‘It’s not your fault,’ Euan said. ‘And I was the one mucking about at school, leaving with no qualifications.’
‘And why was that, do you think? You needed better looking after. I wish I’d done more. But you’re here now, and we make a braw team, I reckon. I didn’t help look after you then. I didn’t try to talk your mum into getting shot of that ridiculous Sparks fellow when I could have, but I can help look after you now. Now that it’s you needing some time and rehabilitation. Stay, please. Just another few weeks. If you feel the same come May, I’ll pay your train fare back home.’
Euan’s eyes switched to the screen just as the video cut out and another rippled into place. It was a film of Hogmanay. Again it was filmed right here, and there was Euan as a kid and his mum, pregnant, but no Jimmy Sparks to be seen. He wouldn’t come to family visits. Even in those grainy scenes from years ago, he could see the way his mother had lost all her glow being married to that man.
In a paper cracker hat, his younger self was sitting at the dinner table while his granny dished up steak pie. Little Euan barely moved, and he didn’t speak or smile once.
‘I should have intervened,’ Clyde said again, sorrowfully. ‘I can’t say I wasn’t aware of what a bad business that fellow was.’
‘Mum wouldn’t have listened. I used to beg her to lock him out, every time he went to work. She never did. I’d tell her to stop giving him money, stop letting him walk all over her, but she wouldn’t hear a word against him. She’s still waiting for him now. Has been since the day he left. Half hoping for him, half dreading him coming back.’
Euan knew as well as his mother did that after a decade Jimmy Sparks wasn’t returning, but the shadow he’d cast still darkened their home. The loss of trust in his mum still stung. His little sister was too wee to remember what it had been like, but Euan wasn’t likely to ever forget.
‘Stay here,’ Clyde implored. ‘These last few weeks simply haven’t been your time, but it’ll come, if you’re patient.’
‘How will I know when it’s my time?’ Euan asked as the VHS faded to crackling black and the tape clunked to a stop.
‘There’s one way to find out.’ Clyde indicated the spot where Euan’s phone stuck out of his shirt pocket.
‘I’ve not got her number!’ Euan cried dejectedly.
Clyde reached for the landline phone on the little table by his armchair. ‘I know who does, but keep in mind, you owe me for this one, big time.’ He shook his head with a sigh as he dialled a number and waited while it connected. ‘Is that you, Senga? Clyde Forte. Listen, I’ve need of your help, for the boy, but it’s to be a secret, mind?’
Across Cairn Dhu and up in the penthouse kitchen of the town’s most exclusive house, Peaches McDowell’s mobile rang on the kitchen table.
Carenza stopped pouring her wine at the sound and flicked her eyes towards the stairs.
Approaching the phone a little tentatively, she checked the screen. Unknown number? What was the harm in picking up? Peaches was up in her room, oddly quiet. She’d barely eaten the takeaway Carenza had brought home on the way back from her hair appointment. It must be nerves over the runway, only a few days away.
Something told her to answer. Something urgent within her, and Carenza always obeyed her instincts. If it was Willie, maybe he’d help cheer her daughter up?
‘Hello?’
‘Oh, uh, Peaches?’ It was a rough voice, jumpy too. Definitely not Willie.
‘This is Ms McDowell. Can I help you?’
‘Oh, uh. I wanted to ask her something, I’ll ring back later.’
‘Euan Sparks?’ Something hardened inside her. What was he doing calling her daughter? How had he got hold of her mobile number? There’s no way Peaches gave it to him!
‘Aye,’ he confirmed, sounding more nervous than ever. There was only one thing a boy like him could be phoning a girl like Peaches for late on a weeknight.
‘Ask me, whatever it is,’ she told him.
‘Naw, it’s all right, I’ll ring back…’
‘I said ask me.’ She forced as much finality into this as she could, and for a moment there was silence down the line. She thought he’d hung up.
‘Well…’ She heard him gulp, then clear his throat. This only stoked her ire. ‘I was going to ask if she wanted to meet me at the Beltane bonfires.’
Now it was Carenza’s turn for silence.
‘Ms McDowell? Are you still there?’
‘Peaches already has a date for the Bonfires.’ She winced at herself for being so indiscreet, but the words had come out in a big, protective rush.
‘Oh, right.’
