Once the Clouds Have Gone

by KE Payne

  “Does nothing ever stay the same?” Tag followed Ellen’s gaze. Trepidation pinched at the base of her stomach as Blair sauntered over to them. Would he cause a scene? Would he even speak to her?

  “Apparently not.” Ellen moved away. “Right. Time for me to mingle.”

  Ellen shot Blair a look as she passed him, as if to say over to you now, then wandered off to talk to a small group of people by a window.

  “Tag,” Blair said. He stood, glass of water in one hand, the other hand in his trouser pocket. He glared at his sister. Tag glared back.

  “Blair.” Tag took a drink from her glass, if only for something to do. “I thought your eulogy was nice,” she said, “you know, before. At the church.”

  “Well we couldn’t really ask you to say something, could we?” Blair said. “Bit difficult to talk about someone you no longer know, isn’t it?”

  “Blair, don’t,” Tag said softly. “I don’t want to argue with you. Not today of all days.”

  “Why not?” Blair shot back. “I’ve had years to think about what I’d say to you if I ever saw you again.” He glared at her. “Your eighteenth, Tag! For fuck’s sake. The day after your eighteenth!”

  Seemed Blair wanted to argue after all.

  “And was he there for me, then? Did he even know it was my eighteenth?”

  “Of course he knew!” Blair spat. “He talked of nothing else in the weeks and months afterwards, when he was still clinging to the hope you might come back or, heaven forbid, even contact him to let him know you weren’t dead.” His eyes blazed. “All he could think about was how guilty he felt that you’d just upped and gone without a word or an explanation.”

  “We’ve been over this so many times before.” Tag stared down into her glass.

  “Yes, in one of those five-minute phone calls you deigned to give me over the years,” Blair responded savagely. “Shame you never found time to ring your own father, isn’t it?”

  “Okay, perhaps I should have been more thoughtful—”

  “Understatement of the century, Tag,” Blair said. “You left me to deal with everything and I’ve been dealing with it all ever since. Even now Dad’s dead, it’s all been left to me. The funeral arrangements, the business…” He took another drink. His hand, Tag noticed, shook slightly. “And now you rock up here as if nothing happened and expect everyone to welcome you back with open arms?”

  “I don’t expect anyone to do anything for me,” Tag said. She lowered her voice. People were looking; of course people were looking. After all, what was better than a family tiff at a funeral? “I learned a long time ago that I was on my own in everything I ever did.”

  “Your selfish attitude will get you far.” Blair gripped his glass. “That’ll endear you to the guys up here.”

  “Like I’m staying?” Tag retorted. “Where I’m not welcome?” Where her own brother could hardly bear to be in the same room as her?

  Blair looked slowly at her. “You have responsibilities now.” A smile twisted. “We have to work as a team, me and you.” He signalled to the other side of the room. “See those people over there?”

  Tag followed his gaze to a small cluster of people in the corner of the cafe.

  “They’re your staff now,” Blair said. “They’ll be looking to you and me for reassurance that their futures are safe.” He sipped at his drink. “Or are you going to do what you did to me and Dad and run away from it all again?”

  “I didn’t run away.” Tag glared at him. “Running away would indicate—”

  “Semantics.” Blair looked away. “You don’t have any choice in the matter now, though.” Tag sensed he was almost enjoying this. Making her squirm. Filling her head with yet more worries—if that were even possible. “You’re their boss. I’m their boss. They need us.”

  Tag was no one’s boss. She’d never been responsible for anyone in her life, and she wasn’t about to start now. What did she know about being in charge of a bunch of people? No, as far as Tag was concerned, the sooner she worked out the best way to offload her share of the business back onto Blair and get away from Balfour again, the better.

  “You can have my share.” Tag gripped her glass so hard she thought it might shatter. “I don’t want it.”

  “You don’t want the hassle of it, you mean?” Blair replied dismissively. “Same old Tag. Nothing changes.”

  Tag was aware of the whispers again. The ill-disguised looks. “Think what you like.” Fury burned in her chest. Fuck these jerks. Fuck everyone in the room. Especially Blair. “So I’ve got to be a boss to a handful of people for five minutes. Fine. You know what, Blair? I’ll deal with that in the time I’m up here. I’m a survivor. It’s what I do.” Tag slammed her drink back. “And I’ll make damn sure I survive the short time I have to be back here before I can get the hell away from you all again.”

  Chapter Six

  Freddie felt sorry for the girl sitting alone in the corner of the cafe, her back to the room, her head cradled in her hands as though she was trying to make herself as small as she could so she could be as inconspicuous as possible. Although quite why she’d want to do that now that the cafe had finally emptied of mourners, Freddie wondered, only she would be able to answer. Freddie studied the back of the girl’s head as she repeatedly looked to the window, then sank her head back into her hands, evidently waiting for someone that never came.

  “You look all done in.” Freddie, still dressed in her black funeral clothes, approached the girl.

  Their mutual surprise at seeing one another again was tangible as the girl pulled her hands from her face and stared up at Freddie. “Long day,” she finally said. She kicked her legs out in front of her and rubbed the tiredness from her eyes. “Stressful. As funerals tend to be, of course.”

  “Of course,” Freddie replied guardedly, her caginess stemming more from her own reaction at seeing this intriguing girl again now.

  “I didn’t know you were here,” the girl stuttered. “I mean, I didn’t see you in here. During the wake.”

  “It was pretty packed.” Freddie nodded. “I’m sure I was lost in amongst the throng.” Freddie stood awkwardly by the table, a tray of dirty glasses in her hands. So she was in Balfour for the funeral? This girl who had so annoyed her, yet stirred something inside her, wasn’t, as Freddie had assumed, halfway to Aberdeen but sitting back in her cafe, staring straight back at her. And causing the exact same reaction as she had four hours earlier.

  “You don’t have to clear all this up,” Tag said, lifting a chin to the tray of dirty glasses in Freddie’s hands, “I’m sure my brother’s got someone in to do it.”

  “Your brother?”

  “Blair.”

  “He’s your brother?” Freddie put the tray down on the table. She was the dreaded daughter? Fascination, accompanied by a shimmer of worry, crept over her.

  “Mm.”

  “So you’re the famous Tag, are you?” She snagged the seat opposite Tag. Just wait until she told Pete about this one.

  “Infamous, don’t you mean?”

  “Only if it’s all true.” Freddie laughed.

  “Trust me,” Tag said, “everyone around here would like it to be.”

  “I’m Freddie.” Freddie reached over and enthusiastically shook Tag’s hand.

  “I know.” Tag caught her eye. “I saw your name badge earlier, remember?”

  “When you complained about the price of your coffee.” Freddie wasn’t about to let that one pass.

  “Commented,” Tag corrected, “not complained. I paid up, didn’t I?”

  “Reluctantly.” Freddie studied her carefully.

  Tag didn’t reply.

  “I’m sorry about your father,” Freddie said. Time to change the subject; playing a game of one-upmanship with a stranger after her father’s funeral wasn’t kind.

  “Thanks.”

  “I’d heard about you…” Freddie stumbled. “I mean, I’d heard you were coming back today.”

  “You
’d heard about me?” Tag sat back. “Let me guess. The locals—my father and brother included—made me out to be some sort of first-class bitch.”

  “The locals, maybe,” Freddie said, “but never your family.”

  “Well, I can tell you that none of it is true,” Tag said. “Despite what the locals would have you believe,” she added.

  “Your father was a nice man.” Now that she was sitting opposite her, Freddie could evaluate Tag properly. Same age; pretty much the same auburn hair too. Different colour eyes, though. Tag’s were blue, not green like her own. A nice blue, Freddie thought. Almost azure. “I had a lot of time for him. He was a good boss.”

  “That means a lot.” Tag nodded. “So you liked working for my father, then?”

  “I sort of worked for him,” Freddie corrected. “I run the cafe.” She spread her arms out. “My own little empire.” So Tag was the new boss that had her so worried? The niggling intensified as Freddie continued her survey. Up from England, no doubt with a headful of fresh ideas. One of which was probably revamping Freddie’s entire menu, no doubt to introduce bloody decaffeinated drinks to it. And then reduce the prices, just to add insult to injury.

  “The cafe’s changed a lot since I was last here.” Tag’s words pulled Freddie back from her thoughts. “Much more modern than when I last saw it.”

  “I decided a few years ago that it needed dragging into the twenty-first century,” Freddie said. “After the bypass was built and took some passing trade away. Your dad wasn’t keen at first, but I persuaded him to invest some money into it to try and modernize it, encourage people back.”

  “Even though your range of drinks is limited?” Tag arched a brow.

  “The regulars don’t seem to mind…”

  “Chill.” Tag raised a hand. “I’m kidding with you. It’s nice here.”

  “And half of it’s yours now,” Freddie said. She faltered when she saw the look on Tag’s face. “Sorry. Blair told us your dad had left you fifty-fifty each.”

  “Mm.”

  “I suppose this means you’re my new boss,” Freddie said casually, watching carefully for Tag’s response.

  “I wouldn’t worry about that too much. I won’t be here long enough to be anyone’s boss,” Tag said. “As soon as I’ve sorted Dad’s finances out, I’m handing my share to Blair and then I’ll be off again.”

  “Just a flying visit, then?” Freddie wiped at the table with the towel that was in her hands. So no sweeping changes? No throwing her weight around? The tension in Freddie’s shoulders eased a little.

  “Enough time to try and reconnect with my nephew, sort out Dad’s stuff,” Tag said, “try and make amends with my brother, and then I’ll be off again.”

  A blast of cold air from the opening door stalled the conversation.

  Blair stepped in. He stamped the snow from his boots and, spying Tag, marched straight to the cafe counter.

  “You’re still here?” He pitched her a disdainful look. “Thought you’d be halfway back to England by now.”

  “Mature, Blair.” Tag inspected a menu that was on her table. “Give me time, though. I’ll soon be out of your hair again.”

  “I see you’ve met my sister.” He addressed Freddie then threw his gloves onto the counter, completely ignoring Tag’s comment. “Is the coffee still hot?”

  Freddie rose to embrace him. “It was a lovely service and wake, Blair,” she said. “Adam would have been proud.”

  “I hope so.” Finally he drew his attention to Tag. “It was done as he would have wanted.”

  Freddie shot a look to Tag. Just as before, she thought Tag looked small. Insecure and small. Her brother blanking her and shooting her daggers didn’t help, Freddie was sure.

  “You have your paperwork?” Blair asked. “For this place?”

  Tag snapped her head up. “It’s at the B & B.”

  Blair slung his coat on the back of a chair and sat. “We’ll have to talk,” he said. He pulled an organizer from his coat pocket and opened it up. “At some point.”

  “That’ll mean you’ll have to say more than three words to me,” Tag shot back.

  Freddie wondered whether the temperature was rising in the cafe, or if that was just her imagination.

  Blair glowered at Tag. “You still have staff to meet, remember?” he said. “You didn’t mingle at the wake. That would have been the perfect time.”

  “I’ll meet everyone in time,” Tag threw back. “John’s already briefed me about them.” She glared at her brother, obviously tired of the continued animosity directed at her from him. “I’m not stupid, you know.”

  “No, you’re very clever.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Blair sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest, silently fuming. “Are you telling me it’s pure coincidence that you come out of the woodwork now that Dad’s gone?” he asked. “That you only decide to come back here once you knew you’d inherited half of his business?”

  Freddie saw the hurt on Tag’s face. “I came back to come to his funeral,” Tag finally managed. “Of course I did! Do you think I’m that selfish that I’d have stayed away? What kind of daughter would that have made me?”

  “Okay, so you came to the funeral. Well done, you!” Sarcasm. Classy. “The prodigal daughter returns a little later than expected. The same daughter her father doted on, even though she treated him like shit, and the same daughter that then falls straight into owning something that she didn’t give a toss about ten years ago and probably doesn’t give a toss about now but will still have it, thank you very much because it’s worth a few quid?” His voice escalated.

  “You think I want this place?” Tag stared open-mouthed at Blair. “You think I only came back so I could get my hands on my share?” She stood, shunting her chair back. “You really don’t know me at all. I don’t give that for this place.” Tag clicked her fingers. “I told you at the funeral, I don’t want it. Never have done. I hate the place, and the sooner I offload it back to you and get out of here, the better.”

  Freddie watched in silence. Tag’s vitriol towards her father, Blair, and the business left her stunned. The same girl who’d been so pleasant, laughing and joking with her just moments before, was now pouring out her hatred through the cafe. Her cafe. Tag’s reversion to how she’d acted when Freddie had first encountered her that morning—rude, stand-offish, and, yes, petulant—shocked Freddie; perhaps everything she’d heard about her over the years was true after all. Tag was trouble. A selfish little madam. That’s what she’d heard. Had just upped and gone one day and had never been back. Had broken Adam’s heart and had—

  “Of course Dad loved you!” They were arguing about Adam now. “Why do you think he worked all the hours God sent? Because he wanted to?” Blair asked. “No, he did it for you and me, so we’d never want for anything growing up.”

  “Bullshit.” Tag stopped. “He was too wrapped up in himself to see what we needed.” She placed her palms flat on the table and leaned towards Blair. “It was so selfish! I mean, how did he think I was coping?”

  “You think he was being selfish?” Blair snorted. “Just listen to yourself. It’s not all about you, you know,” he said. “And if you’d actually bothered to talk to him over the years, rather than just choosing to believe what you wanted to believe—”

  Freddie caught Tag’s eye. Now she looked devastated, and back to being every inch the lost little girl. Freddie didn’t want to be hearing all this family hatred, dredged back up in front of her.

  “We should talk about this later,” Tag said to Blair, flicking a look her way. “Freddie doesn’t need to get dragged into all our family shit.”

  Tag must have been recognized Freddie’s own unease in spite of her own misery. Freddie was still standing by the coffee counter, trying not to watch as Blair stared Tag out. “Fair enough,” he muttered. He slammed his organizer shut, then stood, pulling his coat from the back of his chair. “Can I leave y
ou to lock up, Freddie? I’ve had more than enough for one day.” Blair picked up his organizer. With a nod of his head to Freddie, he left the cafe again without another word to Tag.

  *

  Mature. Real mature.

  An uneasy silence hung in the air. Tag, still reeling from the strength of Blair’s anger, stared down at the table in front of her. She chewed irritably on her bottom lip and picked up a menu, just for something to do, and stared down, too afraid to meet Freddie’s eye. How could he have spoken to her like that? In front of Freddie, a total stranger too? It had cut deep, deeper than Tag had anticipated. Blair had loved her once. She knew he had. Despite their five-year difference, Blair and Tag had been as close as twins when they were growing up. Now? He could hardly bear to look at her. Tag brooded at the menu in her hands. Blair hated her. Her big brother hated her.

  Tag tossed the menu down. Just why was she here again?

  Finally, when the silence in the cafe was more than she could bear, she spoke. “I’m sorry about that.” She lifted her eyes and looked straight at Freddie. “As I’m sure you’ve realized, there’s a lot of bad blood still between me and my brother.”

  “Guess you could have done without that, hey?” Freddie said diplomatically.

  “It would have happened at some point.” Tag dropped her eyes. “Would have been nice if he’d not done it in front of you, though.”

  “Families, hey?” Freddie pulled herself away from the counter and walked to the table. “Can’t live with them, can’t live without them.”

  In spite of her neutral words, Tag could sense Freddie’s shock. Understandable. She’d seen the growing horror on Freddie’s face at the harsh words she and her Blair had flung at each other. “I’m a nice person really.” Tag half laughed. She needed Freddie to know that. She didn’t know this person at all, had only met her hours before, and yet? She didn’t want her to think badly of her.

  The look on Freddie’s face was telling Tag otherwise.

  “I think perhaps,” Freddie said, sitting down opposite Tag, “you and your brother have a lot of talking to do.” She paused. “Rather than shouting.”