‘Now you’re talking! I’m proud of you, Carls. You’re a frickin’ warrior.’
‘Nah, I’m not a warrior. I’m flying to a First World country and bumming around for a week or so. Not exactly intrepid.’
‘It’s intrepid for you though, isn’t it?’
Luci was right. Neither she nor her sister were ones to push themselves out of their comfort zone. In fact, Carli had a tendency to keep within hers. Being thrown out of your safe teenage existence did that to you; chronic ill health added frosting on top. And for Carli to go back to Kinshore, her place of safety during such a difficult time, where Niall had been a source of comfort, risked upheaving a whole load of memories. Good memories, but tainted with bitterness like Luci’s homemade lemonade. Memories of this fun Scottish boy who won her over with his cheeky humour andseemingly infinite heart. Niall had been so unlike any other boy she’d known before or since. He’d recited her poetry, for goodness’ sake. Scottish poetry.
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry.
How he’d thrilled her.
Which had made forgetting him even harder and heading back to the place she’d fallen for him, ultimately, a really stupid idea. But it was too late now. The flight was booked. The Butler family were expecting her. Carli was going to Scotland.
Chapter 3
Niall
Kinshore, Scotland
The wet Scottish autumn provided a muted, damp backdrop to proceedings, but standing in the large but homely kitchen of his parents’ house as the rich aroma of roast dinner permeated the room, Niall was warmed to his core.
Almost all of his family was here. Sean; Jamie and his partner, Alicia; Cara; Eilidh; Nate. Cal would arrive on the weekend with his fiancée, Bea. And, of course, their parents were here.
When Niall had opened the door of the kitchen, his mum had almost dropped the tray of scones she’d been carrying.
‘Niall! Oh, my goodness!’ She was on him in an instant, smothering him with the warmest hug and muttering that she had no idea and how much she’d missed him and what was he doing staying away so long. When at last she loosened her hold, tears glittered in her eyes like autumn raindrops, and she swiped him affectionatelywith a dishtowel. ‘It’s dangerous to give old people frights like that,’ she scolded.
‘Sorry, Mum. You’re not old, you know.’
‘Oh, my boy.’ Niall would have sworn she was about to sob if she wasn’t rubbing both his arms and smiling like she’d won several lottery jackpots and the bingo all at once. ‘Jimmy. Our boy’s home.’
‘Aye.’ Jimmy Butler smiled and nodded up at him from his wheelchair, and Niall had to temper his shock that this was the solid, tall man who’d taught him to surf, chased him round the garden but also up the stairs to bed, and who’d spoken to him in seriously stern tones at frequent intervals throughout his teenage years. Jimmy Butler was no longer intimidating in that way, but Niall was conscious of the loosening in his chest at his dad being happy to see him. Like he had half expected to get into trouble for arriving by surprise, for making it “all about Niall”.
‘Hi, Dad.’ What was the protocol here? He had never hugged his dad, so it seemed hypocritical to start now that the man was dying. Leaning down to his wheelchair seemed patronising to this former powerhouse of a man. But not doing so also wrong, like Niall was holding out because of their differences in the past.
In the end, the decision was taken away as his dad reached out and touched Niall’s hand.
‘Welcome home, son.’ Jimmy’s speech was slurred and somewhat protracted, but the words shot straight to Niall’s heart like an injection of morphine.
‘Thanks, Dad. It’s good to see you.’
Niall’s elder brother Jamie, the second eldest of the Butler siblings, leaned against the fridge and sized Niall up and down.
‘You’re ageing like a young whisky, bro.’
‘Okay, not sure what that means, but thanks? I think.’
‘Aye, it’s a good thing. You don’t have that deep, rich maturity of an aged malt – hopefully, none of us do until we’re at least fifty – but you’ve got that pep and zing that a younger expression does.’
Niall laughed. ‘Pep and zing! That’s the last thing I’m full of right now. Hey,’ – he motioned for Jamie to move aside to let him into the fridge – ‘don’t suppose there’s anything cold and caffeinated in here.’
‘You might be in luck.’ Jamie not only stepped to his left but opened the fridge door for Niall.
Niall was in luck. His mum, knowing that most of her children were coming home, had stocked the fridge with some of their favourite drinks. Niall pulled a can of Irn-Bru – also Sean’s favourite – off the shelf, pushed the door closed and slid his finger under the ring pull. That’s when something caught his eye. His hand stalled on the cold metal as he stared at the piece of paper attached to the fridge door with a magnet. There was a name on there that would call out to Niall like an owl in a forest.
Carli Caselli.
