Chapter 7
Isla
Calendar reminder: Kinleith Village Committee Meeting
Truthfully, Alistair Macabe wasn’t the worst neighbour in the world.
Aside from the occasional wall thump and tampering with my recycling, he spent so little time at home, it would be easy to forget he lived there if he wasn’t so .
. . Alistair. The adjoining door had never once opened since that first day, and sometimes he accidentally mowed my half of the grass.
I couldn’t even reasonably put the recycling into the cons column, when all he was really doing was correctly separating my cardboards from plastics.
Serial-killer tendencies perhaps, but he definitely had his uses on bin collection day.
It had been nearly a week since he’d patched me up in the Brown’s staffroom, and I still didn’t have my head on right. Jumping at every rev of an engine, or the groan of taps in his shower. Signs of life, yet I hadn’t laid my eyeballs on him physically.
If I were a conceited person, I might have suspected he was avoiding me.
Teddy was still pushing her super-spy theory, on the days she was talking to me, at least.
On Saturday morning, when the reality that she wouldn’t be seeing Cameron over the weekend fully sank in, she didn’t talk to me at all. Just quietly sat on the sofa eating dry cereal and watching reruns of Bluey while I stress-cleaned the skirting boards with a toothbrush.
Her nightmares returned in full force for the next three nights, and she crawled into my bed, clutching Bluebell to her chest. I held her close, watching the tears dry on her pudgy little cheeks, feeling the little flutter of her pulse that told me while her heart was broken, she was still whole and healthy.
I’d said screw it to my truce with Alistair, quietly playing her favourite songs until her breaths evened out and the frown between her brows smoothed as she finally fell asleep.
A fist thumped on the wall. Single and to the point.
I didn’t know why, but it had brought a smile to my lips. It was stupid, but knowing someone was on the other side of the wall made me feel a little less alone.
So stupid, Isla.
By the time I leaned my bike against the whitewashed stone wall of Kinleith Whisky Distillery on Tuesday evening, my stomach was rumbling and my feet were burning from my eight-hour shift at Brown’s.
I was ready for my bed. Ready to hug Teddy and hear every little detail about her day at camp.
But in-person sign-ups at the Kinleith Village Committee meeting were the only way to guarantee a spot in the Cairn I’ve watched it at least a dozen times. All I could think about was your wee girl, losing both parents in one year.” So dramatic.
I bet he was just frothing at the mouth that he didn’t get to witness it with his own eyes.
“Cameron is still very much alive,” I defended, purely for accuracy’s sake.
“In some ways abandonment is worse than death.”
“At least she would have been able to watch my death in forty-eight megapixels,” I said, shoving a carrot stick in my mouth.
He nodded solemnly. “Thank heavens for small mercies.”
“Isla! Over here!” I could have wilted in relief at the sound of Heather’s voice.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I said, turning to squeeze my way through the crowd to the bar that she and Mal were manning.
The distillery tasting room always left me feeling like I’d travelled backwards in time. A study in mahogany, with rich-brown interiors and comfortable booths decorated in a deep-green tartan.
“Hey,” I grinned as they all greeted me. Juniper and Callum were sitting on stools, elbows resting against one another’s on the bar top. “I didn’t know you guys would be here.”
April was notably absent, and Juniper – the fashionable goth dressed all in black – looked like she’d been dragged here against her will.
“An unfortunate requirement when owning a small business.” She rolled her fingers over her temples. Juniper ran Ivy House, the village B I’d once heard her say she felt deeply suspicious of any gathering that involved a sign-up sheet, laminated agendas or encouraged collective enthusiasm.
“Remember the meeting when Jill Mortimer filibustered until they agreed to let her perform a solo of ‘Amazing Grace’ at the Christmas Eve carol concert?” Heather said, sliding me a water over the bar.
“Okay, maybe that one was a little fun.” A wicked smile curled the corners of Juniper’s lips.
I joined in the laughter, delighted to be in on the joke as I slid onto a stool beside Juniper. I’d recently discovered that Juniper and Jill Mortimer had long-standing beef, thanks to Jill’s relentless pursuit of Callum last autumn. She’d been pretty nasty to Juniper in the process.
I felt a little better about my own dislike of Jill. She was good friends with Annabelle and whenever we interacted, I couldn’t shake the feeling that every word out of my mouth was being fed back to Annabelle.
If Annabelle weren’t the head of the village committee, I’d avoid her and her posse entirely.
“Speaking of Jill Mortimer, this is more tragic than I expected.” Heather nodded across the room.
The icy condensation from my glass leaked against my fingers as my head snapped to the left, quickly locating the source of her disgust.
My stomach somersaulted, an ugly feeling ballooning in my chest.
Over by one of the booths, Jill Mortimer tossed her head back, laughing, while sliding a proprietary hand over Alistair’s shirtsleeve. He stared back at her intently.
What was he even doing here?
“Think she wants to sleep with all of my brothers?” Heather asked.
“Rude,” Callum scoffed. “We all know that accolade belongs to Juniper—” His words cut off with a high squeak of pain, and everyone laughed, except for me.
I was too busy watching Alistair forcibly retract himself from Jill’s octopus grip and make his way in our direction.
“Hey, guys.” Hands in his pockets, Alistair settled a few inches away, not quite part of the group. “Isla.” His gaze brushed over my face. I tried not to bristle. Clearly, I didn’t fit into the guys category.
“Oh my god, is that small-town hero Dr Macabe in the flesh?” Heather called from the other side of the bar, hands clutched to her chest. “Can I get an autograph?”
“Very funny.” His eyes narrowed on his sister while his siblings sniggered like five-year-olds.
He’d clearly come straight from work. His white shirt was still perfectly crisp other than a slight wrinkling at his collar where his navy tie sat just slightly off-centre. Like he’d repeatedly yanked it then straightened it back into place.
“Who cares about an autograph? I’d settle for you returning a phone call once in a while,” Callum cut in, and I watched Alistair’s face visibly shutter. His gaze kept flicking but never resting in Callum and Juniper’s direction.
“I’ve been busy.”
Was this the reason he so clearly loathed living here? His ever-present ex, Juniper? Maybe Alistair and I had more in common than I’d thought.
“Haven’t we all.” A layer of steel slipped into Callum’s tone. There was a collective intake of breath, and I shifted in my seat, guzzling down my water just for something to do. Yeah, I definitely shouldn’t be here for this.
Behind me, Heather cleared her throat. “What are you doing here? Even I don’t want to be here, and I’m being paid.”
Alistair’s brows rose above the rims of his glasses. “I can’t take an interest in my community?”
“Tonight’s focus point is how to dissuade seagulls from stealing vape pens,” Juniper snickered.
“A true epidemic,” Callum said.
Alistair didn’t even smile, just turned to me, tense all over. “I should check how your knee is healing.”
I blinked. “Now?”
He nodded. “Unless you want to come by the surgery?”
I gave him a shrewd look – one he returned – and we entered a half-hearted game of chicken until I finally sighed and slid from the stool.
“Now’s good.” Better to get it over with.
I handed the glass back to Heather. Tried not to blush when Alistair’s large hand settled between my shoulder blades, steering me toward one of the booths.
“I can feel your family staring,” I said. His fingers slipped beneath my hair, stretching all the way to the top of my neck.
“So?”