Watch Over Me (22 page)

‘She’s spoiling you, isn’t she?’ said Margaret, smiling.

‘She sure is, Margaret, she’s a great lassie, aren’t you, pet?’ She stroked my cheek and I swallowed, a bit choked.

‘To think I stole her from her mum this year! She’s here with me instead.’

To think my mum wasn’t that bothered.

‘Well, we’re not giving her back. We’re keeping you!’ said Sandy affectionately.

‘What a blessing for you, with the house and the shop, as well.’

‘A real blessing, Margaret. I just wish Flora were here to see her back.’

‘Don’t we all wish that. If she was sat here with us now – she loved a party, your gran! And her singing! I never heard a voice like hers.’

I smiled at the memory. Sandy and Flora used to entertain everybody with their singing. Unfortunately, neither Katrina nor myself had inherited Flora’s lovely voice.

‘True, Sandy, very true. Never heard a voice like Flora’s. But Eilidh here, she might not be a singer but she can cook! Flora wasn’t one for cooking.’

‘She wasn’t, no …’ Everybody agreed on that. I laughed. My gran’s cooking is legendary and not in a good way. I was the only one that actually enjoyed her meals, out of sheer loyalty.

‘Well, Marks and Spencer gave me a hand here, I must admit!’

The meal was great, though I say so myself, and then we sat companionably in front of the fire. It was the best Christmas I’d had in years, so peaceful and warm. And then the phone rang. Peggy’s daughters had phoned that morning, so in all likelihood, it was …

‘Rhona! Merry Christmas to you, how are you all? Good, good, there she is!’

I wished I didn’t have to speak to them. But that would have been rude. Also, I wanted to, for some weird reason. Tom had always said it’s sort of masochistic, the way I look for my family, my mum in particular, only to be hurt over and over again. I can’t help it.

‘Merry Christmas, Mum!’

‘Merry Christmas, Eilidh. Wait, here’s your father …’

Oh, ok.

‘What?’ My dad was fumbling with the phone. ‘Yes. Yes. Eilidh? Merry Christmas.’

‘And you, Dad, are you having a good time?’

‘Yes, good I suppose, you know I don’t believe in Christmas, anyway.’

‘Yes, I know.’ I know. I had been reminded every year as a wee girl.

‘What did you—’ but he was gone already.

‘Hi, Merry Christmas, Eilidh, how are you?’

‘Hi Katrina, yes, all is well, having a good time here with Peggy.’

‘God, Eilidh, at thirty-five you spend Christmas on your own with your old auntie, that’s not normal. You should have come down, at least to give Mum a hand. Yes, coming, coming, darling!’ A wee voice in the background. Molly. ‘The kids are great. Such fun. Oh well, I’ll let you go … you must be having a riot!’ She laughed.

I said nothing. What was there to say?

‘Eilidh?’ My mum. ‘Well, it was good talking to you.’

Talking to me? But you
didn’t
.

‘And you, Mum. We’re having duck, what are you having?’

‘Turkey, and steak for your father – he says turkey’s dry, he’s so fussy.’

‘Margaret is here, they …’

‘Must go darling, need to phone Laura. Merry Christmas again, kiss to Peggy.’

‘Oh, yes, of course. I’ll let you go. Have fun.’

‘Well, I don’t know about fun. I’m not feeling that good, really, I haven’t eaten a thing, my stomach’s in a knot. Bye …’

For a change. My mum’s ailments had no rhyme or reason, they were just meant to give everybody a reason to worry, not to enjoy the moment.

‘That’s a shame …’ But she had already put down the phone.

God.

I took a deep breath. I’ll never, never get used to it. I’m sure Katrina didn’t want to be there either. Imagine being able to spend Christmas with your family and actually have a good time. Tom’s mum had died when he was barely twenty, his dad had remarried and they weren’t close, so I couldn’t seek refuge with my in-laws either. But my brother-in-law’s family were lovely, so at least Katrina had a good one every second year. Though
they
probably didn’t, being lumbered with her.

Maybe that’s why she was being so horrible about me, making it out that I was so sad and pathetic for spending Christmas like I was. She didn’t want to be there either, my dad in a mood, my mum doing her ‘I’m not feeling well’ routine and putting herself to bed in the middle of it. I nearly felt sorry for my sister. Nearly.

I went back into the living room. Peggy was sitting peacefully by the fire, a cup of tea in her hand – ‘Enough sherry for me, dear!’ – having a blether with her old friends. Margaret, with her paper hat on, was eating Celebrations and chattering excitedly about her son and her daughter-in-law, and how funny her grandson was with his wee English accent. And Sandy, his brown eyes full of kindness and a bit of mischief, sat gently making fun of ‘the girls’. The window framed a cold and wintry Scotland, magical as ever. Home.

I sat down happily and as I unwrapped a chocolate and sipped my tea, Katrina’s bitter words dissolved in my memory, weak and meaningless. They’ll always be able to hurt me – my parents and Katrina. I love them, therefore they’ll always have power over me. But not today, not right now.

My phone beeped. A text.

    
Merry Xmas from all of us baby, H, D and our families.

I thought of them and I thought of Maisie wearing her silver star necklace, and I smiled to myself.

It would take too much energy to exist outside of Glen Avich, so I can’t be with Jamie and Shona today. I’m sitting with Peggy instead, with her and my old friends, invisible, perched on the arm of the sofa.

‘Remember when we had the jumble sale – we were about fifteen, weren’t we – and Beth Ramsay came and bought a gift for each of us?’

‘Yes, she was always lovely, Lady Ramsay, a real heart of gold. Her family used to help out a lot, you know, in our time, when Glen Avich was a lot poorer, a lot of people were struggling …’

‘She was great with the McAnenas, remember? When James died in Spain and Mary and wee James were left alone.’

‘Aye, so they were. Poor Mary, how she struggled. She raised James all alone, and such a fine boy he was.’

‘And a fine man he became. Elizabeth was lucky …’

‘And so was James, with Elizabeth!’ Peggy says. That makes me smile. Peggy has always been such a loyal friend.

‘I wish she were here too, don’t you, Peggy?’

‘Oh, aye.’

But I
am
here. You can’t see me but I am.

‘Jamie is just like his father, isn’t he?’

‘Aye, the very image. And quiet, just like James.’

‘He’s doing great, he’s going to Australia, isn’t he, Eilidh?’

‘It looks like it.’ A shadow passes on her face.

‘Is he not going out with Gail anymore?’ asks Margaret.

‘Not for a while, no. That poor lassie is quite low, I’ve heard. Her mum came to the shop a wee while ago. Gail is talking about going away for a bit. But maybe now that Jamie’s going …’

‘Well, you can’t just stay with someone ‘cause they’d get upset if you left. The lad did the right thing. Better than be stuck for the rest of his life.’

‘Like you, Sandy?’ laughs Margaret, a twinkle in her eye.

‘Aye, like me!’ Sandy laughs, rolls his eyes and looks at her warmly.

‘That wee girl, Maisie, she’s just the apple of his eye.’

‘She is, she’s a wee doll and a real looker, like her mum.’ I feel Eilidh tensing up.

‘Would you believe she’s gone without looking back? Leaving her daughter behind? Unheard of …’

‘She was stunning, no wonder Jamie fell for her.’

‘Enough of that, Sandy!’ laughs Margaret.

‘Well, sorry, but she was!’

‘Was she?’ says Eilidh, trying to give the impression that it’s just an idle remark, just making conversation, but really, I can see she’s listening hard.

‘Yes, tall, blonde, lots of airs and graces …’

Wrong. Janet could come across as pretentious but she was just very, very shy. She preferred the company of her canvases and paintbrushes to that of people.

‘If I could live on top of a mountain and paint, I’d be happy,’ she told me once and I had tried to ignore the fact that she hadn’t mentioned Jamie and Maisie being on top of the mountain with her. Anyway, no point in thinking about that now.

Sandy’s still talking. ‘About time Jamie finds someone else; that wee girl needs a mum, especially since Elizabeth is gone.’

Silence from Peggy. Eilidh stands up quickly. ‘Anyone for tea?’

I smile to myself. She has feelings for him. If only she could let go of her fear … She thinks she can’t allow herself to be happy, that she’s not good enough for Jamie. She says to herself it’s because she can’t bear children, but I knows it’s deeper than that. Her family has made her feel so unlovable for years and not even Tom, a man that I know was kind and loving to her, could change that.

She’s terrified, I can feel it. She’s terrified to let herself go and take another blow. She couldn’t survive any more pain, she knows that, and she’s keeping herself away, safe, protected. My hope is that when her wounds are healed, she’ll feel strong enough to take a risk. I don’t know if it’ll ever happen or if it does, if Jamie will be around, or if I’ll be there to see it. But I hope so, for her sake as much as ours. She’s so full of love, full to the brim, but with no one to give it to. I see the way she cuddles Maisie and strokes her hair, and how the two of them snuggle up, very, very close to each other, like they’re both starving for affection. Maisie gets plenty of affection from Jamie but a five-year-old can never have enough. And Eilidh, well, she needs to be
touched
. It’s a fundamental need for us all, the physical proximity of someone we love. Without it, it’s a terribly, terribly cold existence. Enough to make you wither and wilt like a plant without water.

I see Jamie and Eilidh together and I see them gravitating towards each other, trying to get close without quite managing. I see Jamie looking at her when she’s not looking. I see Eilidh steeling herself to a lonely life she’s doesn’t
have
to live.

I see many things and nobody sees me, so I’m free to look.

I see Fiona crying in her room, taking off the necklace Silke gave her before flying home for Christmas.

I was making the bed in the spare bedroom when I heard the car pulling up. I ran down the stairs and flung the door open.

‘Harry! It’s so,
so
good to see you! Oh, I missed you!’ I said, giving him a bear hug. I pulled away to look at him. He was beaming. I hugged him again.

‘You look great, Eilidh … You look like … well, the old you!’

‘You look great, too,’ I said and I meant it. He seemed in great form, his brown eyes shining.

‘Hi baby!’ Doug came out of the car, laden with bags. We managed to hug anyway.

‘God, I’m gasping!’ he said.

‘Cup of tea?’

They laughed. ‘Cup of tea? We are celebrating! Where’s the pub?’

Half an hour later, after a quick visit to say hello to Peggy in the shop, the three of us were sitting on the red velvet sofas of the Green Hat, a whisky glass each in front of us. Yes, me too. I know, quite naughty, being early afternoon, but there you go.

I looked at my friends affectionately. Harry was wearing a tweed cap on his bald head, a big tartan scarf and a corduroy blue jacket. All ironically, of course – he was playing ‘country gentleman’.

‘I love your cap!’ I said, patting it.

‘Yes, you know, when in Rome …’

‘Harry, do you see anyone wearing a tweed cap?’

‘Ok, I see what you mean, but I couldn’t resist.’

‘I had to talk him out of wearing tartan trousers. He looked like Tiger Woods,’ said Doug, who, on the contrary, was ultrastylish in Diesel jeans and a designer-looking top. Doug has this thing about him – it looks as if he’s smiling all the time, even when he’s not. People are drawn to him and his calm, easy-going good mood. Doug is a man without an agenda. He’s happy with himself, happy with the people around him and the world seems a lot brighter when he’s around.

‘Really, Eilidh, you do look like the old you,’ said Harry. ‘Maybe it’s the water up here or something. Your eyes are shining again and you put on weight. God, you were scrawny!’

‘Yes, I’ve been eating constantly since I arrived here. If I don’t stop, I’ll be huge before I know it.’

‘I’d say that’s a long way away! Remember, you used to sit in front of my gorgeous ravioli and just look at them and go, “I can’t …” It was awful.’

‘That’s all in the past. I’m never going back there. Did I tell you Tom is living with his girlfriend?’

‘You did, yes.’

‘Thing is,’ Doug intervened, ‘she doesn’t seem to be making him very happy. I saw them in the centre a while ago. He didn’t look good.’