Chapter Six
‘I’m officially declaring the neeps and tatties a success,’ I declared, shovelling a giant forkful of vegetables into my mouth. ‘Remind me what it is again?’
‘It’s supposed to be mashed potatoes and mashed swede.’ Callum’s face was a picture of disgust. ‘Whatever that is on your plate is neither neeps nor tatties.’
Taking another bite, I chewed thoughtfully.
‘Tastes like potatoes and swede to me.’
‘It looks unwell,’ he said with sniff. ‘Have they even used any butter? Has it so much as seen a salt shaker? Wait until we get home, I’ll show you how it’s done.’
‘I’m assuming you don’t want to try my haggis then?’ I prodded the mound of brown stuff at the side of the plate. ‘And don’t bother telling me what’s in it until I’m done because I won’t eat it if you do.’
Sitting back against the teal booth, Callum poked at his own beige pasta dinner. He might have liked the look of mine but you couldn’t have paid me to taste his. Unwell veg beat soggy pasta every time.
‘At least the wine is passable,’ he said, unscrewing a second mini bottle of red and moving to top up my glass.
‘God no,’ I yelped, covering it with my hand before he could pour. ‘I’m a complete lightweight. You saw what two sips of your dad’s whisky did to me. One glass is more than enough.’
‘Suit yourself,’ he said as he filled his own up to the brim. ‘Aren’t you glad you didn’t go with formalwear for dinner now?’
‘Might’ve been a bit overdressed,’ I admitted with a furtive look around the carriage.
Plush garlands of tinsel had been strung up along the walls and Mariah played softly through the speakers but, other than that, there was a distinct lack of sense of occasion in the club car.
All the other passengers were resplendent in their comfiest clothing: sweatshirts, jogging bottoms, the odd Christmas jumper, and distressingly, more than one pair of pyjamas. People had no shame.
‘You can’t blame me for being excited, I don’t get many opportunities to dress up,’ I told him, digging back into my dinner.
‘Not many black tie occasions in neurosurgery?’
‘The white coat tends to clash with a ballgown,’ I confirmed. ‘I think the last time I got properly dressed up was Stella and Dave’s wedding.’
Callum leaned against the window, his washed-out mirror image staring back at him in the dark glass. It was pitch black outside. Wherever we were, an hour into our journey, there was barely a light to be seen.
‘Funny how I don’t remember seeing you there,’ I said before braving a forkful of haggis. Hmm, grainier than I’d expected.
‘Maybe you did and I didn’t make much of an impression.’
‘I don’t know about that. You’re an eighteen-foot-tall Scotsman with red hair.’
‘Six-four and it’s more auburn,’ he replied, looking back to me and waving a hand in front of his face. ‘I had a full beard back then, hair was shorter. Shiv didn’t like it long.’
‘Shiv?’ I repeated then left a pause, waiting him to fill in the gaps.
His eyes closed for a brief moment, mouth pulling into a grimace.
‘My ex,’ he said, blowing out a noisy breath. ‘Shiv is my ex. Siobhan Hamilton.’
‘Girlfriend?’
‘Fiancée. Sort of.’
One thing I’d learned as a doctor was when to talk and when to listen. Not that I always managed to put it into practice outside work, no one loved a good ramble as much as me, but I could tell from the pained look on his face this was definitely a listening moment.
‘I never actually proposed,’ he explained.
‘We were talking about it but she jumped the gun and told everyone we were getting married, my parents, her parents, fuck even the milkman sent his congratulations. When I told her I wanted to decide for myself when I would propose, she said it was now or never.’
‘And you chose never?’
‘I don’t like being backed into a corner,’ he confirmed.
‘She didn’t take the break-up very well and neither did anyone else.
It was messy, we’ve known each other since we were kids, she’s practically family.
My girlfriend, my sister’s best friend, her dad and my dad play golf together. Everyone loves Shiv.’
‘How did the milkman take it?’
‘Tried to run me over with his milk float.’
I snorted into my napkin.
‘Oh yeah, it’s hilarious until there’s three hundred pints of semi-skimmed coming straight at you down a narrow country road,’ Callum replied, a smile dancing in his eyes even though he was doing his best to look annoyed. ‘Not my best Christmas ever.’
‘This all happened at Christmas?’ I asked, rubbing at my nose with the back of my hand.
‘Last year. Another good reason why I’ve been avoiding a trip up home.’
Another thought occurred to me. ‘She lives in your town. Will she be around this week?’
‘I can’t say a definite no but I wouldn’t think so. We haven’t talked much since she moved back up to Braewick. Or at all.’
Was it my imagination or did he look disappointed?
‘If I were your real girlfriend and not your fake one, this town-wide ex-girlfriend worship might concern me,’ I said lightly. ‘Next you’ll be telling me she’s a world-famous supermodel who works at an animal rescue in her spare time.’
Callum’s gaze shifted down to the table, his mouth twisting awkwardly.
‘Oh my God, she’s a world-famous supermodel,’ I breathed.
‘No, she isn’t,’ he said hurriedly. ‘She does volunteer with animals, there’s a donkey sanctuary half an hour or so from her parents’ house, that’s all.’
‘But she’s not a model?’
He took a quick drink from his glass of wine.
‘Not in any professional sense.’
Without a word, I picked up my glass of wine and necked the whole thing.
‘What about you?’ Callum asked. ‘Any homicidal delivery men in your past?’
‘If anyone is taking out a delivery driver, it’s me,’ I assured him. ‘If they don’t stop hiding my ASOS packages behind the bins, I’ll take out every single one of them. As far as I’m aware, I’m not on anyone’s shit list.’
‘No heartbroken exes I should know about?’
I looked up to find our server opening another mini bottle of red wine and dumping it directly into my glass. I did not stop her.
‘No one who’s likely to chase us up the country and demand to know your intentions. My job doesn’t really lend itself to dating. “Sorry darling, I won’t be home in time for dinner, I’m assisting Dr Nakhil with an EC-IC bypass and I’m covered in bits of brain” doesn’t tend to go over very well.’
His face turned grim. ‘Really glad I didn’t order the haggis now.’
‘See?’ I pushed my plate away, no longer curious to know what it was made of. ‘Not exactly the most romantic of professions.’
‘Fine, tell me about something outside your job then. What’s going on in your life?’ Callum clarified, leaning forward, elbows on the table, his broad shoulders swelling under his shirt. ‘I ought to know something about your life if we’re going to pull this off.’
Cupping my hands around my stubby, stemless wine glass, I crossed my ankles under the table and tapped my toes inside my trainers.
‘Nothing to know,’ I told him. ‘I work, I sleep and, if I’m lucky, I eat. If my eyes are open and I’m not in the hospital, I’m either reading, watching reality TV or staring at a blank wall.’
But he wasn’t about to let me off that easily.
‘What kind of books? I’m a big reader myself.’
‘Anything, everything,’ I replied. ‘People leave all sorts in the hospital, we’ve got a very good library going. Fantasy, romance, thrillers, you name it, I’ve read it but please don’t ask me to name the last thing I read because I literally cannot tell you.’
‘If only we knew someone who understood how brains work who could explain such a phenomenon.’
‘It’s called the Yerkes-Dodson Law and it states that low arousal causes things not to be remembered in the first place and high arousal causes too much stress for them to be remembered, meaning we only retain things in circumstances of optimum arousal – and don’t you dare start giggling because I just said arousal three times. ’
‘Four times,’ Callum said, fighting a smile. ‘And I’m sorry.’
‘As you should be,’ I sniffed, looking away so he couldn’t see the corners of my mouth quirking upwards. ‘You child.’
As the train raced along, Callum traced a finger around the rim of his glass, his broad shoulders moving with his breath, the blue, green and black checked pattern of his flannel shirt contrasting sharply against the aggressively bright lighting of the train carriage.
‘Shouldn’t we be worrying more about Caroline than me?
’ I suggested. ‘All I know about her so far is she’s an introvert with a passport who is passionate about furthering her professional education.
Aside from nicking off to Paris to avoid your dad’s birthday, what else have you told your family about her? ’
‘Nothing much.’ He looked up as though there might be a more detailed answer printed on the ceiling. ‘Nothing major that I can recall. Only that you’re not on social media and you don’t like having your picture taken.’
‘Ahh, an intellectual,’ I said with a sage nod. ‘Note to self, stay off TikTok.’
‘Other than that, just be yourself,’ Callum said. ‘I don’t want to make it difficult for you.’
‘Absolutely not!’ I exclaimed. ‘I’m going full method. The goal is to convince your parents they never want to see Caroline again and I am nothing if not goal-
orientated. I am going to be the most passive-aggressive, antisocial, self-absorbed weirdo they could ever hope to meet.’
‘Is that right?’
I nodded proudly. ‘Caroline is monstrous. No eye contact, new toilet installed before my arrival, all the brown M&Ms removed from the bowl and twenty white kittens in the dressing room monstrous.’
Leaning back against his seat, Callum grinned. ‘You’re making me wonder what I see in her.’
‘She’s amazing in bed.’
My eyes popped open wide as I heard the words that had fallen out my mouth.