Mistakes We Make (17 page)

These thoughts tugged at his mind as he threaded his way in and out of the early-morning traffic on his bike. It was uphill most of the way from Trinity into town, but the exercise pumped blood to his brain and energised him for the day ahead.

It started with the monthly partnership meeting. Adam sat over a coffee as everyone settled around the boardroom table and scanned the accounts. Cash flow looked bad again. He couldn’t understand it. They’d been incredibly busy, the fees were coming in, and Agnes Buchanan kept an eagle eye on office costs.

He raised it at the meeting.

‘Should settle down soon,’ his father said.

Adam probed, but James Blair was clearly not inclined to delve further today. ‘Agnes assures me she has everything in hand.’

Uneasy, Adam left it at that. Was the old man losing interest? Maybe it was time he thought of retiring. Adam would have a quiet word with his mother, see what her thoughts were. At least it looked as though he’d managed to solve the problem of Shereen James’s maternity cover. Caitlyn Murray had only been back for a couple of weeks, but already he was getting reports of how good she was.

Across the table, Adam saw Logan Keir shifting in his seat as the meeting dragged on. He picked up a pen, doodled something on the pad in front of him, and laid it down again. He took out a handkerchief and wiped it across his forehead, then stuffed the hankie away. He shoved his chair back and crossed his legs, then crossed his arms in front of him too. It wasn’t like Logan to be so restless. Adam hoped he wasn’t sickening for something – there’d been an unseasonal bout of flu doing the rounds. One of their key clients had a big acquisition coming up; he couldn’t afford for Logan to be ill.

‘Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine.’

Logan uncrossed his legs and arms and cleared his throat. He pulled his chair back in to the table and looked down at his pad, frowning. He hunched his shoulders, picked up his pen and started doodling again. Across the table, Adam could see the scribbles – heavy, dark shapes, like thunderbolts, and little figures prancing around. And did they have horns on their heads? From here, they looked like little devils cavorting in the midst of a massive lightning storm.

When the meeting wound to a close, he drew Logan aside. ‘Are you sure you’re all right? You don’t seem quite yourself.’

‘Absolutely fine.’

He didn’t look fine. He looked pale and there was a faint sheen of sweat on his face. He pulled the handkerchief out of his pocket again and rubbed at his face.

‘You don’t look so hot.’

‘Really, Adam, you don’t have to worry about me.’ Logan’s gaze flickered towards the door, then back to Adam. ‘There’s a lot going on at home, you know, with the new term starting and Alastair going up to secondary.’

‘Not having problems, is he?’

‘He’s not settling in as well as we’d hoped and Adrienne’s a bit uptight about it. You know what it’s like. If the wife’s not happy, there are always repercussions, eh?’

‘Is there anything I can do?’

‘Nope. Not a thing. Thanks for offering though. Can we get together later to go over that acquisition? There are quite a few points we need to discuss.’

After the meeting, Adam cornered the partner in charge of conveyancing and arranged for him to call round on Friday to do a valuation. He spent some time fruitlessly prevaricating about the divorce proceedings – should he do it all himself or would that be a bad idea? After tossing the matter around in his head, he gave up and turned to the third item on his action list – what he should do about Sunita. He’d have to see her; he couldn’t dump her by text or email like some gauche teenager, but he wasn’t in any mood to talk to her either.

Instead of facing his problems, he ducked them. He collected his bike and cycled all the way out to Forgie End Farm, where he found his mother cooking.

‘That smells good.’ He hugged her slight frame. ‘Any chance of sneaking a bit?’

Rosemary Blair had been a nurse before he’d been born and had enough natural compassion for the whole family. She’d given up working years ago, but compensated by giving her life over to charitable causes. She was a talented fundraiser and organiser and was such a natural with everyone, from the elderly or sick to children or businessmen, that she was a gift to any charity she chose to support.

Today, the full focus of her efficiency and compassion was clearly Jean Blair.

‘There’s enough for a small army, so I guess the answer’s yes. Are you just here to give your condolences or have you a mission?’

‘I wanted to do something, if I can. Where’s Jean?’

‘Somewhere out on the land.’

‘Do you know where? Maybe I can give her a hand.’

Before Rosemary could answer, the kitchen door opened and Jean arrived, carrying a basket of eggs. ‘They’re laying all right, thank goodness. One thing less to worry myself about. Oh, hello, Adam.’

‘Jean, I’m so, so sorry.’ Adam took the basket from her and laid it on the table, then folded his aunt in his arms.

‘He was ready. I thought I was too, but you can never quite be—’ her voice caught, but she broke out of his hug and smiled bravely. ‘Well, that’s life, I suppose. Death is the inevitable conclusion. We have to deal with it.’

‘I wish I could help you here.’

‘You’re busy.’

‘I know.’ Adam grinned. ‘But I’d swap it all in a minute for this—’ He swept an expressive hand towards the window and the farmland beyond.

‘Really?’

‘You bet.’

His mother said, ‘I expect your father would have something to say about that.’

‘Yes.’ Adam subsided into a chair and picked up an egg. ‘I expect he would.’

The egg felt like a small miracle – smooth and still warm, the most perfectly packaged food in existence. He held it against his cheek and thought about Jean’s chickens.

––––––––

‘S
he’s acting strangely,’ Caitlyn confided to Malkie on Saturday as they strolled round the Thomson Memorial Park in Hailesbank watching Isla May kick up leaves with her friend Mariella. Isla May’s blonde curls gleamed in the autumn sunshine, while her friend’s russet ponytail bounced and bobbed as they ran with extraordinary energy in and out of the trees that bordered the perimeter.

‘She doesn’t look strange, just like a normal kid,’ Malkie said, putting an arm around her waist and pulling her close.

It felt so natural being here with Malcolm Milne, like they’d been an item for ages rather than just a couple of months. Everything seemed to be falling into place all at once.

‘Hmm. She’s stopped pestering me about the school summer camp, which is odd. And sometimes, when I get home at night, she looks kind of furtive. Her and Ailsa, now that I come to think of it.’

‘Furtive?’

‘In that kind of really innocent “Who, me?” way, when I haven’t accused her of anything.’

‘Maybe she’s been trying your make-up while you’re out. My kid sister used to do that.’ Malkie laughed. ‘She made me try it as well once. What a sight! Ginger hair and scarlet lipstick, with a good dose of blue eyeshadow.’

Caitlyn giggled. ‘Don’t tell me you secretly liked it?’

Malkie groaned. ‘Couldn’t get it off quick enough. Just imagine if Ricky McQuade or one of his gang had called at the door.’

‘You’d have been dead meat.’ Caitlyn pulled a face at Isla May as she peeped round a tree trunk, then disappeared again quickly. It was good to see that she hadn’t completely grown out of the delights of peekaboo. ‘I suppose she might be using my make-up. Or maybe dressing up, or practising walking in heels. Though I’ve only got one pair of high heels, and I can’t walk in them for more than a few yards myself.’

‘Well, I don’t suppose it’s anything serious, or you’d know.’

They stopped by a bench. The sun was already dropping in the sky, the rapidly cooling air a whisper that winter was approaching. Joyce had taken Harris and Lewis to their school football match and Ailsa was out somewhere with Wallace Ford. Caitlyn still had reservations about Wallace. He seemed too old for Ailsa, too knowing about the world. Ailsa was still at school, and for all she liked to project an air of sophistication, she was still a child, untutored in matters of the heart and innocent about all the ways the wrong man could damage her. Wallace was too experienced. Her sister should be with someone who was exploring the meaning of romance, not someone who’d almost certainly broken a few hearts already. He might be preparing to break Ailsa’s heart too, even if unintentionally.

Malkie glanced at her. ‘You’ve got that look again.’

‘What look?’

‘The one that tells me you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders.’

Caitlyn laughed. ‘Am I so transparent?’

‘To me.’ Malkie put a finger under her chin, tipped her face up towards him and started to kiss her.

‘Oh yeugh!’

They broke apart, laughing, as Isla May and Mariella skipped away, pulling faces of disgust.

Caitlyn said, ‘Malkie? This is good. I like it. I like
you.
But I’m not like Saskia, and to be honest, I’m not sure I’m quite ready for a full-on live in relationship.’

‘Was I suggesting it?’

‘No. Sorry, I didn’t mean to – Listen, all I meant was can we just take this slowly?’

Malkie jumped up and hauled her to her feet.

‘Take what slowly?’ he said grinning. ‘Race you to the fountain.’

And he was off, sprinting in and around the rose bushes and into the formal garden with its box hedges and half-dead summer plantings to where a monstrous gilded dolphin spewed water into a giant seashell.

‘Come back!’ Caitlyn called, puffing in his wake.

When she finally caught up with him, he scooped her up in his arms and threatened to drop her into the chilly water, encouraged by two very excited little girls who had found a shortcut.

‘Don’t you dare!’ Caitlyn cried, laughing and squirming.

Malkie had a knack of getting it right. Impulsively, she kissed his cheek.

‘What was that for?’ he asked, smiling.

‘For understanding.’

Even after almost ten weeks of commuting, Caitlyn was still finding the long days tiring, especially now that the clocks had changed and the days were getting shorter. She left home in the dark and got back home in the dark. If she didn’t manage to get out for a walk at lunchtime, which happened if they were very busy or the weather was too foul, she felt like a mole.

Still, she had settled in well at Blair King. Loads of people she knew still worked there. She’d been given a desk next to Deirdre Shaw again, so coming back hadn’t felt strange at all. Deirdre – kind, round-faced and unashamedly overweight – had a new boyfriend and they’d been out a couple of times as a foursome.

One Friday shortly before Christmas, Agnes Buchanan put her head round the door of their office and announced, ‘I have to leave early, girls. I have an invitation to a private view at one of the galleries in Dundas Street. They’ve got a special Christmas exhibition on. There’s nothing I need to know about before I head off, is there?’

‘No, Agnes.’

‘Nothing,’ they chimed in response.

‘Very well then. I imagine that one of the partners will be last to leave, but you both know how to lock up, don’t you?’

‘Yes, Agnes,’ they chorused dutifully – then burst into giggles as soon as she was out of earshot.

‘“Invitation to a private view”,’ snorted Deirdre. ‘Makes it sound like she’s important.’

‘Those galleries are really expensive,’ Caitlyn said. ‘I took my mum into one once – she’d seen a picture in the window she liked. She thought it’d be about fifty quid but it turned out there were a few noughts on the end.’

‘Guess Agnes has been hanging around for so long they give her a free glass of wine now and then. Makes the place look busy.’

‘Well, good luck to her,’ Caitlyn said charitably. ‘I don’t suppose she has a lot of excitement in her life. What’re you up to this weekend?’

‘Kev and me, we’re catching the train to Glenrothes to visit his gran tonight, but he’s at the footie tomorrow. I’ve made him promise to come Christmas shopping with me on Sunday to make up. You?’

‘The usual. Get the twins to football in the morning. Isla May’s got a sleepover with her friend. Heaven knows what Ailsa will be up to. I’m seeing Malkie tonight. Might have to babysit tomorrow, I can’t remember what shifts Mum’s on.’

‘Jeez,’ Deirdre said suddenly, catching sight of the clock. ‘Is that the time? Hell!’

‘Problem?’

‘Yeah, Kev’ll be waiting for me outside, and Mr Keir’s left this whole stack of papers here. He must have forgotten to pick them up when he shot off to his meeting this afternoon. It’s not like him. He’s usually so careful. He hates anything left lying around. I ought to do it for him, but—’

‘I’ll do it,’ Caitlyn volunteered.

‘Are you sure? I was hoping you might say that but I didn’t like to ask. What about Malkie? Thought you were seeing him tonight.’

‘I’m sure it won’t take long. Anyway, it’s the least I can do, you’ve been such a help to me since I started back.’

Deirdre obviously wasn’t about to argue. She pulled a small set of keys out of her pocket before Caitlyn had even finished speaking. ‘Well, ta, I won’t say no. His door’s open, I checked it a few minutes ago, but lock it before you go. He goes mental if you don’t. You’re an angel.’

‘I know.’

‘I’ll pay you back sometime, honest.’

She dropped the keys onto the stack of papers. ‘Them’s his spare keys for the filing cabinet. Stick them back in his desk drawer after, will you? You have a good weekend, now.’ She opened the door, paused on the threshold and said, grinning, ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, ha ha. Bye!’

She winked, and was gone.

Caitlyn smiled at the empty space. Making proper friends had been one of the best things about coming back here. There’d been nobody at the supermarket she’d felt any kind of bond with.

She stood and stretched. Almost quarter to six already – no wonder Deirdre had been so keen to get away. Still, this wouldn’t take long, twenty minutes or so at the most. She’d have to watch her time herself – she was heading for the cinema in Hailesbank with Malkie this evening. A Brad Pitt film didn’t sound her kind of thing, but Malkie wanted to go, and she liked to keep him happy. Anyway, looking at Brad Pitt for a couple of hours would be no hardship.