Two Kinds Of Truth(68)

She gestures for me to follow her into an open plan kitchen. The cottage is like nothing I expected. I thought it would be log fires and antlers on the wall, but I couldn’t be more wrong. It’s modern and minimalistic, and the far wall has been replaced with a full sheet of glass. I’m drawn towards it like a magnet and am instantly surrounded by panoramic views of the loch, of mist-peaked mountains and snowy glens. The wind is blowing through the trees and I find myself waiting for William Wallace to appear on one of the hills, riding a black horse, his face painted blue and white in readiness for war.

“It’s beyond breath-taking,” I sigh. “No wonder you love staying here.”

“Yes, it’s my little piece of heaven. There’s nowhere else in the world like it.”

“I can see why you’d think that.”

“Milk and sugar?”

“Hmm, just milk please,” and Bridget soon offers me a lime green mug.

“Biscuit?”

“No, the tea will do nicely, thanks.”

“Let’s go into the sitting room. It’s cosy there, and then you can tell me what’s on your mind.”

I take a gulp of hot tea as we enter another room that has two fireside chairs covered in a pale grey tartan. We sit down and my eyes are drawn towards a brightly coloured mural painted on the wall. It’s of deep purple mountains surrounded by a skyline of pale blue.

“Wow, that’s stunning,” I say. “Did you paint it yourself?”

She smiles. “Yes; I got the owner’s permission, of course.”

“You must be good friends,” I say, lifting the mug to my lips again.

“Kind of. He’s my ex-husband.”

I almost choke. “Oh, I didn’t realise you’d been married.”

She waves her hand, as if to pooh-pooh the situation. “It was a long time ago, and we’ve gone our separate ways.” She places her vivid orange mug down onto a glass coffee table. “Still, we’re not here to talk about me, are we?” and I let out a sigh.

“I don’t know where to start. I’m so confused.”

“I find the beginning can be useful.”

“My life’s a complete mess,” I tell her, and the first tears prick my eyes. “Callum, my husband, has been lying to me since the first day I met him. In fact, our whole marriage was built on a lie.”

I stare into Bridget’s eyes and can see the concern that’s written there.

“So, what’s he done?”

I take a deep breath. “Callum’s been having an affair.”

“Is it with Ally?” she asks softly.

I suck in my breath. “How did you know?”

She shrugs. “I have eyes. I may live in the middle of nowhere, but that doesn’t mean I’m blind. I’ve been coming here for many years now and know a lot about the locals. I was aware Ally and Callum had a thing going at one time.”

“Then you know she has a son.”

A shadow flits across her face and she looks away.

“Did you also know that Callum’s the father?” I ask.

“I guessed,” she says, reaching for her tea. “To be honest, it wasn’t exactly hard.”

My gut tightens as I place my own mug onto the coffee table.

“You’ve seen him? The boy, I mean?”

She shrugs again. “Once or twice.”

I let out a sob and her jaw drops.

“You mean you’ve never met him?”

I shake my head. “No, and until yesterday, I wasn’t even aware he existed?”

I lower my lashes as the tears start to flow.

“Christ, Maddie, how could Callum do something so wicked? I’m sorry, but I’ve got to be honest, I’m finding this hard to take in. I am genuinely shocked,” and she jumps to her feet. “I’m a firm believer that in times of crisis a stiff drink is in order,” and she heads off back into the kitchen, returning with two crystal tumblers filled with whisky.

“Here; drink this,” she orders. “It’ll make you feel better.”

I shake my head. “I can’t; I’m driving.”

She frowns. “Then stay. There’s a spare room, and you can leave whenever you’re ready.”

I wipe away my tears with the back of my hand as Bridget places the tumbler onto the table, next to my mug. She reaches for a box of paper tissues from a shelf behind her and offers them to me.

I take a Kleenex and blow my nose.

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll have to go soon. Alasdair’s in hospital, you see, and I need to see him.”

“Why, what’s the matter with him?”

“He suffered a cardiac arrest.”

“How awful for you all. Is he going to be okay?”

“We don’t know for sure, but we’re trying to stay positive.”

Bridget sits back in her chair and takes a large gulp of whisky.

“You really are going through the wringer.”

I try to laugh, but a hysterical noise leaves my throat, instead.

“Yes, and if that wasn’t bad enough, I’ve suffered yet another revelation.”

Bridget halts, the glass to her lips. “How can anything be as bad as finding out your husband has been lying to you about a child you never knew he had?”