And then his phone rang. There was no signal on the mountain road, but as they descended into Shieldaig, contact with the outside world improved. He had three missed calls from Sophie. A couple of text messages also popped up: one from Louisa, asking when he’d be back, followed by a series of heart emojis, the other from Sophie, typed in capitals, her language a lot more explicit than her sister’s.
He inserted his earbud so he could answer hands-free. ‘Hey there, Sis.’
‘Don’t hey there me. Where the hell are you? Are you still in Windsor?’
‘I’m—’
‘Louisa’s convinced you’ve run off to South America.’
‘Well, I haven’t, I’m—’
‘You know, I actually stuck up for you when you ran out on her the other day. He must have a reason, I said. Underneath his bullshit exterior, our brother’s not a total loser, I said. Maybe I was wrong.’
‘No, you weren’t, I—’
‘First, you lose the plot when you realise a painting was mistakenly sent to the gallery in Windsor, then you disappear for three days, then you phone Louisa wanting her to lie to the gallery owner about needing to get the painting back. If you’re trying to scam the family, Olly—’ She was interrupted.
Good. A vexed Sophie was scary.
He glanced at Lexi, hoping she hadn’t heard what Sophie had said.
‘Popular, aren’t you?’ she said, one eyebrow raised.
‘My sister,’ he mouthed. ‘She’s highly strung.’
‘With you as a brother, I’m not surprised.’
Sophie came back on the line. ‘Shit! That was Louisa. She’s in labour!’
‘What? She can’t be. The baby’s not due yet.’
‘Tell that to the baby.’
He gripped the steering wheel. ‘Is Harry with her?’
‘He’s at work, dipshit. Some people have careers.’
He ignored the slight. ‘Has she called an ambulance?’
‘Yes, but it could be an hour before they get to her. There’s been a road traffic accident.’
‘Okay, I’m nearly there. I’ll take her to the hospital.’
‘You’re in Scotland? Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘You never gave me the chance.’ He put his foot down. ‘I’m on my way.’ He ended the call.
Lexi gripped the seat as they accelerated down the lane. ‘Your sister’s in labour?’
‘I need to get her to hospital.’
‘Of course.’
‘Can I borrow your car?’
‘What? No way.’ She looked panicked. ‘It’s not mine. It’s a hire car. You’re not insured.’
He shot her a look. ‘I’m driving it now, aren’t I?’
‘Only because this is an emergency.’
‘And so is this. You want me to take her on the back of my scooter?’
‘Well, no, but—’
‘I wouldn’t ask if there was another option.’
‘I appreciate that, but how do I know I can trust you? This could be another ruse. A plan to steal my car, not to mention the painting.’
Annoyance kicked in. ‘You know, I’ve just rescued you from the bloody mountain. You could show a little gratitude and trust me.’
‘Trust you?’ She sounded outraged.
‘Is that so much to ask?’
‘Yes!’ She shuffled in her seat, her bouncy blonde hair swinging about her face. ‘I’m grateful for your help, but that doesn’t mean—’
‘Do you trust anyone?’
She looked startled. ‘Well, of course I do.’
He shot her a look. ‘Really?’
‘Yes, really. It’s just …’
‘What?’
She bit her lower lip, which was oddly distracting. ‘It takes a while for me to trust someone new, that’s all.’
‘You don’t say.’
She glared at him. ‘There’s no need to be sarcastic.’
‘Sorry, but I’m worried about my sister. I swear on my life I’m not scamming you. I just need to borrow your car.’ He gave her what he hoped was a pleading look. ‘Please?’
She frowned. ‘If you double-cross me, I swear to God, you’ll—’
‘Die a slow and painful death. Yeah, I get it.’ Why had he said that?
‘Why did you say that?’
What was she, a mind-reader?
‘Err … I don’t know. I think you remind me of someone.’
An image of his landlady back in Windsor popped into his head dressed in black PVC. Why she reminded him of the woman from the tattoo parlour, he wasn’t sure. They were polar opposites.
He shook the thought away. ‘Anyway, if I did run off you wouldn’t be the only one after my blood. My sister would beat the crap out of me.’
‘Sophie?’
‘The one and only.’
She almost smiled. ‘I like the sound of her.’
‘I’m sure you do.’ He had enough women gunning for his blood; he didn’t need anyone else joining the lynch mob.
He turned into the village and drove past Nanny’s café. The bay was lined with fishing boats, fresh from returning with their catches.
Lexi strained to see, fascinated. And then her mouth dropped open as they crossed the bridge linking the mainland with the castle. He might have enjoyed seeing her reaction if his focus wasn’t diverted by the sight of Gilly pushing Louisa in her wheelchair down the great walkway.
He slammed on the brakes, sending the wheels into a spin and grit flying. After throwing open the driver’s door, he ran over.
‘Are you okay?’
Louisa’s pale face was etched in pain. ‘I thought you weren’t coming back.’
Guilt nudged him in the ribs. ‘Of course I was. I told you I would.’
Gilly unhooked an overnight bag from the wheelchair. ‘Poor lass has been throwing up all day.’
‘Is that normal?’
Gilly sighed. ‘Labour isn’t fun.’
Louisa wailed and clutched her stomach.
Oh, hell. He patted her head. ‘We need to get her to the hospital.’
Lexi appeared next to him. ‘Can I help?’
‘Put this in the boot, will you?’ He handed her the overnight bag. ‘I’ll get Louisa into the car.’
Lexi unloaded her suitcase from the boot and replaced it with Louisa’s bag while he helped Gilly to lift his sister out of the wheelchair.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, hiccupping through tears. ‘I’m causing so much trouble.’
‘Don’t be daft. It’s not your fault.’ He kissed his sister’s tear-stained cheek.
She clutched hold of him. ‘Don’t leave me.’
‘I won’t.’
‘Promise?’
‘Louisa, I’m not going anywhere. Let’s get you to hospital.’ He fastened her seatbelt and ran around to the driver’s side.
He was about to get in, when Lexi shouted, ‘Wait!’ She shoved him out the way and removed the painting from behind the seat. ‘Just in case,’ she said, holding it to her chest.
‘Seriously?’ Not that he could blame her. But he had bigger things to worry about. ‘Gilly’ll look after you. Make yourself at home.’
‘Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.’ She waved at Louisa through the window. ‘Good luck. I hope everything goes okay.’
But Louisa was too preoccupied to answer, overcome by another wave of pain.
He jumped in the car and drove off at speed, once again feeling totally inadequate when it came to dealing with family emergencies. He wasn’t cut out to play the hero. He’d only let everyone down. But like it or not, there was no one else on hand to help. It was up to him. He tried not to panic.
He reached over and squeezed her hand. ‘You okay?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t want to do this anymore.’
‘Do what? Have the baby?’ He laughed. ‘It’s a bit late for that.’
She turned her face away. ‘It’s not what I thought it would be like.’
Before he could ask why, she doubled over, overcome by another contraction.
Shit! He put his foot down. The sooner they got to the hospital the better. ‘Hang in there, Louisa. Not long now.’
What followed was the longest hour of his life. He was just grateful the roads were relatively clear and he could get a move on. The speedometer registered ninety as he hurtled down the A896. He wondered if the Fiat had ever been driven this fast. Would it cope? He hoped so.
Next to him, Louisa groaned and clutched her stomach. At one point, she yelled for him to pull over. For one dreadful moment, he thought she was going to give birth at the side of the road, but instead she threw up. He’d never felt so helpless in his life. All he could do was rub her back and offer her the bottle of water he’d found in the glove compartment.
They were soon back on the road, ignoring speed cameras and repeated calls from Sophie who wanted an update. She’d have to wait.
Louisa only answered her phone when she saw it was Harry calling. Through muffled cries she told him what was happening. The sound of his voice seemed to calm her, particularly when he assured her he would be with her soon. She followed his instructions when he told her to breathe slowly.
It was a blessing when they finally saw signs for the A87.
They entered the hospital grounds twenty minutes later. He screeched to a halt outside the main entrance and almost fell out of the car. He ran to the passenger side and then changed his mind and ran into reception, figuring he needed help. The cavalry arrived in the shape of two orderlies and a nurse. They helped Louisa into a wheelchair.
Unlike him, they appeared unflustered as they wheeled her towards the maternity unit.
‘And how’s Dad holding up?’ the nurse asked as they reached reception.
‘No idea.’ When the nurse looked confused, he added, ‘I’m her brother.’
‘Oh, right. Well, if you’d like to wait here, we’ll get Louisa settled and come and find you.’
‘Don’t leave!’ Louisa yelled, reaching for his hand. ‘Promise you won’t leave.’
‘I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right here. Okay?’
The doors swung shut behind them. As the noise drifted into silence, he felt the adrenaline drain out of him. He was shattered and he wasn’t the one having a baby. And then he remembered he had to move the car.
He ran outside and moved the Fiat to the visitors’ car park. When he returned, he went in search of a vending machine. In the absence of coffee, he opted for a can of Coke. He hadn’t slept much last night on the sleeper train, and coupled with stressing over the missing Spinelli and a morning spent driving in poor weather, he was spent.
Sipping the Coke, he ambled over to the window. The maternity ward overlooked a small garden. A woman in a dressing gown was slowly pacing up and down. The man with her was rubbing her back, looking as miserable as she did.
He wondered whether he’d ever find himself in the same situation. His feelings surrounding the issue of ‘family’ were conflicted. As a teenager, he’d been so angry and resentful that leaving home had seemed like the only solution. But it hadn’t cured him of his demons – it had only added to his sense of detachment. He still felt lost, untethered, lacking any real commitment to anyone or anything.
The woman in the garden sat down, her face tensing with another contraction. Her partner began massaging her shoulders. She reached up and squeezed his hand.
Olly let his forehead rest against the glass. Love was a strange emotion. He might not have loved his parents’ draconian attitudes towards parenting, but the love he felt for his siblings was unquestionable. It was why he was trying so hard to make amends.
He’d promised Louisa he wasn’t going anywhere and he wasn’t about to break that promise. With no parents left to support her and her husband often taken away with work, she’d made it clear she was relying on her siblings to help her through the pregnancy. He guessed it had something to do with a fear of abandonment. Louisa had suffered the most at the hands of their cold parents, craving affection and never getting it. No wonder she felt insecure.
Their childhood had been peppered with painful memories and incidents, even before the painting scandal of 2007. One such incident had occurred during the winter of 2001, when they’d been snowed in following a heavy storm. It was the day after Louisa’s eleventh birthday and she’d returned from the local shop with an abandoned dog she’d found wandering through the village. The dog was house-trained and well behaved but malnourished and with a torn left ear. Louisa had wanted to keep him, or at least nurse him back to health and shelter him for the winter, but their parents had refused permission and insisted she let the dog go. A distraught Louisa had begged them to reconsider, but her pleading had fallen on deaf ears.
Olly had been torn between obeying their parents and wanting to help the dog. Unable to stand seeing Louisa upset, he’d promised to help her and subsequently hid the dog in the stables. They’d made up a bed for Vincent Van Dog – as Louisa had named him – and for a week took it in turns to feed and care for him.
But one morning their father discovered the dog. He was livid. Louisa was grounded for a month and Olly was made to sleep with the animals for a whole weekend. It was a harsh punishment, especially in the depths of winter. But it was a small price to pay for saving the dog. Or so he’d thought.
The real punishment was yet to come. Their father appeared with a loaded hunting rifle and dragged the dog into the inner courtyard. A hysterical Louisa had thrown herself at their father, clinging hold of his legs, trying to prevent him from hurting the dog. Far from succumbing to the sight of his daughter in such turmoil, his father had coldly announced that she’d ‘brought it on herself’ by disobeying. The sound of Louisa’s screams when the gun fired would haunt Olly for years to come.
So if supporting Louisa through the birth of her first child was what she needed, then that was what she was going to get. It was the least he could do to make up for not having been a part of her life for the last eleven years.
He walked back to the waiting area, wondering how far away Harry was. He knew his brother-in-law would be distressed to miss the birth of his first child. Especially after all the difficulties they’d experienced conceiving. A couple of years of IVF had been hard by all accounts. Emotionally and physically. Yet another thing Olly had missed.
Still, he was here now. And if needed, he’d support her through the birth.
Christ, he really hoped he wouldn’t have to.
Where was Harry?
It felt like forever before a doctor appeared with an update. At least she was smiling, that was something.
‘Olly, isn’t it?’ she held out her hand. ‘Dr Haslam.’
‘How is she? Has she had the baby?’
‘Goodness, no.’ She shook her head. ‘False alarm. Louisa’s not in labour.’
‘She’s not? I mean, how come?’
‘We think she has a stomach upset. Her temperature’s up and she’s dehydrated. We’ve put her on a saline drip and given her something for the nausea.’
‘Is the baby okay?’
‘Baby is fine. But Louisa’s blood pressure is a little high, so we’re going to keep her in overnight to monitor her progress. Everything else appears fine, so there’s nothing to worry about.’
‘Right.’ He wasn’t sure what else he could say.
At that moment, the swing doors burst open and Harry came running in looking fraught. He was wearing a business suit, his tie at half-mast.
‘Where is she? Has she had the baby? Can I see her?’
The doctor explained what was happening and led Harry through to see his wife.
Olly sat down. After all, he’d promised Louisa he wouldn’t leave.
His phone rang. It was his older sister.
‘Hi, Sophie—’
‘What’s happening? Where’s Louisa? Is the baby okay? Are you with her? Where’s Harry?’
He closed his eyes. It was going to be a long night
.
Chapter Seven
Sunday 3rd June
Lexi woke the next morning with a start. The fact that she’d woken at all was remarkable. Waking up meant she’d been asleep, which was more of a shock than her surroundings. It took a moment for her brain to register she was in Scotland and not at her flat in Windsor. A faint crack of morning light seeped through the gap between the long, heavy drapes, confirming it was daylight outside.
She reached for her glasses on the walnut sidetable, which was so far away she nearly tumbled out of the huge four-poster bed. She wriggled into a sitting position, bolstered by the array of cushions behind her, and checked her phone. It was gone nine a.m. Bloody hell. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept past five a.m., let alone nine a.m.
She climbed out of the gigantic bed, using one of the wooden posts to aid her, and padded over to the window. The stone flooring beneath was cold against her bare feet. She pulled open the heavy tartan drapes, momentarily blinded by bright sunshine.
As her eyesight cleared, she gasped. The view across the loch was jaw-dropping. She had to pinch herself. Was this real? She was staying in a castle in the middle of a loch surrounded by mountains. It felt like a dream.
Smiling, she went into the adjacent dressing room, which had been updated to include an en suite. Talk about luxury. Not many medieval castles had such modern facilities.
She showered and dressed, opting for retro wide-leg navy trousers and a fitted white sweater, teaming it with flat pumps. She needed to appear not only presentable and professional, but also appropriately dressed for the practicalities of working in rustic surroundings. The grand bedchamber might have an en suite, but from what she could tell there didn’t appear to be any central heating, only an open fire or wood-burning stove in each room.
With her hair and make-up done, and new contact lenses inserted, she was ready to face the day.
A knock on the door preceded the sight of Gilly Jennings entering with a tea tray. The woman looked to be in her late sixties, with a cuddly frame and a jovial smile.
‘Good morning, lassie. Sleep well?’
Secret Things and Highland Flings Page 8
