‘And he’s gone away for Christmas?’
I nodded but kept my eyes focused on my coffee.
‘After Mum … it didn’t feel the same really. We still bought presents but that was about it. When I was sixteen, he said he was too tired to put the tree up so I climbed into the loft to get it, slipped off a beam and fell through the ceiling. Broke my leg in three places. That more or less put an end to Christmas altogether in our house. Now I just do whatever, hang out with Desi and Joel, work if I can. I’d be at the hospital now but HR made me take time off because I haven’t used any holiday all year.’
‘Christ, Laura, I’m so sorry,’ Callum said softly. ‘Here I am complaining about my petty family squabbles and …’
‘And I’m here Scrooging it up,’ I said with a quiet laugh. ‘Ignore me, honestly, I’m fine. It must be the whisky, I’m not used to it.’
He slapped the table with the flats of his hands, making our glasses do a little jump.
‘If that’s the case you know there’s only one cure for that.’
‘And what’s that, Dr McClay?’
‘More whisky.’
Picking up his glass, he tossed back what was left then eyed mine, signalling for me to do the same.
‘Good girl,’ he smiled as I screwed up my face, chasing the burn of the scotch with a mouthful of still-scorching hot coffee. ‘I’ll get another round in, doctor’s orders.’
I watched him as he wove his way through the other patrons, his broad shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist, auburn hair curling at his collar, a clear head taller than everyone else milling around the bar. He really was something.
Resting my elbows on the table, the warmth of the whisky flushed through me and I bravely took off my coat. The alcohol made my blood vessels dilate, sending blood rushing to the surface of my skin, but I knew, soon enough, my core temperature would drop and I’d be even colder than before. Sometimes being a doctor was no fun. At least if nothing else came of this week, perhaps I’d learn to hold my scotch. Just as long as I could hold my own against Elsie, keep Lizzie and Derek at a distance, survive Fiona’s cooking and not offend Mal.
‘Last week you cauterised a man’s brain while he was wide awake,’ I muttered to myself. ‘How was that easier?’
The front door opened again and I shivered, the sound of female laughter ringing out across the old man pub loudly enough to make me turn in my seat in search of sisterly solidarity. Instead, I found two women staring at me as though I was holding up a sign that said ‘I eat puppies, ask me how’.
‘Ah, bollocks,’ I muttered when I realised I recognised them both.
Elsie’s happy smile slipped into the same sneer I’d seen at lunch but the pretty blonde at her side was already looking away, too busy staring daggers across the bar to worry much about me. But in her defence, if I’d been all but engaged to Callum McClay and lost him to a life of Parisian pastries, I might’ve looked just as angry as Siobhan Hamilton.
Chapter Fourteen
As soon as our eyes met, Shiv turned to leave but Elsie grabbed her arm, shaking her head before guiding her through the chairs and tables towards me. A sharp stab of guilt cut through my guts, every instinct in me telling me to run, but there was nowhere to go unless it was through the window or into the fire.
‘If it isn’t my brother’s beloved.’
I should’ve chucked myself into the fire.
Elsie loomed over me, a shark-like smile on her face, the one that said behold, my worthy adversary. I didn’t want to be her adversary, I didn’t want to be her anything, I wanted to drink my drink and eat my steak, be vaguely obnoxious until Boxing Day then go home and never, ever see her again.
‘Caroline, you must meet my friend, Siobhan. Siobhan, this is Caroline …’ She paused for maximum effect. ‘Cal’s new girlfriend.’
‘Pleased to meet you.’
The blonde held out a hand that looked as though it would rather poke around in a bin full of broken glassthan make physical contact but, to her credit, she met my firm handshake with one of her own before snatching her hand away and shoving it into the back pocket of her jeans. The three of us were still staring at each other in silence, three points of the world’s most pass-agg triangle, when Callum sauntered back from the bar. He spotted the scene and stopped so abruptly, whisky splashed out of the glasses in his hands.
‘Elsie,’ he said, his face grim. ‘Shiv.’
‘Cal,’ Siobhan replied.
‘Caroline,’ I added, just in case.
Callum set down both glasses then wiped his palms against his jeans.
‘Just came over to say hello,’ Shiv said, already looking away, swiping at a watering eye. ‘We’ll leave you to your evening.’
