Chapter Six #2
‘Pretend I didn’t say that,’ I told him, my heart soaring when I saw our server coming out of the kitchen with dessert. Sugar. I needed sugar. And no more wine. ‘Moving on, what do I need to know about wannabe pastry chef, Clapham resident and haggis connoisseur Callum McClay?’
‘He’s amazing in bed as well.’
The laugh that snorted out of me echoed around the carriage, attracting every pair of eyes within hearing distance. But more importantly, it drew a smile from Callum so big, I could see every single one of his straight, white teeth.
‘Sticky toffee pudding,’ the server said, sliding a plate down in front of me as I smothered my laughter with my napkin. ‘And a cheese plate. Anything else I can get you?’
‘More wine,’ Callum answered immediately. ‘Please. For the love of God.’
He picked up a chunk of what looked like cheddar and broke it in two, the pale cheese crumbling between his thumb and forefinger as he examined it before placing it in his mouth.
It was indecent for a man to have such soft-looking lips but I couldn’t stop myself from wishing I was that piece of cheese.
As the thought passed through my mind, I pushed my glass of wine away. Clearly, I’d had more than enough.
‘What else?’ he mused, covering his mouth with his hand as he chewed then swallowed. ‘I’m the same as you, work, sleep and eat. I like to play football when I’ve got time but I had to quit my Sunday League team because of work.’
‘What about your friends?’ I prompted. ‘Family?’
He cocked his head to one side as he munched his cheese. ‘You already know Dave.’
‘And the less said about him the better. Family?’
‘You’ve met Mum and Dad, both retired now. Mum worked at a charity shop in town, Dad was a farmer.’
‘A farmer, really?’
A farmer meant a farm. A farm meant adorable animals and freshly laid eggs and probably not baby goats at this time of year but a woman could dream. Callum, on the other hand, didn’t look nearly as thrilled.
‘Fourth-generation dairy farmer. Prepare yourself to hear what a disappointment I am because I don’t want to live in the middle of nowhere up to my eyes in manure for the rest of my life.’
‘Well, when you put it like that,’ I replied, my fantasies fading away. ‘You mentioned a sister?’
‘Elsie, yes, two years younger, she works with Dad on the farm, lives in a cottage next door,’ he said as he speared a second piece of cheese. ‘And I’ve a younger brother, Rory. He’s at university in Glasgow.’
‘Studying what?’
‘Alcohol poisoning, mostly. He’s twenty-bloody-four but every year he changes his mind about what he wants to do and starts a new degree.’
‘Sounds fun,’ I said, picking up my spoon and digging into my dessert. It was so much better than the neeps and tatties. If there was such a thing as a shit sticky toffee pudding, I had yet to meet it.
‘You don’t need to worry about any of that.’ Callum grabbed a grape and popped it in his mouth. ‘Or at least heartless, callow Caroline doesn’t. The less you know the better, I think. What about you? You said your mum and dad are away for Christmas?’
I took one more bite of my dessert, savouring the sweet sponge and custard. No point putting it off any longer, time to get the uncomfortable conversation out of the way.
‘Dad is. With his wife. My mum died when I was thirteen.’
‘Laura, I’m sorry.’
A momentary look of embarrassment I recognised very well coloured Callum’s expression.
‘Don’t apologise, really.’
I set down at my spoon and tucked my hair back behind my ears, all at once thirteen again.
‘It’s been fifteen years, I’m OK. The worst part is having to tell people, you never know how they’re going to react.
You’d think we’d be better at talking about death as a species by now – spoiler alert, we’re all going to have to deal with it at some point. ’
Callum didn’t answer right away. Instead he studied me with that same intent look I’d seen when I told him about my job.
‘Is that why you’re a doctor?’ he asked.
Wannabe pastry chef, Clapham resident, haggis connoisseur and more insightful than I’d given him credit for.
‘She died of an aneurysm,’ I said, nodding.
‘It was such a shock, I found it really hard to accept at the time. One of my teachers suggested reading up on the causes to help me make sense of everything. Learning how brains work, what causes neurological events … Losing my mum will never make sense but understanding the medical reasoning of how it happened did help.’
‘And now you’re helping other people.’
The look of quiet awe that widened his eyes and softened his smile only made me look away again.
‘Do you want to try this?’ I offered, thrusting the bowl across the table. ‘It’s very good.’
‘No, thanks,’ he held up a declining hand. ‘I’m a self-confessed snob when it comes to pudding, can’t help it, one of the perils of the job.’
‘All the more for me,’ I shrugged, scooping up another delicious mouthful. ‘What did you do before you were accepted into culinary school?’
‘Working in different kitchens, mostly,’ he replied as I inhaled my dessert. ‘Few bar jobs here and there, a couple of bakeries. I went wherever they would pay me to cook, ridiculous hours, worked for pennies.’
‘You must really love it,’ I said as I scraped my spoon along the bowl to secure the last precious bit of toffee-laced custard.
Callum beamed, genuine happiness shining through him.
‘I do. I used to bake with my granny when I was a kid. There’s nothing like putting something you made yourself in front of someone and watching them enjoy it. Take that pudding, for example, it’s good, yeah?’
‘There is no more pudding to take.’ I presented my clean bowl. ‘And yes, it was good. I will not hear a word against it.’
‘But I could make you a sticky toffee pudding that would make you scream,’ he said, leaning forward and lowering his voice in a way that made my toes curl inside my shoes.
‘And don’t get me started on proper custard.
Double cream and egg yolks from the farm, my own personal stash of vanilla. One taste and you’d never go back.’
All of a sudden, my mouth was very dry.
‘We should go over our plan,’ I said, abruptly changing the subject as I abandoned my empty bowl and reached for my wine. ‘We’ll be there before you know it and I really should have the full lie of the land before we arrive.’
‘Aye, right you are.’ His smile fell away and his sensible, serious expression returned.
‘We get into Inverness station tomorrow morning,’ I started, waiting for his confirmatory nod. ‘What’s the drill after that?’
‘Someone’s picking us up at the station. Braewick’s about an hour’s drive from there.’
‘Is it near Loch Ness?’
‘Near enough.’
‘Will we have time to visit?’
‘No.’
‘Have you ever seen the—’
‘Don’t,’ he interrupted. ‘Do not ask that question.’
I leaned all the way forward with bright eyes.
‘Because you think it’s a stupid question or because you have seen it?’
‘Because it’s a stupid question and I’ve been asked it more times than you’ve had hot dinners.’
‘I think Caroline believes in the Loch Ness monster,’ I said archly, attempting to toss my hair but only managing to get it snarled up in my chair’s headrest. ‘I think she’d probably really like to go and see the loch.’
‘I thought we’d agreed Caroline would mostly be staying in her room and reading when we weren’t showing my family what a terror she is?’
‘Can’t stay locked in a room for five whole days, now can I?’ I bounced back. ‘Surely there’s time for a quick visit? So I can take a photo?’
The sigh that issued from Callum’s lips was so weighted, you’d have thought I’d just asked him to slice open his abdomen and show me a kidney.
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ he relented, elbows on the table, face in his hands.
‘So, we arrive tomorrow,’ I went on brightly, saving my questions about kilts and Highland cows for later. ‘We’re being picked up at the station, we get to the farm, then what?’
‘Food, knowing my mother, then hopefully nothing. I’ve told them we’ll be wanting to take it easy for the first day.’
‘I probably didn’t sleep well on the train,’ I reasoned. ‘On account of the night terrors.’
He pointed my way and dipped his chin in agreement. ‘So, an easy afternoon then I’m taking you to the pub for dinner. After that, we’ll work it out as we go.’
The train tilted slightly to the left, one of the grapes on his plate rolling away across the table. I cupped my hands to catch it as it made a break for freedom.
‘Is this insane?’ he asked as I dropped it back on the plate next to his barely touched pile of cheese. ‘Can we really get away with this?’
‘We can,’ I replied with confidence. ‘Trust me, I’m a doctor.’
He picked up his glass and tilted it from side to side, letting the deep ruby colour whirl up and coat the insides.
‘Laura?’
‘Callum?’
‘Have I said thank you,’ he asked, ‘for doing this?’
‘You don’t have to,’ I told him, reminding myself of all the reasons I’d suggested it in the first place: to go on a spontaneous adventure, to visit somewhere I’d never been before, to escape another miserable Christmas, to finally get some wear out of those overpriced Grenson boots.
Nothing to do with the way my hair rose on the back of my neck as his gruff baritone scuffed the edges of every word that spilled over his lips.
‘Tis the season,’ I added before raising my glass. ‘I do have one more question though.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Are you going to eat the rest of that cheese?’
Callum laughed and I grinned, the sound warming me through like a crackling wood fire.
‘Go for your life.’ He pushed the plate across to me. ‘The cheddar isn’t half bad but the stilton leaves a lot to be desired.’
‘I’ve got a feeling this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship,’ I said as I tossed a sizeable chunk of acceptable cheddar into my mouth. ‘Especially if you keep giving me your food.’
‘Play your cards right and I’ll make you that sticky toffee pudding,’ he promised with a wink. ‘Your life will never be the same.’
‘Looking forward to it,’ I replied, meeting his toast then taking a drink.
It was very much not a lie.