‘Taz, this is a way to scare someone. If you’re here to tell me you’re going home, I figured the time would come. I don’t need all the amateur dramatics,’ she snorted. ‘You’re welcome back anytime, hen, you know that.’
She seemed so natural to me then, like I’d known her all her life. Her hair pulled into that fluffy plait and her naturally severe features softened as she smiled.
‘It’s not that…’ I swallowed, focusing on those three prominent frown lines on her forehead, that stayed no matter what, perfectly fixed like she was a cartoon character. ‘It’s about Nina. I went to see her this morning.’
It spilled out like rain onto pavement – aggressive and unstoppable. That she had lied, that she wanted to keep Kit close, keep her paying, make her look after her.
Somehow, I expected her not to believe me. Nina had been banking on that, of course. Who would dare accuse a woman with Alzheimer’s of faking it? Who would be so disgusting as to suggest someone with a confirmed medical diagnosis was lying? It was pure Nina – audacious. Go big or go home, baby.
But there was no laughter, no suggestion of confusion or misunderstanding. She just sighed deeply, met my eyes and nodded.
I had expected anger, frustration, outrage. Perhaps embarrassment for being taken in, sadness at how much money and time she’d wasted? Instead, all I found on her face was relief. I knew that feeling. I felt it myself.
‘You’re not surprised,’ I said, and Kit offered me a sad little smile.
‘The best stories have an element of truth, like you said,’ she shrugged, sighing deeply. ‘You know I actually felt relieved when I saw she was ill? How disgusting is that? To be happy that your sibling has an awful disease? But she was… it was like she was the person she might have been. A blank slate.’
Kit poured two healthy helpings of whisky and held up her glass to mine as a toast. ‘You know, my ma always used to say, if you give people the chance to show you who they are, they will.’ Kit sipped and sighed. ‘But all this other stuff about your memories and your teen years? Why didn’t you talk to me?’ she asked.
‘Because I thought it would drive you to drink,’ I snorted, and raised the glass before glugging, ‘slainte.’
Kit rolled her eyes, ‘Come on now.’
‘Because I was ashamed. And I didn’t want you to see me as weak,’ I sighed, irritable. ‘Plus, there has been more than enough going on, and I feel like I’ve been spilling my guts left, right and centre. You already had a sick sister, you didn’t need a dramatic niece turning up in the middle of her marriage breaking down.’
‘Wee girl, we’re family. If you don’t share your problems, you’re not giving people a chance to be there for you, understand?’
‘I don’t—’
‘Nope,’ Kit held up a hand, ‘no arguments. Understand?’
I laughed, nodding. ‘Okay.’
‘Now, are you gonna call your husband?’
I shook my head, ‘Ya know, I just need a few hours of not talking about this. I’ll call him later. He didn’t believe me anyway. He never wavered, never doubted.’
Kit nodded, topping up my glass, and sat down opposite me. ‘So, you’ll be alright then, you and him?’
I laughed, ‘You know, Effie was wrong, you are incredibly nosey and want all the gossip.’
Kit rolled her eyes and jutted out her chin, ‘Only when it’s family.’
‘Convenient. And what about you, about Nina? You’re the one paying for her to stay there.’
‘Aye,’ she sighed. ‘Nina never was one to make it easy to love her. You always had to jump through hoops.’
‘And are you gonna keep jumping?’
Kit raised her glass to me and said, ‘I don’t know love, but what I do know is that we are not going to let her stop us from getting dolled up and going out to get absolutely shit-faced in the ample bosom of the friends that love us. What say you?’
‘Aye!’ I raised my glass, and Kit nodded like she was about to lead us into battle.
We walked out and round the back of the house, heading away from the car. ‘Please don’t tell me we’re riding the horses down to the pub, because I don’t think I could handle it.’
‘Har har,’ Kit rolled her eyes, and pulled out from the back of the stables an old bicycle that barely looked like it could roll straight down a hill. She pushed it into my hands and went back for another.
‘You expect me to ride this?’
‘Well, not without some complaint, I imagine,’ Kit bared her teeth at me in a poor impersonation of a grin. ‘Come on then, the sooner we go, the sooner we have booze and a good meal to soak it up, and some kind people to exclaim at our tale of woe.’
‘Except for Effie,’ I said as I mounted the bike.
‘Except for dear Effie,’ Kit nodded, ‘who will tell me I’m a soft touch, my sister was always a bitch and I need to wake the hell and accept it.’
‘She’ll be gentler than that, I’m sure,’ I said, not sure at all.
‘That’s very nice of you to say, and yet completely unfounded,’ Kit grinned again, before pushing off and mounting the bike seamlessly, ‘and we’re away!’
There was a manic energy to her, one that I recognised from my childhood, and while I was all about doing things when terrible stuff happened, there was this niggling doubt in the pit of my stomach.
It was still light, the grey skies softening in the face of the trees and greenery along the path. We seemed to be going through private land, and yet Kit didn’t care. She nodded and smiled at everyone she met, but when they passed I saw the tightness in her face. It was like she was holding it together until she was with everyone, so she didn’t have to relay the story twice. She was waiting to receive her ‘I told you so’s and get on with her life.
She must have texted Effie something before we’d left, because the whole lot of them were waiting in the near-empty pub when we arrived. All except Sarah, who hadn’t replied to the invitation. Jakob looked concerned at that, but everyone else said she was probably taking the chance for a sleep whilst the baby was settled.
Fraser nodded at me as we arrived, lifting his hand to his mouth, offering a drink. I nodded, giving a thumbs up. ‘Two beers. Big ones.’ I made a face, and he widened his eyes and nodded, getting to work. He spared a small smile for me, but I knew he was worried about Kit.
When everyone was seated, Effie impatient for an answer, Kit stood before them all.
‘Don’t tell me, you’ve decided to move to England to be nearer your niece and you’re giving up the country life?’ She rolled her eyes.
Kit nudged her with her elbow, ‘Oh yeah, me in an office, sure. What can I do except chatter to horses and feed chickens?’
‘And dress up alpacas,’ I added helpfully, smiling at her, willing her to find the words.
When Kit told her friends about my mother’s secret, there was an audible gasp, followed by the usual questions.
‘Well, I’m not surprised,’ Effie said obstinately, hands on hips as she stood by the table, apparently too enraged to be seated any longer. ‘That woman would spear the arsehole out of a donkey.’
I guffawed, and Kit rolled her eyes, ‘Effie…’
‘Well, you don’t look after yourself! Putting yourself out for people, putting yourself at risk!’ Her forehead crinkled and collapsed into sadness, ‘So it’s my job to protect you.’
Kit smiled at her, tired, but satisfied that she’d taken a softer approach, ‘Well, I’m glad to have my loyal bull terrier.’
Effie squawked, ‘Excuse me, you’ll find I’m an Irish Greyhound, svelte and fast.’ She presented herself like a model, as if to identify the lie in her round, soft frame.
‘Either way, you have teeth and your bite is definitely worse than your bark,’ Kit put an arm around her, and then turned to the rest of the group. ‘So, friends, will you drink with us in this time? Will you share a meal and remind us of all the goodness and kindness in the world? Will you tell us stories and
share our laughter until the day falls into darkness, and tomorrow we can start again?’
‘Bloody hell,’ I laughed, ‘all that? I thought you just wanted to get shit-faced, not start an uprising?’
‘A regular poet, our Kitty,’ Fraser said quietly, raising his glass to her. We raised ours in response. To Kit, who deserved a better sister, but did not regret her kindness.
The afternoon whiled away into evening, as we drank and laughed and reminded Kit that she was not at fault. She shared memories of my mother, not just terrible ones but funny ones, as if she was mourning her. I understood what it was to say goodbye to the memory of someone, to the hope that they might prove you wrong.
That evening could not have been more of an exorcism if we’d dowsed ourselves in holy water. The spirit of my mother, the memory, the possibility, was truly gone. In her place, she left a sad story we would tell of a spiteful creature who would use anyone and anything to get what she wanted.
But we didn’t want to focus on her, we wanted to focus on Kit. Kit who held Effie close to her, affectionate and softened by the haze of whisky and good friends. Jakob told us all funny stories about the different places he’d worked, and the first few times in the café when the Scots couldn’t understand his accent. He spoke about Sarah, and how good and kind she was, how strong she was for her son, and we did nothing but giggle a little as we noticed how he blushed.
Fraser simply clapped him on the shoulder and shook his head, a smile on his face.
‘Oh dear, lad…’ Effie shook her head.
‘What?’ Jakob looked embarrassed and confused.
‘The heart wants what it wants,’ Kit said, only slurring slightly, ‘and I applaud that. I hope that wilful, wonderful girl figures it all out. God, I do.’
She wasn’t to be brought down though, and it was Kit who led the charge into joyfulness. By the time evening came, when we had sobered over hearty meals heavy on potatoes and meat, satiated and relaxed, the singing started.
Whether they were local songs or completely ancient, I had no idea. I just knew that sitting in that pub surrounded by these people, some I knew and some I’d never met, all singing songs of freedom and history and love… my heart felt fit to burst. Something brought people together, and it was more than geography, or history or shared pain. It was love, and loss and heartbreak and being painfully, beautifully human.
I stepped outside for some fresh air, finding the drinks had gone to my head. I felt untethered, and it scared me a little. I hadn’t even messaged Dan to tell him what had happened, what I’d discovered. But I’d left my phone back at the house, so pointless as a point of connection out here. I’d wanted real people, not picture perfect photos of family holidays and pregnancies announced to the world, their baby’s growth shown in images of fruit and vegetables.
Yet, it also felt a bit much, these people who had taken me in, part of Kit’s crazy family.
I heard the door to the garden open, and felt someone sidle up. I desperately hoped it wasn’t a drunk patron wanting a chat, or someone who heard an English accent and wanted an argument.
But it was Fraser, who just leaned on the wall next to me, looking out at the darkening garden. I twitched my lips as an attempted smile, and didn’t try to talk. I didn’t expect he had anything to say. Already this evening, his occasional interludes had offered more than I’d heard from him so far.
‘You’ve seen me on the bridge.’ His voice croaked slightly, but it was warm and gentle. The kind of voice you’d kill to hear tell bedtime stories. ‘You always look a wee bit concerned, as if you don’t know whether to check on me.’
I nodded, scared to say anything in case I disrupted this moment.
He took a deep breath. ‘When I was a young man, I was an idiot. I had something to prove. And I was out driving, drunk as a skunk, and I crashed.’
I turned to face him, expecting the worst and wondering why the hell he was mentioning this now.
‘I crashed right by that bridge. Just me, no one else. I was in hospital for a few weeks, busted up my leg, cracked ribs, the whole lot. I couldn’t stop thinking, “What if I’d hit someone? What if I’d killed someone? Killed a child?” And it turned into this dark, dark thing inside me. That guilt, even though no one else was hurt, it twisted me up.’
Fraser paused, his features softening, ‘And that was how I met my Rosie. She was the nurse on the ward that day, and she kept an eye on me. Whenever she saw me going inwards, she wagged her finger and said, “We didn’t save your life just to have you disappear, Fraser Forsythe, so you do better now.” She kept that up, for weeks.’
He laughed dryly, nothing more than a chuckle, but his eyes glistened slightly as he stared into the distance. ‘She was a nightmare, sweet one moment, stubborn the next, but she made sure I survived. She made me laugh. And the day I was discharged from the hospital, I took myself down to a jewellers and came right back that afternoon to ask her to marry me.’
Fraser paused and said nothing for a moment, as if he was trying to recall what his point was. ‘We had forty years together. Wonderful years. And it never would have happened if I hadn’t been a nineteen-year-old idiot.’
‘Sometimes good things come from bad things,’ I summarised, and looked at him to check I’d got his meaning.
He smiled and nodded, ‘That would have been the quicker way to say it, but I thought I’d better make it big and meaningful. A proper story.’ He smiled at me and I laughed.
‘But why go to the bridge? Why not go to the place you got married, or places where you had memories together?’ I wondered if it was rude to ask.
He pointed at me like I’d asked the right question. ‘Because I’m not just grateful for the woman and the life I had. I’m grateful for the moment that brought me to it… And sometimes I like to stand and wonder “What if…?”’
Fraser reached out and gently squeezed my arm, ‘Your mother did not deserve you or your aunt. But her lies brought you to each other, and that’s worth thanking her for. Whether she meant to do it or not.’
I smiled, touched, and he nodded at me.
‘Well, that’s quite enough of that. I’ll be back inside, lass. Don’t catch cold.’
In the last twenty-four hours so many unbelievable things had happened, but I struggled to decide whether Fraser telling me the whole story about his past was more crazy than my mother exaggerating her illness. Probably not, but it felt that way.
I slipped back into the group and breathed a little easier. I thought about Dan, and everything that had brought me to him. I still felt guilty, and I wondered if Fraser’s story would be different if he had hit someone in his car that day. But today wasn’t about that.
Today was about Kit, glorious Kit and the wonderful people who wanted to make sure she was okay.
After much hugging and singing and yelling, we decided we’d cycle back to the farm. We were offered multiple lifts and yet Kit was insistent. We had a few cups of coffee and she said the breeze would knock the cobwebs out.
‘As long as it’s not a car knocking those cobwebs,’ Effie had scowled, but hugged us both fiercely.
Biking home in the dark, half drunk and Kit hooting to keep animals away, was one of the funniest journeys I’ve ever had. It was dangerous, and yet we weren’t smart enough to care.
Kit put as many lights as she could on the bikes (she’d briefly considered wrapping them in fairly lights from the pub garden) but it barely made a dent in the darkness of the Highlands. There was darkness, and the stars, and us.
We wobbled and laughed, merrily stupid as we made our way home. Kit sang old songs and I tried to join in, getting the words wrong, but there was no one to disturb us beyond the birds in the trees, and perhaps the odd sheep. I almost fell as I jumped off, striding into the cottage with relief.
There would be tea and biscuits and bed. That was all I wanted.
The sight of Sarah, sitting at the kitchen table, clutching Lachlan to her chest, shocked me into soberness
. But not as much as the bruise forming over her eye.
Chapter Twelve
‘That bastard.’
Kit’s voice could kill, but there were tears in her eyes as she approached Sarah.
She moved in the way she did with the animals, trying not to spook them as she got close enough to help. Sarah just watched her, eyes moving even as she stayed frozen.
I waited for Sarah to defend him, to make the same tired excuses, but she said nothing. She was shaken and bruised but there was something in the set of her jaw that made me proud of her. She was a lioness with her cub, there was nothing she wouldn’t do to protect him – she was primal and powerful.
‘I won’t go back,’ she said finally, her voice croaky. I wondered how long she’d been sat there in the dark, whilst we’d been drunk in the pub.
She met Kit’s eyes like an act of defiance, daring her to say she’d told her so. But Kit had feared those words herself earlier in the evening and I knew she wouldn’t dare.
She just nodded.
‘Take the room, I’ll sleep on the sofa,’ I said. ‘Do you want tea?’
‘I’d not say no to something stronger if you have it.’
I poured her a drink and watched her hand shake briefly as she reached to take it.
‘Do you want me to take the wee lad?’ Kit asked gently, but Sarah frowned.
I watched the first signs of recognition in her eyes, bracing myself for what was coming. ‘I… I can’t seem to let him go. I can’t put him down. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. He almost, he almost… Me, it’s fine but not him. He’s only a wee’un, he’s done nothing to…’
‘To deserve it?’ Kit winced. ‘And what have you done, except be a good mother, a kind person, someone who loved him?’
‘I knew it was coming, I knew, and I didn’t want to believe. I wanted to be wrong. I was leaving, Taz knew. I was leaving, wasn’t I?’
That’s when the shaking started, and for some reason it all felt very familiar. I fetched her a blanket, wrapping it around the two of them, trying to infuse as much love into that gesture as I could.
The Things That Matter Page 21
