Two Kinds Of Truth(22)

“Alasdair, what’s wrong? Has something happened to one of the farm animals. Is that why neither Jamie or Callum are here?”

He shakes his head then turns to stare into the flames. He lets out a deep sigh and points to the chair opposite.

“Sit down, lass. I’ve somethin’ I need to tell ye.”

“Why? What is it? What’s happened?”

He lets out another long sigh, turns to me and pats my hand gently. I look down. His knuckles are gnarled with age and his weathered skin feels as tough as old shoe leather. I curl my fingers around the palm of his hand and hold his fingers tight.

“’Tis Callum,” he says. “He’s gone out…drinkin’.”

“Sorry, he’s what?”

He points a thumb towards the door. “Aye, him and Jamie have gone into town.”

“But I never heard them leave.” I pull my hand away and turn to stare at the door, as if by doing so he’ll walk through and prove the old man wrong. I wait, but when he doesn’t materialise, I realise that what Alasdair has said is true. My cheeks burn with humiliation. “You mean he just up and left without a word?”

Alasdair nods. “He said he needed a drink and not one he could find in the house. I dinnae know what came over him. One minute he was fine and the next…”

“He turned into Mr Hyde?”

Alasdair looks alarmed then nods. “Aye, that’s about it, lassie.”

I dig into my jeans pocket for my phone, dial Callum’s number and clutch the mobile to my ear. I wait urgently through four rings, but get his voicemail and hang up.

I want to scream out loud what an inconsiderate arsehole he is for abandoning me—like this, without a thought. I then try ringing Jamie, but when it connects, I hear a familiar ringtone sounding out in the room, from where his mobile sits on the windowsill.

Defeated, I shove my phone back into my pocket, hardly noticing Alasdair get up from his chair. Nor do I register the two pieces of Salmon he takes out of the oven.

“Maddie, are you all right, lass?”

I stand up and stare vacantly in his direction. He places the baking tray he’s holding down onto the side, making his way over to me and steers me over to the table.

“Come on, sit down,” he insists.

“Is dinner ready?” I say, absently.

A memory flashes through my mind: I’m nine years old again and in the foyer of one of the many foster homes I’d had to endure. The Smyth children were simply immature psychopath’s, the spotty teenager of whom, no older than fourteen, blocks my way. He prods a stubby finger into my chest. It hurts, but I don’t cry.

“Oh, look, it’s little orphan Annie,” he teases. “If it isn’t the miserable kid that nobody wants.”

He laughs, and his younger brother, standing next to him, pinches my arm. I yelp and he too laughs out loud. “You stink like dog poo,” he cries and holds his nose as he runs down the corridor to tell all his friends.

An involuntary shiver escapes me.

I push the terrible ordeal to the furthest corner of my mind. All I want is a man to love me. I want Callum to protect and respect the person I am. But I’m afraid of our future: the emptiness waiting for me is like a physical punch in the chest.

I sit, eating my meal as though I haven’t a care in the world, but the fish tastes bland and small pieces get stuck in the back of my throat. The wine is sour and tastes like vinegar in my mouth, yet I do my best to swallow it down.

“I think I’d best have an early night,” I say and press my fingers to my forehead.

“Do ye have a headache?” Alasdair asks.

I nod and stand up from the table. “Yes. I think it’s the start of a migraine. I’d best go and lie down.”

Alasdair shakes his head. “Aye, lass. Sounds like the right thing to do. Off ye go. I’ll clear up here.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“’Tis no trouble, and I’ll see ye in the mornin’.”

I give him a hug and he pecks me on the cheek before I pull away and make my way to the door.

“I’m sorry,” Alasdair says. “About Callum.”

I turn to face him. “It’s isn’t your fault. You’re not his keeper.”

Alasdair nods and pulls out his pipe from his cardigan pocket. He places the end in his mouth and sucks in fresh air. “That maybe so, but I want ye to know: I dinnae agree with his behaviour tonight.”

I force a smile. “Goodnight, Alasdair. I’ll see you in the morning.” I turn away and leave him standing by the fireside, then head for the seclusion of the Garden House.

As soon as I close the door behind me, I burst into tears. I feel such a fool. I can’t believe he went into town without saying a word. I try to figure out why he would do such a thing, feeling humiliated, abandoned, angry, and upset. And I’m also afraid. Perhaps he doesn’t want to be with me anymore, or even need me any longer. I cover my face with my hands, allowing hot tears to pour down my cheeks, the day he asked me to marry him springs into my mind. I can see him as clearly as if he were standing right in front of me.

We were out on a lake in a rowing boat. It was a hot summer’s day. The local park was filled with young lovers enjoying a lazy Sunday. The lake was surrounded by a multitude of weeping willows and a family of swans adorned the water. It was simply idyllic.