Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Kieran wrestled with the largest of the cottage’s windows. He guessed several hadn’t been opened in years, welded shut with layers of badly applied paint. And as the temperature had soared from the low teens to the mid-twenties, he desperately needed to air the place.
‘Damn it!’ muttered Kieran as he nicked his thumb on the scraper he was using to force the window open. Blood pooled in the cut and dripped on the floor.
‘Prom, fetch the first-aid kit,’ he ordered jokingly.
Prom remained sprawled on the sofa, giving his rear end a thorough licking.
‘On second thoughts, I don’t think your hygiene practices lend themselves to first aid.’
In the bathroom he found a packet of plasters he’d bought on a panicked pre-move dash to the chemist. He wrapped one around his thumb, admired the world’s saddest DIY injury, and trudged to the bedroom. It remained hot and steamy from his earlier shower because ventilation was an issue.
Kieran took a slow breath.
Against his better judgement, he’d agreed to attend the pub barbecue. A first, according to Janette.
‘I’m no’ really a fan of burnt sausages and those corn-on-the-cob things that get stuck in yer teeth, but wi’ wee Beth in charge, I’m expectin’ haute couture.’
Kieran hadn’t corrected her. Nor had Alison, when they appeared at his door waving a flyer for the event.
The Jekyll & Hyde BBQ
An Afternoon of Smoke, Fire & Dual Personalities
From the Grill
Dr. Jekyll’s Burgers – Beef patty, cheddar, whisky-onion relish
Mr. Hyde’s Burgers – Beef patty, jalapenos, smoky chilli sauce
Split Personality Sausages – A mix of classic pork & fiery spiced
BBQ Chicken Wings – Sweet glaze or hot & smoky
Sides & Pub Favourites
Tattie Wedges – Crispy potato wedges, dips on the side
Neep Slaw – Creamy coleslaw with a Scottish twist
Grilled Corn on the Cob – Butter & herbs
Pub Chips – Thick-cut, malt vinegar & sea salt
Sweet Endings
Shortbread Bites – Buttery Scottish shortbread
Dark Chocolate Brownies – Rich & gooey, a Hyde indulgence
Kieran’s mouth watered at the thought of a juicy burger and a side of thick-cut chips. The supermarket food filled a hole but lacked flavour or substance.
‘You eat better than me,’ he grumbled to Prom.
Prom blinked, unconcerned with human gastronomic crises.
Kieran eyed himself in the mirror. Cream linen shirt, khaki shorts, deck shoes. A look that said: pretending to be relaxed while battling existential dread.
Beth would approve. Possibly.
Then he recalled Peggy at the hairdresser’s the day before, scissors snipping near his ear. ‘If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,’ she’d huffed, referring to Beth’s menu. ‘It’s a wee Scottish pub, no’ a posh hotel wi’ snooty waiters and no prices on the fancy menu.’
He’d bitten back a retort and swallowed his snobbery. It was easier to keep the peace than start a debate about culinary innovation while inhaling perm fumes.
‘Do I pass muster, Prom?’ Kieran asked. ‘Will the fine ladies of Cranley swoon at the sight of my debonair charm?’
Prom stretched, yawned, and fell asleep.
‘That’s a no, then.’
Arriving at the pub’s beer garden, Kieran sniffed the air appreciatively. Smoking charcoal, sizzling meat, and a hint of suntan lotion.
‘Hello, laddie.’
It was the elderly woman he recognised as Jinnie’s gran, Wilma. The one who’d banged on about his aura of sadness. In defiance, he pasted on his broadest grin.
‘Are you auditioning for the role of The Joker in another Batman remake?’ Wilma cackled, and the man next to her sighed.
‘You must be Kieran. I’m Gus. Pay no heed to Wilma. Her heart is generous, but her mouth is prone to uncensored outbursts.’
‘Meaning I’m an honest soul.’ Wilma looked Kieran up and down. ‘Aye, yer aura’s lightened. Less dark purple, more mauve.’
‘Fascinating,’ Kieran said, edging away before she started diagnosing his chakras.
He wove through crowds until he reached the barbecue station where smoke curled into the bright air. Two massive charcoal grills hissed and spat. Ed stood over them, tongs in hand, wearing an apron that declared: Chillin’ & Grillin’.
‘Hi, Kieran,’ Angela called.
Before he could respond, Beth stepped into view, carrying a gargantuan bowl of potato wedges. Her striped apron was streaked with flour and something unidentifiable but appetising. Sweat glistened on her brow. She looked flushed and tired … but utterly in her element.
He stepped forward automatically. ‘Here, let me help with that.’
‘Thanks,’ she said, shifting the bowl. Their hands brushed for a moment. Kieran pretended not to notice.
‘Hot work, Beth.’
‘It is.’ She gulped from a water bottle. ‘But it’s nice to be outside for a change. The pub kitchen’s even more like a cauldron on a day like this.’
‘You summoned me with the promise of a burger,’ Kieran joked. ‘I couldn’t refuse.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘You summoned yourself: don’t flatter me.’
Ed served him a Dr Jekyll burger, chips, and a spoonful of coleslaw. Kieran smothered the chips in mayonnaise.
Beth stared in horror. ‘Heathen.’
He added more mayo with exaggerated relish. ‘Don’t tell me: you think only ketchup goes with chips.’
‘Unless you’re Belgian, French or Scandinavian, maybe. Which you’re definitely not.’
‘Scottish through and through.’ He winked. ‘Although I could be part Viking.’
A sudden shriek pierced the air. A woman brandished a brownie like a lethal weapon. ‘Do these contain nuts? I could die if I eat even a sliver!’
Beth rushed over with calm authority. Kieran followed, half-concerned, half-amused.
‘No nuts,’ Beth assured her. ‘No gluten, either. They do have a secret ingredient, but if I tell you, I’ll have to kill you.’
The woman squeaked and grabbed shortbread instead.
Ed waved from the grill. ‘Beth, we’re running low on sausages and wedges. Can you grab more from inside? Jinnie should be plating up.’
‘Jinnie’s working too?’ Kieran asked. ‘Who’s minding the little ones?’
Something flickered across Beth’s face – a stiffness, a shadow, quickly masked. ‘Sam’s got them. I need to crack on. See you around.’ She turned to leave.
An impulse tugged at Kieran to make her stay. His mouth operated faster than his brain. ‘Beth?’
She paused, exasperation tightening her shoulders. ‘What?’
‘What’s the secret ingredient?’
The ghost of a smile played on her lips – weary, teasing, and strange. ‘If I told you,’ she murmured, ‘you’d never believe me.’
Before he could respond, Ed yelled something about chicken wings, Rose tripped over a crate of corn, and Wilma began loudly diagnosing someone else’s aura as ‘acid yellow’.
Beth vanished into the throng.
Kieran stood there, burger in hand, an odd sensation tugging at his chest.
Something warm and hopeful.
Something downright terrifying.
He took a bite of his burger, scanning the crowd and forcing himself not to acknowledge that he already knew where his eyes were drawn.