Mistakes We Make (4 page)

‘I’m so sorry.’ What a bloody useless remark. ‘Can I visit him? Where is he?’

‘He’s at home now. He’s been in and out of hospital for the last eight weeks, but he refuses to go to a hospice. We’re preparing for the worst with the help of a Macmillan nurse.’

‘Macmillan? Isn’t that cancer?’

The word had slipped out and it lay like a stone between them. Adam cursed inwardly. Couldn’t he have been more tactful?

‘He was diagnosed with bowel and stomach cancer three months ago. There’s nothing they can do. If he’d discovered it earlier—’ Her voice shook again, an almost imperceptible tremor, then it had gone and the strong Jean came back. ‘I won’t bore you with the details. It’s all come as a bit of a shock. We haven’t had much time to prepare ourselves.’

‘I can imagine.’ Adam hesitated. ‘Do you need some legal help, Jean? I’d be very happy to make sure the paperwork is all in order. A will, for example—’

He’d felt better offering practical help. He was a lawyer: taking care of people’s estates was what he did.

‘Adam, we moved our business from Blair King when – when Geordie and your father had their row.’

She’d said it gently, but Adam had still cringed. The Great Family Rift. Two decades of bitterness and animosity.

‘Of course. I imagine it’s all taken care of. So what can I—?’

‘He’d like to see you. He really wants to talk to your father, of course, but he sees this as a preliminary.’

‘Right.’

‘He’ll be gone soon, Adam. He has a million regrets and he wants to set them to rest. And he doesn’t want your father to have it all on his conscience after he’s died, with no opportunity to put things right.’

‘That’s a generous thought.’

‘Will you come out to the farm?’

Adam had dropped the paperclip onto the desk and stared unseeingly at it. His father had made his views clear hundreds of times.
I’ll never see the bastard again.
He’d kept it up for years, with only two exceptions – the first at Adam and Molly’s wedding, at Adam’s insistence, and then at his nephew’s funeral as a result of Jean’s pleading. Even then, he’d not said a word to Geordie. Not one word. James Blair was made of steel.

‘I’ll come,’ he’d said quietly, ‘but I can’t promise that I can persuade Dad.’

Predictably, it was Lexie who bounced out of bed first.

‘Great move, coming back here,’ she announced with horrible cheerfulness as she dragged back the curtains and sunshine flooded in.

Molly groaned and rolled away. The earpieces were still wedged in place. She pulled them out and slipped the iPod under her pillow, but kept her eyes firmly closed.

‘Just
look
at that view! Fancy a cuppa? Or shall I order breakfast? What do you feel like?’

Lack of sleep dragged at Molly. ‘Go for a walk, Lex,’ she mumbled. ‘Do some painting. Whatever. Come back in an hour.’

Lexie laughed. ‘You’re grumpy.’

Molly pulled the pillow over her head and curled up tightly. If she didn’t sleep a little longer, she’d be useless all day.

Soon there was silence. The sunshine bathed her in its warmth and gently toasted her until she fell asleep again.

An hour later, she lingered by the huge picture window as Lexie finished dabbing at the red wine stain on her eau-de-nil dress and hung it up to dry. Outside, a few wispy clouds scudded across an otherwise perfect sky. There was no mirror loch this morning; a light breeze was whipping the water into ripples that weren’t quite white horses. In the distance, half a dozen dinghies scudded across the blue expanse. The conjunction of rock and grass and sharply-angled mountains was spectacular.

On impulse, she called out, ‘Shall we stay tonight? I’d like to stay.’

‘You sure?’ Lexie emerged from the bathroom. Her hair was an inch or two longer than she normally wore it, and her face a little less angular.

Molly, studying her friend, thought that pregnancy suited her. It took the edge off her restless energy, replacing it with a kind of contentment. After Jamie’s death and all they’d been through, it was a welcome sight. She crossed the room and hugged her.

‘How’s baby Mulgrew-Gordon?’

‘Active.’

Lexie reached for Molly’s hand and placed it on the bulge.

‘She kicked me!’ Molly was shocked to feel the stirring of a response to the movement somewhere deep in her own belly.

Lexie laughed and settled her hands on the bump. ‘She’s going to have Patrick’s dynamism. What are you thinking about breakfast?’

‘We’ll go down, have the full spread.’

‘Really?’ Lexie didn’t say,
What about Adam?
but the unspoken question was there all the same.

‘Really. Let’s go.’

They picked their way down the stairs, Lexie clutching the handrail to protect against trips, Molly braced for the encounter in a buttocks-clenched, lips-pursed, face-of-plaster kind of way because, although she’d made up her mind to do this, there was a cost.

She was prepared to feel hostile. She was braced for insecurity, and jealousy, and guilt. What she wasn’t prepared for was feeling sympathy for the woman Adam had brought with him.

They saw her at once, sitting all alone at a table in a corner of the dining room, turning a mobile phone fretfully round and round in one hand. She was an exotic bird, gloriously clad in emerald silk, but a dejected one.

‘Are you on your own?’ Molly said, surprising herself by stopping by her table en route to the window.

The woman looked up. ‘Adam is already out on the hills.’

Memories flooded back in force. In their first year together Molly and Adam had joined a hill-walking club. Ben Lomond had been her first easy ascent. Ben More, Mull’s scenic island peak, her second. Her third had been Ben Nevis, granddaddy of them all. The recollection scythed through her – Adam in his tatty trousers and red jacket, secretly carrying champagne in a backpack all the way to the top to toast her ascent of Britain’s biggest mountain.

When had the romantic gestures stopped?

‘I didn’t think he would be up so early this morning. He was putting his boots on at six o’clock!’ The woman’s lips (painted pink, the colour of the rhododendrons on the driveway) were curved into a rueful smile. ‘I asked him, I said, “Adam, what are you doing? Come back to bed,” but  he said, “Shhh, sleep, my beauty, I shall walk.” And then he was gone.’

Where had Adam found this striking woman? She was improbably perfect, an airbrushed film star. Her face was oval, her cheekbones high and prominent. Her skin was the colour of pale caramel, and flawless. She had outlined her eyes in black kohl again, and her eyelashes were mascaraed to perfection.

And there was nothing in any of this that made her right for Adam, Molly thought with a surge of belligerence.

‘I’m Sunita, by the way.’ The vision held out her hand. Molly spotted a large diamond – right hand, not left – and perfect claret-painted nails. ‘And you’re Molly.’ Sunita’s smile was brilliant, her dark eyes unreadable, but not hostile. ‘Adam talks of you often.’

Does he? Does he really? Molly was shaken by the idea that Adam might discuss her with this woman. It seemed unlikely because he had never been much of a talker – but then, what did she know of Adam now?

‘Won’t you sit? Please?’

Graceful hands fluttered at empty chairs and Molly’s curiosity overtook her hostility. She pulled out a chair and sat.

Sunita turned to Lexie, who had settled herself and her bump in the chair with the best view. ‘And you’re Alexa Gordon. I’m so pleased to meet you. Adam is such an admirer of your work. He has some large paintings – but then, you know that, of course.’

Molly wondered, Is it because she is with Adam that I don’t want to like her?

‘What brings you here?’ Lexie asked.

‘Truthfully? I organised it as a surprise. Adam needed time off. He’s such a workaholic. I mean, really, he never stops. You must have found that too, Molly?’

Molly blinked. She doesn’t know him well. If she knew him, she would not have brought him here. Not if she wanted his company
.

‘I like your top,’ she blurted out, and was instantly annoyed at the inanity.

‘This old thing?’ Sunita squinted down at it. ‘I only brought it because I know Adam adores me in emerald. You know how he is, Molly. He just loves to pay compliments all the time.’

Molly was thrown. She didn’t recognise an Adam who tossed compliments around. Or did she?

She foraged in her memory banks for whispered admiration. ‘I love your hair.’ ‘You smell delicious.’ ‘You look beautiful in that.’ Had he once said such things and she’d just forgotten? Had there been a particular point at which he’d stopped?

‘How long have you been seeing Adam?’

Sunita shrugged. ‘A few months.’

Molly thought of the envelopes with the Blair King frank on the front that kept arriving at home. He’d known this woman for months, was serious enough to bring her
here,
yet the envelopes, with their nitpicking caveats, whomsoevers and whereats, were still arriving?

‘Well,’ she said, helping herself to a piece of Sunita’s toast, ‘have a great day, Sunita. I’m sure he’ll be back in time for dinner.’

––––––––

A
lthough the descent should have been easier than the climb, the hill was steep in places and Adam had to scramble down with care. It would not be sensible to rick an ankle – or worse – out here on his own. Because of this, it was midday when he marched into the car park at the back of the hotel, his feet smarting and his legs alarmingly weak.

Their room was locked and there was no response to his knock. He’d have to get a key from reception. Or perhaps Sunita was enjoying the sun down by the loch. Dumping his small backpack on the cedar walkway outside their room, he went back down the stairs to look for her.

There were half a dozen people down on the foreshore. Lexie Gordon, her crimson hair unmistakeable, appeared to be painting. Several children were scrambling around on the rocks while a man was stretched out in the sunshine nearby. A woman, perched on a rock, her arms round her knees, was talking on a phone.

It had to be Molly; he’d know that pale gold hair and the long back anywhere. Even the distant outline of her body excited him, just as it had years ago – only this time desire, being one-sided, hurt.

Before he could think about what he was doing, he headed for the path across the field. Lexie remained oblivious, her concentration on her task absolute. What was she painting? Even Alexa Gordon’s rough sketches, these days, were worth good money; her partner Patrick Mulgrew had ensured that.

He was a dozen paces away from Molly now, and there was still no sign that she was aware of his presence.

‘—I can’t believe you’re saying this. ... Don’t you
dare
tell me that ... Listen. Shut up for one minute and just
listen,
will you?’

Molly was nettled.

‘No! We will not pick another date and we will not go ahead without you. You will clear whatever it is you have in your diary, and you will make sure you come to his lunch party. You
and
Adrienne and the boys. Do you understand me, Logan?’

Adam had to stop himself smiling. Molly’s brother Logan was also a partner at Blair King. He was gifted, charming and hardworking; he arrived in the office early and left late, as most of them did – but then, Molly could hardly criticise him for that because the term ‘workaholic’ fitted her like a sheer silk stocking.

He and Molly had played a game once, at some party: ‘Describe your partner in one word’.

‘Conscientious,’ Molly had written on her scrap of paper.

‘Driven,’ Adam had scrawled.

And they’d both laughed, wryly acknowledging the truth of their descriptions.

‘Right.’ Irritation had crept into Molly’s voice. ‘Fine. Don’t you worry about the arrangements, I’ll manage.’ There was a short pause. Adam heard only the lapping of the waves on the shingly beach and the squeals of the children playing. ‘I
know
I’m an events manager. I’ve
said
I’ll organise everything. Just be sure you turn up, and Logan—’ another short pause. ‘For God’s sake bring a nice present. I don’t know! Use your imagination! Okay. Yes. Yes. Bye.’

It wasn’t until she’d cut the call that she turned her head and became aware of him.

‘Oh!’

He’d never seen her hazel eyes so wide. For a second he thought she was going to scramble up and run away from him again, but she didn’t move.

He hesitated. ‘May I sit? I’ve just staggered down from some lump over there—’ he waved towards the hills, ‘—and my legs are telling me I’m shockingly unfit.’

Lump. It was an old joke. The first time Molly had ever climbed a mountain, she’d been surprised at the length of the trudge. ‘Call that a mountain?’ Adam had joked. ‘That’s just a lump.’

He caught a hint of a smile before she moved aside, shifting her long legs in their skinny jeans to make room for him. She was still wearing Converse hi-tops, he noticed. She’d been welded to them. He scanned the shoes more carefully. They even seemed to be the same pair, grey with white trim and a small stain by the top lace on the right shoe where she’d splashed hot oil one day.

His wife was a stranger, yet not a stranger. The purgatory of separation niggled at him.

He crossed his ankles and sank onto the rock.

‘I don’t know how you
do
that,’ she burst out, smothering a smile again.

‘Do what?’

‘That sitting thing. You know, without losing your balance.’

Adam leaned back against the rock and closed his eyes. He wanted to look at her. He wanted to drink in every detail, but it was too painful.

A few yards behind him, a child yelled, ‘You’re
horrible
, Jason. I’m going to tell Daddy!’

‘Tell Daddy what?’ came a man’s voice. ‘No, don’t bother. I have a feeling I don’t want to hear. Come on now, you lot, get your things, it’s time for lunch.’

‘Aww.’

‘Must we?’

‘Can I have chips?’

Adam opened his eyes a crack and was relieved to see that Molly wasn’t studying him. Instead, she was staring at the children.