Two Kinds Of Truth(69)

“It gets much worse. What you don’t know is that Callum caught mumps soon after Ally got pregnant, which made him infertile.”

“You mean…Callum can no longer have kids?”

“That’s pretty much the crux of the story. We found out after months of trying for a baby. We used all our savings on IVF, but nothing worked. I craved a child so badly, I even said I was willing to adopt, but Callum wouldn’t hear of it.”

Bridget looks down into her whisky. “Yes, I’ll bet.”

“I learned this morning that, out of desperation, Callum tried to convince Jamie to sleep with me.”

Bridget lifts a hand to her throat. “You can’t be serious.”

I pick up my tea. “Oh, never more so.”

“But why would he do such a thing?”

“Because Callum thought that if Jamie was able to get me pregnant everything would be all right between us.”

“You mean he asked his brother to switch places?”

I stare into my cup, unable to look her in the eye. “Yes.”

“What? Without your consent?”

I force myself to look at her. Her face is pale, her eyes wide.

“It was the night we visited the Scran and Sleekit. I got a little drunk and…Jamie, well, he was supposed to sleep with me that night.”

“And did he?” Bridget asks, arching a pencilled brow.

“No. I may have been drunk, but I wasn’t that drunk.”

“Are you sure? I mean, they are identical.”

“Of course I am. I sensed someone in the bedroom not long after I went to bed. I thought it was Callum, but when he never got into bed, my subconscious woke me.”

“So, do you think that’s when it came to the crunch? Jamie couldn’t go through with it?”

“All I know is that he didn’t sleep with me that night. But I just wish he’d told me what Callum had planned.”

Bridget shakes her head fiercely.

“Are you kidding me? He’s never going to admit that to you, or to anyone. Put the shoe on the other foot; would you?”

My shoulders sag as I stare down at the pale-yellow carpet.

Bridget comes over and kneels in front of me, placing her hands on the tops of my arms.

“Jamie loves you,” she insists. “I’ve known ever since the day of the festival. And why I refuse to believe he would ever deliberately hurt you.”

A single tear slides down my face. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because of what he wrote on his bay leaf.”

My brows furrow. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything.”

I take a steadying breath. “Okay, so tell me: what did it say?”

She lifts my chin with her forefinger and stares deep into my eyes.

“Jamie wrote: ‘Maddie, my heart and life is forever yours’.”

I try to hold back the tears. “He actually wrote that to me?”

Bridget nods. “He’s the one you should be with, not Callum. I’ve sensed this all along. Whatever mistakes Jamie’s made, they were all for you; because he loves you.”

“But couldn’t you say the same for Callum?”

“I guess it depends on how you look at it. Were his actions truly because he loved you or because he was riddled with guilt over having a child with someone else? But whichever way you choose, at the end of the day, it’s your call.”

My mobile goes off just as Bridget rises. I reach inside my handbag and learn I have missed calls from both Jamie and Callum.

There’s a text message, too, from Jamie.

I open it and read the few words.

“I need to go,” I say. “Jamie says it’s granda.”

“Do you want me to drive?”

I shake my head. “No, you can’t, you’ve had a drink. Even I’m aware there’s zero tolerance to alcohol in Scotland.”

“Damn my foolishness,” and Bridget’s eyes fill with regret.

“Don’t worry; I’ll be fine. And thanks for the tea…for everything.”

I squeeze her hand and she reaches out and hugs me once again.

“I’ll always be here for you, whenever you need me,” she whispers in my ear, and when she breaks away, I smile at her.

“I’m so glad I fell on my arse that day at the brae.”

“Me too,” and her voice has filled with laughter. “It was the funniest thing I’d seen in ages!”





Chapter 14


The drive to the hospital takes forever and all I can think about is granda lying there, helpless. The guilt of not going to see him earlier this morning plays on my mind as I press my foot down a little harder on the accelerator. The roads are busier than when I left, and I curse and swear for other drivers to move out of the way.

The dark clouds shift to reveal a thin trickle of sunlight. A bitter wind still blows, and I turn up the heating—just a notch. I can’t get there fast enough, and I arrive at the hospital within half an hour of receiving Jamie’s text. I head for the visitor’s carpark and grab a ticket, flinging it carelessly into my handbag, then hurry through the automatic doors and head straight for the lift. The hospital is buzzing with everyday dramas. The infirm and the elderly are being pushed around in wheelchairs and porters scurry about with empty lunch trolley’s.