Once the Clouds Have Gone

by KE Payne

  “Yup.”

  “You didn’t think to see a doctor, then?”

  “Nope.”

  “Because?”

  “Because I was busy at the mill. Because I didn’t want to worry Dad. Because I didn’t want to worry Ellen.” He rolled his head away. “Because of any number of reasons. I don’t know.”

  “You were arguing with Magnus,” Tag said.

  “Magnus.” Blair’s eyes flew open. “Oh God, I remember now.”

  “He’s fine.” Tag raised her hand to quieten him.

  “He’ll have been so worried.” Blair’s face was fixed with pain. “He’ll think it’s his fault when it really wasn’t.”

  “He’s fine, honest,” Tag reassured him. “He’s back home. Ellen thought it best. I’m going over to fetch him in a minute, so you can see for yourself he’s okay later.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So what were you squabbling about?”

  Blair sighed. “It was a tiff, that’s all,” he said, “like the thousands of other tiffs a father has with his teenage son.”

  “If I contributed towards it…” Tag began. She hesitated. “Well, I didn’t mean to.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “I just thought—”

  “It was nothing to do with what you said if that’s what you’re thinking,” Blair said. “Anyway, what you said before was probably right. I should have been more assertive with Dad rather than letting myself be fobbed off by him all the time.” He turned his head on the pillow and looked at her. “But our tiff didn’t cause this. I probably just didn’t have enough to eat today, that’s all.”

  “Even so.” Tag inspected her fingers. “I don’t want you going the same way as Dad.”

  “Dad worked too hard,” Blair said simply. “Dad worked too hard for too long, ate unhealthily, and drank too much. That’s what did for him.”

  “But why did he always have to work so much after Mum died?” Tag asked. “Just when I needed him the most?”

  Blair’s face hardened. “And me?” he asked. “Don’t you think I needed him as well?”

  “You were older.”

  “I was nineteen!” Blair’s voice rose. “I didn’t see Dad from the minute I got up until the minute I went to bed, but did you hear me complaining?”

  Tag dropped her eyes.

  “I needed him just as much as you did,” Blair continued, “but I also knew that he needed to work longer hours just to keep everything going.” He set his jaw. “But unlike you, I didn’t take it personally. I didn’t decide to bugger off at the first opportunity just to punish him.”

  “I didn’t want to punish him—”

  “All these years you thought Dad didn’t love you?” Blair asked. “Yet you never bothered to find out exactly why he did what he did? No. You just chose to believe what you wanted because it suited you to.”

  “That’s unfair,” Tag argued. “Dad just switched off. Closed down.”

  “It’s called grief.”

  “For all those years?” Tag contested. “When we needed him to be there for us?”

  “I don’t know, Tag,” Blair said, exasperated. “Throwing himself into work after Mum died was how he coped, just like it was how he coped again when you left. It’s what he did.”

  An awkward silence settled over them. The beep of Blair’s heart monitor, sounding faster than it had done just five minutes before, echoed round the room. Tag focused on a point by her feet, ashamed. Blair didn’t need this right now. He’d just come round and she was arguing with him already. Her head pounded. Just how selfish did she have to be?

  Tag cleared her throat. “No,” she finally said, “it was more than just that. I think he resented me.”

  “It was his way of managing.” A flicker of a sad smile crossed Blair’s face. “If only you’d talked to him,” Blair continued, “and he’d talked to you, hey? Maybe we wouldn’t be like this now.”

  A shadow of sadness fell across Tag’s soul. “I thought for years he didn’t love me. Maybe I chose to assume he didn’t care because it made my decision to leave that much easier.” She laughed hollowly. “However fucked up that might sound.” She shuffled back in her chair. “If I thought he didn’t care, then it meant I could leave Balfour without any guilt or regrets, couldn’t I?”

  “And if you’d heard the way he cried himself to sleep for weeks after you left,” Blair said, “then you’d know just how much he did care.”

  “I really messed up, didn’t I?” Tag said.

  “Show me an eighteen-year-old who hasn’t messed up at some point.” Blair shrugged. “The question is,” he said, settling himself back down in his bed, “are you mature enough now to put some wrongs right again?”

  *

  Magnus was propped up on his bed in his room, tucked away at the back of the cottage, when Tag entered his room after knocking and being granted entry. He had a large painting folder on his knees, a chewed pencil poking out from the corner of his mouth, and a quizzical expression on his face. He pulled the pencil from his mouth and tapped it on the paper on his knees.

  “Trying to suss the shading on this.” He pulled a darker pencil from a tin by his bed and started drawing again. “How’s Dad?”

  “The same.” Tag sat on the corner of his bed. “I’m heading back there later.” She peered at his pad. “What’re you drawing?”

  “Remember the snowboarding? It’s the cluster of rocks we sat on after our second run down,” Magnus said. “I thought it’d make a neat sketch.”

  “The one with the view across to Swanne?”

  Magnus nodded but didn’t reply.

  “Can I look?”

  “If you want.” He didn’t look up. Instead, he bowed his head further over the paper. His pencil glided effortlessly over the paper, sometimes harder, sometimes lighter.

  Tag shuffled further up his bed and looked over his shoulder. He had drawn the most beautiful sketch of the vista that Tag remembered seeing when they’d rested after one of their runs down the slopes, when they’d both admired the view across to the next village. Magnus had pointed out a small loch, Tag remembered, with a jetty leading into it, and a cluster of cottages further along the shoreline. She glanced down at the drawing. He’d drawn it exactly how they’d seen it as they’d peered down through the trees. Right down to the tiniest detail. Tag blinked. It was beautiful. Such was the intricacy of his drawing, she felt as though she was back up on the pile of rocks now, but seeing the view in black and white instead of colour.

  “You’ve got a better memory than I have.” She shook her head. “That’s why I have to take my camera everywhere with me. I’d never remember all the things I’d seen otherwise.”

  “Images sit in my head,” Magnus said, “and they sit there until they’re begging me to put them down on paper.” His face coloured.

  “Who needs a camera, hey?” Tag joked.

  “They kinda bug me, you know?” Magnus said shyly. “Until I can get them out. So that’s why I come up here and draw—to get the images out.” He pressed his pencil hard onto the paper. “That makes me sound like a total weirdo,” he added, “but I know what I mean.”

  “It just means you have an eye for a good picture,” Tag said, “that’s all.” She patted his leg. “Got any more pictures I can see?”

  “You want to?”

  “I do, yes.”

  Magnus tossed his pencil down and reached over to a cupboard next to his bed. He opened it and pulled out a sheaf of tatty papers.

  “Some are quite old.” He dropped them down next to Tag. “But there’s some there from the other week too.”

  She picked up a handful and sifted through them. Her eyes widened in awe at each one. There were sketches of everything: landscapes, buildings, farm animals. Snapshots of everyday life down in the town. She pulled out one that particularly caught her eye, an intricate drawing of a Regency building, complete with fancy columns, elegant wrought-iron balconies, and bow windows. Each brick in the
building had been drawn individually. Each tile on the roof had been painstakingly replicated, and each window’s frame was symmetrically correct. Every tiny detail of the house had been drawn to perfection, just as every detail of the trees had been drawn to perfection in his mountain sketch.

  “Your attention to detail is awesome.” Tag couldn’t take her eyes off the drawing. “Where is this?” She held the paper up.

  “Edinburgh,” Magnus replied. “We went for the day about a year ago with Granddad. That house stood out and I thought about it all day.” He shrugged. “So when we came home in the evening, I drew it.”

  “From a photo?”

  “From here.” Magnus tapped his hairline with his pencil.

  “You remembered it all?”

  “Yup.”

  “Every last window?”

  “Yup.”

  “That’s amazing.” Tag looked down at it again. “Have your parents seen it?”

  “Nope.” Magnus stuffed his pencil into his mouth. He reached out and took the sheaf of papers from her, then hastily crammed them all back into the cupboard.

  “You should show it to them,” Tag said, “they’d want to see it. They’d want to see all of them.”

  “Nah.” Magnus snapped the cupboard door shut. “If it’s not to do with the mill, then Dad doesn’t want to know. What’s the point?”

  The seeds of an idea germinated in Tag’s brain. “You think you could draw the mill?”

  “I can draw anything.” He grinned round his pencil. “What specifically?”

  “Anything,” Tag replied. “The waterwheel, the bakery.”

  “Sure.”

  “And then show your dad?”

  “Why?” Magnus looked suspiciously at her.

  “I think it’d cheer him up.” An advertising slogan crept into Tag’s subconscious. A sketch. A logo. Black and white, professional and classy. “Make him feel better.”

  “I’ll see.” Magnus swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up.

  “Is that an I’ll think about it?” Tag asked.

  “Nope. It’s an I’ll see.” Magnus walked to the door, discussion over. He locked his arms above his head and yawned loudly. “So are we going back to the hospital, then?” He threw a look back over his shoulder to Tag. “I’m done here.”

  *

  “Blair’s got what?” Tag’s face misted with confusion.

  “Hypotension.” Ellen pulled out a chair for Tag and gestured for her to sit.

  “In English?”

  “Low blood pressure.”

  “Is that it?” Relief drenched Tag’s previous fears. “No heart attack?”

  “No heart attack. Low blood pressure, acute anaemia, and exhaustion.”

  It was later the same evening. Now, back at the hospital after her chat with Magnus, Tag had arrived just as the doctors were leaving Blair’s bedside.

  “So you’re going to be okay?” Tag sat down next to his bed. She raised her eyebrows to him. “I mean, your heart’s fine? Panic over?”

  Blair nodded. “Extreme low blood pressure and an iron deficiency,” he said. “That’s why I kept passing out.”

  “And they’re sure that’s all it is?” Tag pressed. “Nothing more?”

  “The ECG was clear,” Blair said. “Although…”

  “Although?” Tag prompted.

  “They reckon stress could have brought it on this time.” His face pained.

  “Bickering with Magnus, more like.” Ellen reached across. She took one of his hands, covering it with her own.

  “And me,” Tag added. Guilt rode hard. “Despite what you say.”

  “It could have happened anytime.” Blair lay back against his pillow.

  “And diagnosis?” Tag asked. “Is there any medication you can take?” Her hand wavered. She wanted to reach out and take his hand, or touch his arm, but couldn’t bring herself to. Instead, she placed both hands under her legs and sat on them.

  “Just iron tablets, apparently.” Blair moved in his bed. His hand moved closer to Tag, and she stared at it, willing herself to take it. “And lots of rest.”

  “And he has to maintain a healthy diet,” Ellen added.

  “Pulses, grains, plenty of green vegetables. Lots of water,” Blair said. “And cut back on the alcohol for a bit.” He caught Tag’s eye and gave her a look which said a thousand words. At his look, Tag finally grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze, gratified when she felt Blair squeeze it back.

  “I’m glad you’re okay,” Tag said. She gripped his hand tighter. “I was scared.”

  “So was I.”

  “And if it means you have to stay off the beer for a bit, then that’s what you’ll do.” She released Blair’s hand as a nurse appeared by his bedside. She stood and moved to one side, not wanting to be in the way. “I’ll stay off it too,” she added. “Go teetotal with you.”

  Blair’s sceptical eyes locked onto hers.

  “Seriously!” Tag crossed her arms. “I can so do that.” She backed out of Blair’s room. “Solidarity, bro.” She raised a fist, the sound of Blair’s laugh becoming more muffled as she walked away from his bed and headed for the exit.

  Outside in the corridor, the exhaustion hit her. Tag felt light-headed. She put her hand against the wall and bent over, staring at her feet until the dizziness passed. Once she no longer felt as though she would faint, she swivelled herself around and fell against the wall. She put her head back, closed her eyes, and blinked back tears that she hadn’t even realized were there. Blair was going to be okay. Her stupid, stubborn, hot-headed brother was going to be okay, and she’d never felt so relieved about anything in her life.

  Eyeing an exit to a small quadrangle with benches, Tag went outside and sat. The fresh air was a welcome change from the stale stuffiness of the hospital, and Tag squeezed her eyes shut, enjoying the feeling of the sharp wind on her face. The door to the quadrangle opened again and a patient, an elderly man in bottle-green pyjamas and matching fleece dressing gown, shuffled outside and sat on the bench just across from Tag’s.

  Tag pulled her phone from her pocket and jiggled it in her hands. Freddie would want to know Blair was going to be okay, she was sure of it. They hadn’t spoken since the cafe, hadn’t texted since Freddie had cancelled their…was it a date?, and now Tag was desperate to hear her voice again. To hear the reassurance and the kindness. Because that was all Tag wanted right now: to be near Freddie and to gain comfort from being in her company. Tag brooded. Maybe a text would be better? Tag stared down at her phone. Less intrusive than calling. After all, she couldn’t keep ringing her, could she?

  She rattled off a quick text: Blair’s fine. Low blood pressure. Ha! Who’d have thought it would be something so simple? So bloody relieved right now, though. Would love to see you later. I’ve missed you xxxxx

  Tag looked at it, then deleted the last line about wanting to see her and missing her. Yes, she did. Desperately on both counts. But did Freddie really need to hear that? Tag sent the text before she could change her mind and bundled her phone back into her pocket.

  The man across from her coughed, pulled out a packet of cigarettes, and lit one, blowing the smoke up into the air. He tilted his head back, his eyes like slits in ecstasy at his cigarette, and coughed again. Opening an eye wider and seeing Tag looking at him, he waggled his packet of cigarettes at her.

  “Can I tempt you?” he asked. “You look like you need one.”

  “Thanks, but I don’t.” Tag raised her hand.

  “Very wise.” The man put the packet back in his dressing-gown pocket. “They’ve done for me.” He spluttered loudly and pulled on his cigarette again, the tip of it glowing bright red in the fading light of the quadrangle. He shuffled back on the bench, his back partially turned to Tag.

  The door to the quadrangle opened and Magnus’s pale face appeared. Tag waved to him, loving the look on his face when he spotted her. It was the same expression, Tag thought with a pang, he used to have when he was
tiny and he’d come looking for her at the mill after nursery. His perplexity and distress at not knowing where she was would change to delight in an instant, the second he saw her. If it got to her then, Tag thought, it got her a hundred more times now.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The sight of Tag’s name flashing on and off Freddie’s phone impelled her to snatch it up and answer it before having the chance to dust the flour from her hands. Freddie had been baking. She always baked when she was stressed, and the news of Blair’s collapse had stressed her more than she could have ever known.

  Now, even though it had been an hour since Tag had first texted to tell her Blair was going to be okay, Freddie was still baking. Still stressed. They’d exchanged nonstop messages during that hour, and even though every text mentioned Blair, each one had gradually focused less on him and had moved more towards friendly, warm conversation. Despite all her reservations and promises to herself, Freddie hadn’t been able to stop replying. She’d deliberately shut herself away in the kitchen, on the pretext of baking cookies for Skye, and indulged herself, away from the prying eyes of Pete and Skye. She’d enjoyed it too. The thrill of it all. The fizz of excitement each time her phone buzzed, knowing it would be Tag. The same fizz she was experiencing now Tag was calling. Only stronger.

  “Hey.” Freddie wiped her free hand down her trousers.

  “Hey.”

  Tag’s voice was soft. Quiet. A shiver trickled pleasantly down Freddie’s spine. She could tell herself a hundred times each phone call and message meant nothing, but she’d be lying to herself. Freddie relished the excitement of knowing Tag wanted to talk to her, that she needed her to know about Blair. That Tag would even think to ring her to tell her. Freddie felt like a teenager all over again; the knowledge that she had someone’s undivided attention was electrifying. She’d quite forgotten how exhilarating it was knowing that, across in the next town, Tag was possibly waiting on her every word, just as Freddie was waiting on hers. “I’m so glad you called.”

  “You are?” Tag sounded pleased. Freddie wiped her hand slower. Maybe that was just her imagination.