Sliding through the barely open door, I entered a small stone room, only a couple of metres square, and in the middle of the small stone room was a staircase. Craning my neck back, I looked up. The tower! I was in the tower. Even though I was knackered from opening the door, the thought of the view from the top spurred me onwards. Or at least it did for the first three flights of stairs, at which point I had to take a break before tackling the final two.
It was worth it. Worth the lactic acid building up in my glutes and quadriceps, worth sweating through my brand new dry-clean-only jumper, worth the fact I was so out of breath, I couldn’t even stand up straight for a solid minute once I reached the top. I didn’t even regret snagging my skirt on that bare nail, mostly because it wasn’t mine in the first place; I’d borrowed it from Desi.
The tiny town of Braewick was celebrating Christmas Eve Eve with a bright and cloudless sky, and I felt like I could see to the ends of the earth. The mountains curved and rolled, looking like they would be soft to the touch thanks to the tall, dense pine tree that lined the slopes. Nestled below, the loch rippled with a harsh breeze, darkest blue at the banks, stretching lighter into the distance. It reminded me of Callum’s eyes, all thosedifferent shades marbled together to create something unique, sapphire and aquamarine, with an almost black limbal ring encircling the iris.
‘The oxygen must be thinner up here,’ I mumbled, leaning as far out of a small, square, open window as I could, the wind effectively slapping me back to my senses.
Then something occurred to me. The best thing about this skirt, aside from the fact I hadn’t paid for it, were the pockets, and in one of those pockets was my phone. It totally made up for the fact I’d had to wear uncomfortable seamless knickers to avoid a VPL. I gasped when I swiped the screen into life to see four full bars of reception. This was the best skirt, the best tower, and I couldn’t dial Desi’s number fast enough.
‘About fucking time,’ she barked, answering the moment my call connected. ‘Joel, call the police and tell them she’s alive, they can call off the search.’
His voice came across loud and clear when she put him on speakerphone.
‘They never started. They looked her up and said no great loss.’
‘Ha ha, very funny, I miss you too.’ I rested my elbows on the ledge and let the wind ruffle my hair. ‘There is literally no reception up here, it’s terrifying.’
‘And no WiFi?’
After harassing Callum for the password, I’d discovered there was internet at Balmaclay but it was terrible. Just about strong enough to send a text, provided you held your phone at exactly the right angle in exactly the right location, but not clear enough to make calls or, even worse, stream Netflix. When I asked how his parents managed to communicate with the outside world and he said they called them on a landline, itwas all I could do not to shrink back in horror. The only place I’d had dependable internet service was inside the main bar at The Clach and, thanks to Elsie’s presence, smartphone-free Caroline hadn’t been able to take advantage of it.
‘How goes it?’ Joel asked, the sound of whatever was playing on their TV fading away into the background. ‘Have you boffed him yet?’
‘Don’t be stupid, Joel. She’s not going to boff him, remember? She’s not interested in the tall, handsome pastry chef whose family live in a great big massive house next to a great big massive lake.’
‘How do you know about the house?’ I asked Desi, perplexed.
‘Because I’m better at online sleuthing than you,’ she replied. ‘I also know where he went to university, where he works and what car he drives. If you can find out the name of his childhood pet, I’ll have his blood type and National Insurance number by the end of the day.’
‘You’re genuinely frightening sometimes.’
‘So you’ll ask him?’
‘As soon as he’s back,’ I promised. ‘Never hurts to know someone’s blood type.’
The wind kicked up a playful gust and I shivered, moving away from the glass-less windows, a loud bang sounding from somewhere down below. If I’d known I’d be exposed to the elements, I would’ve worn my coat. And Callum’s coat. I would’ve worn as many coats as I could get my hands on.
‘Go on then,’ Joel said, his impatience simmering down the line. ‘Tell us everything. How’s it going?’
‘It’s going,’ I replied. ‘Turns out I’m not quite as good at being a massive cow as I thought.’
Desi scoffed. ‘Then you’re not trying.’
‘Maybe I don’t have the same motivation as I do at home,’ I suggested and Joel laughed. ‘The whole fake girlfriend situation is more complicated than I realised and if you even think the words “I told you so” I will teleport back to London and punch you in the boob before you have time to finish the sentence.’
‘Complicated how? I thought you said you haven’t shagged him?’ Joel asked as Desi cackled happily in the background, taking my admission as vindication.
There was nothing Desi loved more on this earth than being proved right.
‘I haven’t and I’m not going to.’ I scraped a stray strand of hair out of my eyes and tucked it forcibly behind my ear only for it to blow right back out. ‘It’s his family. They’re just, well, they’re a lot. Plus I met his ex and she’s actually really nice. I just feel really bad for everyone.’
‘Why?’
The confusion in Desi’s voice reminded me she was incapable of feeling bad for anyone about anything except, for some reason, the romantic tribulations of Jennifer Lopez. She still hadn’t got over the Bennifer 2.0 divorce.
‘His parents want him to come home to run their farm and live in their great big massive house, as you so elegantly put it, that has passed on to the eldest son for centuries. His sister resents him because she has to run the farm instead, and his ex I haven’t quite got a handle on yet but, if I had to put money on it, I’d say she’s still in love with him. And,’ I paused to take a breath. ‘There’s a chance he’s still in love with her too.’
I clamped my mouth shut, eyes squeezed shut while I waited for their verdict.
