She gasped in a short breath as the baby kicked her ribs and she rubbed against them absent-mindedly.
‘Can I feel?’ Fraser asked.
She remembered the atmosphere between them in the car. How a simple touch had escalated so quickly into something that she had been so sure neither one of them would want—until they hadn’t been able to help themselves. But she wanted him to touch her. This was his child—they had agreed to parent together and this was a part of that. It was something that they should share.
She shrugged her shoulders, faking a nonchalance that she absolutely did not feel, and then held dead still, resisting any reaction to the feel of Fraser’s touch on her skin. She held her breath for a few seconds, willing the baby to kick quickly. For once the baby co-operated and gave its father a quick tap on the hand, cueing a snort of laughter from Fraser.
‘I can’t get over how amazing that feels,’ he said with another laugh, breaking the tension in the room. ‘How do you concentrate on anything when you have a whole person in there, trying to get your attention?’
Elspeth smiled. ‘She doesn’t make it easy. But it started gradually and I guess I’ve got used to it.’
‘I can’t imagine ever getting used to it.’
The wonder in Fraser’s voice was intoxicating, and it caught them up for another few minutes, as they quietly waited for the baby to kick again. But then real life started to creep back in, and Elspeth couldn’t help but point out the obvious.
‘Well, she’s not going to be in there for ever.’
Fraser withdrew his hand and coughed awkwardly. ‘I guess not. I can’t believe it’s going so quickly. A few more months and everything’s going to change.’
She made an effort to smile, but couldn’t help feeling a twinge of anxiety. Not everything was going to change. Much of her life would stay the same. Her work. Her career. Her caring responsibilities. They weren’t all going to fade away just because she had this enormous new challenge coming. They were all going to be just as demanding as ever.
Something of what she was thinking must have shown on her face, because Fraser took her hand back into his and gave it a squeeze.
‘It’s all right to be scared. But we’re in this together.’
Sure they were. The baby part of it. But he wasn’t the one who was going to have to fight to get his career back on track post-maternity leave. He wasn’t the one who was going to have to call around for emergency cover when Sarah was sick. He wasn’t going to be taking on the challenges that she already dealt with every day.
‘Stop it,’ he said gently. ‘Whatever spiral you’re heading down, I promise you we are going to make this work. Have you called home since we got here?’ he asked, showing more insight than she’d realised he had.
‘They’re fine,’ she said, reflexively tapping her phone through the fabric of her pocket, reminding herself that they could get hold of her if they needed to. ‘I’m just not used to being away from home for more than a night.’
He pulled her down beside him on the bed as they both looked up to the ancient beams of the ceiling.
‘I was surprised when you agreed to stay a few days,’ Fraser admitted.
‘I was being realistic about how much time you and your father might need,’ Elspeth replied. ‘And when you asked... I don’t know. Objectively, three nights away didn’t seem like that long. But now that we’re here... I feel so far away. I feel helpless.’
Fraser squeezed her hand in support. ‘But you know that your sister is safe. That your mum has the help she needs from the agency care assistants.’
‘I know all that. I do. But... It’s just hard to turn off the part of my brain that feels it should be doing something.’
‘You are doing something,’ Fraser said, letting go of her hand and rubbing the swell of her belly. ‘You’re growing this wee bairn, for a start.’
Elspeth let out something between a moan and a sigh at the feel of his touch on her tight skin. But being surrounded by Fraser’s childhood things, both gazing upwards, not making eye contact, made the atmosphere quietly intimate rather than sexy.
‘Mmm... And that’s not getting any easier,’ she admitted.
His palm traced circles over her skin, over their baby. ‘How are you feeling?’
She let out a sigh. ‘Tired, if I’m honest. And clumsy. And achy.’
She let out a squeak of protest as Fraser dropped her hand and pushed at her hip, rolling her on to her side with her back to him. His hands rested on her, applying gentle pressure, teasing knots from her neck and her shoulders, travelling down the length of her spine until they pressed hard into the small of her back.
‘You should have said something,’ Fraser said, his voice soft and close to her ear.
‘I can’t—’
‘It’s just a massage,’ Fraser said, and she could hear the smile on his lips. ‘This is something friends do for each other, right?’
She really wasn’t sure about that. She’d never had a friend touch her like this before. Never felt so electric with a friend’s hands stroking her. But then, she’d never had a baby with a friend either. She wasn’t sure there was a rulebook for this sort of friendship. Certainly no one had given her one.
‘Is it helping?’
She let out another long sigh, losing the ability to articulate.
Fraser laughed behind her, a warm little burst of breath on her neck. ‘I’ll take that as a yes,’ he said, working his thumbs beside her spine until her body felt like jelly.
Then he lay back, and she followed, until they were both staring up at the ceiling once more.
‘You know,’ Fraser said, speaking softly, ‘I think we make a good team.’
CHAPTER NINE
FRASER HAD LEFT her loose-limbed and relaxed at the door of an extravagantly decorated guest room with a kiss on the cheek and a pile of blankets spread on the feather eiderdown that topped the four-poster bed.
When she woke, pale sunlight was trying to make its way through the dust and condensation on the windows. She lifted her head from the pillows and goosebumps immediately broke out on her shoulders and arms. It was chilly in here. Forget that—it was downright freezing.
She pulled one of the blankets from the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders while she went and wrestled with the valve of the enormous and ancient radiator over by the windows.
She used the corner of the blanket to rub a clear patch in a pane of the glass and had her first proper glimpse of Ballanross in the daylight. The driveway that they had crunched across last night curved dramatically through the landscape, past the ruins of the old castle, which sat majestically on the top of the hillside. Snow was visible on the tops of the mountains to the west, and the loch was fishpond-calm behind the old castle. The pale sun was low in the sky to the east, trying valiantly to warm the picturesque Scottish scene—without much luck.
A door slammed somewhere below and Fraser strode purposefully out of the door, wrapped up in a heavy winter jacket and hiking boots, and peered up at the tallest tower. So much for being a team, Elspeth thought. He was leaving her alone with his father—again. She wasn’t sure how he was meant to get anywhere with fixing this relationship if he was going to be out through the door at first light.
She checked the time on her phone—it was past nine already. She held on to the hope that Fraser and Malcolm had had a heart-to-heart over breakfast, but knew that it was unlikely.
Crossing over to her suitcase, she hunted out warm layers and thick hiking socks, and even considered for a moment going straight out to catch Fraser before he left. But then a jab in the ribs and a rumble in her stomach reminded her that she wasn’t alone, and that the baby was demanding breakfast even if Elspeth thought there were more important things to be doing.
Trying to retrace her steps from the night before, she took a wrong turn and found
herself in a grand hall adorned with suits of armour criss-crossed with cobwebs and an armoury’s worth of weapons mounted on the wall. She spun in a slow circle, looking up, taking in the faded splendour of the castle, trying to imagine a childhood spent running through these hallways, amidst these riches, this history.
Would their child feel like the castle and the land was a part of them, as Fraser so obviously did? Or would she always feel the outsider? Feel the echo of the estrangement between Fraser and his father? Feel the city child, out of place in the country, like Elspeth did right now?
She turned sharply at the sound of footsteps behind her, and smiled when she saw Malcolm walking towards her, carrying a cup of coffee that was steaming heavily in the chill of the room.
‘Ah, good morning,’ he said with a smile. ‘I was wondering if I should bring you a cup, but then I saw ye come through this way and thought you might need directions. Let’s go on back to the kitchen and I’ll put the kettle on.’
She followed him through a warren of hallways until they reached the kitchen. A copper batterie de cuisine hung on the wall, covered with a layer of the dust she had seen everywhere else, and Malcolm went to fill the plastic kettle, yellowed slightly with age, that sat on a worktop.
‘Will you have coffee or tea?’ Malcolm asked as he fussed around finding a mug and some milk. ‘You’ll have to excuse the place. The housekeeper is only here three days a week, and there’s really too much for her to manage. I do my best, but with a place this size you’re never going to win.’
‘I can imagine,’ Elspeth said, and tried to hide the many, many questions she had about this. A housekeeper only three days a week? No wonder the place was looking tired. From what little Fraser had told her about his childhood here she had been expecting to find at least a few members of full-time staff, and more out in the grounds.
Not that she didn’t think Malcolm could take care of himself, but a building like this needed specialist care. It was more than one person—any one person—could manage by themselves.
She made small talk as she drank her tea and ate a couple of slices of toast, and then took a deep breath, unsure what reaction she would get to her next question.
‘Did you see Fraser this morning?’
‘Mmmph...’
The sadness in the older man’s expression tugged at her sympathy, and she knew that she had guessed right—Fraser had been out through the door without a word for his father this morning.
‘Well, Fraser’s not one for being kept still for long. He said something about taking a look at the north tower. Had a quick look outside and then came in and headed up the staircase.’
‘I think I’ll try and find him,’ Elspeth said.
‘Are you sure?’
‘If you don’t mind, of course,’ she added, not wanting to be rude. ‘I’ll look for him inside first. And if he’s not here I’ll take a quick look outdoors.’
And hopefully she’d catch up with him and talk some sense into him, she added in her head. Remind him that they’d driven all the way up here so that Fraser could actually talk to his father, rather than put as much distance between them as possible at the earliest opportunity.
‘Aye, well, if you can find him...’ Malcolm added. ‘But he could have taken one of the quad bikes. And—no offence, lass—I’m not letting you take one of those in your condition.’
Elspeth smiled, touched at his concern for her, even though she would have accused anyone other than her child’s grandfather of blatant sexism.
‘In any case I won’t go far,’ she promised, ‘indoors or out. And if I don’t bump into him, then I’ll come back. Don’t worry, I won’t be hiking up a mountain alone.’
Malcolm nodded. ‘I’ll walk with you inside, if you like. I usually just keep to the family rooms. It’ll be good for me to see the place through new eyes. And it’d be...good to walk with Fraser a while, if we find him.’
‘Thank you,’ Elspeth said, clocking his wistful expression, hearing the pain and longing in his voice. His love for his son was so palpable she couldn’t believe that Fraser was refusing to see it. In her line of work she saw a lot of family politics. People who—under the great strain that ill-health put on families—turned on the ones they loved.
Occasionally she saw those families find a way back together. But she’d also seen estrangements that had festered until it was too late. She had seen loneliness that had become pathological, contributing to the misery of patients nearing the end of their lives. She wouldn’t allow that to happen here. She wouldn’t allow Fraser—that pig-headed man—to leave this place until he’d at least had a proper conversation with his father.
And she didn’t care if that made her meddling and interfering. This was her family now, and that gave her every right to be involved.
She pulled on the fleece that she’d intended to wear outside, not realising that she would need it in the castle too. And as she left the kitchen with Malcolm she could feel a draught straight down the corridor. She stuffed her hands deep into her pockets, wondering whether it would be rude to put on her gloves and scarf too.
The further they walked around the castle, the clearer it became that it was falling into serious disrepair. The wind whistled through broken window panes, and there was a dampness in the air that spoke of long-set neglect.
Elspeth followed Malcolm down a long gallery that seemed to take them away from the inhabited part of the castle—away from carpets and radiators and home comforts, even the chilly and draughty kind. These rooms were imposing and echoing—lined with historical relics collecting dust. Where Malcolm’s apartment was comfily shabby, these rooms were a testament to a grand way of living that had long since ceased to be practical.
They found Fraser in a small room high up in the north tower, inspecting another broken window pane—or was he looking out over the estate?
He turned as they crossed the threshold into the room. His expression shifted through surprise to anger in the split second it took for him to register Malcolm behind her.
‘What are you doing up here?’ he asked, the question clearly directed more at his father than at her.
‘I wanted to see some more of the castle,’ Elspeth said, feeling the tension in the room and wondering whether she had made a huge mistake. ‘Malcolm offered to show me. We thought we might catch up with you.’
But she could see that he wasn’t really listening to her answer. His eyes hadn’t left his father when she’d spoken, and anger was clear in every line of his face.
‘Look at the state of this place,’ Fraser said, gesturing towards the window, knowing that he was letting his anger show.
How had his father let it come to this? It was hard to believe how badly the place had slipped into disrepair and decay in the years that Fraser had been gone.
‘What’s happened to it?’ he asked, though he didn’t really need to. His father had neglected it. He hadn’t cared enough about it to take care of it.
His father shifted his feet, and Fraser felt sorry for him for a moment—before he remembered that he was angry with him.
‘It takes a lot to keep this place running, Fraser. You know that.’
‘Aye. I do,’ Fraser replied. ‘And I’d be ashamed of myself if the estates I managed looked like this.’
From behind his father, he saw Elspeth make a move towards him. For a split second Fraser could taste acid in his mouth as he imagined her walking across the floor. He could almost see the wood breaking apart beneath her feet, could see her falling through to the room below.
He moved faster than he’d known he could, and stopped her with a hand on her arm. ‘Don’t,’ he said, aware that his voice was still tainted with anger, that he was speaking too harshly to her. ‘The water has been coming in through the window and the roof. It’s rotted the floorboards. It’s not safe for you to be in here.’
The thought that something might have happened to her if she’d come up here before he’d pulled back the rug and seen the damage to the floor focussed his anger to a white-hot rage. If she had got hurt it would have been Malcolm’s fault. Because of his neglect of this beautiful castle. Of the place where his family should be flourishing if he hadn’t thrown it all away over a midlife lust for someone new and desirable.
The castle hadn’t looked like this all those nights Fraser had dreamed of it. There had been no broken windows. No rotting joists. He dreaded to think what else he was going to find. How much time and money it was going to take to put it right.
It wasn’t his responsibility yet, he tried to tell himself.
Except it was.
If he wanted to come home here one day. If he wanted to raise a family here, he couldn’t just leave it to rot away. He had a responsibility to this place. And Ballanross clearly needed him.
He threw another angry look at his father. ‘I can’t believe you’ve let this happen.’
‘Son, I don’t want to argue with you.’
Son? Fraser crossed his arms. Malcolm had lost the right to use that word a long time ago.
‘I’m not arguing,’ Fraser pointed out. ‘I’m asking a very simple question about why vital repairs haven’t been done. I’m asking whether you even had a plan to stop this tower rotting straight through to the bare earth. When would you have stepped in? When would you have done something?’
‘I had a plan. I have a plan for all the repairs. But they can’t all be done at once.’
At once? Fraser thought. He hadn’t seen a single thing that his father had done for this place. No doubt once the new wife had moved in there hadn’t been time for thinking about floorboards.
His father had chosen his love-life over his responsibilities time and time again. It was clear that his stepmother hadn’t cared for this place. He knew that she’d only lived here for two years, but there wasn’t a single sign of her. His father had ruined their family for a relationship so insubstantial that it had already disappeared without a trace.
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