Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ROBBIE
I kill the ignition outside the Otter’s Holt gift shop, and the rumble of the bike gives way to the cheerful bustle of Main Street. It’s busier than usual this afternoon—locals chatting, tourists wandering into shops, everyone soaking up the sunny weather. Heads, of course, turn our way. Cat McIntyre on Robbie MacDonald’s motorcycle? In Bannock that’s enough to set tongues wagging for weeks.
Cat swings her leg off the bike and pops off her helmet, freeing a tumble of flattened auburn hair, which she fluffs with her fingers. There’s a lightness to her movements that wasn’t there this morning, when she was in tears in her flat. The ride did its job, clearing both our heads. I’m still not sure what possessed me to tell her about my maw at the well, but somehow the words found their way out.
“Thanks for that.” She hands me back the helmet. “I needed it.”
I’m about to respond when Cat’s eyes focus on something behind me. She raises her hand in a wave.
“Ally! Emily!” she calls out.
Shite.
I turn to see Ally McIntyre walking towards us, pushing a pram with one hand and guiding a toddler with the other. His wife, Emily, walks alongside them, wearing a friendly smile, though there’s no mistaking the glint of curiosity beneath it. Still, her expression contrasts sharply with the thundercloud on her husband’s face.
“I’m going to head off,” I mutter to Cat, already kicking up the stand.
“Don’t be daft.” She grabs my arm, her fingers surprisingly strong for such a wee lass. “You have to meet Ciaran! He’s only a few days old, and he’s so cute.”
“I really don’t think?—”
“Come on!” She tugs at my arm impatiently. “It’ll be fine.”
But it won’t be fine. It’s never been fine between me and Alasdair McIntyre.
As a lad, I went out of my way to make his life difficult. Every chance I got, I’d goad him into a fight or stir up trouble just to see him lose his temper. I told myself it was about loyalty—my da ran the Glen Garve Resort, the McIntyres ran the Bannock Hotel. Natural enemies, right?
But now, at thirty-one, I’ve got enough self-awareness to recognise the truth. It wasn’t about business rivalry. It was about envy.
The McIntyres were everything my family wasn’t. A proper unit. A maw who actually gave a damn about her children. A da who wasn’t constantly stressed about work. Four siblings who squabbled but clearly loved each other.
Meanwhile, I had a mother who looked at me like I was a mistake she couldn’t undo, a father who buried himself in work, and a wee brother I was forever looking out for—making sure Johnny never saw the worst bits, even if that meant taking the brunt myself.
And now, surprising absolutely nobody, Ally’s gone and created his own perfect family. Beautiful wife. Two sons. A lovely home. The whole fucking package.
Cat’s grip tightens on my arm, her fingers digging in like she thinks I’ll make a run for it—well, more like a ride for it—if she lets go. “Robbie, get off the bike. And take your helmet off. You’ll give wee Ru nightmares otherwise.”
“Honestly, Cat, I’m going to?—”
“You owe me.”
I pause and raise an eyebrow. “Owe you?”
“For last night,” she murmurs with a sly grin. “Consider this payback.”
Jesus. The cheeky wee minx! Wielding last night against me like some sort of weapon. Mind you, it was a fantastic moment of relief in what’s been a shite week or so. If it makes her happy, maybe I can stomach Ally’s glares for a minute or two.
With a sigh, I climb off the bike and pull off my helmet, then reluctantly I let Cat drag me towards Ally and his clan.
His eyes flick from his sister to me, his jaw visibly tightening. “Cat,” he says, his voice carefully controlled. “What are you doing?”
“I’ve just been for a ride on Robbie’s motorcycle,” she says cheerfully, either oblivious to or, more likely, deliberately ignoring the tension. “It was amazing!”
Ally just grunts, like he doesn’t trust himself to say what he’s really thinking. But I notice his knuckles whitening on the pram handle.
“Nice to see you, Robbie,” Emily interjects smoothly.
I nod at her, grateful for the rescue.
“I don’t think you’ve met our boys yet.” Emily gestures to the toddler, who’s regarding me with open curiosity. “This is Ru.”
“Hello, wee man,” I say awkwardly. I’ve never been particularly good with children.
Cat crouches down to Ru’s level. “Hiya, pal!” She opens her arms, and the boy eagerly toddles into them for a hug.
“And this,” Emily continues, reaching into the pram, “is Ciaran.”
She lifts out a tiny bundle wrapped in a blue blanket. Ciaran’s face is scrunched and red, like he’s still annoyed at having been evicted from his comfortable home inside Emily.
Cat wastes no time before cooing and fussing over him. “Isn’t he gorgeous, Robbie? Look at his tiny wee fingers!”
Emily offers her a hold, and Cat accepts without hesitation, rocking the wee guy and murmuring nonsense words to him. After a bit, she looks up at me, a sparkle in her eye. “Here, Robbie, you should have a go too.”
“What? No, I—” But it’s too late. Cat deposits the infant into my arms.
Bloody hell, what am I supposed to do with a baby? I’ve never held one before in my life. He feels impossibly small and fragile against my chest. I adjust my grip awkwardly, one hand cradling his head while the other supports his tiny body.
I glance at Emily, who gives me a reassuring nod. “You’re holding him just fine. No need to look like you’re defusing a bomb.”
“Aww,” Cat says with a grin that’s far too wide to be wholly innocent. “You look good with a baby, Robbie.”
Ally makes a strangled sound that might be a suppressed growl. His face is a picture of barely contained fury. It can’t be easy for him, seeing his newborn son in the arms of his oldest enemy.
“Cat,” he says through gritted teeth, “what exactly have you been up to with Robbie?”
There’s an accusation in his tone that makes my hackles rise, but I bite my tongue.
“Nothing!” Cat protests. “He’s been helping me with my flat, that’s all. Hasn’t laid a finger on me—at least not in the scandalous sense your face is implying.”
Technically, she’s not lying. I haven’t. She, on the other hand...
“Helping you with your flat?” Ally repeats sceptically. “The same Robbie MacDonald who was just fired from the Glen Garve Resort for stealing from guests?”
Ah, shit. It seems the word is out. Da could only keep it under wraps for so long.
“He wasn’t fired,” Cat says defensively. “He was suspended, then he quit. And he’s innocent.”
“Oh, grow up, Cat,” Ally says. “Don’t believe everything people tell you. From what I’ve heard, even his own father thinks he’s guilty.”
My jaw clenches so hard I’m surprised my teeth don’t crack. Typical Ally, judging me from his high horse. I want to snap back, to tell him to mind his own fucking business, but the warm weight of the baby— his baby—in my arms keeps me in check.
“Ally,” Emily says quietly, laying a hand on her husband’s arm. “Not now.”
“I’m just concerned about my wee sister,” Ally says. “I’ve told you, Emily, what Robbie was like growing up.”
“People change,” Emily says pointedly.
“And even if they don’t,” Cat adds, “it’s my business who I spend time with.”
Ally sighs heavily. I can see the struggle on his face: the desire to reclaim his baby warring with the knowledge that snatching him from my arms would cause a scene.
“Besides,” Cat continues, “Robbie’s doing a great job with my flat. For starters, that awful wallpaper in the living room is gone. And he’s fixed the leaky tap in the bathroom.”
Ally’s brow furrows. “And how are you paying for all this work, Cat? You said your bank account was more or less empty.”
Cat gives Ally a tight-lipped smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Oh, let’s not get into boring money stuff now.”
But wait—what? Her bank account is empty? She hired me to do a job. She’d better be able to pay for it.
Emily, clearly sensing the rising tension, steps forwards and gently takes Ciaran from my arms. “We should probably get going. Ru’s due his nap, and this little one will be wanting a feed soon.”
“Of course,” Cat says. She crouches down to say goodbye to Ru, but I’m barely paying attention now.
She will be able to pay me, right? Because I’ve worked my arse off the last few days. After everything—losing my job, being accused of theft, finding that ring in my locker—I can’t cope with another betrayal right now. I really can’t.
* * *
As soon as Cat shuts the front door of her flat behind us, I can’t hold it in any longer.
“So, am I grafting away for free then?” I lean against the wall and fix her with a look.
She freezes, one arm half-out of her jacket. “Och, don’t mind Ally. He’s always fussing about something.”
“He said your bank account is empty.”
“Well... it’s not completely empty.”
“But empty enough that I should be concerned about getting paid for all this?” I push open the living room door and gesture at the work I’ve done—stripped walls, repaired skirting boards, surfaces prepped for painting. And that’s not everything. Besides, I’m supposed to be here for a couple of weeks. I’ve booked out the time for Cat.
She sighs dramatically. “You worry way too much. Just relax, would you? I’ll find a way to pay you.”
“Find a way?” My voice rises. “Cat, we had an agreement. I’ve been busting a gut.”
“And I was never not going to pay you,” she protests. “I’ll get paid from school soon, and anyway, my brothers always help out if I’m in a bind.”
I stare at her, incredulous. That’s her plan? Big brothers to the rescue? The same brothers who were too busy to help her with the flat? Does she really believe Ally will whip out his wallet for me when he looks ready to throttle me every time we cross paths?
“And if they don’t help?”
“Then I’ll take out a loan or something.” She shrugs and moves through to the kitchen. I follow.
“Look, Robbie, I can’t go on living in the flat in the state it’s in.” She fills the kettle like this is no big deal. “The work needs done, and I need your help to do it. I’ll sort out the money. Promise.”
“Sort it out how, exactly?” I fold my arms across my chest. “And you should have really figured this out before hiring me.”
“God, you can be so negative, you know that? I put the idea out into the universe.” She makes a sweeping gesture with both hands, like she’s releasing something into the air. “I visualised having enough money, and now I just need to wait for the universe to manifest a solution.”
I stare at her, trying to decide if she’s joking. “You’re having me on, right?”
“It’s called manifestation!” she says, as if that explains everything. “You focus on what you want—the money, or whatever—and then opportunities show up.”
I rake a hand through my hair and let out a sharp laugh. “Jesus. Your brother’s right: you do need to grow up. You really thought the universe was going to pay me?”
Her cheeks flare rosy pink. “I’m serious!” she claims, though there’s a slight wobble in her voice now. “It works for loads of people. I read this book?—”
“I don’t give a shit what book you read!” My words bounce off the walls, louder than I intended. But it’s all pouring out now: the stress, the humiliation of losing my job, the way everyone always assumes the worst of me. “This is my livelihood. I’m trying to set myself up as a self-employed tradesman. I need actual money, not your fucking universe magic!”
She steps back as if I’ve slapped her, but I press on before guilt can soften me.
“How am I supposed to keep working for you when I don’t even know if you’ll pay me? You said you wanted to help me clear my name, but it turns out you’re not helping at all. You’re just... using me.”
“That’s not true!” The tremor in her voice almost breaks me, but not quite. “You’re getting this all wrong. I really do want to help you.”
“Right,” I scoff. “Just like you ‘helped’ me last night by chasing off the woman I was chatting to.”
Cat’s chin juts out stubbornly. “That was different. I was?—”
“You know what? I don’t want to hear it.”
I move back into the hallway and head for the door, feeling like a right idiot. I actually opened up to her today—told her about my maw, about wishing at the clootie well as a bairn. I never tell people that stuff. Never. And this is why. People can’t be trusted.
“Robbie, please!” Cat follows me, her voice softening. “I’m sorry. I should have been upfront about the money. But I promise I’ll sort it out.”
I open the door then pause. For a second, I’m tempted to believe her. But no, I’ve been let down too many times before.
“Save it. I’ll swing by tomorrow for my tools. After that, you’re on your own.”
I pull the door shut behind me, cutting off whatever she was going to say next.