Chapter 30
Jamie
Jamie downed tools in the garden, wiped the sweat off his face and admired his handiwork.
He was proud, both of the work he’d done and the way he’d distracted himself.
Although in many ways it wasn’t a distraction at all.
Was it over the top? Foolish? Either way, he needed a practical task to keep himself busy, and something that one day might convince Alicia how much she meant to him.
After he’d showered, Jamie ventured into the spare room for the first time since Alicia left twelve days ago. The first time he’d been able to face Alicia’s art. Seeing it was too painful but there were demons he must confront.
When Jamie saw Alicia’s paintings, he momentarily forgot to breathe.
Her ability to capture his beloved Scotland was mind blowing.
Pain crushed him that she hadn’t understood him in the same way that she understood the Scottish landscape.
Every nuance dear to his heart, she noticed: the subtle curl of the waves, the sculpted grooves of the sand, the varying shades of charcoal in the foreboding clouds.
Most people thought the sky in Scotland was grey, but Alicia saw the subtleties others overlooked.
In total there were five landscapes. Jamie had hoped for more, but obviously things hadn’t worked out.
There was the beach at Kinshore, the Dunrock lighthouse, Inchfallon Falls, the standing stones, and, of course, Ben Corrin.
Each was exceptional and he’d lost feeling in his hands on several occasions from sitting on them to stop himself calling Alicia to tell her.
Now was not the time. Now was the time to visit his father and see if he could get some good news first.
Jamie slid each of the canvases into a large portfolio case and grabbed his jacket from the hall.
‘Your dad’s having a lie down,’ Jamie’s mother informed him when he arrived at the family home for Sunday lunch. ‘What’ve you’ve got there?’ She motioned towards the portfolio he held under his arm.
‘Just some stuff I wanted to run by Dad, and you, of course, although you’re easier to please. Ideas for the labelling.’
‘Ah, yes. This is your flash of inspiration?’
‘Aye kind of. They are stunning, though, and they’d work brilliantly on the bottles.
’ Jamie was aware that his excitement was one thing, but even if he convinced his dad, there would be redrafts and scaling, and he didn’t even want to think about what would happen if he asked Alicia and she wouldn’t give him permission to use her art.
‘C’mon, let’s see, then?’
Swinging round, Jamie was met by his younger brother Sean, who also lived in the village and worked at the cooperage making barrels for Butler’s whisky. They saw each other frequently.
‘Hey.’ Jamie clapped Sean on the arm. ‘You alright?’
‘Aye, thanks. No sign of wind down even before Christmas. This bloody whisky company is demanding more barrels.’
‘Sorry about that, bro. Just planning a new expression or two.’
‘So, is this for public viewing?’ Sean nodded to the portfolio.
Jamie was overcome by an enormous sense of protectiveness over Alicia’s art.
So far, the paintings had been private between him and her.
Revealing them in public was like wearing your pyjamas to the shops.
You made yourself vulnerable. But Alicia’s work was special, and if he wanted it on the bottles, people would have to see it, eventually.
‘Well, not public viewing yet, but family is okay.’ He placed the portfolio on the kitchen table. ‘These are important to me so go easy if you don’t like them.’
‘Och, I’m sure we won’t need to pretend.’ Amanda moved to the table. ‘You’ve always had good taste, Jamie.’
‘Aye, apart from in women,’ Sean joked.
‘Whatever.’ Jamie unzipped the portfolio, took out the art and laid the pieces side by side.
Each of the settings held personal significance for the Butler family: Ben Corrin was in the background of many a family holiday when Jamie and his siblings were younger; Inchfallon Falls a private oasis for splashing about; the lighthouse a source of role play as a lighthouse keeper, as well as a Kintyre icon; the standing stones a frequent family day out when Amanda wanted the kids to let off some steam, and chasing each other round the stones was a great way to do it, and the beach was similar as they had all grown up building sandcastles there, and learning to become the hardiest of surfers in the less than temperate waters of Kinshore.
As they soaked up the paintings for the first time, Amanda and Sean were silent and Jamie was reminded of revealing a new whisky expression to investors, except this felt far more important.
He looked around the kitchen as his mother and brother formed their thoughts.
How could two people he’d sat at ease with countless times in this space now make him feel so nervous? Eventually, Sean broke the silence.
‘These are bloody brilliant, J,’ he said. ‘I had no idea you could paint.’
‘I can’t.’ As usual, Jamie couldn’t work out if Sean was kidding around or not. ‘I commissioned someone to paint them for Butler’s.’
‘Ah, right. Who was that then?’
‘Ach, nobody.’
‘Ach, nobody?’ Sean raised a wry brow. ‘A woman, then?’
‘Aye, alright, a woman, yes.’
‘Was it Alicia Jansen?’
‘Look…’ Jamie didn’t want to go down this line of enquiry.
Sean obviously knew about Alicia, the whole village did, but that didn’t mean Jamie was ready to field questions about it, even from his closest family.
‘I brought these here to show to Dad. You getting to see them is a privilege, you don’t get the whole backstory as well, okay? ’
‘Jings, okay.’ Sean held up his palms in mock surrender. ‘Touchy.’
‘Shut up,’ said Jamie.
‘Boys, come on,’ Amanda soothed. ‘Jamie, these paintings are beautiful. Your father will love them and I think they will look beautiful on the whisky bottles. What a wonderful idea.’
‘Thanks, Mum.’
‘What about this one?’ Sean tugged on the edge of another canvas, sticking out of an inside sleeve of the portfolio.
Jamie narrowed his gaze. He wasn’t sure what that one was, and just as light dawned, Sean had fully removed the artwork from the sleeve and Jamie’s mother and brother were staring at a full-frontal nude of Jamie himself.
‘Oh shit!’ Jamie should have grabbed the painting, but instead he whacked his palm across his eyes as if shielding himself from what was happening. Quickly he regained his composure and flipped the painting over. ‘Sorry, Mum,’ he said. ‘Sorry.’
While Amanda was picking up another painting and trying her best to pretend nothing had happened, Sean was now doubled over in stitches.
‘Ah! That’s gold. Why don’t you put that one on the bottles as a limited-edition expression? You’ll have all the old wifies buying up casks in no time.’
Jamie wanted to crawl inside the portfolio and die, but he also saw the funny side.
‘Aye, well, obviously that one’s for the private collection. When I’m an old duffer, I’ll display it to remember my youth, but today it’s staying under lock and key.’
‘I don’t know if I can eat any lunch after seeing that.’ Sean sat down at the table. ‘I feel a bit nauseous.’
‘Don’t you mean jealous?’ Jamie countered.
‘Jealous? Nah. We’ve the same genes. I just didn’t need to see the evidence of it before lunch. Or ever.’
Jamie chuckled but his overarching sentiment in this moment was for Alicia.
That his mum and brother had seen a painting of him in the nude mortified him.
And these were two of the people to whom he was closest in the world.
His perspective of what Alicia must have felt was turned on its axis.
Ever since she’d told him about the nudes, he had carried pain for her, but now he had sampled a crumb of her experience of having her body exposed to the world without her permission. And it was not fun in the slightest.
‘So, this woman…’ Sean sidled up to Jamie as he stood at the French doors in the lounge, whisky in hand, gazing towards the sea.
‘How did you know I was thinking about her?’
‘Ach, come on.’
‘Aye, okay,’ Jamie conceded. Sean knew him well, and it wasn’t that difficult to work out. He and Alicia had walked about town, news about the fracas in the bookshop was on the Kinshore wires in ten minutes, and Sean could see Jamie’s contemplative expression in real time.
‘Her art is amazing,’ said Sean.
‘Aye, isn’t it? It’s incredible.’
‘I don’t know what it is, but she’s managed to capture something in those paintings – the je ne sais quoi about the place.’
‘She’s captured the I don’t know what.’ Jamie nodded sagely. ‘Cancel that art critic who’s coming to town. Sean Butler is here.’
‘Aye, I’ve always been able to pinpoint what it is about things I like – and in French too.’
Jamie was truly grateful for Sean being able to cheer him up. But Sean could be serious too and insightful with emotions.
‘You must have had something together,’ his younger brother continued. ‘It takes trust to pose nude for someone like that and a connection for them to capture them so well, even if we could have kept it off the lunch menu.’
Jamie turned and looked at Sean. ‘It does, doesn’t it? We did have a connection. I’ve never felt anything like it.’
‘So, what happened?’
‘She left. Thought I was still hung up on Katie and should be more honest with myself. Amongst other things.’
‘Oh. You and Katie are done, right?’
‘Oh, aye. Done forever. No fucking doubt about it. She and that prick Frank are welcome to each other.’
‘So why would Alicia think that?’
‘Because she took my anger at Frank to mean I wanted Katie back.’
‘You told her about all the shit he said, right?’
‘Well, no. I told her he said stuff about the Highland Mafia. But why would I tell her all the BS about me having a bad aura and negative energy?’
‘Why would you not?’
‘Because it’s not true and she doesn’t need to know it.’
‘But it’s not true.’
Jamie took a swig of whisky. Sean made a good point.
Why had he not told Alicia all the things Frank said about him that Katie had believed?
It could have altered her decision to leave.
Maybe then she would have understood why he disliked Frank so much, what the latent anger she had so astutely sensed was all about.
‘You didn’t even give her a chance to decide for herself, J. What chance do you stand as a couple if you don’t do that?’
‘I was terrified of losing her.’
‘Aye well, sorry for being harsh, but haven’t you lost her anyway?’
Jamie tilted his chin up and let the whisky hit the back of his throat. It was strong and peaty and the tonic he needed. A lot like Sean’s words.
‘When did you get to be so wise?’ He examined the younger brother he remembered running hyperactively around the garden as a small child wearing only a nappy and covered in seven colours of paint.
Sean was now as tall as Jamie with a self-assured stance, the same strong jawline all the Butler men had inherited, and eyes that could flick from serious to playful and back, whenever the mood necessitated it.
Sean chuckled at Jamie’s question, put on a dreadful French accent, combined with a Gallic shrug, and said, ‘Je ne sais pas.’
All Jamie could think of to say in return was an affectionate ‘Ach, shutup.’ But in his heart, he was so glad to have had this enlightening conversation with his brother.