Chapter Twenty-Three
As anyone alive might’ve predicted, Desi and Joel adored The Clach.
‘It’s so cool,’ Desi cooed as she got stuck into her second glass of scotch. ‘Like, totally authentic vintage aesthetic vibe.’
‘If you mean it looks as though they haven’t altered a thing since before any of us were born, you’re right, they haven’t,’ Callum replied, expertly opening a packet of salt and vinegar crisps for everyone to share. ‘It’s not a vibe, it’s just old.’
I followed Joel’s eyes around the room, drinking in the oak beams, the low ceilings, the patinaed mirrors on the wall. ‘The best thing about my job is I can do it anywhere,’ he said. ‘Which means I don’t have to leave until I’ve tried every single malt behind the bar.’
‘What is your job?’ Callum asked.
‘Accountant. I thought about running away to join the circus but I couldn’t be arsed.’
‘You think he’s joking,’ Desi chimed in when Callum laughed. ‘The three of us went to Vegas after me and him graduated and he kept threatening to stay behind to join Cirque du Soleil.’
Joel pouted at the memory. ‘Turns out you have to have some sort of acrobatic ability and not just wild enthusiasm.’
Huddled in the corner closest to the fire, I smiled at the three of them as they carried on, chatting as if they’d known each other all their lives.
It was wild how easily Callum slotted into our misfit little trio.
Many had tried and all had failed. A few had come close, a man Joel dated briefly, who was in charge of buying all the cheese for Sainsbury’s and kept us in hot and cold running vintage cheddar, and a researcher at the BBC, who managed to get us all free tickets to the Eurovision Song Contest during his brief dalliance with Desi, but neither lasted more than six months.
Joel liked to keep his options open and Desi claimed she bored easily.
Other than that, very few people were invited into our weird, ongoing, ten-year-long conversation.
Or, to be more honest, most people wanted no part of it.
But here was Callum, sharing drinks and stories like we’d known each other all our lives.
I couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry. My symptoms were getting worse.
‘If you had to join the circus, what would your act be?’ Desi asked Callum, as serious as if she’d just asked him how he’d bring about world peace. ‘Joel would be an acrobat, Laura would do the flying trapeze.’
He looked at me and I inclined my head to confirm.
‘I have literally no explanation,’ I said. ‘But I think I’d be really good at it.’
‘There’s nothing like baseless confidence,’ he replied before turning back to Desi. ‘What about you?’
‘Lion tamer. Obviously.’
‘Obviously.’ His very old chair creaked when he leaned back against it, rubbing the top of his head as he considered her question. ‘I don’t know what I would do, ride an elephant?’
‘Strongman?’ Joel suggested. ‘What about ringmaster?’
‘Most likely they’d have me driving the wee little clown car,’ Callum said, drawing more laughter out of my friends. ‘Twenty-five numpties in the back of a Toyota Yaris.’
After leaving Loch Ness behind, Nessie-less and starving, he’d driven us into Inverness where Joel had successfully obtained his body weight in shortbread and Desi trekked from chip shop to chip shop until she finally found a deep-fried Mars bar, much to Callum’s dismay.
Now, we were sitting in The Clach, an early sunset painting the world outside the window with a riot of glorious colour, pink and purple and red, and as the sky dimmed, the white lights on the huge Christmas tree in front of the pub grew brighter and brighter, just like the stars.
I couldn’t remember a time I’d been so happy.
‘When do we have to leave for this carol service?’ Joel asked, tapping his smartwatch to check the time. ‘Is there time for another round?’
‘Plenty,’ Callum confirmed. ‘Why? Will we need it with your singing?’
‘None for me,’ I said as the two of them rose to stand. ‘Not unless you want me drunk.’
Desi poked me in the ribs and I promptly toppled off my stool, colliding face first with Joel’s legs. ‘You’re already drunk so you might as well have another.’
I couldn’t argue with her sound investigation.
‘I’d better let Gray know we’ll be back tomorrow to pick up the car,’ Callum said, patting down his pockets for his wallet as I righted myself, the room around me very slightly off its axis. ‘None of us will be driving after three drinks.’
‘Can you get some more snacks while you’re at the bar?’ I asked, holding up a particularly well-shaped crisp, impressed by its size and thickness. God, I was drunk. ‘I could go for some chips as well if the kitchen’s open.’
‘And to think you mocked me for eating that deep-fried Mars bar,’ Desi clucked. ‘Who’s laughing now?’
‘All of Scotland,’ Callum replied. ‘Every single person in the country.’
‘And I could not care less,’ she sniffed. ‘It was bloody delicious.’
I watched him walk across the pub, fully aware I was not looking respectfully.
He was so tall, so solid, so permanent. There was something about Callum that seemed rooted to the ground, like I could lean all my weight on him and he would not budge an inch.
Ever since we left the loch, I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the way his body curled around mine when we were skimming stones, soaring on the high then crashing back down to earth when I remembered what he’d said.
Friends.
‘You doing all right?’ Desi asked, following my eyes across the bar to where Callum and Joel stood laughing with Graham.
‘More than,’ I said even though it was a lie. ‘Please don’t ask again.’
She squeezed my knee under the table.
‘I really like him.’
‘You don’t like anyone.’
‘And yet.’ She rested her head on my shoulder. ‘Do you think he knows how to make croissants from scratch?’
‘In theory,’ I replied. ‘He’s a pastry chef, isn’t he?’
‘Shame we can’t keep him.’
Her words were light, a reminder, an apology, a warning.
‘Don’t look now but the Grinch just walked in.’ Desi gave me a nudge, holding her empty glass to her mouth to hide her words. ‘And she’s staring straight at you.’
Without turning around, I felt the atmosphere in the pub freeze over and knew exactly who it was.
‘Auburn hair, blue eyes, face like a smacked arse?’
My friend lifted her chin then lowered it all the way to her chest and I groaned at the sound of heavy footsteps that stopped right behind my stool.
‘Thanks for taking the Land Rover without telling me,’ Elsie said, a distinct smell of barnyard animal emanating from her ensemble. ‘If I don’t get the bags of feed tonight, I’m going to have to work Christmas Day.’
‘I thought there were no days off on a farm anyway?’ I replied, matching her gracious manners tit-for-tat. ‘Besides, I didn’t take it, your brother did.’
‘To ferry you and your idiot family around.’
‘Hi.’ Desi stood, hand outstretched. ‘Idiot family member number one. And judging by the state of you, you must be … don’t tell me, ghost of Christmas past?’
‘Is he here?’ Elsie asked me, ignoring Desi completely. ‘I need the fucking keys.’
‘At the bar,’ I pointed, still declining to make eye contact. There really was no point.
But Callum and Joel were already on their way back, smiling and carrying two glasses of scotch and two packets of crisps each.
‘Car keys.’
Elsie held out her hand as he set down his two glasses, one in front of his empty stool, one in front of me.
‘Here.’ He fished them from his pocket and handed them over. ‘Anything else?’
She didn’t move but I was sure I could hear the cogs of her brain turning.
‘You’re not going to invite me to sit down?’
Against my own best interests, I twisted in my seat to look at her.
‘Sorry, there’s no room at the inn.’
Joel and Desi exchanged a look, Desi’s mouth hanging open in delight.
‘I’ve time for a wee dram,’ she said, dropping into Callum’s seat before he could. ‘Nice of you to buy me a drink, brother.’
No one protested when she picked up the glass meant for me and took a sip but I heard Joel growl like an angry labradoodle.
‘So, Elise,’ Desi said. ‘Tell us about life on the farm.’
‘It’s Elsie,’ she corrected.
‘Right, that’s what I said,’ Desi replied easily. ‘Do you always smell this terrible or was there a particularly rancid chore on the to-do list today?’
‘Caroline, why don’t you remind me how you and Callum first met,’ Elsie said, staring through me as though Desi didn’t even exist. ‘Fiona was asking but I couldn’t remember the story.’
‘I walked in on him naked,’ I replied with a hiccup.
‘In the massage room,’ Callum added quickly. ‘I didn’t get under the sheet fast enough.’
‘It’s frowned upon,’ I flapped my hand behind me and almost poking Joel in the eye. ‘But you know how it is, if the trailer’s good, you want to see the movie. He lived up to the hype.’
My tongue was furry, my mouth was dry and my head getting fuzzier by the minute, as my regrettable second whisky passed through my empty stomach and into my bloodstream, coaxing a release of dopamine and serotonin.
Elsie’s entire face tightened. She looked at me, looked at her despairing brother, then scanned the table, counting up all the empty glasses.
‘Are you drunk?’
‘No,’ I declared with confidence. ‘I don’t drink.’
‘Well, if you’re not drunk, there’s something else going on.’
‘You got me,’ I agreed. ‘I am on drugs.’
‘The love of a good man,’ Desi said loudly, pulling me in for a side hug. ‘Hell of a drug.’
‘And you two.’ Elsie turned to Desi and Joel. ‘Imbecile family member number one, was it?’
‘Idiot family member,’ Desi corrected. ‘Most people call me Svetty but you can call me Svetlana.’
‘And he is?’
She nodded across the table and all four of us chorused the name at once.
‘Joel.’
Elsie ran her tongue over her teeth, nodding slowly as though she was having a secondary, private conversation with herself.
‘And what’s your last name?’
‘M-mine?’ Joel stuttered. He never did do well under pressure. ‘It’s Soto.’
Elsie’s most dangerous smile found its way back onto her face and I shrank down inside my coat.
‘No, theirs,’ she pointed at me and Desi and a tiny squeak escaped from the back of my throat.
‘It’s Skarsg?rd,’ I announced with confidence. ‘Our last name is Skarsg?rd.’
‘Caroline Skarsg?rd,’ Elsie replied flatly. ‘And she’s Svetlana Skarsg?rd.’
‘Svetlana Skarsg?rd-Soto,’ Desi said without missing a beat. ‘I hyphenated when I got married.’
As if on cue, Callum, Desi and Joel all picked up their scotch at the same time and drank.
‘There’s something going on here,’ Elsie said again, tossing back the rest of my drink and slamming the glass on the table. ‘And I will find out what it is.’
‘Maybe try to make time for a shower first,’ Desi suggested. ‘It’s Christmas Eve, babes, make an effort.’
Looking around the table, we were all holding our breath when she marched away, Callum and I exhaling loudly when she passed through the door, Joel clapping his hands over his face and Desi letting out the loudest sigh I’d ever heard.
‘I don’t know what you did wrong in a former life to get stuck with her as a sister, but Callum, you’d better start making it up to the gods in this one,’ she said, rolling her shoulders back as though we’d been through a physical ordeal.
‘And you,’ she turned to me, a look of disbelief on her face. ‘Skarsg?rd? Really?’
‘Name another famous Swede!’ I challenged. ‘And I mean last name, you can’t just say ABBA.’
A gloomy cast covered Callum’s handsome face. ‘We should get on to the carol service. It’s a fair walk from here if we want to be on time.’
‘But my chips?’ I protested, still hungry, still drunk.
‘We’ll get some on the way,’ Desi replied, hoisting me up to my reluctant feet.
‘When it comes to Elsie, it’s not worth getting into a fight,’ Callum advised. ‘Best to do as I do.’
‘Invent a fake girlfriend, stop visiting your family then secretly plan to move to another country without telling her?’
All three of them stopped putting on their coats to give me a variation on a dirty look.
‘What?’ I said. ‘Am I wrong though?’
‘No but you are a lightweight,’ Joel muttered, bustling me out the door.
‘I know it’s not easy but it’s best to ignore her,’ Callum said, helping with the toggles on my coat as a brisk wind slapped me wide awake. ‘She’s all talk. By this evening, she’ll have forgotten all about it.’
I smiled, wanting to believe him, but as they strolled and I stumbled down the street towards the town hall, I couldn’t fight the feeling that we hadn’t escaped the wrath of Elsie McClay just yet.