Watch Over Me (23 page)

My heart jumped. I was ashamed to be feeling a kind of malign satisfaction.

‘Nothing to do with me,’ I said coldly.

‘No, not anymore. I mean, the two of you, you just weren’t right together. And cheating on you for years, really, the man’s a bastard.’

‘Too right,’ said Doug and we all took a sip of our whisky.

‘Now. About Jamie.’

‘Shhhh … Everybody knows everybody here! Keep your voices down!’

‘
Sorry
,’ whispered Harry dramatically. ‘So, what’s the story there?’

‘No story. Nothing to report.’

‘Do we believe her, Doug?’

‘We don’t believe her, Harry. You mention Jamie or Maisie – or both – in every single email. Something must be going on.’

‘He asked me out, I said no.’

‘WHY?’ they both shouted in unison.

‘Shhhhh!!!!’

‘Why?’ they hissed.

‘Because I don’t want a relationship. I don’t want the heartache again. And anyway, I’m not even properly divorced.’

‘You’re separated.’

‘Yes, we separated not even six months ago.’

‘Listen, you don’t need to marry the guy! Can you not just have a bit of fun?’

I looked at them.

‘No, of course not. Eilidh and fun – two strangers. Eilidh only does soul searching and complicating simple things …’

‘Exactly. You know me. I’m too neurotic.’

‘But you have a touch of Highland tragedy. Perfect combination. Anyway, we are here now, we’ll see that you have some fun.’

‘Don’t get me into trouble!’

‘Us? No, course not,’ Harry said.

‘Jamie’s coming to the Hogmanay party, isn’t he?’ asked Doug.

‘Don’t know. Maybe.’

‘Leave it with us.’

‘Yes, leave it with us.’

‘We are not sixteen, guys! “My pal fancies you!” and all that! Stay out of it!’ I exclaimed – but I was smiling. God, I missed them.

* * *

‘How do I look?’ said Harry, giving a twirl.

‘Dashing!’ said Peggy, laughing. ‘Never seen the likes!’

Harry was wearing velvet trousers and a skin-tight silk shirt. He was doing ‘ironic seventies disco’, apparently. His dress sense was getting more and more gay stereotype every year, much to Doug’s amusement. Doug was wearing jeans and a stripy shirt. He had decided against a kilt, though he claimed his great grandfather hailed from Dundee. As for me, I had the same dress I’d worn at the gallery opening and my hair up in a loose bun.

‘You look lovely, pet.’

‘Thanks, Auntie Peggy. So do you.’ She did look lovely, in her blue woollen skirt, a white shirt and her grey hair freshly done. She was going to a party herself, at Margaret’s.

‘Now, have some dinner before you go. I won’t let you go out on an empty stomach.’

We all sat around the table in our fineries, eating ham sandwiches and drinking tea – ‘Nothing that can stain,’ Peggy had said.

‘Thank you so much again for having us, Peggy. It’s great to be here with Eilidh.’

‘Not at all, not at all, dear. Any time.’

I smiled. Peggy, Flora, Elizabeth – their doors seemed to have been always open. Their warm, easy hospitality was, to me, Scotland in a nutshell.

We all kissed her on our way out. The sky was dark already, it was bitterly cold and we hurried along through the streets of Glen Avich.

Silke’s house wasn’t far from Peggy’s. She was lodging with an elderly couple in a terraced whitewashed house on the other side from St Colman’s Way.

‘This is beautiful!’ said Doug, as we were making our way through the village. ‘And the air … it’s so fresh.’

‘Mountain air,’ I said.

‘It’s a fantastic place. No wonder you wanted to come back.’

The windows at Silke’s house were all lit up and the orange-yellow glow looked warm and inviting against the dark surroundings. We knocked at the door.

‘Hello, welcome!’ Silke gave us all a big hug, as if she’d known Harry and Doug forever.

The living room and kitchen were full of people, some I knew, some I didn’t. Some had instruments with them – great, that was going to give Harry and Doug a taste of the Highlands.

I was so happy that night. Everything was perfect – absolutely, totally and completely perfect. The whisky flew, and we danced and sang and listened to music.

And then Jamie arrived, on his own.

‘No Shona?’

‘She didn’t feel up to it, she said she’d stay in to watch the girls, Fraser didn’t want to leave her.’

‘But you came out.’

‘But I came out, yes. I wanted to see you.’

I swallowed. I was a bit tipsy. So was he.

‘Come and meet my friends.’ I took him by the hand and led him to the kitchen, where Harry and Doug were in deep conversation with Silke about the state of the arts in contemporary Britain. Really, I’m not making it up.

‘Everybody, this is Jamie!’

‘Well, nice to meet you.’

‘Yes, very, very nice to meet you.’

They grinned.

I could have killed them.

Jamie looked embarrassed; he could guess he had been the subject of discussion.

‘You came!’ said Silke and hugged him tight.

‘How you doing?’ he said, giving her a tight squeeze.

‘Been better. What can you do?’

‘What happened?’ I asked, worried.

‘Fiona and I broke up.’

‘You did?’ said Doug, genuinely concerned. I had told them a lot about Silke. ‘That’s a shame.’

‘Did everybody know?’ said Silke. ‘Oh well. Doesn’t matter now.’

‘Oh, Silke …’ I went to give her a hug. ‘I’m sorry … What happened?’

‘She wanted to keep it secret. I couldn’t take it anymore.’

‘You and Fiona broke up?’ said a blonde girl who had just come into the kitchen. I’d never seen her before. ‘Oh, I’m sorry!’

‘Well, she sure was doing a good job keeping it secret!’ said Harry.

‘Everybody knows, Silke,’ said Jamie. ‘Nobody seems to mind. I mean, it is the twenty-first century, even in Glen Avich.’

‘You don’t know her family … Anyway! They’re playing through there, let’s go.’

We all went through and Jamie and I stood beside each other.

I could feel him beside me. Every bit of my body was aware of his presence.

The music, the whisky, the warmth … before I knew it, I had slipped my arm in his.

Suddenly, without warning, he took hold of me. He led me out of the living room into the corridor and I didn’t protest. He kept his eyes on me as he opened the door and stepped out into the darkness, his hand still holding my arm.

He put his hands around my waist and without a word, he kissed me. For a long time. Slowly, slowly, like we had all the time in the world. I felt my knees giving way and I held on to him.

I could have kissed him forever.

Then he pulled away. He looked at me and cupped my face with his hands.

‘Jamie …’

‘Shhhh. No. Don’t talk. Please.’

I stood quiet as he looked into my face, our eyes locked. I was frozen. His grey eyes were full of desire and completely serious.

Then he let go of me.

‘I had to do it. I had to kiss you. Sorry.’

‘Don’t say sorry,’ I whispered. I felt like I was going to fall. I wanted him to hold me again. But he didn’t. He turned away.

‘Don’t go,’ I said.

‘I have to go.’

‘Why?’ I didn’t understand. Why was he walking away like that?

‘Because … to be near you like this, it’s driving me crazy. I can’t wait to go Australia. I can’t take it anymore, to see you every day and … Well. Happy New Year.’

He walked away. Just like that.

I licked my lips. I could taste him.

I went back inside, my head spinning.

‘Where’s Jamie?’

‘Gone home.’

‘You ok?’

I nodded.

I don’t remember a single thing after that. Dancing, alcohol, the bells, whatever. I walked back like a zombie, crashed into bed, and the thoughts I had … oh, the thoughts I had after that, I can never say.

The next morning, well, afternoon more like, we were all in the pub, looking ghastly. No, not hair of the dog, we’re not that bad. We were having a pub lunch. Morag and Jim, the landlords, looked in great form as they carried big plates of steak pie and mash from the kitchen to the hungry revellers. They were probably the only people in Glen Avich without hangovers. Even Peggy and Margaret looked pretty bleary eyed.

The steak pie was gorgeous, hearty and juicy. I just prayed that Jamie wouldn’t decide to come to the pub. I could not have looked him in the eye.

‘Look, there’s your friend there. Hi Jamie!’ cried out Harry, waving conspicuously.

Of course.

‘Hi, happy New Year! I’ve been first-footing people for the last two hours. Mind if I sit?’

He didn’t even look embarrassed. He definitely wasn’t tonguetied. It was like nothing had happened. Oh well. Clearly, it didn’t mean that much to him, in spite of what he said. I was seriously annoyed.

‘Hi, happy New Year!’ Shona, Fraser and the girls.

I gave Maisie a big cuddle. ‘Happy New Year, baby. Did you celebrate last night?’

‘Yes. We had a party.’

‘We did face painting,’ said Lucy.

‘Auntie Shona did my face. I was a butterfly.’

‘Yum, steak pie!’ said Shona.

We sat companionably. Nobody knew about last night, so nobody acted any different. Jamie was still pretending nothing had happened. It’s not like I was expecting flowers or whatever. It was just a kiss, even a bit of a drunken kiss, I suppose. An exceptionally good kiss, an amazing kiss, a perfect, mind-blowing, tender, gorgeous kiss, but still just a kiss. Better stop recalling it, I was blushing.

God. The things I thought about last night…

‘Eilidh?’

‘YES?’ I jumped.

‘You ok?’

‘Yes, fine, right as rain. Anybody seen Silke?’

‘She texted me this morning,’ said Jamie. ‘She’s got about twenty people asleep all over the house.’

‘When are the Duffs coming back?’ asked Shona.

‘Next week.’

‘Oh well, then. Plenty of time to sort the house out. I’ll go give her a hand later on. How long are you staying?’ she asked Harry.

‘Just another couple of days. Back to work soon, I’m afraid.’

My stomach tightened. I really didn’t want them to go.

‘Back soon, though,’ said Doug.

I smiled. The best Hogmanay ever.

I looked at Jamie. His black hair was standing up on end, he was wearing an old t-shirt and his jeans were ripped. Really ripped, not fashionably ripped.

What’s going to happen now?

I thought, what the hell, I have to feel her lips, I
have
to kiss her. Didn’t even consider the possibility of her pushing me away and making a fool of myself. I suppose the whisky helped, having temporarily gone back to it to celebrate Hogmanay.

Kissing her felt like diving into warm waters. Like having been on barren land for a long, long time, dry and parched, and then just diving into the blue, diving into her.

I’m going away in eight weeks time.

She can ask me to stay.

I pray she asks me to stay.

What’s going to happen now?

Secrets are not a good idea. They eat you up inside.

If you have something precious and fragile and you keep it locked away like a little plant trying to grow in the darkness, well, it’ll die and your secret will turn into regret. Love needs to be in the light of day. A secret love will eat itself and die, or eat your heart and kill you.

I saw Fiona sitting on the doorstep of her parents’ house, ripping her necklace off, the one that Silke gave her when they first got together. A few weeks have passed now but part of Fiona is still sitting there, still stuck in that shocking, earth shattering moment when Silke said, ‘No, we’re not going to be together.’ Only half an hour later, she’d had to dry her tears and pretend nothing had happened because her parents had come home and she couldn’t tell them, not for the world. So she’d put on a brave face – more of a dead-inside face, really – and got on with it.

But as a ghost, I see all sides of reality, layering one on top of the other, separated by thin, opaque veils that, to us, are easy to lift. A honeycomb of moments at every corner, the stories of the people of Glen Avich lingering everywhere, for us to read like a book.

I see that part of Fiona sitting there still, holding the broken necklace, her small frame shaken by sobbing. A few weeks on and this shadow of reality doesn’t show signs of fading – she’s slightly translucent and, of course, invisible to the living but she will not disappear any time soon.