Chapter 8
After a restless night’s sleep Rowan told herself the sensible thing would have been to leave it alone.
She looked at the clock again, as she killed time until Janet arrived.
After a quick cuppa and a chat Rowan left the shop in Janet’s capable hands and walked around the West End to clear her head. Her mind was still going at a hundred miles an hour as she thought about the implications of Callum and his mother being Veil Walkers.
She kept asking herself the same questions. What would it actually mean if they were? Why would it matter? And why had it mattered so much to Jean?
She just needed to walk, to clear her head.
She took a slow stroll up Clarence Drive and turned right onto Hyndland Road.
Then, quickly, she changed her mind and turned left, in the vague hope she might see Callum’s mother or Callum himself coming out of the house.
She didn’t know where they stayed on Hyndland Road.
It could be the other side entirely. But instinct told her they stayed on the left-hand side toward Great Western Road.
Traffic rolled by in the background of her consciousness as she passed by Broomhill Hyndland Church.
She nipped into Sainsbury’s to get something sugary and a drink for the walk. As she browsed the aisles, she thought about what she could do when she got back home. She could check the electoral roll records for anybody with the name Ross on Hyndland Road and check the census details.
As she bit into a Snickers bar she had a mini epiphany; she could ask one of the older shop owners in the area. Someone who’d been around long enough to know the families. She had always kept herself to herself and didn’t engage in the gossip of the streets.
She didn’t want to go past Elspeth’s shop.
Not yet. She wasn’t ready for that conversation.
But there was Agnes, who owned the vintage clothes shop at the top of Clarence Drive.
Agnes had been there for years, and she’d stayed in the same area for just as long.
If anybody was going to know the Rosses, it would be her.
She took a slow walk back down Hyndland Road from Sainsbury’s, sending out her energy as she went, reaching for any trace of Callum or his mother. Again, nothing at all.
She crossed the road and walked down Clarence Drive to Agnes’s shop.
Agnes, a tall, thin, well-to-do woman with well-kept grey hair, spotted her straight away. “Hi, Rowan. How are you doing? Haven’t seen you for a while.”
Rowan smiled and walked over. Agnes came out from behind the counter and pulled her into a hug. Seems everybody’s a hugger these days, Rowan thought, but she hugged her warmly back.
“I just thought I’d check in and see how you’re doing, Agnes. Haven’t seen you for ages.
“Fancy a cuppa?” Agnes asked.
“Oh, that would be great,” Rowan said.
“Have a look around if you want while I make the tea, I’ve got some new scarves in.”
Rowan wandered around the shop brushing her hand over the silk scarves and leather handbags. She took a deep breath in and took in the vanilla and coconut scent that filled the shop.
“Ah, that’s your tea there, love,” Agnes shouted from the back of the shop.
Rowan walked over and picked up the steaming mug, wrapping one hand around it and holding the handle with the other.
“Agnes,” she said. “You don’t happen to know the Rosses from around this area?”
Agnes frowned. “The Rosses.” She tapped her lip. “There was a David and Mary Ross who lived here, but that was years ago.”
“Do they still live here just now?”
“No. They moved years ago.” Agnes replied.
“They still live here on Hyndland Road, so it can’t be David and Mary.
“Then it must be somebody else.” She shook her head. “No, I can’t really think of any other Rosses that still live here.”
“Okay,” Rowan said, keeping her voice casual.
“I can have a look on the computer if you want. Just in case they’ve bought something from me. It’s a long shot.”
“Would you mind?”
“Not at all.” Agnes moved behind the counter. “Why are you asking?”
“I just met someone who said they stayed on Hyndland Road. She came into the shop. I don’t know her name, but she had a son. His name’s Callum. Callum Ross. Does that ring a bell?”
“Callum Ross,” Agnes repeated. “Nope. Doesn’t ring a bell at all. So, does he stay with his mother?”
“Actually, I don’t know. Just know they both stay on Hyndland Road. So they might have separate flats, or they might stay together. I don’t quite know, to be honest.”
“Okay. I’ll have a wee look.”
Agnes tapped away at the computer with a speed and confidence that didn’t quite match appearance. Rowan hid a smile behind her mug.
“No,” Agnes said, shaking her head. “There’s two Rosses but nobody on Hyndland Road.”
“Thanks for trying anyway, Agnes. I really appreciate that.”
“So, is there a story behind this you’re going to tell me?”
Rowan smiled and shook her head. “No story. Just wondering.”
They chatted for another five minutes. Rowan finished her tea and set the mug in the sink at the back of the shop.
“Okay, I’ll let you go just now, Agnes,” she said, as a customer walked in. “But it was nice seeing you again.”
“Do you want me to put that scarf by for you?”
“No, no, it’s okay. But I might have a look in on it another time.”
“Of course. Anytime. We’re getting new stock in all the time, so just come by whenever.”
“Excellent. Thanks, Agnes. I’ll see you later.”
“See you later, Rowan. Be careful out there.”
Rowan smiled. Agnes always said that when she was leaving.
There was somebody else she could try. Another older shop owner, further up Hyndland Road. But she would nip past Elspeth’s first while she was here.
She walked along to Moonspell Patisserie and noticed there was a queue outside the door. She never quite understood that, she’d seen it often enough in the West End. Queues outside bakeries, cheese shops, and ice cream shops you’d never expect.
Rowan kept walking, she could see Elspeth another time, Rowan thought as she continued past the shop.
Elspeth was picking something out from the front display and noticed Rowan straight away. She looked up and waved and smiled.
Rowan motioned with her fingers that she would call her later.
Elspeth nodded, wiped her brow, and let out an inaudible sigh. Her shop was always busy, Rowan thought, as she gave a thumb up in acknowledgement and waved goodbye.
The other person she’d thought of was Danielle, who owned a restaurant further up Hyndland Road, the one that had recently opened next to the estate agents. Danielle had a few coffee shops and restaurants in the West End.
It was only half nine in the morning, and already all the tables outside were taken.
Seven or eight customers were waiting inside to be seated, and the place looked full beyond that.
Forget it, Rowan thought, as she walked past the restaurant; it’s not meant to be.
She wasn’t going to go in and bother Danielle when it was this busy.
Just then, she heard her name.
“Rowan!”
A man’s voice. She spun around but couldn’t see anybody.
“Rowan,” the voice said again.
She was a little embarrassed. She still couldn't see anyone. She looked around, and then she walked past a black van, parked at the side of the road, with the window down.
A paperback sat on the dashboard, spine creased, well-read. Astral Dynamics by Robert Bruce. Rowan frowned before she spotted the driver.
It was Callum.
“Oh, shit. Sorry. That was weird. I couldn't see anybody.”
He laughed. “I know. I thought you were going to walk right past the car, so I just shouted in case you were busy.”
“No, I’m just having a wee walk. Just needed to clear my head a bit.”
“Everything okay?” Callum asked.
“Yeah, yeah. You not working?”
“Aye. I just nipped up to Screwfix to collect a few things. Thought I’d grab a coffee on the way back.”
“Of course. You live here, don’t you?” Rowan said.
“Aye,” Callum said, pointing. “Just next to the doctor’s surgery.”
This was exactly what Rowan needed. A reference point. An address she could check against the records. And she felt a pang of guilt for thinking it, for standing here making conversation with a man she liked while quietly filing away information to investigate him.
“Mind if I join you on your walk?” Callum asked.
Rowan raised her eyebrows and felt her face going a little red. God, you’d think I was a teenager.
“No, not at all. Just clearing my head.”
“Do you want a coffee?”
“Nah, nah. It’s okay. I’ll get something later.”
* * *
They fell into step together along Hyndland Road.
“I was thinking about our conversation last night,” Callum said, as they walked past the park.
“Oh? Anything specific?”
“No, just in general. And I asked my mother again about the symbol. But still nothing. She wouldn’t tell me anything. Actually, she got a bit annoyed about it, if I’m being honest.”
As they walked past the tennis club Rowan looked at the hotel up ahead.
“Have you ever been to One Devonshire Gardens before?” she asked. “For breakfast?”
“No, never been.”
“How long have you got?”
Callum looked at his watch. “Long enough. I’ve been working loads of overtime, so Tommy will be fine with me coming in a bit later. I’ll just tell him I was on a break. So, we’ve got an hour or so.”
“Perfect.”
They walked past the hotel reception and through a maze of corridors into the small restaurant at the back.
“I love this place,” Rowan said, looking around the room. Victorian wood-panelling, high ceilings, brown leather chairs, and sparse, well-spaced tables so they could talk in private.
“I can’t believe I’ve never actually been here,” Callum said, looking around. “This place is beautiful.”
“It really is.”
A waiter in a fitted jacket came over to take their orders, and they both ordered tea, toast and jam.
“So, as I was saying,” Callum said, tucking his jacket behind him as he settled into the chair. He looked at her directly. “I get the feeling that you know more about the symbol than you’re telling me.”
Rowan held his gaze but said nothing.
“And the thing is, Rowan,” he said, leaning forward slightly, “I don’t know too much about my own past. And God knows, I’ve tried. I went through those genealogy sites, the ones everybody uses. And I can only go back as far as my grandfather. That’s it. It just stops. Nothing else whatsoever.”
Rowan’s stomach churned.
It was all adding up. Every piece of it pointed towards Callum being a Veil Walker. But how on earth would she tell him that? How would she even begin to approach the subject? And worse still, how would she explain what the Veil was, and what it meant for him to have come from the other side of it?
He genuinely didn’t seem to know anything about his past. As far as he was concerned, he’d been brought up as a normal man, in a normal family, in the West End of Glasgow.
And then Rowan thought about it from her own side, and realised she didn’t know a whole lot either.
She didn’t really know what a Veil Walker was, beyond the name.
She didn’t know what they could do. If they came from the other side of the Veil, did that mean they had powers?
Were they dangerous? Were they even aware of what they carried?
Callum was watching her. Those blue eyes she couldn’t read, waiting for something she couldn’t give him.
Then her arm burned.
Not warmth. Not the gentle pulse she’d felt before. This was heat, sharp and sudden, spreading from the brooch mark across her skin. She looked down. The sigil was glowing. Faintly, but unmistakably.
She pressed her hand over it and looked back up at Callum. He hadn’t noticed. He was still watching her face, waiting.
Am I getting closer to something I shouldn’t be close to?