Chapter 9
Friday, and Paolo was out on a routine farm visit with Holly. They’d gone over t o disbud calves — remove their horns ― which was physical work. The sun was high, and Paolo rolled up the sleeves of his overalls, which were acting like a chicken brick and gently roasting him.
He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. ‘Glad that’s all done.’
Holly somehow looked cool and collected, as per usual. She sat down on a bench outside the house with a cup of tea, which the farmer’s wife had kindly brought out, along with home-made oatcakes, cheese and chutney. Paolo came and crashed down next to her, his arms aching. A compact gaggle of geese honked their way across the yard in front of them.
‘How’s Skye getting on? Has she had any luck finding somewhere to stay?’ Holly asked.
Paolo, oatcake halfway to his mouth, shook his head. ‘Still no openings anywhere. I can tell she’s feeling awkward about having been at mine since Monday, but she’s clearly not ready to go to Edinburgh yet. Last night she mentioned heading over to Mull or somewhere, and booking a B&B, but I told her there’s no rush at all and that she’s very welcome.’
‘Enjoying the company?’
‘Yeah. Reminds me of having flatmates in Glasgow. You know, Eastercraig is the first place I’ve lived alone. While I loved it for the first six months or so, the novelty’s worn off. Plus she’s ever so tidy and makes an excellent salad. I don’t think I’ve had to cook or clean since she’s arrived.’
Paolo bit into the oatcake. They were one of life’s small pleasures, he thought, as it crumbled. He ought to make some at home.
‘I’m glad she’s not cramping your style.’
‘You forget I grew up with three sisters. Having one woman in the house is manageable. Plus, unlike my sisters, she doesn’t hog the bathroom, or thieve my cashmere jumpers, or any of that shit. Really, it’s a win. The only way she could be a better flatmate was if she was male, and my future husband.’
Holly glanced up and gave him a look which he presumed was supposed to be one of friendly sympathy, but it only succeeded in giving off you’re-being-tragic vibes. ‘Might you be talking about a certain resident of Glenalmond Castle?’
‘No. I’m not doing anything about Hamish,’ he headed her off.
Considering even sweet, mild-mannered Chloe could wreak havoc in her live commentary on his relationship status, he didn’t want Holly to step in.
‘You hang out all the time. You should be using that time to prod it along. Lord knows you’ve been mooning over him for over six months.’
‘It’s not hanging out though, is it? When we’re in the pool, we’re not really talking. We’re swimming. I mean, he does need to learn.’
‘You realize he’s only there because he wants to spend time with you. Isn’t that obvious?’
‘No. Not really.’
Holly smeared chutney on another oatcake, and balanced a wonky wedge of cheese on top, then passed it to Paolo.
‘Here. Eat this.’ It was the same commanding voice that Holly employed during surgical procedures.
He did as he was told.
‘There. Now you can’t interrupt me.’
He chewed cautiously, awaiting her assessment.
‘Listen, Chloe and I are worried. And Chloe was in a right tizz that she’d offended you the other day. It’s time to crack on. If you want Hamish, pull your finger out and make it happen.’
Paolo made an ‘mmmph’ of protest through closed lips.
‘Paolo, you’re a veterinary nurse. A fantastic one. You’re lots of other things too, all of them good. But you’re not a swimming teacher. I’ve seen you. You’re OK, but you splash around a lot, and windmill your arms too much. Hamish might not realize the extent of the flaws in your technique, but he’s a non-swimmer, not an idiot.’
Paolo swallowed. He felt a stab of indignation. ‘I’m not that bad.’
‘Please. The point is he could have got lessons with a professional, but he’s gone with you instead.’
‘Yeah, well,’ he grumbled. ‘Hamish probably wants someone he knows for reassurance. It was a terrifying ordeal, and he wants to go slowly. Besides, I’m not out there trying to get him on Team GB — we’re learning basic strokes.’
‘Like I said, he could do that with anyone. This is a bonding experience.’
‘We bond with our friends, as well as lovers,’ said Paolo. ‘I’ve definitely been friend-zoned.’
‘You’re being very pessimistic about this,’ said Holly, in a tone which Paolo knew meant there was more to come. ‘You need to follow up one of those lessons with a trip to the pub, or for a walk. Get him on his own, when he’s not in his trunks worrying if he’s going to sink to the bottom of the pool like a stone. It’s not like you two even drive there together. You don’t even have car chats. There’s a missed opportunity if ever there was one.’
Paolo couldn’t help but admit she was right on that part. They went, swam and after they would banter back and forth in the leisure centre reception for a wee while, but then they’d go their separate ways. Most Friday s Paolo would have to pop back to the surgery for the afternoon session, then stay to check on any animals that were in overnight, while Hamish would be back at the house to oversee any guest dinners. It hadn’t seemed like there was time for anything other than small talk.
‘You’re right,’ he declared. ‘Here. What about this?’
He pulled out his phone and typed a message to Hamish. Want a lift to swimming this afternoon? Save the planet and all that. Hope we’re still on. P . He handed it to Holly for her to peruse.
She scanned the text and gave a nod of approval. ‘Perfect. Now you’ll have time to talk to him.’
If he says yes , thought Paolo, his inner optimist still struggling to break free.
* * *
But not only did Hamish not cancel their swimming lesson later that afternoon, he accepted the offer of a lift. After the lesson, Paolo drove him home. As they pulled up outside Glenalmond, the castle where Hamish lived, Paolo got out too, crossed his arms on the car roof to take it in.
It was pure baronial, the main tower adorned with turrets and a parapet, all grey stone, like a dark fairy tale. A tad foreboding but magical in summer, almost silver in the light. He had been inside only a few times, including once for a ball last year. It was labyrinthine, all hidden passages and staircases to nowhere, with doors opening into rooms so fantastical that they had to be seen to be believed.
‘I think I’m making some headway,’ said Hamish, sounding hopeful. ‘Do you see much improvement?’
Paolo didn’t want to lie, but he also didn’t want lose this time spent with Hamish.
‘Some. I think if you wanted to go faster, we could. Up the distances, perhaps. Work on breathing.’
‘Och. Sounds like a lot of effort. Maybe we carry on as we are. Keep going at a not-too-strenuous pace.’
At a pace slower than a sloth. Paolo wasn’t sure what to think. Did Hamish want to learn to swim or not? He wasn’t even sure if he actually wanted to teach Hamish how. It was just a good excuse to see each other.
To avoid these thoughts he threw a question across to Hamish.
‘Are you up to anything tonight? Only Chloe’s cooking dinner. Would you like to come along? Skye’s coming too,’ he added, to cover his tracks.
Hamish went a little pink and scratched his neck. ‘Well . . . I’d love to, only I’ve got a party arriving later, as per. I need to be there to oversee tonight.’
‘Never mind,’ Paolo said, quickly. ‘Another time.’
‘Aye. Sure,’ said Hamish. ‘I’d better go. I’ve got to prep for later. Send my love to Chloe. And to Skye too. Gosh, I need to see her while she’s here.’
Paolo nodded, and swung himself back into the driver’s seat. ‘I’ll see you next week.’
Hamish waved him off. Paolo, half an eye on the road in front of him, watched as rear-view-mirror Hamish grew smaller and smaller.
Even though Hamish had a reason he couldn’t make dinner, he had still said no, and Paolo felt the heat rising up the back of his neck. Had he embarrassed himself? As he played the invitation to dinner, and the rejection, back to himself, he couldn’t help but cringe.