Mistakes We Make Page 9

  And so, with a glittering smile that masked her discomfort, she left the guests and got on with what she was best at – organising.

  ‘How could you?’ she hissed at Logan as he passed.

  ‘How could I what?’

  Molly nodded her head towards Adam, who was standing alone amid the guests, out of place. No longer family. But then her younger nephew jumped up at him out of nowhere and she saw his mouth crack into a warm smile. He studied the game on the phone he was handed, bent and put an arm around Ian’s shoulders and conferred with great seriousness. After a minute, Ian walked off, content, his problem solved.

  ‘Ask Adam to the party.’

  ‘He was at a loose end. Why not?’

  ‘I can think of a hundred reasons why my brother should not have asked my soon-to-be-ex-husband to a family celebration.’

  ‘Dad adores him,’ Logan said blithely. ‘He’s thrilled that he’s here.’

  How could she argue with that? But Adam’s appearance might raise hopes of a reconciliation where there could be none, and she could do without the strain of having to be polite all meal.

  She gave up.

  ‘Please,’ she said to Adam, indicating the chair next to her, ‘be seated.’

  ‘Molly, are you sure—’

  ‘Sit, Adam.’

  He sat. But it was as she had feared. The conversation steered a jaggy course through a field of thistles.

  ‘How’s Lexie? When is she due?’ (Easy, neutral.)

  ‘Did you enjoy the weekend at Loch Melfort?’ (Careful, more dangerous.)

  ‘You?’

  ‘How is work?’ (Damnably predictable.)

  ‘Your father’s looking well.’ (Ditto.)

  On and on, the exchanges painfully civil. It was an unexpected development in the long journey they were making. Later, she might evaluate it, but right now, it was impossible.

  ‘Got the envelope?’ Logan hissed under cover of applause. Joe Spall, Billy’s long-time work companion, had been on his feet for eight minutes, his tribute warm and funny.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Dad’s present. The ticket. You did get it, didn’t you?’

  Of course she had it. What she had not been able to do was discuss with Logan exactly how and when they would present it.

  He held out his hand. She hesitated.

  ‘Quick!’ His fingers furled and unfurled rapidly, beckoning.

  She located the envelope in her bag and held it out. ‘Shouldn’t we—?’

  But he was on his feet, and speaking.

  ‘Before you all get back to drinking—’ he paused for the laugh, ‘—there’s just one more thing to do.’ He flourished the envelope aloft. ‘Give Dad his present. It’s from Molly as well, of course,’ he turned briefly to where Molly sat, her face scarlet. ‘And it’s a very special gift for a very special person. A ticket—’ he waved the envelope again, ‘—to Melbourne! You’re going to visit your sister!’

  He handed the envelope to Billy as applause erupted. Molly sat very upright in a supreme effort at containing her feelings, her hands clenching her knees under the white damask tablecloth. She sensed Adam moving and the next moment he had laid one hand over hers. She clung on to it, squeezing his hand with all her strength.

  He did not flinch.

  Logan sat down, flushed with the success of his surprise.

  ‘He can be such an arse,’ Adam said, his voice just loud enough for her to catch.

  Her eyes flickered towards him. What did she expect to read in his expression? Sympathy? Anger on her behalf? Love? Whatever she expected, it was not amusement, but Adam’s eyes were brimming over with barely controlled laughter.

  It was exactly the right response. She giggled and her tension dissipated. Adam knew how to handle her; he always had, until ...

  Molly withdrew her hand.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Excuse me,’ Logan said a few minutes later, pushing his chair back, ‘just got to check something.’

  ‘He’s chained,’ Adrienne said loudly, ‘to his damn phone.’

  He’d miss the cake. Molly’s moment, if there was a particular moment in this day of her arranging.

  Well then, he would miss it. Molly gave a discreet signal, the lights dimmed, the kitchen door opened and there was a flickering golden light. Dozens of candles – how many? – had been lit and seven small fireworks sent showers of stars spiralling upwards.

  ‘Oh, wow!’

  ‘Look at that!’

  It was the small touches that made an event memorable. The carefully chosen colour scheme, the table flowers to match the mood, the photos of bride or groom as toddlers scattered on the tables. And the cake.

  The cake, Molly considered, should be the highlight of any occasion. Over the years she had commissioned dozens of traditional wedding cakes as well as many humorous ones, clever cakes for special birthdays, and sophisticated cakes in the shape of company logos, designed to impress corporate guests.

  Billy’s seventieth cake was in the shape of a clock. Not just any clock, but a faithful copy of the grandfather clock that stood in the hall at home, the family heirloom that had inspired her father to take up his profession aged sixteen.

  The clock face was a transfer print of a wedding photograph, Billy and Susan holding hands and gazing at each other out of the past. The hands were at seven and twelve – 7.00, the closest Molly could get to seventy.

  Across the table, her father looked at her and beamed. It was all she needed. He knew how much thought she had put into it, and he appreciated it. It was reward enough.

  Afterwards, Adam melted away as quietly as he had arrived.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, ‘for allowing me to share your special family day.’

  ‘No problem,’ Molly said, and watched as he collected his coat and left.

  But there was a problem. Soon she was going to have to call Adam and ask him to sell the house. She would be setting in motion a train of events that would be irreversible.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘Carry yer bag home for yer?’

  Caitlyn grinned. It was like being back at school, when such an embarrassed offer was the accepted preliminary to an awkward date.

  ‘Hi, Malkie. Good to see you.’ She handed him two carrier bags with relief. ‘How did you know I was coming off shift?’

  ‘H-hm.’ Malkie cleared his throat. ‘Tell you the truth, I nipped round to your house. Harris said you were due to finish around now.’

  He’d cheered her up. It was some time since a guy she liked had made any kind of effort.

  They reached his battered old van just as the first few drops of rain began to fall. ‘Here, get in.’ He held open the door and Caitlyn slithered inside. It smelled of damp earth. She liked the smell. It was like Malkie: honest and real.

  He opened the doors at the back and placed her shopping carefully inside.

  ‘Finished work today then?’ she asked as he jumped into the driver’s seat, slammed the door closed and turned on the ignition.

  ‘Aye.’ He never had been a great one for chat.

  ‘No more grass to cut?’

  He put the van into reverse and backed out of the space as the raindrops turned into a deluge. ‘Grass was finished yesterday. There’re always jobs to do, you know, in a garden, but with the rain coming ... Anyway, Ibsen said to go home.’

  ‘But you came for me instead.’ She watched, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, as he blushed.

  ‘Aye.’ His glance was short, but the intensity of feeling in his deep green eyes took her by surprise.

  ‘Tell me about Saskia,’ Caitlyn said as they left Hailesbank and started along the short road to Summerfield. Short if you were in a van – a long way if you had to hike it, as she’d had to the other night.

  ‘Sass?’

  ‘If we’re going to start dating, Malcolm Milne, I need to know where you stand.’

  His laugh was infectious.

 
‘What? What are you laughing at?’ she said, smiling.

  ‘Who said we were going to start dating?’

  ‘Isn’t that what this is about?’ she said, suddenly uncertain.

  He negotiated a bend just as a lorry came in the opposite direction, throwing a fountain of water up across their windscreen. Half blinded, he drove on for another dozen yards, then pulled into a layby.

  ‘Might as well give this rain a chance to stop.’ He leaned forward and peered out of the windscreen, where what seemed like a waterfall was gushing down to the bonnet.

  ‘I like it, Caitlyn.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Your directness. I can’t tell you how refreshing it is after Sass.’ He reached across and took her hand. ‘If we do start seeing each other, can we always be like this, do you think? Honest, I mean. Can we make a pact?’

  Caitlyn was startled. ‘I’m guessing that honesty wasn’t Saskia’s style?’

  He dropped her hand and rubbed his face. ‘You could say that. Right from the first, I guess. You heard about—’

  ‘She told you she was pregnant is how I heard it,’ Caitlyn said gently, ‘but that turned out not to be true.’

  ‘She knew what buttons to press. Things were never great with us, and in the end she found a better option. That’s about it.’

  ‘You stayed with her a while.’

  ‘Three years. I was lazy. Maybe not lazy, more like a wee dormouse who’d gone to sleep for the winter and didn’t feel warm enough to wake up again.’

  Caitlyn smiled at the image. ‘So what changed?’

  He shrugged. ‘I got up one day and she’d propped a note against the teapot. “Gone with Vernon,” she wrote. “Bye”.’

  ‘That was it?’

  ‘She wasn’t so bad to me. She’d only taken her clothes. One of my mates, his girl cleaned him out. He was left with a change of underpants and a burnt saucepan.’

  ‘Generous.’

  ‘Aye, well. I was lucky. Vernon’s a builder. Cash trade. He’s minted. Sass didn’t want our old rubbish.’

  ‘And you, Malkie? How do you feel?’

  ‘God’s honest truth? Relieved as hell.’

  The rain had stopped. Cars sped past on the narrow road, sun glinting off damp paintwork. A hundred yards further along, one flashed through a puddle and sent spray to the top of the hedge. Each time, briefly, a rainbow flashed. There was beauty in everything, if you just looked.

  ‘So.’ Caitlyn wriggled round in her seat so that she could look at Malkie square on. ‘Am I next in line? Or is this just a courtesy taxi for a poor exhausted lass?’

  ‘Do you want to be? Next in line?’

  ‘We could give it a try, maybe. See where we go.’

  ‘Seems fair.’

  He looked at her.

  She looked at him.

  It was nice.

  After a while she stopped looking and smiling, and said, ‘Maybe I should be getting home.’

  He turned on the ignition and the engine spluttered into life.

  ‘That’s settled then,’ he said.

  Joyce’s migraine lasted two days and left her weak. She lost two shifts, while Caitlyn gave up two of hers to look after the family.

  Isla May hadn’t mentioned the school camp again, but she’d brought home a leaflet about it and left it next to the kettle in the kitchen.

  The boys needed new shoes. And new shoes meant they needed new football boots too. They kept growing.

  Ailsa moaned because she never had any spending money, and having to do her share of minding the little ones meant she couldn’t get a job to earn any cash of her own.

  Caitlyn didn’t mind living on next to nothing. She didn’t mind not having many new clothes. She managed to survive on very little, and heaven knows Joyce was just the same. But she did find it hard that, despite all their efforts, they still couldn’t manage.

  So when her mobile rang one morning as she walked to work and she realised that it was Blair King’s number, she hesitated only for a moment before she decided to answer it.

  ‘Hello? Caitlyn Murray speaking.’

  ‘Caitlyn? This is Adam Blair.’

  The boss’s son! She’d thought it might be Agnes Buchanan, who’d been so helpful to her when she’d started at Blair King, or Deirdre, who’d had the desk next to hers. But Adam Blair? What did Adam Blair want? Was it to do with ...

  Fear grabbed her.

  ‘Caitlyn? Are you still there?’

  She cleared her throat. ‘Yes, I’m here.’

  ‘How are you? What are you up to these days? We were so sorry you decided to leave us.’

  Caitlyn swallowed. She still lived in dread of having to explain things. She should have faced up to the situation immediately, and she hadn’t been brave enough. The trouble was, leaving Blair King had been no solution. Every day she’d thought about what she’d seen and every day she grew more and more angry with herself for not having had the courage to take her worries further. Mr Blair was nice. What would he have done to her? Nothing, probably. Even if she’d been wrong, she would have been following the correct procedures.

  He was still speaking. ‘We were wondering if you might be free to come back and help us out for a few months.’

  She blinked in disbelief. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Sorry, is this a bad connection?’ He said it again, more slowly this time. ‘We were wondering – I was wondering – whether, by any chance, you might be free from work commitments at the moment. Do you remember Shereen James?’

  Shereen James? Had she seen something too? Wrapped up in her obsession, Caitlyn couldn’t make sense of Mr Blair’s words. ‘I remember her, yes,’ she muttered cautiously.

  ‘Shereen’s taking maternity leave and we’re going to need cover. We could go to an agency, of course, but I remembered you and wondered if—’

  ‘You want me to come back to Blair King?’

  ‘Just for a few months. You know the ropes, you were highly thought of. It would be a terrific solution for us.’

  When she didn’t answer, he said, ‘But I expect you’re nicely sorted out somewhere else. It was a bit of a long shot.’

  ‘No, I—’ Caitlyn had no idea how to answer him. She’d earn good money at Blair King. She might even be able to negotiate a higher temporary rate than the salary she’d been on – but on the other hand, she could be thrown right back into the situation she had fled.

  Need drove her.

  ‘When would you want me to start?’

  A sudden gust of wind caught her hair and flapped it in front of her eyes. Behind her, a lorry thundered across the bridge so that she lost Mr Blair’s next words.

  ‘Sorry, I couldn’t hear that.’ She clawed back her hair and tried to concentrate.

  ‘I said: could you start in a couple of weeks? It would be good if you could overlap with Shereen for a week so that she could show you the ropes.’

  Inside Caitlyn, excitement began to stir. Maybe she could skirt round the problem for the few months she’d be there. Maybe she wouldn’t have to face up to anything – and more money coming in would take the pressure off her mother. Ailsa was old enough now to take a bit more responsibility.

  Then again ...

  ‘When do you need to know?’ she temporised.

  ‘Tomorrow? Sorry to push you, but I can go to the agency to find someone and I do need to get this sorted. I just thought it would be worth trying you. If you can’t come, just say and—’

  ‘I didn’t say I couldn’t come,’ Caitlyn said hastily. ‘I need to sort something out, that’s all. I’d like to come. In principle.’

  ‘You would? Excellent. Can you call back tomorrow, before the end of the day? Does that give you enough time to sort whatever it is out?’

  ‘Yes. Yes it does. I’ll call tomorrow then, promise.’

  ‘Fine. Goodbye for now.’

  ‘Bye.’

  The sun was trying to burn through the mist and the day felt more hopeful. In fron
t of her, the traffic was rumbling across the bridge, into Hailesbank, out of Hailesbank. People going about their business, intent on making a living, meeting a friend, enjoying life. Going back to Blair King could mean a new beginning for her – if she could face it.

  ‘I know it’s only been a few days,’ Caitlyn said when she managed to snatch a ten-minute break around lunchtime to call Malkie, ‘and you might be busy tonight, but if you’re not, can you meet me for a drink? There’s something I need to talk about and you’re the only person I really trust.’

  ‘Want me to pick you up at the supermarket?’

  ‘No. Thanks. If we can meet in the Duke of Atholl I can walk. It’s not far and I’ll need to clear my head.’

  ‘I’ll drop you home after.’

  ‘Now that,’ she said, ‘is exactly what I wanted to hear.’

  But she needed to hear more from Malkie. She wasn’t ready to tell him everything, but she wanted to see his reaction. It would be like flipping a coin – you didn’t know what you wanted to do, but when you called ‘heads’ and it came down ‘tails’ and you were disappointed, you knew then.

  They’d only been out once. He’d walked her along to the skittles alley at the back of The Crossed Keys and they’d had a hilarious time. Caitlyn had played carefully and with better judgement than skill, while Malkie had been over enthusiastic, but had had luck on his side. He’d let her win. At her front door, there’d been a tentative kiss and a hug, then he’d strolled off with a wave and a ‘See you soon!’ and she’d wondered how slow he’d take it.

  His affection was not in doubt this evening – as soon as she walked through the door of the Duke of Atholl, he was by her side and she was in his arms, and the hug felt solid and safe.

  ‘Wow,’ she grinned as soon as she could breathe, ‘that was enthusiastic.’

  ‘I thought you wanted support.’

  ‘Did I sound that needy?’

  ‘Just a wee bit wobbly. What’s yours?’ He gestured towards the bar.

  ‘Have you got a drink?’

  ‘Just arrived. I’ll have one pint, no more cos I’m driving.’

  ‘I’ll have a half, then.’

  She found a table in a corner and sank down onto the over-stuffed banquette. The Duke of Atholl had once been a smart hotel, but over the years it had become tired. It wasn’t the best pub in Hailesbank, but she’d chosen it because it didn’t have music blaring out so loud you couldn’t hear yourself talk.