Watch Over Me (13 page)

‘Come on, go for it,’ I said, cutting the cake in half and handing her the spoon.

‘No, honestly …’

‘Now, either you eat this or I’ll go and order a piece of chocolate cake and put it right in front of you.’

She laughed. ‘You leave me no choice!’

The cake was gone in just under two minutes.

An hour later, there it was.
The
dress. The one.

I stood looking at my reflection and I couldn’t quite believe what I saw. I looked straight in my own eyes, in an intense moment that made Shona stop in her tracks. It wasn’t so much the beauty of the dress, soft black silk-chiffon, with see-through sleeves and light blue embroidery – a bit gypsy like yet sober all at the same time. It wasn’t the high-heeled shoes or the fullness of my hair on my shoulders that enchanted me.

It was the woman looking back at me.

Her eyes weren’t hollow. They weren’t desperate. They weren’t empty.

I looked … alive.

The train window was black. I could see the profile of my face as I leaned against it, under the bright lights of the carriage. The book I had bought to read on the way lay unopened in my hands, as I was lost in thought.

I had had such a great time, a day of sheer lightness and joy. I was laden with bags, one of which contained Jamie’s outfit, a gift from Shona to be handed over tomorrow. I had also bought a few books and some brightly coloured pampering products from the Body Shop. I couldn’t quite believe how much pleasure I found in my shopping session. All the little things that used to give me joy had been obliterated by my frustrated quest. I hadn’t been fully enjoying anything for a long, long time.

I thought of Tom. How hard it must have been on him.

It had started dawning on me when I realised that I hadn’t once thought of Peggy, when she was widowed and alone. That had made me see how single minded I had been all these years. How unaware I’d been of anybody else’s needs, including Tom’s.

Our marriage was well and truly over, I knew that. It had faded away through years of neglect, of mutual isolation.

He had cheated on me, there was no excuse for that. But how lonely, how lost he must have been while I was so absorbed in myself, in my own, malfunctioning body, in my own self-pity.

Tom. I wondered what he was doing now.

The train slowed down and came to a stop, as the lit-up platform slid up beside us. I gathered all my bags and was making my way towards the door when I saw a girl standing at the end of the carriage, looking at me with a blank expression.

Gail.

I smiled and opened my mouth to say hello, but then she turned away, towards the door. I froze, surprised.

I walked onwards and stood just behind her, unsure of what to do. That was Helena’s sister. And she was ignoring me. On purpose.

The train came to a stop, the door opened with a sound as if the air was being sucked out of it and we stepped down. Gail walked away, hurriedly, without looking back.

She had seen me, of course she had seen me. Actually – it dawned on me – she had been aware I was there the whole journey.

There was only one explanation, I thought, walking home in the dark. She wasn’t over Jamie and she was jealous of my closeness with his family.

Well, she needn’t worry. I had no intention of becoming involved with him or anyone else. I shook my head. What a silly, silly girl. Better not mention anything to Helena. My life was complicated enough without adding to it.

I knocked at my door. I had the keys, of course, but I didn’t want to startle Peggy.

‘Eilidh! Eilidh, come on in, darling, here’s Katrina on the phone.’

My heart sank. Katrina. Oh well, I hadn’t spoken to her since I had moved up.

‘Hi, Eilidh, how are you?’

‘I’m ok, thanks. A lot better. And you and the kids?’

‘We are all fine. Listen, I know it’s a bit early, but I was wondering if you’d like to come down for Christmas. I mean, I don’t know what your plans are but we’d love to see you.’

My heart softened.

‘And with you not having any obligations, no children or anything … see, it has its advantages!’

It was like being punched in the stomach.

I couldn’t believe it.

It couldn’t just be lack of tact. I had just lost a baby, for God’s sake. I couldn’t have any children, it was the cross of my life, and she made a remark like that, in the same breath with a Christmas invitation? My eyes welled up.

‘Thanks, but I’m staying in Glen Avich. Peggy is having Christmas dinner here,’ I said, keeping my voice steady. I couldn’t let her know I was hurt.

‘Mum and Dad would love to see you,’ she said reproachfully.

‘I just spoke to them last week. I’ll see you all soon. Thanks for phoning.’

‘Oh well then, bye Ei—’

I put the phone down. Leave me alone, leave me alone, leave me
alone
!

I ran upstairs, a knot in my stomach.

‘Oh, Eilidh! That girl, for heaven’s sake, what has she said now? She always had a poison tongue that one!’ Peggy exclaimed, loyally.

I was so angry. So angry with Katrina, and with myself for being so weak and silly, and crying instead of telling her to get out of my life, for good.

‘Come on, pet, come on. It’s just like when you were wee, isn’t it? I remember very well. Come here, come and have a cup of tea … Did you have a good time in Aberdeen?’

I nodded.

The bell rang.

‘On you go upstairs and wash your face, my love,’ she said, as if I were a wee girl.

I ran upstairs with my bags.

‘Oh, Jamie, hello, come on in, what a lovely surprise.’ I stood on the landing, frozen.

‘Sorry to bother you, I know it’s nearly dinner time. My sister just phoned and said to come and collect something from Eilidh … something she got from Aberdeen today. Maisie is away for a sleepover, so I thought I’d just walk down …’

I panicked. I couldn’t hide away. But surely he’d see that I’d been crying. Oh no …

I jumped into the bathroom to wash my face, tripped on one of the bags and landed flat on my face, banging my head against the bathroom door.

‘That must be Eilidh,’ I heard Peggy saying coolly, in spite of the horrendous noise.

I picked myself up. Ouch. Oh God, the embarrassment.

I washed my face, brushed my hair and went downstairs grumpily.

‘Hi.’

‘Hi.’

Jamie was sitting in the kitchen, with a cup of tea in front of him.

‘There you are,’ I said, handing him the bag.

‘Thank you.’

Peggy looked from one to the other, Jamie, silent and shy, and me, silent and sulky with red eyes.

‘Is Maisie away?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you remember to pack the Rose Cottage?’ Maisie’s new toy. She wanted to show it off.

‘Yes,’ he answered and looked at me for the first time. ‘Are you ok?’ he asked, his grey eyes full of concern.

‘Yes. Yes, of course.’ I was monosyllabic like a teenager.

‘Did something happen in Aberdeen?’

‘No, not at all!’ I shook my head vehemently. ‘I had a great time with Shona. We had a ball.’ I would have hated for Jamie to think I didn’t have a good time, when Shona gave me the best day I had had in … well, I don’t remember how long.

‘Katrina,’ said Peggy, as means of explanation, and left the room before I could protest.

‘Oh.’ Jamie nodded. He knew her too.

We were alone in the kitchen.

‘You must be tired.’

‘Yes.’

‘Otherwise I was going to ask you if you wanted to go for a drink.’

‘I haven’t had my dinner yet. Peggy has it ready.’

‘I can come back after dinner, if you like. Drive up to Kinnear, maybe?’

‘Not tonight, Jamie.’ I hadn’t finished crying. It had been my favourite pastime for months after all, it’s difficult just to stop completely.

Also, I had this awful, awful feeling that if he came too close to me I would just put my head on his chest and close my eyes and just
stay there
.

And that, I couldn’t do.

I hadn’t driven up to Peggy’s house just to collect Shona’s present, of course. I had driven there because my house was very silent, and very empty, without Maisie.

And because I wanted to see Eilidh.

More than anything, I wanted to see Eilidh.

When I saw her red, swollen eyes, I desperately wanted to make it better. Like when Maisie falls in the play park, or if something upsets her, and I dry her tears with my fingers, and I hold her until her heart slows down and she relaxes in my arms like a small bird. That’s what I wanted to do for Eilidh – and I nearly did. I nearly raised my hands to take her by the shoulders and pull her against me. But then I didn’t.

Sometimes, all this silence I was born with seems like a curse. But even without words, I still could have shown her how I felt, had I not been frozen.

I went home, my heart echoing with the words I hadn’t been able to express. I wished she could hear me.

The whisky felt bitter in my mouth, burning down my throat without comfort. I drank, and drank, and drank, looking for a relief that didn’t come. Whisky to me used to be beautiful warmth, a sense of peace, a dreamy state … the amber-coloured purity, the smell of peat, the taste of the blood of Scotland itself … now it’s only oblivion and it smells and tastes of loneliness, and nothing else. The smiler with a knife.

I looked at the clock on the mantelpiece: three o’ clock, the deadliest hour. I stood up, slightly dizzy but perfectly lucid. I took the bottle, walked to the kitchen sink and emptied what was left, watching it swirl and swirl down the drain.

I opened the cupboard –
that
cupboard, the one I kept for my lonely evenings and nights. I took out the bottles – three of them. I opened them and stood them in a line beside the sink. One by one, I poured them away.

I stood there, clutching the sink.

Men don’t cry.

Men don’t cry when there’s someone to see.

And then, something strange happened.

I felt something … someone … touch my hair, a light and gentle hand, like the dream of a caress.

I felt my hair stand on end. I turned around, slowly, fully expecting to see someone there, but there was no one.

And again, another caress, this time on my cheek.

I was frozen to the spot, sobered up at once. I swallowed. I could hear the blood rushing in my ears, my heart pounding and pounding like it would jump out of my chest.

Slowly, I walked to the chair before the dying fire and sat there.

The silence was unnerving, so I switched the TV on. Its flickering light filled the room, together with comforting voices and sounds. I sat, watching the screen without seeing it, and fell asleep.

I woke up at dawn, grey light filling the room, all the ghosts gone.

I saw the empty bottles lined up tidily, their contents washed down to the river and then the sea, and I felt light, lighter than I’d been in a long time.

I could stop, then. I thought I couldn’t but actually, I did it. Thoughts of newness and hope filled me as I stood in the shower, warm water washing away the cold and silence and disappointment, to join the whisky on its way to the sea.

I lay there, looking at the ceiling. A wee crack on the left, a long one on the right, a bit further up, a tiny round missing bit of paint beside the light. Tossing and turning.

No use counting sheep, sleep wouldn’t come.

I got up to open the curtains, to get some relief from the sense of claustrophobia. Black hills, black sky, no moon. I opened the window, hoping that the cold November air would blow away the anxiety, the panic that had taken hold of me since the phone call.

I don’t even know why I felt that way.

Or maybe I do. I had been reminded that my life in Glen Avich was just a temporary respite, that sooner or later I was going to have to go back to reality. Face it all. My family. Southport. Tom.

A divorce.

No good. Not even the moist, sweet-smelling breeze was helping.

I had to get out.

I looked at my watch. Three in the morning. Oh well, no one will see me.

I threw a fleece over my pyjamas and slipped downstairs. I put my jacket and trainers on and stepped outside into the cold, black night.

I started walking, to the sound of the wind in the trees and the occasional call of an owl. A fox crossed the road, a few yards from me. She stopped to look, her yellow eyes shining in the darkness, then disappeared. I walked in the empty streets of Glen Avich, up St Colman’s Way, past Jamie’s house and up the hill.