Chapter Three
Brann
B rann swung the van into the Glenbriar High School car park and cranked on the handbrake. A lot had changed with this building since he’d been here. Hardly surprising as he’d left twenty years ago and, truth be told, he hadn’t exactly had a good attendance record. Make that a good record full stop. No need for his daughter to know that, however. Just as there was no need for her to know that when he was only a couple of years older than her, he became a dad for the first time. No doubt she could do the maths, but he didn’t want to draw attention to if he could help it.
He made his way to the front door, which now had a security entry system. How things had changed. The world had gone safety mad. Like the carry on he’d had yesterday with that posh woman threatening him with antlers and demanding I.D. She might have been one hell of a looker, but what a headcase.
After working out which button to press, he waited until the door clicked, then entered. The reception area was all new. This had been a gathering ground for pupils before assemblies when he’d been here, but now it had a large desk with a Perspex window separating him from the receptionist.
‘Hi.’ He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘I’m Caitlin Duthie’s dad. I had a call saying she’d hurt herself and I’ve come to get her.’
‘Of course.’ The receptionist smiled at him and got to her feet. ‘I’ll just buzz you through. She’s waiting on the blue seats.’
Brann smirked. ‘Ah, the blue seats. Still got them, yeah?’ They were the place where anyone who was waiting to go home was sent to sit until someone showed up to get them. ‘They’ve been there since nineteen oatcake.’
‘Oh, really? Were you at school here?’
‘About a hundred years ago.’
‘I know the feeling.’ The receptionist hit another security pad with a card on her lanyard and opened the door for him. ‘Caitlin, your dad’s here.’
Brann peered at his daughter, and she looked back with wide eyes and a pained expression. Her left leg was extended in front of her and she rubbed at her knee.
‘What happened to you?’ Brann asked.
‘I think I sprained it when we were doing cross-country.’
Quite impressive that she even took part. He remembered bunking off cross-country, along with almost every other subject. After he left school, he’d started to enjoy sports, but on his own terms. Running wasn’t his jam. He liked weights and the tug-of-war at the Highland Games was his big thing. Now he was captain and determined to get the team a win this year, but it was a big ask for a group of amateurs.
‘Come on then,’ he said. ‘Let’s get you home.’ He lifted her bag from the seat beside her and helped her to her feet.
‘I hope you’re feeling better soon,’ the receptionist said. ‘The first aider reckons rest will do the trick. Nothing seems to be broken.’
‘No worries.’ Brann smiled at her. ‘I’m sure she’ll make a full recovery. Thanks for taking care of her. You’re a breath of fresh air compared to the dragon of a receptionist we had when I was in school. I think she scared people off more than helped with anything. Have you been here long?’
‘Three years now, but only part time.’
‘Well, you do a great job. Thanks.’
‘Oh, you’re welcome.’ The receptionist gave him a huge grin as he helped Caitlin through the door. ‘That’s nice of you to say so.’
‘Not at all. You have a great day.’
‘Seriously, Dad,’ Caitlin muttered when they were out of earshot.
‘What?’
‘You didn’t have to flirt with her. She’s married.’
‘I wasn’t flirting. We were just chatting.’
‘Yeah, right.’
Brann looked away and rolled his eyes at a bush beside the path. Heaven help Caitlin if he ever got a girlfriend. She was paranoid if he even spoke to another woman. Of course, he’d had other women since breaking up with her mum, otherwise it would have been a barren six years, but he’d never brought anyone home when Caitlin was around. He’d never introduced her to anyone, and she was a big part of the reason new relationships didn’t last. The split had hit her hard, and she’d already suffered bouts of childhood depression. The last one had landed her in the hospital when she’d harmed herself. That had been a year ago, and she’d just finished counselling. Touch wood, she seemed to be on the mend, but Brann didn’t want to rock the boat too much. Hence leaving a job so fast to get her. Hearing the words ‘Caitlin’s hurt herself’ had a profound effect on him.
‘Can you get into the van ok? Do you want me to lift you?’
She glanced around to see if anyone else was about. ‘Ok.’
He opened the door, then lifted her in. She may be almost sixteen, but she was still his little girl, his baby. As a toddler, she’d had almost white-blonde hair that was so wild and curly it looked like she’d stuck her finger in a socket. Now it was darker, sandy coloured like his own. She tamed the frizz with conditioners and sprays – several bottles of which filled his bathroom for the days she was with him. ‘You ok?’ he said as she settled herself in the seat.
‘Yeah. It’s still a bit sore. I twisted it when I was running down the bank near the duck pond. I had to walk all the way back. That made it worse.’
‘Do you want to go to the surgery and get it checked?’
‘Na. If it gets bad, I will, but I’ll try rest first.’
‘Ok.’ Brann nipped around to the driver’s seat and jumped in. His house wasn’t far from the school, neither was Kristalee’s – his ex. But she didn’t drive, so he was on duty whenever transport was needed.
‘Where’s Harrison?’ Caitlin asked.
‘Still working. We’re putting in a new kitchen in a flat on The Back Wynd.’
‘Are you going back to work after you drop me off? Or is he walking home?’
‘I’ll go back for a bit if you’re ok, but I can stay if you prefer. I’ll need to get Harrison later though.’
‘Why? The Back Wynd is like five minutes away.’
‘Yeah, but I need to load the tools in the van. I’m not leaving them at a property overnight.’
‘Well, I guess I’ll be ok on my own. Can I watch Netflix?’
‘Yeah. As long as it’s appropriate stuff.’
‘Dad, I’m not six.’
‘I know, just saying. Don’t freak yourself out like that time you watched a horror movie on a sleepover and wouldn’t sleep with the light off for months after.’
‘Seriously. It was only like a few days, not months.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘If you say so, but it sure felt a lot longer than that.’
She leaned her head on the glass and let out a sigh. ‘It’s not fair, you know.’
‘What’s not fair?’
‘All my friends go horse riding and most of them have their own horses. Why can’t I do that?’
Where had that thought come from? The randomness of teenagers was hard to work out sometimes. ‘Because it’s expensive. And where would you keep a horse? Who would look after it?’
‘I would, and there are loads of places around here to keep horses. Some of my friends ride at Ross McPherson’s farm. He has horses and you can borrow them.’
‘Who’s Ross McPherson? Is he your boyfriend?’
‘No, Dad! He’s like some old guy.’
Brann tapped the steering wheel, wondering if the man was actually his age. Being thirty-seven was ancient in the eyes of a teenager.
‘And my friend Aria got a retired racehorse for like nothing. They would have had it put down otherwise, so she pretty much got it for free.’
‘Well, I’ll have a think, but it’s a big commitment, you know.’
‘Obviously, I know.’
‘Good, because you’re still young and it’s not something to take on lightly.’ If only someone had warned him at seventeen what a commitment parenthood was. Not that he’d have listened. It wasn’t like he and Kristalee had meant to have a child. They were stupid kids who spent too much time fooling around. After Harrison was born, they’d tried to stick together and be a family, hence having another kid, but there were times they’d had such big bust ups it felt like they’d never overcome them, and latterly they hadn’t. By the time Harrison was fourteen and Caitlin was ten, their relationship was dead. Both Brann and Kristalee were wise enough to realise they wouldn’t pick each other now. What they’d seen in each other as teenagers had passed and they couldn’t keep things going. After years of arguing, it was kind of ironic they’d split amicably, though Brann wasn’t sure that was ideal for Caitlin. She couldn’t understand why they wouldn’t get back together when they were still friends. She couldn’t grasp the fact they were only friends because they were apart.
With Caitlin back home, Brann went to his desk and opened his laptop. May as well catch up with a bit of paperwork. He was getting used to this part of the job and just as well because the business was expanding since he’d built a fancy new house for the CEO of a local whisky distillery. He was making a name for himself in the town, and he’d taken on Harrison as his apprentice. Usually, he worked on the larger contracts with trustworthy friends in the trade, but eventually he wanted to employ them himself. He’d reached the stage he could afford to hire a couple of workers and pick some bigger contracts. His inbox was full and several requests for work had come in.
After he’d replied to his emails, he checked into the living room where Caitlin sat, flicking through TV channels, with her ankle resting on the coffee table. ‘Are you ok for a few hours?’
‘Yeah. I’ll be fine.’
‘Ok, baby girl. Take care and call me if your ankle gets worse. I’m not far away.’ He leaned over the back of the sofa and kissed her. ‘Love you.’
‘Love you, Dad,’ she said, still pointing the remote at the TV. He ruffled her hair and left.
When he got to the van, he sent a quick message to Kristalee to tell her Caitlin was resting at his house but seemed fine, then started the engine.
An unknown number rang, lighting up the van’s console. ‘Hello,’ Brann answered.
‘Ah, hello,’ a rather pompous female voice spoke. ‘It’s Barbara.’
Brann frowned. ‘Um… Barbara who?’
‘Barbara Strachan. I work for the Glenvorneth Estate. We met yesterday at the boathouse, if you recall.’
‘Oh, yeah.’ How could he forget? Why was she calling him though? Had the killer-heeled ‘heiress’ decided they were a good fit after all?
‘Ophelia has made a list of jobs to add to the boathouse project. Some of them are quite urgent and I’m hoping to get some rates from you and also some dates for when you could look around at the work.’
Ophelia had made the list. She must have changed her tune. ‘What kind of jobs are we talking about?’
‘So, there’s repair works to the stables, plus Ophelia thinks extending them by converting the old steading would be a good plan. She’s also written here, upgrades to the workers’ cottages, restoration of the Factor’s House, extension of the Boathouse. General repairs to the main house. Fencing needing replaced.’
Brann frowned. ‘And you want me to do this work?’
‘Absolutely.’
Brann felt a smirk growing. He couldn’t help it. This was an opportunity not to be missed. Those jobs would keep him going for a while, and this would be another prestigious job to add to the company résumé, but did that mean working with Ophelia? Hopefully not.
‘Now, when would be a good time for you to show me around? Let me get my diary.’
Brann drove towards the Back Wynd as he waited for her to find a suitable date. He’d heard Ophelia saying she was only there for a couple of weeks, which suited him fine. He couldn’t start the work until after that anyway, so he wouldn’t have to see her again. What could be better? Apart from seeing her again… Did he really want that? Bizarrely, he kind of did. Experience told him it was just as well she wouldn’t be about then, because he had a bad habit of doing things that weren’t good for him. He’d worked hard to get his life on track, and he didn’t need a distraction like her causing him any trouble.