Chapter 32
By the time Skye arrived back at Glenalmond, she had missed supper. David and Moira tended to eat lightly in the evenings, and early too. Then they either went for walks, or watched soaps on television, a binary approach to activities that Skye imagined was good for their health.
She walked into the cavernous hallway and hung her jacket up in the cupboard — which itself was the size of the bedroom in her Edinburgh flat — and sighed.
Paolo had been in a right twist at the pub. The arrival of Fabien’s message turned him into a completely different person. Having been able to discount his behaviour over the last couple of weeks, the misunderstanding over Hamish explaining it away, she was able to put him back in the pile of positive people, the type you ought to surround yourself with.
His reaction to the Fabien conversation had, therefore, come as a shock. Paolo had been on edge, reluctant to talk. And while he might have snapped at them, he’d done so with his shoulders hunched.
Footsteps sounded in the corridor, a heavy tread, accompanied by multiple, rapid thuds. Hamish and Wolfie. ‘Hi, honeys, I’m home,’ Skye called.
Not only had she failed to get Paolo and Hamish together, but her plan looked to be scuppered by Fabien’s arrival.
Hamish emerged from the corridor. ‘Heard your car pull up. How was work? I’m assuming the trip to the pub with everyone means you survived, and toughed it out with Paolo.’
‘About that . . .’ said Skye. ‘We need to discuss.’
‘I’ve got some pea soup and fresh sourdough in the kitchen. Come and tell me over that.’
While Skye batted away a nosy Wolfie, who was angling for a slice of bread, she explained the entire misunderstanding to Hamish — after Paolo had left, Holly had told her and Chloe about the guy from Beauly too.
‘I know he’s been dating, but he was into you. Still is. Properly,’ Skye insisted. ‘Really, Hamish, you should go for it.’
Hamish looked at the ceiling. ‘I’m not that guy. I don’t make moves. I’m not a Ham of action.’
Wolfie’s ears pricked up at the mention of his favourite snack, and Skye patted his head. ‘No, Wolfie. Honestly, he’s got a special sensor. But, Hame, there’s more . . .’
She told him about Fabien coming back, and watched as Hamish’s face fell. Hamish dragged his hands down his cheeks and over his mouth.
He groaned. ‘You know about him and Paolo?’
Skye recounted, word for defamatory word, what Holly and Chloe had said. And how this had upset Paolo. ‘He seems to think there’s still something there. And Fabien sounds like a real snake. You have to get there first, Hamish.’
Hamish didn’t reply. He leaned down, and scratched Wolfie on the head. Experiencing a pang of anguish at Hamish’s reluctance, Skye broke the remains of her sourdough in two, spread one half with butter, then shoved it into her mouth in frustration.
Hamish finally spoke. ‘I think they need to sort things out first. If Paolo still has feelings for him, I don’t want to go throwing myself in there. Fabien was always a bit flash for my liking, but he’s dead charming. And I know Paolo was hung up on him for some time after Fabien left.’
‘People move on!’ said Skye, a pang of exasperation passing through her. ‘I don’t get it, Hame. You’ve said how well you get on with Paolo. I’ve seen it!’
‘You know the reason, Skye! I’ve dated friends before,’ said Hamish. ‘And losing James was harder than losing anyone else. I’d lost a best friend too. I mourned that friendship for ages.’
‘Oh.’ Skye looked at the floor, embarrassed by the fact this hadn’t occurred to her sooner. She raised her head, met his eyes, then reached over the table and put her hand on his. ‘You’re worried the same will happen with Paolo.’
Hamish’s shoulders drooped. ‘What I said before, it being a small town? I’d never escape him. You can’t hide here. There’s one pub, one café, and I’m at the bloody vets all the time. It would be excruciating.’
‘Nothing ventured, nothing gained. It’s a phrase you love to use. It could be some kind of wonderful, Hame.’
There was a pause. She stared Hamish out. He was arguing with himself, she could see that, chewing the inside of his cheek as he tried to reach a decision.
‘If it worked, it would be. Och, Christ, Skye. Maybe it’s like getting into the water at the pool. Every week, before I jump in, I have to close my eyes, hold my breath, and remind myself I’ll survive. And I always do.’ Hamish’s voice was louder than before. ‘Maybe I tell him.’
He stood up, and put both hands on the table, like a general about to go into battle. Skye punched the air, sharing his exhilaration. If you really liked someone, you should let nothing get in your way, not somebody else, or worse, your own fears.
‘Yes! Tell him how you feel!’ she said, matching his volume.
An automatic reflex then caused her to groan and put her head in her hands. Here she was, doling out advice which could be applied to her own situation as much as Hamish’s.
‘Is it that bad an idea?’ Hamish asked. Skye looked up. ‘Och, it’s Bear. I’ve held off asking you about him but considering your return to Glenalmond last night, and refusal to talk, I’m guessing you’re in some kind of Bear-related anguish.’
Skye rolled her eyes. ‘We’re talking about you, Hamish.’
‘And now we’re talking about you. We can return to me in a bit. Besides, you know I hate being centre of attention. Come on. You went to bed without telling me what happened.’
Skye told him about her epic meltdown the previous night. ‘Not only did I reject his advances, which I would have liked to accept, but I didn’t cover myself in glory doing it.’
‘Yeah. You went a bit scorched earth there, didn’t you.’
Skye managed a faint smile. ‘Isn’t it ironic that I’ve been trying to set you up, trying to encourage you to have a braver approach to relationships, and here I am, unable to start one with the man I think might be perfect for me.’
‘Why do you think that is?’ Hamish put his fingertips together.
Skye considered her answer. ‘I’ve been lying to him the whole time. I might not be Hurricane Skye anymore, but I’m also not me. I’m a fraud. And as well as Bear, I’ve been lying to my friends, my family. God, I mean, about everything. I’ve still not told Mum and Dad that I’m here. They think I’m on holiday — I was meant to be on one right now. Not this one, obviously.’
‘That I understand. We can’t all be blessed with easy-going wonder-parents like mine. You can’t choose your family, can you.’
You most definitely couldn’t. How would her firebrand father react when she told him? Would he pull a verse from the Bible, or give her the silent treatment? Her mum would be upset Skye hadn’t turned to them with her concerns, but Skye didn’t want her mum to feel like she had to put on a happy face, search for words of comfort, or play the peacemaker. The guilt nicked at her synapses, making her head ache.
Skye let out a moan. It occurred to her that to sort all this trouble out, she had to go back to where it started.
‘You know,’ she said, ‘I’m going to park the Bear thing. Seeing as I’ve irrevocably ballsed it up, I might as well. Instead, I think I need to talk to my parents. Try and get rid of this feeling I have that they always think I’m a massive failure. Or, if not, confirm that they think I’m said failure and move on. I ought to talk to them face to face.’
‘Oh? Really?’ Hamish raised an eyebrow.
‘You sound, and look, very uncertain.’
Hamish had drawn back from the table, wearing a sceptical look that reached every last line on his forehead.
‘You have an explosive relationship with your father. Not that I think it’s a bad idea, but do you think going back to talk to them when you’re at such a low ebb is a good one?’
‘I doubt I can get any lower. Maybe I’ll go tomorrow, after work. I think I can drive down in the evening, spend the night at my flat, and get back early Saturday morning and spend a last couple of days here with you, if that’s OK.’
‘More than OK. Me casa es su casa . Always.’
‘Isn’t that me castle es su castle?’ Skye joked, faintly. ‘Appreciate it though. I’ve always wanted one.’
She gave Hamish a hug, grateful that after she faced the challenge she had set herself, she would have somewhere to come back to, a place that felt far away, where she could cocoon herself for a few hours longer.
It was imperative she did this though. If she didn’t like the person she was, how could she expect anyone else to like her?