6
6
Callum
Callum: How’d it go?
Callum: ???
Callum: I know when you’ve read the text, Mal, a little tick appears at the bottom of the message.
Mal: How did what go?
Callum: The dehumidifier.
Did she take it?
Mal: I didn’t really give her much of a choice, just plugged it in and left.
Callum: Good.
Callum: Murray paid her back yet?
Mal: What do you think?
The rap of my knuckles was sharp.
Hard to misconstrue.
“Open up, Murray!” I yelled at the flaking paint, more than ready to bust the door down if he didn’t show his face in the next thirty seconds.
The handle twisted and his wife’s friendly face appeared in the opening.
“Callum.” She smiled, drying her hands on a tea towel.
“Did Gordon arrange a house call?”
“Uhh … not exactly.” I scratched the back of my neck, suddenly feeling bad about the hammering I’d given her front door.
“It’s more of a social visit.” An issue irritating enough to play Russian roulette with my truck’s suspension on Murray’s shitty dirt track road.
I still needed to squeeze in a visit to Dad before heading to work.
“Is he about?”
“Just washing up for breakfast, I’ll grab him.”
“Much appreciated, Mrs Murray.” I flashed my best grin.
It wasn’t her fault she’d married that rat.
She flicked the tea towel at my thigh.
“Yer daftie, it’s Vanessa to you.” She ducked inside and reappeared only seconds later, a scowling Murray in tow.
The collar of his shirt was damp from shaving, he ran a towel over his chin as he stepped onto the porch.
“Thanks, Vanessa, I only need to steal him for a minute. Remember to bring the cats in for their annual vax soon, I’ll arrange a little discount.”
I held her smile until the door closed and then bundled Murray back so quickly its hinges creaked.
“Hey, now! Are ye mad—”
“You don’t need to talk, only listen. Understand?” My grip on his shoulder wasn’t too bruising.
I exerted just enough pressure to let him know he’d pissed me the hell off.
He nodded, his weather-worn cheeks reddening further.
“You owe Juniper Ross quite a bit of money.”
“That’s what this is? She cancelled the job, not me. I’ll tell yer what I told the wee lassie, that pipe was faulty, it’s nae my boy’s fault.”
I might call her wee all the time, but from Murray’s lips it sounded condescending.
As though she were a naive little girl, too simple-minded to understand the complexities of “important male business”.
“Juniper is not a lass .” My tone was sharp enough to cut glass.
“I have friends on the council board. Return her money today or I’ll have no choice but to report your unsafe work practices. They’ll probably take your licence away and then what will you do?”
“You’d ruin me fae a wee mistake the lads would have put right if she hadn’t started screaming like a banshee? She threw a shoe at Brodie’s head.” What I would have paid to see that.
“I could sue her .”
Perhaps.
He’d have to prove it and it would raise questions he wouldn’t want to answer.
Inching back, the heel of my foot crunched over gravel as I straightened his collar.
“Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to start by paying Juniper every penny you owe.” He began to protest, and I held up a hand.
“You are going to pay her back. Today. That part is non-fucking-negotiable. Then you’re going to get your grandsons properly trained. Brodie is off the team until you do.”
He gaped.
“Off the team? Yer mad, he’s the fastest half forward on Skye.”
I shrugged as though I wasn’t handing this year’s North Division league cup to Portree.
“There are other players.” There weren’t .
Pulling my car keys from my pocket, I rounded to the driver’s side, calling over my shoulder, “Get it sorted and he’s back on the team, he might still get a few games in this season.”
I hadn’t even opened the door before his reply washed over me, low and far too arrogant.
“You know, being sweet on yer brother’s lass might be frowned on by some folk in this village.”
My answering laugh was so heated, the drizzle in my periphery turned to steam.
He thought he had me by the balls.
Little did he know Juniper had been carrying those around in her purse for the last eight years.
“Good job I don’t care what folk think of me, Murray.” I held his gaze, daring him to say more.
When only his jaw ticked, I climbed into my truck.
Dust kicked up beneath my tyres as I peeled away, leaving his inane threats over Juniper with him.
I couldn’t care less who knew about my feelings, I’d had a long time to make peace with them.
Any guilt I’d once harboured began to wane in the same moment my brother made the biggest mistake of his life.
The night I’d driven, half blind with rage, from Edinburgh to Glasgow, hating him for hurting her.
Hating myself for feeling so bloody relieved.
Then I’d seen the hollow look in his eyes.
Beard grown out; eyes bloodshot, wearing only one sock.
Instead of fighting, he invited me inside where we’d gotten blind drunk on whisky that reminded us of home.
With every sip I’d held my breath for the light bulb moment, the frantic search for car keys that would ensue when he realised how badly he’d fucked it all.
Days turned into weeks.
Every phone call I expected to hear his voice on the line.
“ Hey bro, funny story, June and I are back together … ”
Every day it didn’t come, my guilt lessened, until it was nothing more than a twinge in my chest. Then Glasgow happened.
And I stopped seeing Juniper as his and she became mine.
Mine to provoke, love and protect, if only from afar.