Because of You

Chapter 8

‘What would you like to do next weekend, darling? We could try that new restaurant over in Glasgow? The one that was awarded the Michelin star last year. Check into a hotel, make a weekend of it?’

Skye rolled over, head still thick from the cocktails they had drunk the night before, a smile forming on her lips. Will met her eyes, and tucked her fringe behind her ear.

‘I think that sounds lovely. But don’t you have the Gilbert case coming up the week after?’ Skye propped herself up on her elbows, which sank into the colossal feather pillows Will had just bought.

‘I’m well ahead on that. I think it’ll be a pretty easy win. I doubt it’ll go to court, and I reckon I can thrash out a settlement with the opposing counsel before end-of-play Friday.’

Will was not the kind of guy she had envisioned herself with. Ten years ago, she would have claimed her ideal man was a shaggy-haired rock star, who travelled to festivals in a camper van, who liked his vodka new and would roll the occasional joint. Funny how much things changed. Shaggy hair no longer held any appeal, and she didn’t even touch cigarettes these days, or neat vodka, come to think of it.

Will was the very epitome of establishment, from his polished Oxfords to his politics. Skye had spent so long loathing that kind of person, and now here she was, dating one. It amused her. It would certainly amuse her parents, when they eventually met him. ‘In that case, I’d love to.’ Skye flopped back down in the downy pillow mountain.

Will leaned down and kissed her. ‘Fantastic. I’ll get Rosie to book it in.’

Skye laughed and shook her head, her long fringe falling back across her face. ‘Can’t you do it yourself?’

‘I could,’ Will said, his lips twitching. ‘But I’m far too busy. Cases to win, beautiful girls to keep interested. I mean you, for the avoidance of doubt.’

Had he meant her, though?

Had any of it been real?

* * *

Skye woke up the morning after the Anchor with a buzzing in her head. Was it the thought of Will, memories of whom had kept her awake, and who then plagued her dreams? Or was it the carefree attitude she had adopted towards midweek drinking?

Four gin and tonics had been punchy for a Tuesday night, but each drink had a reason. None of it had been sorrows-drowning and she wasn’t self-medicating. She hadn’t reached that stage yet, and didn’t intend to. The first glass was to thank Paolo for his hospitality. The second was celebratory, having seen Hamish for the first time in years. The third was . . . well, it was a third, and the fourth was when she bumped into Bear at the bar.

Skye had watched Bear, drinking his lonesome pint across the road from them, and felt sorry for him. He was an outsider in Eastercraig, aware that everyone else was on the inside, with enough troubles to need to head to the nearest rock and yell towards the North Sea.

Bear had nursed his drink for a long time. When he took his empty glass back into the pub, Skye excused herself, and followed him in.

She might have told Paolo she wasn’t sure she liked him, but she couldn’t help but be intrigued.

‘Feeling any better now?’ she asked, sliding round a stool to stand next to him at the bar.

He fixed her with those piercing eyes. They were the same vivid blue that icebergs looked beneath the surface. ‘You.’

Skye ignored the fact he obviously considered this an imposition and was being overtly rude about it. Perhaps he was still feeling low. Someone — Paolo — had come and rescued her in her own hour of need. She could at least try to pass that kindness on. Despite his borderline unapproachable manner.

‘Yup. Me again. Her from the rock. I was wondering how you were doing. It’s Bear, right?’

He nodded. ‘Bear Sinclair.’

He didn’t extend a hand or elaborate. Skye refused to be deterred.

‘Skye Edmonds. I’m . . .’ She paused, musing on how to put it. Not that he seemed overly interested in getting to know her. ‘Staying with friends. My uncle lives here, though he’s away at the moment. He used to be the vet and has finally retired and gone on a . . . Sorry. I’m wittering.’

The more she had talked the more Bear’s right eyebrow lifted. The rest of his expression retained a level of facial immobility tweakments addicts could only dream of.

‘It’s nice to meet you, Skye.’

Amazing how much his tone was out of step with his words. He managed to make ‘nice’ sound criminally uninteresting. Skye didn’t think she’d ever met anyone who’d liked her less, aside from her father during her bad patch. Still, she would persevere a little longer.

‘You’re working up at Auchintraid, right? How long are you here for?’

At this, Bear closed his eyes and heaved a sigh. ‘Until the project is completed satisfactorily.’

‘Not going as smoothly as hoped?’

‘I’m not at liberty to discuss. You understand.’

Skye felt slightly affronted, but nodded all the same. ‘I’m a lawyer. Not being at liberty to discuss things is an area I excel in.’

At this, his lip curled. A smile beginning to form. Skye forgot his aloofness for a second. The change in expression had transformed his face.

‘Then you do understand. Mhairi—’ he reached over and passed his glass to the woman behind the bar — ‘thank you for that.’

He turned to leave, running a hand through his hair as he did. Could that be exasperation? Or annoyance?

‘Nice talking to you,’ said Skye.

He gave a curt nod, and without saying goodbye, marched out the door, ducking his head under the frame as he went.

‘Wow,’ said Skye, to nobody in particular. Bear Sinclair was a ball of misery so big he could block out the sun.

‘He’s an odd one,’ said Mhairi, the publican. ‘Cold fish, that man.’

‘The guy’s basically a walking frozen fishfinger.’

Mhairi, who Skye remembered as being gruff and hard to please, let out a bark of laughter. ‘Ain’t that the truth. Another one?’

Skye considered the fact she didn’t have to go into work tomorrow and, dwelling a fraction longer on her second unsatisfactory encounter with Bear Sinclair, decided she would.

Bear was responsible for her hangover, she concluded.

* * *

Meandering along to the chemist to replace Paolo’s paracetamol stores, Skye pulled out her phone and emailed Tanya to request a call. Skye paused before she pressed send. She looked across the harbour at the boats bobbing on the sparkling waters. The calming shush of the waves contrasted with the shrieking of seabirds overhead.

Having permitted herself Tuesday as a day of wallowing, under the guise of a sick bug, she needed to sort out the trail of devastation back in Edinburgh. Once she got back to the flat, she would read more Pride and Prejudice and await a phone call from Tanya, who had replied to Skye’s email telling her she would ring.

Maybe she could call her mum today too, let her and her father know about the exam. But the last thing she wanted to do was worry them. They ought to be enjoying their well-deserved retirement, not spending it panicking about their grown-up daughter.

Well-deserved . Those words remained in her head as the others faded. Her parents had dedicated their lives to their jobs. Sure, they weren’t well-paid roles — the lot of the public sector — but they were worthwhile ones, careers her parents found fulfilling.

When she was younger, Skye had assumed she would work for a charity, or volunteer abroad. The one element of her rebellious youth she never regretted was protesting. She held firm beliefs about social justice; she wanted to fight the good fight for the causes she believed in, and that had never gone away . . . Where did Tilling and Browne fit in with that?

The fear that she had made a major misstep with her career choice crept back into her mind. Who was she? Skye wasn’t sure she knew any more. Best not mention that to Tanya.

The sun was out again. June in Scotland could be unpredictable, but this was her third day in Eastercraig, and it was still glorious. A sign she was meant to be here, for now, at least.

Across the road, getting off his bicycle, Skye spied Bear Sinclair. As he locked up his bike, he caught her looking, so Skye waved. If three truly was a magic number, then this third meeting ought to be a charm. She enjoyed a challenge, and it was something else to keep her from thinking about Tanya. She grinned at him, picking up her pace.

‘We have to stop meeting like this,’ she called.

She could see him fighting the urge to roll his eyes. As she got closer, he seemed taller than before, his muscular shoulders broader, and his eyes bluer. Eyes like that could hypnotize you if you weren’t careful.

‘I was wondering . . .’ Skye said.

There she stopped. The sight of him was causing her mind to grind to a halt. She seemed incapable of processing her own thoughts.

She wanted to know what his actual name was. Where he was from. What made him so chronically grumpy. Given last night’s exchange, she didn’t think she was about to ask him for a drink in the pub or to join her in the café. But there was no time to fret about it, because Skye’s pocket began to vibrate.

Fumbling around, she tugged her phone out. Tanya. ‘Sorry, I’m going to have to take this.’

‘Not at all,’ said Bear. He appeared faintly amused, though Skye thought that seemed very unlikely. So far she’d found very little that put Bear in good humour. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’

He strode into Eastercraig’s small but well-stocked shop, and Skye hurried to the nearest bench. It wasn’t the most secluded spot, but she had to get this over with.

Don’t mention Will, she steeled herself . Don’t hint at your worries about work. Don’t say anything that raises any suspicion that everything — aside from the exam palaver — is anything but fine and dandy.

She cleared her throat and hit the green button. ‘Tanya. Hello.’

Tanya, whose delivery was usually so sharp it could slice the toughest of Tilling and Browne employees in two, gave a long sigh. ‘Skye. What on earth happened? I got a message from the invigilator saying you walked out part way through your exam, and then your email saying you were sick.’

‘Sorry, Tanya. I planned to call you later today. I . . .’

Skye searched frantically for the words. Despite the fact she had been expecting the call, she felt caught out. She’d not yet had a chance to meticulously plan what she wanted to say. Skirting the matter with Will, of course, and the rest.

‘Skye . . . ?’

Skye gulped. Showing weakness wasn’t ideal. The firm had a reputation for chewing people up and spitting them out if they didn’t fit. Skye normally powered through tasks in the office, and proved herself able to get through the dizzying demands of firm life without cracking. Until Monday morning, that was.

One wrong step, and she might wreak more damage. She had already shattered her own illusions she was in control of her life. How could she go about this without shattering anyone else’s?

A feeling of angst rose up inside her, clouding her head. ‘I had some bad news on Monday morning,’ she managed. ‘It shook me, and while I thought I could manage the exam it turned out I couldn’t.’

‘I thought you were sick.’

‘Oh . . .’ She’d been so frantic about keeping the Will thing quiet she’d forgotten the simplicity of the fib. ‘Well, I was sick, after getting the bad news. And wanted to stay off, to be on the safe side.’

And not have to face Will in the office. Or return to the office and let everyone know she’d fled the exam.

‘Anything you want to tell me about? You know our conversations are all confidential.’ Tanya’s voice was suddenly suspicious.

‘No,’ Skye said. ‘Not at the moment.’

At the other end of the line, Tanya clicked her tongue, and Skye felt her heart rate rising. Was Tanya on to her?

‘I can arrange a re-sit as soon as you return, or you could postpone until the autumn. Let me know as soon as you do.’ Tanya was drumming her sharp nails on the desk, the sound like a hail of bullets.

‘I’ll let you know as soon as I decide,’ said Skye. ‘Which will be very shortly, of course.’

Tanya let out a low hmmmm . ‘I don’t actually need you in the office right now, Skye. We have parcelled your work out. So as far as I know, there is nothing urgent on your desk, and I can get cover if you need it. Listen, if you do need personal time, we did a review recently, and one outcome was that we decided staff can put in for unpaid time off. It’s been my personal project for the last year. We need all our employees to be healthy in body and mind. I was going to send an office-wide email about it next week, in fact.’

Skye was stunned. This wasn’t the Tilling and Browne she knew. Even if Tanya was on to her, this was a bonus. ‘ I can do that?’

‘Absolutely. It’s part of a new company policy, which I’ve fought hard for. Anything from a day to two weeks, or more if necessary, and if you think you can come back fighting fit . . .’

This wasn’t the Tanya she knew either. Tanya was offering her a fortnight off, wasn’t she? No strings attached.

Tanya clicked her tongue again. ‘Scanning the online calendar, you had booked two weeks off at the end of this month. Do you still want those?’

Skye felt her heart contract. She and Will were supposed to fly to the south of Spain, and stay in a glossy hotel in Marbella, read books in the sun, drink cocktails and sleep late. Those plans were surely proof that she hadn’t imagined their relationship.

But . . . They hadn’t booked anything. Will said to hold on until the last minute, as a big case might land on his desk any moment. Less of the big case, more of the other woman. A sob rose in her throat, and she swallowed it back down.

‘Please can I keep that in the diary? I know it’s a lot, and it seems like I’m taking the mick, but could I?’ she asked.

‘You are entitled to leave. So, you’ll take off a full month?’

She could do that, not see Will for an entire month, get over him and come back as if nothing had happened. Not that an entire month might be enough, but she would certainly give it her best shot. She summoned a steady voice. ‘Yes. I’ll retake the exam in autumn, and I think this counts as mitigating circumstances if anyone else needs a reason for the time off.’

There was a pause. ‘What counts as mitigating circumstances? A forty-eight-hour bug? Or your bad news? I’m still unclear what’s happened. Do I need to be worried about you, Skye?’

‘Absolutely not,’ she said firmly.

‘I’ll have to run it past a few other people, and I will need a full application in writing by the end of tomorrow. But if you want to take this time, I think it works. In fact, you can return in July, ready to hit the ground running, proof that my new scheme is a good idea. Don’t let me down, Skye, and by that, I mean look after yourself.’

‘Thanks,’ said Skye. A small doubt popped into her mind. ‘Tanya, before you go, do you think my reputation will be . . . um . . . tarnished by not being around for a month?’

Tanya took a deep breath. ‘No, it shouldn’t be. We all need to do the right thing, Tilling and Browne included. Office culture is changing, and we are moving with the times. Don’t worry about it.’

They said their goodbyes and hung up. Skye flopped forwards on the bench, resting her head on her knees.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Skye repeated, aloud. ‘Pshhh.’

Skye knew Tanya kept a close eye on all the little seedlings the company was nurturing. The juniors, the trainees, the up-and-comers, all those who wished to grow within the firm and pursue their careers there. While the firm tried to be supportive and fair, play by all the rules and appear a modern workplace, there was a palpable undercurrent of brutality. If you looked like you weren’t going to make it, you were weeded out.

She sat back up and inhaled deeply. That could have gone very badly. A whole month off? It could still prove to be a bad idea. That said, she had been granted a stay of execution. Better than that — a whole month off! And — bonus points — she hadn’t mentioned Will either.

Will . . . That moment she had seen him with The Woman, it had been as if Will had sliced her open, pulled out her heart and flung it to the floor.

If it hadn’t been for him, she wouldn’t have skipped out of an exam, wound up camping in a stranger’s spare room, and found herself now crying on a public bench in a remote seaside town.

Shoving her phone back in her pocket, she put her hands up to wipe her eyes and dry her damp cheeks. Monday morning, she thought she was about to have it all, and now she had nothing.

Not nothing, she told herself, pulling up her spine and rolling her shoulders back. She had been given a gift. Nearly a month of freedom had fallen in her lap. And a month away from Tilling and Browne was exactly what she needed. A chance to recover. A chance to work out what she was doing with her life . . .

There was a loud splat and she felt something cold run down her neck. ‘Shitting hell! I’m trying to be positive.’

She cursed at the passing seagull.

She swiped at her cheek as another couple of tears threatened to drop.

‘Arrrgh,’ Skye fumed, frightening a nearby pigeon away.

‘Are you OK?’ came a voice.

Skye turned her head gingerly, and her heart sank.

She dragged herself back from the bird-poo fury which had been threatening to pull her back down. ‘Bear Sinclair. The man, the myth, the legend.’

He came to stand in front of her.

‘I’ve only been here a few weeks. I’m not sure I can lay claim to any of those titles.’

‘Not even man?’

‘Well, obviously I’m a man. I think.’

‘Up to you. Feel free to self-identify,’ Skye deadpanned. He didn’t laugh. ‘I’m joking. Deflecting, really.’

‘I guessed. What’s the matter?’ His voice was soft and Skye looked up at him. Sympathy was etched on his face. She must have triggered a long-buried impulse to check up on a weeping woman.

‘Plenty. I won’t bore you with it.’

‘If you’re sat on a bench surrounded by sea and sunshine, crying, it can’t be that boring. I’ve got a few minutes before I go back to Auchintraid. Of course, if you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine. It’s not like I’ve been particularly receptive to your efforts to talk to me.’

Skye paused, uncertain how to answer but surprised by his honesty. She budged up. She looked out at the sea, and shook her head, and took a couple of considered breaths. ‘It was just work . . . I was having a work crisis. Am having, present tense.’

She stared ahead at the open water, not wanting to meet his eye. Kindness could trigger as many tears as sadness, and she didn’t want to start off again.

‘Oh, I know all about those,’ said Bear, sitting down next to her. He reached into his pocket and pulled out an embroidered cotton handkerchief. ‘For your neck. It’s clean.’

Skye took it, thanking him, and dabbed the splatter of bird poo off from where it had been threatening to run down her T-shirt.

‘But you look like a man who has everything under control. Aside from when you’re yelling into the sea. I mean, your clothes are clean, your hair is brushed. You carry handkerchiefs, for crying out loud.’

Bear, who until this point had mirrored her body language, and had been staring out to sea, shifted to look at her.

‘A gift from my grandmother. I always keep one on me, although you can keep that one.’ Skye could have sworn she heard a smile creeping into his voice.

‘As for the yelling — doesn’t that tell you something about how under control I have everything? An old adage about judging by appearances?’

Bear looked out across the harbour once more, and Skye looked at his profile, admiring his cheekbones. Those she would judge on appearance. Top marks for bone structure.

‘I guess so. I’m really sorry for intruding on Monday,’ she said. ‘What’s your work crisis, then?’

He shook his head, his lip twitching ever so slightly. ‘More deflection? Nice try, Skye.’

‘Go on. You show me yours and I’ll show you mine,’ she joked.

She met his eyes. They definitely had a twinkle in them, the iceberg blue bright.

‘Here on this bench? In front of the locals?’

Skye’s mouth hitched into an involuntary grin. ‘It would be nice to talk about it, but I’d feel more comfortable knowing there was an element of reciprocity if we’re talking about our problems. Please?’

He fixed his gaze to hers. ‘Och, fine. How about this: I’m here in this town where I’m upsetting the locals with a small project. I’ve upset the client too, somehow. And if I fail to make it right, I’ll upset the architectural practice I work at. And, awkwardly, if I upset said architectural practice, I upset my family. My mother, anyway.’

‘What does she have to do with it?’

‘She’s one of the two partners. Parents. Who’d have them, eh?’

Skye knew that feeling. Still, at least his mum had enough faith in him to employ him. It wasn’t clear if Skye’s father would have endorsed her given half a chance — or if he’d have warned the authorities.

‘Do you fight with her?’ Skye pulled herself into a cross-legged position on the bench, wiggling her back into a comfortable space against the wooden slats.

‘Occasionally.’ Bear stretched his legs out and ran his hands through his hair. Definitely flaxen. It set off those eyes nicely. ‘I see my parents once every month or two for a cordial Sunday lunch, and we have a rule not to talk about work. As for in the office? There’s the odd blow-up, but more likely a serving of passive-aggression.’

‘That’s the worst, isn’t it? Much better to have everything out in the open. Aggressive-aggression. Good, honest behaviour.’

She realized that she oughtn’t be lecturing on honesty, seeing as her secret relationship had nearly brought down her future career. She had always railed against hypocrisy, now here she was thoroughly guilty of it.

‘So what’s your work crisis? I’ve shown you mine, so to speak,’ Bear said, raising his eyebrow a fraction of an inch.

A frisson ran up Skye’s spine, and she fought down a blush.

‘I’ve flunked an exam. One I need to pass to qualify at my firm.’ There was no need to tell him about Will.

‘How do you know?’

‘I think you have to complete more than half of it to stand a chance.’

‘Ah.’ Bear scratched his head. ‘I see.’

He gave her an awkward look, and Skye took a deep breath, preparing for her own moment of truth.

‘I was talking to HR before you came out, trying to see what I can salvage and still come out with a shred of credibility.’

‘Did you manage it?’ Bear asked.

‘I think I’ve kept them at bay for now. Though given what we just talked about, I’m not sure that was the takeaway, was it?’

Bear shifted his body round, and propped his elbow across the back of the bench. ‘Do you work for a big firm? Or a cosy family practice?’

‘Really big,’ Skye said, grimacing.

‘One of those places that eats nice people for lunch? You’re demonstrating survival skills. It’s not as though you’ve lied under oath. What did you tell the HR department?’

‘I said I’d received some bad news.’

Which, as she considered it, was not a lie.

‘Standard fudge,’ said Bear. ‘You’ve given them something to work with, and they can’t get angry about it, and prodding you about any element of truth to it might be to their detriment.’

Skye managed an Mmm . Most of the truth would be to her detriment, but she didn’t want to interrupt the pleasant flow of sympathy and advice. She explained how somehow her stars had aligned, and she had the month off.

‘So you’re here until the end of June? Your firm gave you four weeks? Bet that’s unheard of.’

Skye nodded. ‘Yup.’

‘That’s when I’m meant to head back too. Where are you? London?’

‘Edinburgh,’ said Skye.

His expression lightened a little. It was barely a smile, but he looked sunnier. ‘Me too. Och, what I wouldn’t give to be there right now.’

Skye wrinkled up her nose. ‘Really? On a sunny day, there’s nowhere as lovely as Eastercraig.’

Bear tilted his head. ‘Did you not hear what I said about the project?’

‘Does that really take away from the fact this town is perfect? Streets lined with pretty buildings, wild scenery beyond. And you’re never more than five minutes from the sea. It’s my happy place.’

‘Is it?’ said Bear. ‘If you’re that enthused then maybe it’s not so bad. I’m yet to see it though. Perhaps at some point you can show me the best bits. Ah — let me see who this is.’

He pulled a phone from his pocket, frowning as he read the number on the screen. He stood up, preparing to answer.

‘It’s work. I need to take it.’

‘I’ll leave you to it,’ said Skye, in a quiet voice, getting up from the bench. ‘Thanks for the chat.’

She turned away and began to walk back to Paolo’s flat.

‘Skye!’ Bear called, making her spin back around. He was holding his hand over the receiver. ‘I’ll see you around.’

Skye nodded, and gave a small wave. ‘I hope so,’ she said quietly, but he was already back on his call. It seemed Bear Sinclair continued to make quite the impression.