-friends?”

  Ciaran laughed lightly. “No, there are a few good men, so to speak. But my father’s company has had its prolific ups and downs. When people think they know everything about your family’s business interests, it’s not the Freddys you have to watch out for.” Ciaran swung a right onto the first road that would intersect the forests.

  “The Pennys, then?”

  He smiled again. “No, not the Pennys. Penny would be one to be wary of if she had any clout. But Penny’s like most people, happy enough to look the part even if the substance is lacking.”

  I gave him back the brownie point.

  “Who do you have to watch out for, then, if not people like them?”

  “In my world? Everyone who comes at you with a smile.”

  We sat for a while, quietly, while Ciaran took in the surroundings of the forest. We were nearly at the point the road forked off to the commission offices and visitor centre.

  “We should get off soon and take the long route. There have been a few incidents involving deer on this stretch of road.”

  It was true, there had. The forest was some fifteen miles wide but it was shrinking over on the east side, pushing the herds further this way. There had been plenty of near misses reported between the fork in the road and Charlie’s old office. It was difficult enough to concentrate on the road down there without five hundred pounds of stag running over your bonnet.

  “Are you sure? The trekking centre is just down past the visitor centre, right?”

  “Yes, but we can double back on ourselves from the other end. Trust me, it will be quicker.” Now that bit was not so truthful. This was the same road Ciaran would have used to cross the forest during the week, but he didn’t argue the point. In this car, the difference would be negligible anyway.

  “So do you still come here? To the forest, I mean. I know that you said Charlie worked here. That must have its difficulties.”

  “Not so much. I do miss it, though.”

  Outside, our detour was taking us into the beech woodlands, where the brown earth crept beneath a carpet of brightly coloured leaves, scattered like confetti at a wedding reception. Evergreen turned to yellows, then burnt oranges and eventually hot reds before the beech leaves finally flitt
ered to the ground.

  “I’d forgotten how beautiful it was here,” Ciaran said as we headed through the riot of colour around us. “I don’t see this on the other road.”

  “Like I said, can’t be topped.”

  chapter 23

  The trekking centre hadn’t changed since I’d watched Jess waddling his way out of it more than a year ago. The girls there were new, young perky horsey types who couldn’t get enough of Ciaran and his car.

  We saddled up and packed most of the food into the saddlebags on each of the horses, and left for the tranquility of the trail. Ciaran waited for me to pass before following on. He must have smiled back at the girls because they both slipped into a fit of stifled giggles behind us.

  I got it. Even a helmet did little to knock him far down the barometer of sexy. Well, I wasn’t here for that. I just wanted to ride the trail, and Ciaran had given me the opportunity. If anything, I was taking advantage of him.

  “Like riding a bike,” he called as he cantered to catch me up.

  “Just take it easy. I don’t know CPR, so don’t fall off!”

  He flashed me one of those smiles that affected every part of his face, and I fought everything not to giggle like the girls.

  The forests were like a dreamscape over this side. The colours were incredible around us as the gentle sounds of hooves thudded home into the spongy forest floor.

  “So you never said why it is you don’t have anyone to come trekking with.”

  I felt comfortable around Ciaran, enough to take his question without feeling like a total loser.

  “I do have friends. It wouldn’t be fair to them to say that I didn’t. But after the accident I didn’t want them around me. I didn’t want anyone but him.” I was talking about Charlie again, not a drop of alcohol and still at ease.

  “That’s understandable,” he said, bobbing along beside me. “Unfortunate, but understandable. So weren’t they supportive?”

  “No, they were. They tried, but it wasn’t their fault. After you’ve pushed people away enough times, eventually they stop calling.”

  “And do you regret that now? Pushing them away,” he asked, swatting at a bug.

  “I do—for them, anyway. I didn’t let them do the only thing they could for me, and that was hard for them. But I think that life is easier this way. I don’t want to go clubbing or drinking my cares away. What’s the point when they’re still there in the morning?”

  “That’s exactly what I tried to tell my old man, you know? That the drinking didn’t make anything better. But he couldn’t cope with the pain of my mother’s death. So he drank to numb himself to it.”

  A gentle tug on the reins was enough to stop my animal.

  “Ciaran, I’m sorry. I’d thought that maybe your parents were divorced.” Ciaran stopped his horse, too. “When did she die?”

  He smiled, but I knew that smile, knew what it was for. “A long time ago now. I was seventeen when my mother died. A very sudden onset of cancer. She was only ill for a few months, and she suffered every minute of them.”

  “I’m sorry, Ciaran.”

  “If you’re not going to go off the rails at seventeen, when are you, eh?” he said jokily.

  “Which cancer did she have?”

  “Cervical. By the time we knew, it was everywhere. At least she died at home. She was the typical homebody, y’know? Even when Fergal built the business up, Mum never bothered with shopping sprees and health spas. She just carried on as she always had, keeping the home fires burning while my dad worked his arse off to secure a stable future for us. He was all hard graft and vision back then, the old lad. My mother’s death changed all that for him.”

  Ciaran urged his horse on and called for mine to follow.

  “It sounds like they were a good unit?” I tried.

  “They were. Too good. I think if it had been Fergal who’d gone first, my mother would have been heartbroken, but she’d have kept it together better. But Fergal just wasn’t as strong as she was. He couldn’t get through the day without sleeping for most of it. We nearly lost the business to his grief.”

  “But he’s okay now, isn’t he? He’s doing well again. You must be relieved?”

  “Oh, yes, he’s okay other than the odd lapse in judgement and having his head turned by a gold-digging tart. Other than that, he’s grand!”

  I made a mental note to cut Fergal a lot more slack if our paths ever crossed again.

  * * *

  The ride onto the ridge line overlooking the northwest side of the forest had been about as beautiful as it could have been in the low November sun.

  The horses were left to graze and most of the food had survived the journey. I enjoyed watching Ciaran getting covered in coleslaw while I did my best to eat daintily.

  “So how long were your folks married?” I asked him, intrigued to hear more of Fergal.

  “Oh, I don’t know...twenty-five years, give or take. They grew up on the same tiny street, played together while my grandmothers scrubbed the front steps. Fell in love, married young, had me. Great coleslaw, by the way.”

  “So they both came from modest backgrounds?” I asked.

  “Very. Fergal was destined to work on the trawlers like everyone else he grew up with, but he was the only son of Arbroath born without sea legs. So he got himself a job cleaning bricks and worked his way up from there. My father always said that he was the machine, but my mother was the engine driving everything along. He said that’s how he came to do so well for himself, because of her. The love of a good woman and all that.”

  I hadn’t got any of that from my encounters with Fergal.

  “And what about you? Did you always want to follow your dad into the family business?”

  “Carrying a brick hod around freezing building sites? Not exactly. I wanted to be an architect. Seven years at university then a job at the warmer end of the building trade.”

  “But I thought Argyll Inc. was already up and running by then?”

  “It was, but Fergal’s working class down to his bones. He made sure all the lads without letters after their names learned the business from the footings up. I was no exception.”

  “Sounds like a good enough reason to get yourself to university.” I smiled, remembering the splits Charlie used to have all over his hands from working in the cold. He only had to make a fist and the skin would crack open, spotting the bedsheets with blood each winter.

  “When my mother was dying, my dad spent much of her last months trying to explore different avenues for her treatment, trying to make the money work for her. The sad reality was, the money couldn’t help us. Nothing could. Fergal invested every minute he had trying to find a new treatment or medicine, and I spent the time nursing her through her last months. I knew she was slipping away from us. I could feel the time running out of her with every heartbeat.”

  Something tensed in Ciaran’s jaw as he remembered.

  “And you were just seventeen? Ciaran. That must have been horrendous for you.”

  He smiled the tension away.

  “By the time she died, I’d missed out enough of my college studies that it threw my progression to university off for at least a year. My old man had thrown himself into work and that seemed to occupy him. So I thought I’d do the same, while I got my college work back on track. Working at the company, though, it soon became obvious...Dad was struggling. He’d fallen into a depression or something. Some black hole he couldn’t climb back out of.”

  I knew that hole. For the last two years I’d been clinging on to the edge of it. It seemed okay to acknowledge that now, now that I knew it had claimed others, too. People who, like me, were still walking and talking and breathing.

  “So you never went to university?” I asked.

  “When the time came
, there was no way I could leave him to live alone. So I stayed, learned the ropes. Tried to figure out what to do about the effect my mother’s death had on him.” Ciaran took a deep breath. “She was like the linchpin that held us all together. Everything started to slide pretty soon after she went.”

  “And your dad started drinking?”

  “At work, at home. Before lunchtime, before the morning meetings. Fergal was drinking more unabashedly with every passing week. Relations within the company were becoming more fractious and over time Argyll Inc. started to slip. Everything they’d worked for going down the pan.”

  Ciaran poured us both a small plastic cup of coffee.

  “But, weren’t there protocols in place to protect the company? Didn’t anyone try to help your father through it?”

  “Like your friends tried to help you? It’s not that simple, is it? Fergal had a good inner circle at the company, but money is like blood in the water. Soon enough the sharks start to circle. A lot of people took advantage of us while our eyes were off the ball. People who have made a lot of money off investments they were never supposed to have a shot at. They nearly cost us everything.”

  He was clenching his jaw again, all the softness gone from his face.

  “But you must be back on track now? I mean, nice cars, nice home. Your dad must be getting there?” I hoped he was; so many years on, it would be beyond cruel to hear that Fergal was still suffering like a dog in the street. Ciaran knocked back his coffee. And jumped to his feet.

  “Yeah, we’re back on track. Fergie got his act together and it’s all worked out in the end.” He held his hand out for me, and I was still mulling over our conversation when I took his hand without thinking. “Come on, let’s get our money’s worth out of our four-legged friends,” he said, pulling me to my feet.

  Back down on the trail, our luck was beginning to thin, as great globules of cool rain were sploshing onto my hat and soaking into my shoulders.