Home Truths (33 page)

Sofie held one side of her dressing-gown out for Claudia to huddle under. ‘No sweetie that would be violins.'

‘Whatever. If it doesn't stop soon, I'm gunna throw a shoe at him. And if I can lay my hands on the bag I'm gunna personally cut it up into tiny little pieces.' Claudia slipped out from under her mother's dressing gown and hurried back to Bob's bedroom on tiptoes, her fingers in her ears.

‘Go have a lie in, Sofe,' Jennifer yelled above the din. ‘I'll go out the back and ask them nicely to move on.'

‘Don't be ridiculous, Jen. Find him and kill him. It's freezing, I'm going to have a hot shower.
Lie in?
Of all the daft…' The bagpipe squealed again and Sofie ran.

‘I really think he's getting better at it.' Jennifer strode to the window to have a closer look.

A piper stood below in full dress uniform of red blazer and red and black tartan. His silver buttons sparkled, and braids glistened. A magnificent sight. He also looked familiar. He sounded pretty good, even with the odd
off
note. She could see about forty heads, caps atilt, milling about in the lane behind the fence. Jennifer wondered what the hell they were doing when, as if by magic, they formed up four abreast, in perfect lines.

‘Hey, you down there!
HEY!'
she yelled louder. Deafened by his own screeching and blaring, all her waving and yelling had no effect on the piper.

Jennifer hurried outside and immediately recognised the player's legs. Eyes closed, deep in concentration, she needed to get his attention. ‘Hey!' she yelled and squeezed the air bag. A bunch of off notes hit the air, making her flinch and shudder. ‘Calum!'

He peered from under his cap and gave her a wicked grin. ‘G'day,' he said, voice rumbling sexily around the mouthpiece.

‘G'day?' she said, trying to sound casual, which was difficult.

The mystique of his mighty, Scottish brawn turned her on. Or was it the kilt? ‘Take that tubey thing out of your mouth.' He did and she planted her lips on his. He reached for her and pulled her in, with a clatter of pipes.

The air bag whined,
Wheeeaaaeeerh!
until it died.

She ended the kiss and said, ‘We just crushed your friend. Your purse is digging into my belly and those pipy things are putting dents in my breast. I have to say, Sofe and Claudie will be most pleased that we killed your friend.' She stepped back for a better look at him. It wouldn't matter what he wore, but this uniform had a wickedly sinful, erotic effect on her.

He grinned. ‘Should I wear this more often?'

‘Love the knees.' Jennifer looked down. ‘Nice purse. Love the red tartan. What's under the kilt?'

‘Secret men's business.' He winked. He put the mouthpiece between his lips, blew air into the bag and squeezed. He played a few notes and cocked an eyebrow.

Jennifer grimaced. ‘You should warn a girl before you blow that thing.'

‘Won't do it again until we're coming down Grey Street. You might want to get a good vantage point in case you want another look at the knees. And there's something else you should see.' He performed a perfect about-face; his kilt whirled tantalisingly high — but not quite high enough — then he marched out the gate to join the rest of the band.

Jennifer wondered whether to warn her sister and niece. She went upstairs. Claudia was snoring with her mouth open and her iPod stuck in her ears. Should she bother? Nuh.

She heard the shower going and popped her head in. ‘Sofe!'

‘Yeah, Jen. Thanks for making that frigging awful racket has stop.'

‘Quick, put something on.' Jennifer grabbed a towel and handed it to her. ‘Or you'll miss seeing it!'

‘Seeing what?' But Sofie hadn't missed Jennifer's urgency. In a flash, she was dry and pulling on underwear, jeans and warm jumper. She shoved her feet into her socks and sneakers, ruffled her hair and headed downstairs.

Jennifer opened the front door and squinted into the early morning sunlight. Eyes adjusting, she took in the colourful scene of people milling about on either side of the street.

‘What's going on?' Sofie asked, shading her eyes.

‘I'm not sure. Calum mumbled something about a sausage sizzle fund-raiser, but he never mentioned this.'

‘Aw, he wanted to surprise you. And us.'

‘Here they come.' Jennifer stood on tiptoe to see down Grey Street. She forgot all about her hangover watching the magnificent, glorious colour and pageantry marching towards them. The marshal, dressed in full splendour, twirled his silver mace, followed by Calum leading the band of kilted men marching to
Scotland the Brave
.

Jennifer's heart swelled and her smile widened as Calum drew closer.

The heart-rending music and the men looking so masculine and proud brought a lump to Jennifer's throat. Calum was a mere few metres away when his eyes slid in her direction. She held her breath and felt the heat of their unspoken connection. Calum's wink was proof that he felt it too and her breath quickened. She could hardly believe it. It took only a few seconds, but in that short time, surrounded by hundreds of people, she'd had a private, tender moment with Calum. The feeling stayed with her. Somehow she knew their connection would be eternal. She barely noticed the rest of the band as they marched by.

Claudia, wearing Sofie's dressing gown, peered over her shoulder. ‘Hectic!'

Sofie gasped. ‘I want one! Can I choose?'

‘Mum!' Claudia complained.

‘Oh-my-God — oh-my-God!' Jennifer exclaimed. ‘Is that…it can't be. He doesn't know the first thing about drums.'

‘It's him all right!' Sofie gripped Jennifer's arm, her fingers digging in hard, and gasped. ‘He's marching next to the gardener bloke who's helping me fix the courtyard!'

‘I don't believe it. Uncle Bret!'

Broad, white straps held a small drum at Bret's hip. He was marching, and playing, in the middle of a row of drummers, and did his best to keep up. He might not have been an expert, but he looked magnificent in Calum's red and black clan colours. Back straight and proud as anyone could be, head not moving, his eyes sliced their way, his mouth working hard against a smile, but gave up and let it rip. Tears of pride and happiness glistened in his eyes.

‘Anyone got a tissue — better still, a box?' Jennifer asked, dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve. She wanted to cry and sob for her younger brother. She wanted to run through the marching men and hug him until he yelled,
enough!

‘That's epic.' Claudia clapped with animated enthusiasm.

‘Uncle Bob would've been so proud of him,' Sofie sniffled.

‘Calum and his family did this. Bret's become a man — finally,' Jennifer whispered to herself.

Sofie gave a contented sigh and tugged at Jennifer's sleeve, but Jennifer didn't move. She watched the men until they were around the corner and out of sight.

‘Come on, Jen, we need a double shot latté — with a twist.'

* * *

Jennifer took a deep breath and went inside their restaurant. She picked up a serviette from the buffet to blow her nose.

‘I don't think you have to worry about Uncle Bret anymore,' Claudia said with feeling.

‘No, he's fine.' Jennifer took the handful of tissues that appeared under her nose. ‘Do I look like I've been crying?'

‘Hell no.' Sofie performed an exaggerated eye roll.

‘I'm gunna make some toast,' Claudia said. ‘Anyone want any?'

Sofie swung around to stare at her daughter's back, then swung back, eyes wide and questioning, to Jennifer.

‘No thanks, Claudia.' Jennifer shrugged at her sister. ‘I've had breakfast.'

‘Mum?'

‘Love some. Thanks, sweetheart,' Sofie blinked.

‘Don't look at me, sis,' Jennifer whispered.

The espresso coffee maker burbled. ‘I'll get the coffee — you want one, Claud?' Sofie asked, opening the cupboard for some cups.

‘Sure. Thanks, Mum.'

‘You think Claudia is old enough for coffee?' Jennifer asked.

‘The moment Claudie offered to make toast, she matured ten years,' Sofie said, all misty-eyed.

Toast and coffee in hand, Claudia said, ‘I'll take mine in the den and get back to the crap.'

Sofie watched her daughter walk with purpose down the hall to work on her essays. ‘It won't be long and she'll drop the Goth make-up. Lately she only slaps it on when she goes out.'

‘The Goth make-up really doesn't matter,' Jennifer said. ‘Do you think she wears it more as a shield to hide behind?'

‘Sadly, yes.'

‘Mum — Mum!' Claudia sang out, hurrying back down the hall. She came charging into the kitchen. ‘I'm gunna take a break. I swear I'll get the essays done. Michelle asked me to the Highland band picnic! It's a small fund-raiser at Centennial Park. Can I have twenty for the sausage sizzle and dunking the math teacher in the tub — twice?'

‘I'll meet you halfway. Ten dollars should do fine,' Sofie said.

‘Done.' Claudia took off. ‘Gunna get dressed.'

‘You look surprised.' Jennifer pursed her lips against a smile.

‘That was so easy,' Sofie said in wonder.

‘That's because she wanted ten in the first place.' Jennifer smiled and crossed her arms. ‘We used that trick all the time, remember?'

Sofie frowned.
‘Oh.
No more coffees for Claudie.'

‘Why don't you go have a look around, spend the other ten?'

‘I think I will — you coming?'

‘Maybe later. Calum's coming past to have another look at that weird space behind the closet. I can't leave; he might turn up in his kilt.'

Jennifer waved her sister off outside the restaurant. ‘And leave the men in kilts alone,' she called.

‘Hell no!' Sofie yelled, then stopped and turned to give Jennifer a cheeky look. ‘I wonder if Brock's in a kilt. That'd be something.' With a hand to her mouth, Sofie's eyes grew round, she giggled and said, ‘He is so beautiful! Ooh, I might even get to see his legs…' Sofie gave a shiver and disappeared into the crowd.

Jennifer shook her head and silently hoped that big, muscled, kilted Brock
would
sweep Sofie off her feet. She closed the door and immediately the bright morning sun softened through the frosted glass and the happy crowd noises were muffled. Smiling, she moved around the tables and started setting them up ready for the opening. Pottering in her own space was a dream.

The restaurant and everything in it belonged to her and her family. They were in charge. They would make it happen.

‘G'day, Twinkles.' Calum kissed the back of her neck.

Jennifer screamed. ‘You can't do that! I might be holding a knife.' She threw her arms around his neck.

‘Sorry, I was sure you heard me. I'll make more noise next time.'

‘Thanks for that amazing surprise this morning. We'll never forget how Bret played the drums in a marching band.'

‘He's a reluctant kilt wearer, says they're scratchy. He did really well.'

She looked him up and down and a slow grin eased into her face. ‘I see you've still got yours on?'

‘Don't give me the eye.'

‘Who, me?' She pointed to his arm. ‘What've you got there?'

‘I brought a change of clothes.'

‘I like what you've got on, you look dapper, sexy-dapper.' Jennifer slowly licked her lips.

His gaze turned wicked. ‘I'll race you to the closet.' He took off and was on the stairs in a flash, Jennifer at his heels.

She looked up just in time to see Calum's kilt swing out. ‘You have a great arse.'

In a flash, he was down the hall and in the bedroom stripping off his piper's jacket and toeing off his shoes.

‘Anything else coming off?'

‘Not yet.' Then he was in the closet. ‘You coming?' he asked, voice muffled.

‘Just a sec.' Jennifer kicked off her sneakers and when she caught up, he was checking out the wall behind the belts and ties. She sidled past him, her hands sliding over the old timber from the top to the base.

Calum edged towards her and climbed over her legs to straddle her hips. ‘Sorry.' He moved over Jennifer.

‘No you're not,' she quipped.

He flipped Jennifer onto her back and almost fell on top of her. ‘This closet is insane,' he murmured, hot and hungry.

Jennifer wriggled underneath him, and they kissed for a long time. She cupped his face, and eased him back. ‘Okay, let's face it. This could go on all afternoon.' She may not have been able to see him properly, but she felt his grin beneath her palms.

‘You're right, got to find the secret tunnel that leads to the treasure.'

Jennifer laughed. ‘I thought you'd already done that.'

‘I love it when you talk dirty,' he said and nuzzled her neck.

Her hands found his butt and squeezed. ‘Nice skirt.'

‘Kilt,
it's a
kilt.
Tough Scottish Highlanders would be wounded in a deep and very profound way to hear you say skirt.'

‘Okay, kilt then. C'mon, superman, if you can't hover, get off me.'

‘Let go of my arse then.' Jennifer gave it a last squeeze and he lifted himself up. ‘Later then,' he murmured with meaning.

Jennifer laughed. She flipped back onto her stomach, hands out, and moved up where the back panel met the side. Her fingers touched something other than smooth timber. ‘Don't move, I think I found it.'

‘Where?'

She clasped his forearm and guided him to a small hole, just big enough for a man's finger, midway between the floor and ceiling of the closet.

‘What will happen if we pull it across?' Jennifer whispered, sounding anxious.

‘The world as we know it will end?'

She found his shoulder and thumped him. ‘Don't be daft.'