Chapter 28
‘What was that all about – saying that she doesn’t normally rent this room?’ Marcus said loudly, about two seconds after Gayle had shut the bedroom door. Marcus shook his head. ‘The most expensive room in the house – my arse.’
Jake wanted to tell him to shut the hell up, but he just didn’t have the energy. Instead, he sat down on the couch under the window, feeling the soft brown leather beneath his fingertips. The couch was longer than an average bed, if a little narrow, but the leather cushions looked comfortable enough, even though there were enough creases and crevices to make Jake wonder if it was as old as the house.
‘Ah, if couches could talk, what stories they would tell.’
‘What did you say?’ Marcus was trying out the bed.
Jake sighed. ‘Never mind.’ He was thinking of an incident that seemed like a lifetime ago, but was in fact just before the previous Christmas, when he’d got home from work late and had slept on the couch. He and Eleanor had had a disagreement. Eleanor had just found out she was pregnant. For the first time ever, she’d wanted to spend Christmas in London, just the two of them, absorbing the news. Jake had obstinately refused, thinking of William first and foremost, and the family tradition of all spending Christmas Day together at The Lake House.
When they had arrived at The Lake House, separately, he’d fallen asleep on the couch and had spent a second night alone – it had been Christmas Eve. They’d never spent another night together. The next day, she was gone.
Jake did not want to think about all the what-ifs and what-might-have-beens. If only he’d listened to Eleanor’s wish not to spend Christmas in Scotland.
‘Are you sleeping there?’ Marcus asked as he got into the double bed and crawled under the covers fully clothed.
‘Do you see another bed?’
Marcus drew the covers up to his chin.
Jake rolled his eyes. ‘Can you at least take off your shoes?’
Marcus shut his eyes.
Jake got up from the couch and stood at the end of the bed. He lifted the duvet, revealing Marcus’s black leather shoes, and removed them one by one. Jake glanced at the small gold-coloured lettering on the inside labels. ‘Gucci,’ he remarked as he placed them on the floor beside the bed.
Jake pulled the heavy velvet curtains closed. A shaft of light danced around the walls until the curtains hung still. He looked at his watch. ‘Marcus.’ Jake walked back to the bed. ‘Marcus, I’m going out.’
Marcus turned over on his left side, taking most of the covers with him. Jake walked around to the other side of the bed. ‘Marcus, I’m …’
‘I heard you the first time.’ Marcus muffled voice spoke into the pillow. ‘Will you go, now? Please.’
Jake had the sudden urge to drag Marcus out of the bed and get him on the first plane possible, out of his sight. He controlled the urge. But he did not move from the bed.
He was thinking.
He thought of the saying be careful what you wish for . Jake had wished hard that Marcus had shown some remorse, some sign that what had happened on Christmas Day had affected him as traumatically as it had Jake. And therein was the rub; Marcus had not only returned to his life quickly, but with Jake gone, he’d taken the company from strength to strength. It seemed that nearly having a breakdown and then totally restructuring his life was not for him; no, it had seemed like business as usual. Until now.
Now it looked to Jake as though he was getting his wish; almost seven months on, Marcus was finally facing up to his demons. What had happened was coming back to haunt Marcus like it had, in the beginning, haunted Jake’s every waking hour, and still haunted his dreams.
Jake had seen it coming for months – the crash was inevitable. But Jake didn’t want it on his holiday. Besides, Jake wasn’t so sure he wanted his wish to come true now. He had grown accustomed to this dance between them; Jake’s blaming of Marcus for the tragedy, and Marcus’s denial of responsibility – he wouldn’t accept that it was his fault Eleanor had given in after he had goaded her to join them on their traditional Christmas Day ski, when she had clearly stated she did not want to go.
If Marcus was finally going to accept responsibility for what he had done, then where would that leave Jake? Where would he be without Marcus as the focus of his anger, his hurt, his blame? Jake knew exactly where – reflecting on the fact that his marriage had been over long before the tragedy, and facing the possibility that she might have been seeing somebody else that Christmas Eve. Where had she been that evening, when he’d fallen asleep on the sofa before she’d returned?
Jake left Marcus to sleep.
Glancing at the sofa on his way out, Jake was having second thoughts about his sleeping arrangements. He looked at his watch; it was already midday. There was no time to sort it out. He wanted to see Arnold Wright that day; to get that over with as soon as possible so he could leave this place of memories.
Jake put his coat on and stepped out into the hallway. He realised it was better this way. He didn’t want Marcus tagging along, being his usual awkward self. Jake closed the door quietly behind him.
‘That’s Robyn’s room, you know.’
Jake jumped at the sound of a voice right behind him. Someone must have crept up on him as he was closing the door. Who had spoken? The voice sounded familiar. Looking up and down the hallway, he couldn’t see a soul.
A stair creaked. Gayle’s mother, who had answered the door to him and had swiftly shut it without explanation, appeared at the top of the stairs and came towards him. She must have spotted him through hallway banisters as she walked up.
‘Ah, Mrs Belafonte.’ Jake had been surprised when she’d answered the door to him and had realised she was Gayle’s mother. William had clearly got his facts wrong. Both her parents hadn’t passed away after all.
‘She’s coming back, you know,’ she said to Jake.
‘I’m sure she is,’ said Jake casually. He remembered Gayle mentioning that the room was special. She’d said, this room was re-decorated as a surprise and a gift from a special friend. That made sense. Gayle had mentioned that her interior designer, Robyn, was also her friend.
Jake smiled reassuringly. ‘We are not going to be here long. Just two nights, and then we’ll be gone.’
She stared at him for a long moment. ‘Gone? Why are you leaving?’
‘Er … because there will be other guests arriving.’
‘Other guests? I don’t know what you mean.’
Jake heard Marcus snoring. He glanced at the bedroom door.
She followed his gaze. ‘Is Robyn in there?’
Jake stared at her and scratched his head. ‘No, that’s Marcus. The guy who arrived with me.’
‘You’re not David! What are you doing in Robyn’s room?’
‘David?’ He looked at Gayle’s mother. Who the hell is David? he thought. Something isn’t right here.
‘Why don’t we both go downstairs and find your daughter.’
‘Gayle?’
‘Yes, that’s right – Gayle.’ Jake led the way, hoping she followed. Thankfully, she did. However, when he started down the stairs, Jake didn’t hear her walking down behind him. He turned to find her standing at the top of the stairs, looking uneasy.
Jake raced back up. ‘Here, let me help you.’ Jake offered her his hand.
Tentatively she took the first stair. Taking one step at a time, they made it to the bottom.
He let go of her hand just as Gayle rushed out from the lounge, carrying a book and wearing large round reading glasses. ‘Mother!’ she exclaimed, ‘have you been upstairs again?’ Her face registered alarm.
Her mother gave her a look of indignation. ‘Maybe,’ she said, shrugging, ‘or maybe not.’ She gave Jake a mischievous grin and walked off towards the kitchen.
Gayle glared after her before turning to Jake for an explanation.
‘She was walking up the stairs when I came out of my room. I think she got a bit confused. She asked me what I was doing in Robyn’s room, and mentioned some guy called David?’
Gayle took off her reading glasses. ‘She spotted you coming out of the bedroom. You’re right, that must have confused her. My friend Robyn lived here for a bit. You’re in her old room – it was hers and David’s – her fiancé. He moved in here too for a bit.’
‘Oh, I see.’
Gayle lowered her voice. ‘Do you know how many times I tell my mother not to go upstairs? Maybe she’s forgotten, but her bedroom is downstairs now.’ Gayle looked towards the stairs. ‘I thought that if I didn’t shift her downstairs, she’s going to have an accident one of these days. I know what will happen – she’ll get tired coming down one day.’ She looked back at Jake. ‘Like today, for instance.’
‘I’m glad I could be of help,’ Jake said. He didn’t have time for this. Jake turned to go.
‘Sometimes ...’ Gayle mused.
Jake rolled his eyes and adopted a sincere expression before turning back to face Gayle.
She continued, ‘Sometimes I think my mother does it on purpose.’ She looked sheepishly at Jake. ‘That wasn’t a very nice thing to say, was it?’
‘I wouldn’t say that …’ Jake began, maintaining his thoughtful pose.
‘I would. Of course, she doesn’t do things just to annoy me,’ Gayle tapped her temple. ‘It’s not her fault she’s got dementia.’
‘Ah.’ Jake nodded. It explained a lot.
‘Even so, how does she manage to do the exact opposite of what I tell her, every time?’
‘I really can’t help you with that one.’ He noticed the library book in her hand had a word abbreviated on the spine – Psych . Perhaps Gayle was trying to find out from a book.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Gayle, noticing Jake’s coat slung over his arm and the car keys dangling from his hand. ‘I’m keeping you.’
‘No, not at all,’ Jake lied.
Gayle glanced up the stairs. ‘Marcus not going with you?’
Jake followed her gaze, thinking up a plausible excuse. ‘He’s resting for the afternoon.’ He made a hasty retreat to the front door.
‘Okay,’ she said simply. Jake turned to look at her for a moment. She hadn’t even asked him what they were doing in Aviemore. How refreshing that Gayle wasn’t trying to pry into their lives. If the local press got wind that they were here, he could just imagine the headline: Mr Campbell-Ross revisits the scene of the tragedy seven months on .
Jake was not revisiting anything. He was there for entirely different reasons. But that was beside the point. He knew Gayle would not be telling any local reporter, or even probably her friends, just who was staying at Lark Lodge. Jake wanted to kiss her for that. Of course, he didn’t. But he had decided that Gayle was all right – more than all right. And if he had reason to return to Aviemore again, he’d be sure to stay at her exceptionally beautiful house.
Jake stepped outside and turned around to face Gayle. ‘I’m sorry to hear your mother has dementia.’ It explained why, when she’d opened the front door to them when they’d arrived, she’d promptly shut it again.
‘She does remember whose room that is.’ Jake pointed upstairs, indicating the room he and Marcus were presently occupying.
‘Yes, she does, some of the time.’ Gayle added. There are days she even remembers who restored her home to its former glory.’
‘Your friend, Robyn.’ It wasn’t a question, but Gayle nodded her head all the same, smiling.
‘Well, I guess today was one of those days.’ Jake smiled ruefully.
Jake didn’t add that he wondered how many other people had been turned away by a charming old lady who had no idea that these strangers had arrived to stay in her beautifully renovated house. Jake wondered if Gayle was aware her mother was unintentionally sabotaging her plans to run Lark Lodge as a guesthouse – although it still sounded as though she had no shortage of bookings.
‘As I said before, Robyn didn’t just do up the room you’re staying in,’ said Gayle. ‘That was just the beginning … I was sceptical at first, but look at how the place turned out.’
‘It used to be the worst house in the street. Now it’s the best.’ Jake winced, realising he’d spoken his mind. That didn’t seem to bother Gayle. She grinned. ‘Never a truer word was spoken. I agree completely.’
Jake looked past Gayle at the bright hallway with its gorgeous oak panelling that had given such a fantastic impression of the house as soon as he’d walked through the door.
‘You’ve got some pretty special friends, you know that?’
‘I know. And so does Mother.’ Gayle started to close the door. ‘Oh, by the way, if you ever need any interior design work done on the … um … a property.’
Gayle had already asked him this, but Jake noticed she stayed clear of mentioning The Lake House, or his loss. He wondered if she’d read something in a book on psychology that may have touched on dealing with grief. He had noticed a lot of self-help books lining the bookshelves in the study as they passed by on the tour of the ground floor earlier.
‘If I do, I’ll be sure to look her up,’ said Jake, although he had no plans for making any alterations to The Lake House, let alone returning there.
It might have surprised Gayle to know that it was he who owned The Lake House. It had been his parents’ home. It was where they’d raised him as a child before he was orphaned.
This was not common knowledge. As far as most people were aware, The Lake House had simply been used as a cherished holiday home for many, many years. But back then, soon after Jake had lost his parents, The Rosses had moved in, spending a time living in The Lake House to try to give Jake some normality; allowing him to remain in his childhood home after losing his parents.
However it wasn’t long before the demands of the Ross Corporation encroached on the family’s Scottish idyll. Although William had wanted to remain living in the house with his family, it had not been possible. Inevitably, a short time later, they had relocated to London permanently, vowing to spend each Christmas there in Aviemore, recapturing the time they’d spent there as a family when Marcus, Jake and Eleanor were children.
Jake wondered what would happen the next Christmas. As far as he was aware, nobody had visited The Lake House for the last seven months. The house had lain forlorn and forgotten. He couldn’t see that changing any time soon. But Gayle had given him pause for thought. Who hadn’t seen photos of mansions snapped up by the rich and famous, only to be left uninhabited and forgotten, falling in a state of disrepair?
As he turned to go, he smiled and said, ‘Perhaps I will look up Robyn and enlist her services to spruce up The Lake House.’ Jake was thinking that perhaps it was time to let The Lake House go. Maybe if he did that soon, then another family would move in by Christmas, and the rooms would echo once more with laughter, and the house would be filled with joy and happiness. It was never going to happen again there for the Rosses, he thought sadly.
His smile faltered. He knew it was a mistake going back there. Everything reminded him of losing Eleanor.
His thoughts turned to Faye. He didn’t want to lose her too. He’d give it all away – the money William kept depositing in his bank account, The Lake House, if Faye would just forgive him. After that conversation at the airport yesterday, he knew he still had some way to go to earn her forgiveness. How would he do that if he was hundreds of miles away in Scotland?
He was walking to the car with that thought going through his mind, when Gayle called after him, ‘Will you both be joining us for dinner over the next two evenings? I just like to know so that I can plan the meals accordingly.’
Jake wished she hadn’t put him on the spot. He regretted booking two nights. It had nothing to do with the accommodation, staying in this beautiful house. The fact was that he regretted booking an entire week away. New plan , thought Jake. Tomorrow they were both heading home.