CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
It had rained heavily during the night. Thunder and lightning, too.
Lying there unable to sleep as the hours ticked by, all I could think about was the damp patch I’d spotted at Bogg House, up near the ceiling in what I was now calling the nursery.
Had Mac noticed it? Or had Rhona’s paintings effectively disguised it?
I’d only seen it myself when I was standing there with Polly. How terrible if this rain could get in and ruin Rhona’s beautiful artwork. I felt quite sick thinking about it. I’d need to phone Mac first thing. Being a workaholic, he was always up early.
But over breakfast it emerged that Maisie hadn’t finished some homework that was due that day, which meant devoting all my attention to her and making sure it was done. And then, of course, we were racing along to school, trying not to be late.
I drove straight over to the house to see Mac, phoning him on the way, but it went straight to answerphone. When I arrived, Danny was already there, busy installing the upstairs bathroom. But Mac was nowhere in sight.
‘He’ll be here later,’ he told me. ‘He’s working from home this morning.’
‘Working from home?’ I repeated in surprise. Mac was always on site. It was sod’s law that on the one day I needed to see him urgently, he wasn’t actually here! But maybe he was at home doing admin.
I dashed into the nursery and gazed anxiously upwards – and sure enough, there were beads of moisture clinging to the wall in the corner. Water was definitely getting in from somewhere. And it was still pouring with rain . . .
Was it worth talking to Danny? But what could he do without the boss’s approval?
I kept visualising Rhona’s lovely paintings being water-damaged. But I was finding it impossible to reach Mac by phone.
Recalling a recent conversation we’d had, I suddenly remembered that we’d laughed over the fact that Mac was living in the same block of flats as a friend of mine. So I knew where he lived! I’d drive over there and hopefully, he’d be at home and be able to help.
I spotted his car as soon as I drew into the housing development and I sighed with relief. Mac would sort the leak. I’d brought my umbrella, which was just as well because it was still pouring with rain. Dashing across to the flats, I eventually located his name on one of the external entry buttons after some confusion.
Of course! Mac was obviously a nickname!
But when I buzzed the flat, there was no reply.
Just as I was turning away, wondering what to do next, I heard shouts coming from the building. It sounded like an argument of some kind, and it seemed to be coming from Mac’s flat. I looked over and sure enough, one of his windows was slightly open.
Mac was normally such a laid-back, relaxed sort of guy, but whoever was in there had clearly ruffled his feathers. I’d never heard him sound so angry.
I couldn’t go in now and I was getting soaked despite the umbrella, so I went back to the car and sat there, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel, trying not to think about rain pouring into the nursery.
Suddenly, the main door to the flats opened and a woman came storming out. From her body language, it looked as if she was upset.
It was only when she ran to a car parked near the entrance that I realised with a shock who it was.
Rhona?
*****
Confused and feeling worried about her, I started the car and followed her back to the glamping site. I hadn’t realised she even knew Mac. Assuming it was Rhona I heard him arguing with, what on earth was going on?
I planned to wait for her to get out of the car, but she sat there for a long time, clearly trying to get herself together after her row with Mac. She hadn’t even noticed me following behind her and parking nearby.
At last, I got out and walked over to her car, where she was just emerging, her eyes red with crying. She looked at me in surprise.
‘Ellie, hi! Sorry I’m a bit late. I’ve just been to see . . . well, Polly wanted to meet her biological father, so I went to talk to him.’
I stared at her, feeling completely wrong-footed. ‘And then you went to see Mac?’
‘What?’ She frowned. ‘No. I mean yes. I went to see Mac. He’s her biological dad.’
‘Mac is Polly’s father?’ My face must have been a picture of astonishment. ‘But I thought he was called Joel?’
‘He is. Joel Macdonald.’
‘Of course. Mr J Macdonald,’ I murmured, remembering the name I’d seen on the buzzer to his flat.
‘Apparently they call him “Mac” on site,’ she said. ‘I still can’t believe he’s been doing your renovation all this time and I never realised.’
I shook my head, still in a daze at her revelation. ‘I called him Mac all the time when I was talking to you about him, so you never made the connection,’ I said slowly. ‘But how did you find him? I thought you hadn’t seen each other in years.’
‘We hadn’t. But a few weeks ago, he appeared in the café.’
‘My café?’
She nodded. ‘I went in there to speak to you about something and there he was, standing in the queue talking to an artist friend of his, Lawrence, who I recognised from years ago.’
My eyes widened in surprise. ‘Of course. I thought it was Mac’s artist friend you were reacting to. But it was Mac himself? Joel?’
She nodded. ‘Our eyes met briefly and his look was so cold, and next minute he disappeared off to the gents. And basically, I bolted out of there as fast as I could. Afterwards, I kicked myself for not waiting to speak to him. But at the time, my gut reaction when I saw his cold look was to flee.’
‘So how did you know where he was living?’
She gave a rueful smile. ‘When I met you at the gallery that time, Lawrence was there exhibiting some of his paintings. Anyway, he recognised me and we exchanged a few words and that was that. But when I needed to find Joel to tell him about Polly, I went back to the gallery and managed to find Lawrence again.’ She shrugged. ‘We talked about Joel and he put me in touch with him. He phoned Joel and told him he’d bumped into someone from the past and would he like a visitor?’
‘Wow. So you went over and broke the news to Joel that he had a daughter he knew nothing about?’
She nodded, looking so pale and downcast, I suggested we go to the café so she could sit down somewhere warm. She was shivering uncontrollably as we walked over there, and I knew it wasn’t entirely to do with the near zero temperature outside.
‘So how did it go?’ I asked when we were settled in the café, a hot cup of sugary tea in front of Rhona. ‘When you told Mac – um, Joel – about Polly?’
‘He was shocked. Obviously. He tried to hide it, but I could tell he was really angry that I’d never even told him I was pregnant, let alone that I’d given birth to his baby and then had her adopted.’ She shook her head miserably. ‘I don’t blame him for hating me. But at least he does want to meet Polly.’
‘He does?’
She nodded, a smile appearing. ‘I’m so glad for her sake. Yes, he can’t wait to meet her.’
‘So when is it happening?’
‘Tonight. I’m taking her over to the Swan Hotel bar at six. It’s usually quite quiet early evening so they’ll be able to talk.’
‘That’s great. Did you tell him your side of the story? So he’d understand why you did what you did?’
She shook her head. ‘I tried, but I think he was too shocked to really hear what I was saying. I suppose it was a lot for him to take in. And seeing me again . . .’
‘Of course.’
‘We made the arrangements for him to meet Polly by text and I asked if I could join them. But he texted back straight away saying he wanted to see Polly alone.’ She gazed at me, looking so forlorn, I reached over the table to squeeze her hand. ‘Oh, Ellie, he hates me. He’s the love of my life. But I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me for what I did.’
‘You need to give him time to process the fact that he has a daughter he didn’t know about. Maybe he’ll come around and realise you only did what you thought was best for Polly?’
But I could tell by her expression that she wasn’t holding out much hope of such a miracle happening . . .