WHAT AM I EVEN DOING HERE?! #3
At this point in his life, being kept up to date by phone or a quick message just didn’t cut it.
His eldest brother Alex would soon be a father of two, and Lennox hadn’t even met his fiancée Colleen, the mother-to-be.
Aloof Isla had also lost her heart – which felt like a major miracle.
This Jon had to be an extraordinary character if he was able to keep up with Isla.
Even Shona, his baby sister, had found happiness in Kirkby of all places, despite the fact that he would have bet anything that she would stay away from Kirkby for at least as long as he did. Apparently, he had been wrong.
Then Anna and her voice, a voice that reminded him of sun-warmed honey on bare skin, had once again pulled him to Kirkby.
Ten days ago, she had announced she was going to host a retreat: a weekend-long workshop series that would teach participants to “manifest their inner luck and happiness into being” at any time and find greater serenity, balance, creativity and, well, happiness going forward.
It all sounded like total hippy crap; nobody in their right mind would ever take her up on her word.
Then again, he was clearly not in his right mind.
He felt lonely, depleted and so full of some unspecific longing that it sometimes hurt to breathe.
So he had booked the retreat on the spot and, in a fit of self-delusion, had called Shona shortly afterwards and told her he was coming to Kirkby.
As if he wanted to make absolutely sure he couldn’t back out.
However, he had insisted she couldn’t share the news with the rest of the family.
None of this made any sense, not even in his own mind.
He stared out of the window of the bus as it wound its way from Inverness to Kirkby, accumulating its fair share of delays as it pootled along.
Lennox checked his watch. If they didn’t make up lost time soon, he’d be running late for the opening session and wouldn’t have a chance to check in with his family and ask who could put him up before then.
He really hadn’t thought this whole thing through ...
Right now, his mind was screaming at him to turn around on the spot and call off this bloody visit.
What on earth had possessed him? Lennox Fraser returning to Kirkby – that was a disaster in the making. But it was too late to back out now.
In Drumnadrochit, the last real stop before Kirkby, two women got off the bus, taking with them their journey-long complaints about their teenage children.
Without this background chatter, it was almost eerily quiet.
The bus slowly chugged up a hill, and soon the mighty Loch Ness would disappear from sight.
Lennox knew what came next: a wooded area, another dip and then Kirkby’s church tower would be in front of him.
Lennox’s heart started beating faster. Serenity, balance, creativity and happiness …
As far as he was concerned, he didn’t need the whole shamrock; one out of four would be enough for him right now.
Next he spotted the paddocks of Uncle Rupert’s horse farm where some of the mighty Clydesdale horses were grazing in the meadows.
Shortly afterwards, they passed a building he had only seen in photos: Isla’s restaurant, The Scottish Thistle.
There were a few cars and vans in the car park, and one definitely looked as if it was from a TV channel.
Were they recording another episode for the cooking show?
Lennox had been quite surprised to hear that his sister had taken part in a Netflix production to compete for the title of best restaurant in the UK and Ireland.
It wasn’t that he doubted she was up to it; he was more surprised that she had deigned to grace such a mainstream format with her presence.
But the show, which he had watched in a constant state of excitement, had been superbly done.
He had even rewatched the competition episodes several times.
And Isla had won! Last week’s live show had seen her announced as the winner, surrounded by family: their father Marlin, Alex, Colleen, Jon, Aunt Alice, Aunt Heather and Uncle Rupert.
Isla had invited him to join them too, going so far as pleading with him to come – at least as much as Isla could plead – and yet he had sent his excuses.
Why? He couldn’t say. His official defence was that he was stuck in Italy, even as he had actually been in London, the very same city where the final was taking place.
He had never lied so brazenly to his sister before, but he may just have been too much of a coward to face the family.
Not may! He certainly had been. But he guessed his absence weighed more heavily on him than on Isla, who had accepted his fib.
At least he hoped so. Now it seemed she was back in the spotlight, but he hoped she would have a moment for him later, cowardice or otherwise.
Two minutes later, there was no denying it: Lennox Fraser had come home!
He paused, a little lost, in Kirkby’s village square, just as the Scottish weather gods decided to send a few rays of sunshine through the thick grey clouds.
There he stood, with his huge backpack and guitar on his back, as if illuminated by a spotlight.
Thirteen years ago, he had left for London with barely any luggage. And now he was back.
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