‘If we’re all done sharing, I’m ready for her to leave,’ Elsie said, folding her arms across her chest.
It took a second for me to realize she was talking about me.
‘Why should I leave?’
‘Because this is my local pub and you’re a psycho.’
Even though I knew this was not the right time to bring up the statistics on female psychopaths, it still took a tremendous degree of self-control to stop myself from telling her male psychopaths outnumbered females six to one, although recent research suggested that number was likely underestimated and women were better at masking psychopathic behaviours.
‘Whatever is going on with Cal, it’s a bloody big mess and I’m sorry you’ve been caught in the middle of it,’ Shiv said, glancing over my shoulder. ‘All that said and done, you might not owe me an apology but she does. Else, if you need me, I’ll be across the bar, kicking her friend’s arse for what she said about my shoes at that wedding.’
Without another word, she took off, marching across the bar towards Desi and Joel.
‘You’d better get your friend out of here before she batters her,’ Elsie advised. ‘Shiv might look harmless but I wouldn’t bet against her in a fight.’ I was halfway turned around before she added, ‘and you can see yourself out while you’re at it.’
‘Seriously, Elsie, you need to get over yourself,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘I’ve never met anyone so committed to taking their anger out on the wrong people, and I’m a doctor, in a hospital. I said everything I need to say to you last night, but if you truly think I’m the problem then you should get help. Making up a fake girlfriend was stupid, yes, but Callum want only trying to spare everyone’s feelings while he worked out his own stuff. He’s a straight cis-man, open communication and logical problem-solving might not be his strongest suit, but ifanything you’re the one who should be apologizing to him. The whole lot of you need your heads knocking together. You, your mum and your bloody dad, and it’s a good job they’re not here right now because I’d happily tell them that to their face.’
Her eyes flicked past me and the pop of surprise on her face melted into a self-satisfied smile.
‘And they’re right behind me, aren’t they?’
I turned around slowly to see Lizzie, Derek, Mal and Fiona all emerging from the passageway that led out to the back of the pub, all of them with a face like thunder. All except Mal. He was grinning like a Cheshire cat as usual.
‘Fancy seeing you here,’ I said with a weak smile. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be at church?’
‘Aye,’ replied Derek. ‘And aren’t you supposed to be a Swedish masseuse?’
‘AveganSwedish masseuse,’ added Fiona.
Mal grasped his wife’s arm and cocked his head towards the door. ‘Come on, this feels like family business. We’ll leave you to it.’
‘But you’re practically family,’ I said, protesting the loss of a potential ally.
He replied with a wink. ‘Kith not kin, hen. Shall I start the engine in case you need a hasty retreat?’
I shook my head before looking over my shoulder to see Shiv and Desi staring each other down like a pair of Christmassy king cobras. Possibly, I’d spoken too soon.
‘So you think we’re the ones who owe you an apology, do you?’ Derek said, seizing the brown leather belt at his waist and hoisting his trousers up as Mal sauntered over to the bar, Fiona still shooting daggers in my direction.
‘Technically, I believe I said you owe Callum an apology,’ I replied. ‘No need to worry about me.’
‘Oh no, you’re not getting off that easily.’ Two red spots appeared in his cheeks and his bushy eyebrows came to life, inching up his forehead like angry, bristly caterpillars. ‘Since you’re here, I’ve a thing or two I’d like to say to you …’
But I wasn’t listening to him any more, my entire attention was elsewhere. Striding down the passageway that led to the back of The Clach, shoulders slumped and head hanging low, was Callum.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
All the way back from our service station pitstop, I’d gone over exactly what I wanted to say when I saw him.
How I would explain what happened, why I reacted the way I did, why I ran out without giving him a chance to speak, but when he looked up and caught my eye, all my clever, emotional, slightly self-deprecating and hopefully just-funny-enough speeches disappeared. His face was unreadable, or at least it was to me. I never had been good at guessing what people were thinking and I couldn’t stop myself from wondering which parts of his brain were lighting up. There was a study that suggested emotional regulation, basically controlling your feelings, involved a particular area of the anterior prefrontal cortex. If I could get him into an MRI, I might have a better chance of working out what was going on in his head, or I could pioneer a truly groundbreaking technique.
I could ask.
‘LaCaroline!’
Rory sprang out from behind his brother, hand held up for a high five.
No one met it.
