‘Look, Mum. I’m really happy that you say that you’re okay.’ Deb sat down heavily in the chair that Beatrice had vacated. She was really tired. ‘But you had a fall, and you are vulnerable, because of the kidney failure. I know that you don’t want to be vulnerable. I know that you don’t want to be a burden on me or anyone else. And you aren’t a burden. You never have been, because I love you, and part of being a family is taking care of each other when we need it.’ She took Janice’s hand.
‘Deborah, please don’t lecture me,’ Janice said, an edge in her voice. ‘It’s my job to look after you, not vice versa. You are the child. Not me.’
‘I’m not saying that you are a child. And I’m not lecturing you, Mum.’ Deb made an effort to keep her voice level. ‘But I am saying that you are, unfortunately, at the stage of life where you have to accept some help from someone. And that should be me, because I am your family. We’re all the family we have. So don’t push me away, please. It’s hurtful.’
Janice looked at her daughter for a long moment, not saying anything.
‘I would never want to hurt you, darling. That’s the opposite of what I want,’ she said, quietly. ‘I never wanted to get in the way of you living your life. I only ever wanted the best for you, and I’m so very proud that you have achieved so much. I don’t want you to have a sick old woman to look after. I’d rather die, and not be a burden.’
‘Mum. I don’t want you to die!’ Deb felt the tears spilling down her cheeks once more.
‘Oh, darling. Don’t cry.’ Janice’s voice softened, and she reached up to wipe away the tear from her daughter’s cheek. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t want to upset you. That’s the last thing I wanted to do.’
‘I know.’ Deb tried to wrestle her emotions back under control. ‘But you have to understand how it makes me feel when you say those things.’
‘I see that it upsets you.’ Janice took both of Deb’s hands in hers. ‘Listen, sweetheart. You have to understand how I grew up with Grandma. She was… strict. And cold. She’d had a hard life, and I suppose it made her look at the world in a certain way. She taught me that life was hard, and that you shouldn’t complain. Just get on with it. With you, I never wanted to give you that message, about life being crappy. Because I think, if you think that, then you make it happen. You create your reality according to your expectations. But I also never wanted to get in your way. I love you so much, Deb. I know I’m ill. But I want you to go out there and shine your light in the world because I know how bright it is. How bright you are.’
‘Oh, Mum.’ Deb couldn’t hold back the tears now: she felt them gushing from her like someone had turned on a rusty tap.
‘It’s all right. Let it out.’ Janice held her, and rubbed Deb’s back in slow circles as Deb sobbed. ‘I promise to be better at letting you help me. Okay? I can’t promise to change overnight, but now that I know how you feel, I’ll do what I can.’
‘Thank you.’ Deb got the words out, laying her head lightly on her mother’s shoulder. ‘It doesn’t mean I think you’re weak. It’s just because I love you, Mum.’
‘I love you too, sweetheart.’ Janice smoothed her hair. ‘I’ll love you forever.’
TWENTY-FOUR
It wasn’t until the next day when Deb had driven back to Loch Cameron that she finally checked her emails. She’d ended up staying at her mum’s flat overnight rather than face the long drive back to Loch Cameron, and by the time she and Beatrice had got home from the hospital, Deb was exhausted. She’d fallen into bed fully clothed, and woken up not knowing where she was.
After tidying up her mum’s flat and saying a quick goodbye and thank you to Beatrice, Deb had gone back to visit her mum in hospital. Janice was looking a lot brighter, but she was being kept in until a care plan could be put in place to make sure that she could access her dialysis and get around all right with the broken ankle, which was going to take a while to heal.
Get on with you, I’m all right. Janice had given Deb a big hug.I’m okay.
I’ll come back and see you soon, Deb had promised, feeling the tears well up in her eyes. She had to get back to Loch Cameron – there were too many things she had to be there for. There were deliveries up at the castle that she had to sort out with Anna, and decorations that needed putting up, inside thecastle and outside in the grounds. Anna was great, but Deb knew that she had to be there to oversee things.
It was hard leaving Janice, but she had to go. She’d be back soon, she promised herself.
When she got back to the cottage, she dropped her bag in the hallway and let out a long sigh, bringing in some packages that the postman had left on the porch while she was away. There was often post for Gretchen, which she now knew was likely books, and she had ordered some things for the party. Deb didn’t have the energy to open the packages right away, so she stacked them inside the doorway.
Then, she put her phone on charge, made herself some tea and a cheese and ham sandwich, and ran a bath.
While she was waiting for the bath to fill – it was one of those huge antique cast iron baths with feet, which Deb absolutely adored; she suspected it had been Zelda’s addition to the cottage when she’d renovated it, rather than an original feature – she sat on the floor of the lounge next to her phone and flicked to her emails while she ate her sandwich and drank her tea.
Dear Deb,
I’m so sorry this has taken me a while to respond to. Please let me assure you that my delay in responding has no reflection on you, or the gravity of the situation. Things here have just been frantically busy, and I’ve been with Zelda most of the time. And, if I’m honest, I was horrified when I read your email. It’s been hard for me to take in – the fact that someone related to me could have done something so heinous. And, yet, as time goes on and I learn more about the history of Loch Cameron and of my family – things that I was never told, growing up – the more I understand, and sometimes, the sadder I am that we did not do better as landowners, protectors and community leaders.
First, let me say how sorry I am to learn of your grandmother’s story, and her sad connection to Gyle Head. I had no idea about what happened – I knew that my ancestor Donald Cameron built the folly in the 1930s, of course, in the same way that I knew about the stone circle that was erected in the castle gardens in the past, too. My ancestors were fond of parties, and it was quite the fashion at one time to build interesting attractions on your land to entertain visiting guests – and, no doubt, to help entice reluctant southern friends and allies up to the freezing north.
Of course, I am in no way excusing what Donald did. To turn people out of their homes, just to build something with no actual community function, is unforgivable. As lairds, we have a responsibility to care for our tenants and our community. I have always worked hard to look after the people of Loch Cameron, as I believe my father did before me. But, there have been failings, and I take responsibility for the Clan Cameron because I am the Clan Chief, and responsibility can lie nowhere else. I wear the Clan tartan, I live in the castle and the swords and the claymores of the battles that the Clan fought for our land and our sovereignty hang on my walls. I, alone, am responsible. For all of my ancestors. I wear their successes and failings like a cloak.
I believe that it’s fate that has brought you here to Loch Cameron, Deb. Somehow, this land has a way of pulling back its own. And, in this case, Loch Cameron is demanding that I right the wrong that was done to your family, and help you reclaim your heritage here as a daughter of our sacred, special land. You belong here, your heart belongs here and your grandmother belonged here, and it was wrong and terrible that she was ever ripped away from her home. In losing those four families, Loch Cameron lost some of its rightful community and for that I will be sorry, always.
Let’s talk about this when we can. I have some ideas – things I’d like to do, perhaps, but I would value yourinput too. For now, please know that whatever you decide and wherever you end up, you will always be a treasured daughter of Loch Cameron, and to that end, I have asked Anna to send something over to you.
With my deepest regards,
Hal x
