Niall turned on his heel to see June McDougall, a lady now in her seventies, who’d worked as a bookkeeper at the distillery when Niall was young. He remembered Junebabysitting quite a few times while his parents went out for a meal in the village or to visit friends. They’d had an absolute riot. June was the only babysitter who could rise to the challenge of him and his younger siblings. They’d gone from playing football in the garden, to doing the ‘Butler Olympics’, which involved timed circuits of the house and wresting between Niall and Sean, then she’d brought them inside, thrown on some traditional Scottish dance music and led them through a mini ceilidh in this room. June McDougall was the exact reason Niall could do every dance by the time he was eight years old.
‘Ach, I’m not so young anymore, June. You’re looking well yourself. Still partying hard?’
‘You try and keep me down. Sean’s already down for the ‘Strip the Willow’ and I’m booking you for the ‘Dashing White Sergeant’. Hope you’ve not forgotten the moves since they shipped you off to Australia.’
Niall laughed. ‘Shipped me off. Aye, like a wee convict. Maybe they should’ve done it sooner, eh? You were the only babysitter that could handle us.’
‘Och, you were nothing. Wee laddies with lots of energy, that’s all. So, tell me, is this you swapping the Aussie sunshine for good?’
‘I’m not sure, June. Maybe.’ Even chatting to his babysitter made Niall feel like he had a warm bellyful of whisky. Being here again with these people, it was like he belonged – like the Scottish-Aussie surfer dude part of his identity fell away and he was purely Scottish again. In this moment, he’d swap all the things he loved about life in Sydney – year-round beach life, outdoor coffees, some of the most laid-back people he’d ever met in his life – for the visceral sense of home Kinshore afforded.
When June toddled off to chatto a friend, Sean appeared behind Niall with a plate of sausage rolls. ‘Hey hey, fancy a nibble?’
‘Of your sausage roll? No thanks.’
‘Suit yourself,’ said Sean. ‘Where’s Carli?’
‘No idea. We’re not exactly pals.’
Through a mouthful of puff pastry, Sean said, ‘Hmm, fair enough. Things awkward then?’
‘No, but yes. I’ve barely seen her since the first night.’ After the brief chat in her bedroom, Niall had left Carli to sleep, gone back downstairs to the kitchen, slightly wired from too much caffeine, and thought about what had happened. He’d only come back to the house that evening because Eilidh had texted him to tell him Carli was sick in bed, so he figured there was little chance of bumping into her. The best laid plans and all that. Sitting on an old wooden chair next to her bed, sharing a can of Irn-Bru, Carli all cute in her pyjamas, Niall had an upsurge of feelings he hadn’t expected at all. Those of both sexual attraction and complete ease, even with the unspoken shadow of their break-up. He’d forgotten it was possible to be like this for a woman, because the only woman he’d been like this for was Carli.
There and then, in the dimmed light of that bedroom, Niall understood why he’d never been able to make it work with anyone else since her. His body didn’t want to. Carli Caselli was like an addiction that had simply lain dormant, the craving roaring up in his blood when in her presence once again.
And she overrode his jet lag. By rights, Niall should have fallen fast asleep, but all he could do was lie in bed and think about her. It was like being fifteen again when she’d stayed over on a sleepover with his sisters.
Despite wanting to see Carli, Niall gave her space,made easy by his mum sending him to run a million errands in the village, all of which had taken longer than they should because he had to stop a hundred times and explain to people what life was like in Australia and whether he was coming home for good and respond pithily to the question: ‘Why would you when the weather is so much better over there?’
When he got back to the house late afternoon, Carli was out with his sisters, getting her nails done. Unnecessary. She’d have heads spinning if she walked in here in those sausage dog pyjamas.
‘I’m sure she’ll be down soon,’ said Sean. ‘By the way, I forgot to ask, do you need a dry suit for the water tomorrow?’
‘Ah, come on. I’ve not turned into a complete wuss.’ Niall plucked a sausage roll from Sean’s plate. ‘A wet suit will be fine. And maybe a big warm onesie for getting into afterwards. And a nice hot chocolate with marshmallows on top.’
‘Hey, never underestimate the power of hot chocolate,’ said Sean. ‘A wee dark chocolate buzz without the caffeine jitters. Perfect.’
Niall laughed. ‘Are you getting old, bro?’
‘Must be. Happens to us all. Well, except Nate. That guy seems to get better with age. Get this. There’s a group of women who’ve set up a community wildlife rescue group and they got him to run an evening about hedgehog welfare in the community centre. No way was their main interest hedgehogs. Nate came away without about ten invites to come round and check out these women’s “hedgehogs” and a lot of calls about hedgehog welfare after that.’
This was the sort of thing Niall had missed being awayfrom his family. You didn’t always get the small detail, just the bigger picture. ‘We’re in the wrong profession,’ he said.
‘The problem is we’re not Nate… Oh!’ Sean let out a low whistle.
‘What?’ Niall swivelled and nearly swore like a sailor. Holy fuck!
Carli.
Standing in the doorway.
Jesus, if she’d been a ten in the sausage dog pyjamas, she was now a hundred and ten. Stunning didn’t even cover it. She was practically painted into a rich magenta dress that fell to the floor, a tiny cream cardigan thing and dangling, feminine earrings. Her luscious dark hair was tied up in some sort of fancy do, her lips painted a rich red, and eyelids accentuated with dark, smoky make up. Standing metres away from him in a room full of people, there shouldn’t be a sexual charge, but, my God, there was. The energy that had surged between them seventeen years ago apparently hadn’t finished with either of them yet.
For a moment, the world slowed down and Niall and Carli were frozen on either side of the room, staring at one another. It had always been like this; he couldn’t not look at her with his jaw half on the floor. She was a magnet and he was a scrappy bit of metal drawn into its force.
But to see her was to love her;
Love but her, and love for ever.
