Chapter 7
Jamie
As Jamie entered the restaurant that evening, the first thing he saw was Alicia sitting at a table by herself.
She wore a baby-pink cashmere wrap, blue jeans, knee-high boots and understated make-up.
Her high cheekbones were accentuated with a warm pink blush, her turquoise eyes glimmered as she chatted to the sommelier and her swan like neck made her easily the most graceful presence in the room.
Oddly, and Jamie had noticed this in the sauna too, her hair was flaxen blonde.
Had the brown hair been a wig? Why would she wear a wig when she had such beautiful natural hair?
It was tempting to ask Alicia to join him, but Jamie wasn’t in the mood for being labelled as a stalker.
On the one hand, she seemed to like him; he couldn’t be imagining the chemistry that zinged between the two of them.
On the other, she acted like he was a fly pestering her, the sauna incident hovering still in the corners of his mind.
These past couple of years Jamie had felt like a giant blue bottle hassling Katie for things that were perfectly normal as part of a healthy relationship so if Alicia wanted to swat him away, then fine, but he wouldn’t be chasing her.
He was here to think about work not women.
So, as he passed her table, Jamie acknowledged Alicia’s presence by smiling and bidding her good evening.
Then he followed the waiter to his own setting for one.
The steak was excellent, the restaurant’s ambiance as fantastic as ever, and the service impeccable.
However, as he gazed out the window, Jamie found that the feeling of bothering Alicia had brought to the surface memories of Katie.
This table didn’t help. The last time he’d come here with Katie, they’d sat exactly here.
Katie was in a bad mood, prompted by Jamie having a whisky before dinner, and he’d been determined to coax her out of it. This trip was meant to bring a spark back to their relationship, not lead to a destructive inferno.
‘Do you want to talk about it?’ he asked.
Katie eviscerated the spritz in her white wine spritzer with a lashing of Chardonnay. It seemed like giving up alcohol entirely, as Frank prescribed, was a step too far. ‘There’s nothing to talk about. Let’s just eat, drink and––’
‘Don’t say be merry.’
‘Don’t worry, I was going to say drink. We’ve not been merry for a while.’
‘Sheesh, okay. I am trying, Katie, but if I’ve no clue what you’re not merry about, then how can I fix it?’
Katie took a large glug of her now Chardonnay . ‘I don’t know what it is.’ But she didn’t appear to be searching for an answer. ‘Are you merry, J?’
Jamie met her gaze. That was the right thing to do in the wake of such a searing question.
But the view through the inky pane into the wintery darkness was less confronting.
Was he merry with Katie? He had been trying because it had all been so good once.
But was he grasping for faded glory? Had their peak passed?
Jamie couldn’t tell because, truthfully, being in this relationship was a bit like stumbling around in the hotel’s maze in the dead of a December night.
He had no idea where the centre or the exit was or which he was even searching for.
‘So, what are you reading for book club?’ He changed the subject to the one thing that would bring a smile to Katie’s face. And sure enough, there was a lifting of the cloud cover and she sat up a little straighter in her chair.
‘It’s called Unloading your Chaos Truck.’
Jamie bit his lip. ‘It’s called what?’
‘Unloading your Chaos Truck.’
He shouldn’t, but Jamie let out the laughter he’d been holding in. It wasn’t in his nature to be scathing but some of the book titles Katie read for her spiritual book club were bordering on ridiculous and this was another one.
‘For God’s sake.’ Katie scowled. ‘Why do you have to laugh at things that are important to me?’
‘What? What else have I laughed at that’s important to you? I’m sorry. It’s just kind of a daft title, don’t you think?’
‘No, actually, I don’t.’
‘Okay, sorry.’ Jamie flattened the tablecloth with his palms. ‘What’s it all about then? Tell me.’
‘No, I can tell you’re not interested.’
‘Katie, I am interested. I’m sorry for laughing at the name, but I genuinely want to hear what it’s about.’
Katie sighed. ‘Frank said this might happen.’
Jamie bit his lip even harder, but this time for a different reason. Frank. The name had been cropping up more and more in conversation of late. He waited for Katie to go on.
‘I’m not talking about it.’ She shook her head tightly. ‘It’s important to me, it’s not important to you, and I’m not having that diminished by placing the details in front of you only to have you belittle them. I would rather keep the book sacred to myself.’
‘And to Frank.’
‘Oh, Jamie, you’re missing the point.’
Jamie shouldn’t have made the jibe about Frank, but he was fed up with this.
Lately, Katie would counter so many things he said with a comment about what Frank would think.
Jamie’s philosophy on life was gradually being eroded as rubbish, with Frank as Katie’s puppet master.
For example, if Jamie was frustrated after a day’s work and wanted to run or surf it off, Katie suggested he was choosing angry sports because underneath it all he was angry.
Had he ever considered yoga or meditation?
Why was he blocking things out instead of embracing his feelings?
Frank had helped her to understand that even something you didn’t enjoy such as basket weaving was gentle, meditative and preferable to, say, aerobics, because it was more soothing and focused.
‘I’ve no intention of taking up either of those things,’ Jamie told her, and Katie rolled her eyes and again wheeled out her phrase of the moment: ‘You’re missing the point, Jamie.’
Looking back now, it felt like he’d tried as best as he could but by the end, their relationship was like being caught on a warped fairground ride with the same tinny music playing over and over.
Jamie shifted his mind from the past and darted his eyes to Alicia. God, she was stunning. He’d love to take her to his lodge and kiss those rosy lips, touch her peach-soft skin, fall onto the bed with her—
Forget about it. Never going to happen. Classy women like that don’t go for average guys like you.
‘Is everything okay with your meal? Mr Butler?’
‘What? Oh, aye, it’s wonderful, as ever, thanks, Graeme.
’ The food was exceptional, but Jamie’s appetite for sitting amongst other people, amidst haunting memories and near to a woman he’d known for five minutes who managed to turn his polite actions into predatory behaviour was turning his stomach.
So Jamie finished off his main and decided to call a night on the sociability thing.
Sitting alone in a restaurant wasn’t exactly peak social anyway.
As he rose from his seat, Jamie contemplated whether to acknowledge Alicia again. It went against his instincts to ignore someone. But that was the best course of action for preservation of self-worth, so he held his head high and left the restaurant without looking her way.
Jamie headed straight back to his lodge where he changed into jeans and a flannel shirt.
Grabbing a bottle of whisky, he made himself comfortable on the porch for an hour of silent contemplation, staring at the dark shadow of Ben Corrin.
The mountain that never changed. The mountain he could predict and understand.
The mountain that never let him down. This was him now.
He would take a leaf out of Ben Corrin’s book and be a mountain.
Solid, unmoving and unmoved. Always there, but if you wanted the mountain then you could come to it.