“Why?”
“Because I can’t. It’s my time to go. Don’t be sad. Nobody lives forever, Lara. We are all on a journey, and this is where my journey ends, at last.”
“But I don’t want you to go.”
“I’ll always be with you, Lara. Now listen to me. This is what you need to remember . . .”
He bent towards me and his breath was hot on my ear. He whispered three words. And then right there, in front of my eyes, he dissolved slowly, growing more and more transparent, until he was gone.
And then I saw his photograph on Torcuil’s magazine. Although it’s impossible, I know.
But it looks like the impossible happened. And it explains everything.
My mum says it’s family resemblance. Everybody is related around here; it’s not uncommon to see similar features, familiar faces. She says that clearly the Malcolm Farquhar who died is an ancestor of my Mal, which is why they look so alike and they share the same name.
I think it’s easier for her to believe that.
But I know it’s not true.
I now remember all that Mal said to me, about not seeing anyone, about being cold and alone.
I remember what he said about having to go, about no one living forever.
I remember how fragile, how white he looked as he said goodbye to me. How he disappeared in front of my eyes.
But I also remember that he smiled, that he was at peace.
I have no explanation for what I saw.
I know that Mal saved my life.
I know that Mal gave me my first kiss.
I know he said he loved me, and I’ll carry those words with me as long as live.
It doesn’t matter if they don’t believe me. I wouldn’t believe me either, if I were in their shoes.
It doesn’t matter one bit what they believe or they don’t believe, because I know who Mal was and I know what I saw.
It’s a mystery. It’s a mystery how this happened, how Mal came to me and why – why I saw him and nobody else did.
It’s a mystery I keep in my heart.
It’s my secret.
*
Torcuil came to see me up at Nonna’s house. He brought me a posy of buttercups he’d picked up at the loch. Everyone was down at La Piazza – I was glad of that, because I wanted to speak to Torcuil alone.
“How was the service?” I asked him.
“It was beautiful. People cried . . .”
“There was no reason to cry, really,” I said. “He’s at peace. He told me.”
Torcuil just nodded, and said nothing. Then he started chatting about other things. We shared tea and some cake, and had a good long conversation about everything and anything. All throughout I had a strange feeling, like he was trying to tell me something and he didn’t quite know how.
I had questions too, but I didn’t know how to ask them. Mum let slip that Torcuil knew I was in trouble, he knew that I was on the loch, and on Ailsa – then she changed her story, that they were having a walk on the loch shore and Torcuil saw the boat.
I tried to ask him, but I just couldn’t find the words. And then it was time for him to go. We said our goodbyes and he was already out on the doorstep; I was about to close the door when he put his hand up and stopped the door from closing.
“Lara.”
“Yes?”
“I believe you.”
That was all he said: I believe you.
39
The moment I looked away
Margherita
“How is she?”
“She’s fine. At least, I think so. Oh, Mum,” I said miserably. “It’s all been a bad idea.”
“What has been a bad idea?” My mum smiled, placing a cup of strong coffee in front of me. We were in the kitchen of La Piazza, taking a break as Michael held the fort in the shop front. “Because it looks like things are going pretty well from up here.”
“Mum, Lara ended up in the loch!”
“Lara took a boat onto the loch. That is all. She’s not the first visitor to Glen Avich who’s done that, and won’t be the last. Luckily you and Torcuil were out there too . . .” I lowered my eyes. I hadn’t told her what had really happened – about how Torcuil, mysteriously, knew that Lara was there, or about the mystery surrounding Mal. “. . . and she was fine. She is fine. What happened to Lara is not your fault. She did something silly; what teenager doesn’t do something silly at some point?”
“Maybe. But I should have been there.”
“She’s nearly fifteen. You can’t be with her all hours of the day. We’re not talking about Leo, here.”
“She’s been meeting a boy in the woods, and I didn’t stop her!”
“In the woods?” My mum laughed. “What is it, Little Red Riding Hood? She’s been meeting her friend outdoors because there’s nowhere around here for teenagers to go and get a bit of privacy. You’re bound to meet your gran, your auntie, your teacher and a crowd of assorted relatives every time you step out! This is not London!”
“Still—”
“Okay, now, look at it this way. Tell me what this reminds you of. You’re fifteen, you’re on holiday with your family, you meet a local boy and you start seeing him every day in secret, behind your parents’ backs.”
“What should it remind me of?”
She laughed. “Does the name Peter bring up any memories?”
Had I not been so upset, I would have smiled.
“Ah, Peter. Yes.” I dried my tears and drank a long, comforting sip of coffee.
“We were at that caravan park in Devon, the one we went to quite a few times—”
“Yes, yes. I remember. But it’s different for me. I was . . . Mum, I was a happy child. You and dad were always there, I was never . . . never . . .”
“I know. Lara had it so much harder than any of us, so she needs a little bit more watching over. But you can’t wrap her in cotton wool anyway. I would have loved to do that to you and your sisters, adopted or not! I would have loved to be with you all the time, and know exactly where you were and what you were doing and with whom. I never stopped wanting that, really. Even now, I’d like to keep you and your sisters here, in my kitchen, like when you were small. The three of you, you and Anna and Laura all around me, safe where you belong, even if you’re all in your thirties and forties! But mothers have to let their children go, bit by bit, until they stand on their own two feet and can make their choices. Lara is no different. She has to learn her own way; she has to fight her own battles.”
“This wasn’t a battle. This was a boy.”
“Margherita, listen,” she said, suddenly serious.
I raised my head.
“You have to trust her. You have to believe in her.”
“Yes.”
“She’s strong. Like her mother.”
“She said I’m not her mother,” I whispered, and my heart trembled. The one thing I could never bear: my children rejecting me. I could never, never bear that.
“It was a moment of anger. Every single time she ever called for her mother, she was calling for you. The one who’s bringing her up.”
“Thank you, Mum . . .”
“It’s the truth. Drink your coffee, tesoro mio.”
I obediently took another sip of my mum’s espresso, kissing goodbye to sleep for that night.
“As we are here,” my mum continued, “don’t think I haven’t noticed what went on with Torcuil.”
I wasn’t surprised, but hearing it mentioned aloud made my hang my head. “I know. I know, and—” I was ready to justify myself, but my mum cut me short.
“I haven’t seen you so happy in years, Margherita.”
“What?”
“Since you came up here. With Lara relaxing a bit, and with this thing starting with Torcuil, though I have no idea if it’s serious—”
“I’ve only been separated six months.”
“But you’ve been unhappy for years.”
I hung my head again. She was right.
>
“You never said. I mean, you never mentioned this before . . .”
“What was I supposed to say? The whole situation was like a . . . like a dandelion. You know, a blow and it’s gone. I didn’t want to say anything, I couldn’t. I had to leave it with you . . .”
I looked down. “So you don’t think I made a mistake? To get involved with Torcuil?”
She took a breath. “I think you need to clear it all up inside your head. Then with Ash. And then with Torcuil. But no, I don’t think you made a mistake. I’ve always known how miserable you’ve been with Ash, for a long time. Anna filled in the gaps for me, you know, when you weren’t telling me things.”
“You think I made a mistake marrying Ash, don’t you?”
“Oh, Margherita! You keep asking me if you’ve made mistakes. I’m your mother, and I know you probably better than anyone else, but I’m not an oracle! If you hadn’t married Ash, you wouldn’t have adopted Lara and Leo wouldn’t have come along. Who knows what would have happened. But you’re apart now, you’ve been apart for months and it doesn’t look like you’re getting back together any time soon, does it? Who can say what is a mistake and what isn’t, if it takes you where you are meant to be?”
“I suppose you’re—”
At that moment I heard a voice that stopped me in my tracks, calling me.
I knew that voice.
“Margherita!”
Ash stepped into the kitchen, trailing mud onto the spotless lino floor, rain dripping from his hair, his jacket, his trousers and forming a little puddle of misery on the floor. He was holding Leo’s hand. Leo looked confused and vaguely alarmed.
“I came as fast as I could. Where is she? Where’s my daughter?”
40
To mend and to break
Margherita
“It’s going to rain and we’ll get soaked again,” Ash complained as we made our way to St Colman’s Well.
“Yes, well, there’s nowhere else we can talk in private at the moment, and I need to speak to you before you see Lara.”
“This doesn’t look very private.”
“There’ll be nobody there.”
The truth was, I couldn’t face conducting a heavy conversation indoors, the words weighing over our heads as they were spoken.
“Yes. You’re right. We need to talk . . .”
“We certainly do,” I said, trying to sound steely, but an edge of vulnerability echoed in my voice. And I hated myself for it.
I sat on one of the benches in St Colman’s Gardens. The whole of Glen Avich was at our feet, nestled against the hills. He took his place beside me.
“Margherita. This has been a mistake . . .”
He was echoing my own words to my mum, and it was unsettling.
“What has been a mistake?”
“Separating. It makes no sense to be apart. It really doesn’t—”
“You seem to not remember all that happened, Ash. You being away all the time. Ignoring the children. Saying we would be better off without them—”
“I was wrong.”
“Really? Because it sounded like you meant it.”
“I was an idiot. I’ve missed you all so much.”
What? “You haven’t even phoned me for weeks, Ash!”
“I was angry! I was so angry and disappointed. And we fought all the time, Margherita, I couldn’t take any more fighting with you. But when Lara called me and told me what happened I realised how stupid I’d been, how selfish.”
That much is true, I thought, but I didn’t say.
“Did Lara tell you she fell in the loch?”
“Yes. She did. And I don’t blame you for not watching her.” Not watching her? “I don’t blame you for a moment . . .” Then why, when I looked into his eyes I felt three inches tall? “. . . but that just shows you, children need two parents. They need a safe environment.”
“This is a safe environment! And yes, they do need two parents, and you were never there! You didn’t even get involved when Lara got into trouble at school!”
“That is all in the past, I told you. We need a fresh start, you and me. Our family deserves it.”
“Ash . . .”
“Please, come back. Come back to London and let me move back in.”
My head was spinning. It was all too sudden. I jumped on my feet, and he did the same.
“I—”
“I stopped at my mum’s on the way here,” he added quickly. “I told her I was driving up to see you and bringing you back. That if she wanted me to choose between them and you, I chose you.”
“You said that?”
“Yes,” he said, nodding his head so strongly that his blond mop bounced up and down.
That was the ultimate Ash gesture. His face looked so . . . familiar. I knew his features, his gestures like I knew the back of my hand.
I felt something in me soften.
“You stood up to your mother?”
“Yes, I did. For you. For us. So that Lara and Leo could have a proper family. Let me move back in. Into our home.”
“I don’t know, Ash. I don’t know.”
“We’ve been married for a long time. We have two children. You’d throw everything away like this? Can’t you see, Margherita? Can’t you see how our family deserves another chance?”
A wave of guilt hit me so I hard I felt sick. I didn’t know what to say.
“Please, Margherita. Please, listen to me. My place is with you, and with the children. I’m so sorry for the way I’ve been. I want things to change. Give me . . . give us another chance. Come home.”
“We’ve been so happy here . . .”
“Here?” he said, as if that was completely unbelievable.
“Yes. Here. We never spoke about staying, but I think it’s been in the back of our minds. I mean, mine and Lara’s. We both love it here in Glen Avich.”
“Margherita—”
“Listen, Ash, I need to think. I need to think about all this. It’s all been so hard . . .”
“Of course. Of course. Come back and we’ll talk about it at home . . .”
To my intense shame, I burst into tears. Ash wrapped his arms around me, and I smelled his scent, the scent of the man I’d been married to for many years and the father of my children.
And I split into two people.
One was the Margherita of today, with all that Ash had done to her, the neglect of his children, the coldness, the bone-chilling indifference of the last few years.
And the other was the woman I used to be, the twenty-five-year-old who loved Ash so, so much. The girl who had so many dreams for her married life.
The second one won, and I melted in tears against his shoulder for a long, long time.
Ash was triumphant when we walked back to La Piazza. I was full of confusion, my thoughts jumbled up and fighting each other, cutting me inside.
We had agreed we would come back to London, but he couldn’t move back in yet. I wasn’t ready. None of us were.
“We’re going to tell Lara,” I said to my mum, wearily. Strange, I thought. We should have been celebrating that the family was getting back together. But my mum and Michael looked grey, and Leo hadn’t recovered from the surprise of seeing his father after such a long time, without warning. As for me, I felt numb.
“Coming with us?” Ash said to Leo, offering his hand. But Leo shook his head and hid behind my mum’s legs. “He just needs a bit of time,” Ash said magnanimously.
And so we went to speak to Lara. I dreaded it. I became more and more apprehensive with every step we took, until I was in a panic. Before we stepped into my mum’s house, I held Ash back by the arm.
“Maybe I should speak to her first . . .”
“Why?”
“To ask her what she thinks. To prepare her . . .”
“But we can’t let our daughter make a decision on our marriage.” He shrugged.
“It’s not just a decision on our marriage. It’s about the whole family—”
“It’s up to us to make the best decision for them! They are children!”
“I know, but . . . it’s been an enchanted summer for them. And they won’t take well to going back. Lara certainly won’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because she told me.”
“Well, she told me something along those lines too, but she’s only fourteen, she can’t—”
“She told you that? Did you ask her?”
“No, I didn’t ask her. She just told me. Just yesterday, when she phoned me to tell me about the accident. I didn’t give it that much weight. I told her I wanted you all to come home. She said she loved it here and she hated her school back home, you know, the usual teenage stuff. I wouldn’t make a big deal of it.”
“How can I not?”
“Because she’s a child!”
I looked down.
“Margherita . . .” His hand was on mine. “I thought we had made a decision. You know you must come back. You know it in your heart of hearts. Your life is with me. Your home is in London.”
“We’ve had such a difficult time, you and me . . .”
“Yes, and I’m so sorry about that. I told you, I’ve been a fool. But we’re going in circles, here. The question is: do you really want to throw it all away? Our family? Our marriage?”
And then I heard myself replying. Out of my head, not out of my heart.
“All right. Let’s tell her.”
“It’ll be fine,” he said, and hugged me again.
But the twenty-five-year-old girl and her dreams and hopes were gone again now, and the weight of responsibilities, the desperate need to make the right choices for my children, was back. And his embrace, those arms that should have been as familiar as my mother’s, as my children’s, felt strange, alien.
I told myself I’d made the best decision for all involved, and I repeated it to myself again and again, ignoring my heart’s protestations.
41
The place we call home
Margherita
“Lara!” Ash called, and made his way into my mother’s house.
“Dad?” Lara appeared in the hall. She looked very young and very small in her glasses, lost inside her oversized hoodie.
Set Me Free Page 21