Chapter 15 Carli
Carli
Scotland’s scenery provided a luxury wallpaper to the drive along winding country roads.
Carli would never tire of the rolling green and purple hills and the petrol blue lochs dotted across the landscape.
Never bore of seeing kestrels and eagles soaring overhead and pheasants with their beautiful blue, green and orange plumage darting in and out of hedgerows.
They leaned in silence on the bonnet of the car, soaking in the view.
‘I’d like to go sit by the loch for a bit and say hi to Mum,’ said Carli. ‘Before dark.’
‘Of course. Will you be okay on your own?’
It was kind of him, but Carli had to do this alone. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I’m going to sit by the loch and eat biscuits, because that’s what she liked to do.’
He smiled tenderly. ‘That’s sweet. If you want some company, later, I can join you.’
‘I’d like that, thanks.’ Carli found a packet of Hobnobs in her backpack and made her way down the stony path towards the loch, glad of the small comfort in a difficult time.
‘Hey, take this,’ Niall, holding a small cushion, called her back. She was grateful for his thoughtfulness. Sitting on a cold, hard rock wasn’t a good idea. ‘I’ll put these tents up while I can still see,’ he added, ‘and then I’ll get the stove on and make you a cup of tea.’
By the loch’s edge, Carli placed the cushion on a smooth rock, sat and clasped the packet of biscuits. The peaceful blue water lapped soothingly at the pebbled shoreline, almost hypnotic in its rhythm.
‘Hi, Mum,’ she ventured the words, so unfamiliar nowadays.
As time passed, these out-loud one-sided conversations happened less and less.
And coming back to the place she, Luci and her dad had brought her mum’s ashes three months after she’d died, the guilt of having not remembered her with enough commitment hammered at Carli.
‘I miss you, Mum,’ she whispered. ‘I wish I could come here more often.’ Tears stung her eyes and she tried to battle them back with a joke.
‘If customs would let me, I’d bring back a flask of loch water and keep you by my side.
I’d have to freeze it to keep it fresh, but you wouldn’t mind because you liked the cold.
’ Carli shivered, wondering how long Niall would be with that cup of tea.
‘Luci’s sorry she couldn’t come, but she’s having a baby now and can’t travel.
You probably know that already. When the baby’s older, she’ll bring them here and show them your home country.
We love you, Mum. I love you.’ Carli wiped her face with the back of her hand, the breezy, conversational words having done nothing to stem the bittersweet emotion.
‘Anyway.’ She rubbed her foot over a flattish piece of ground.
‘I don’t want to get too sad because you weren’t a fan of sentimentality, so I’ll crack open the biccies, shall I?
’ Gazing up at the already darkening, smoky sky, Carli raised the packet of Hobnobs to the incipient sketching of the moon.
‘Cheers. I got the plain ones for you, even though chocolate are way better.’
It was a repartee her mum would have relished, but Carli could only imagine the response. “That’s the problem with the world today: everyone wants chocolate-coated everything, but I suppose I’ll manage to eat them.” Then she’d have bitten into the biscuit and chewed with relish.
Carli sighed. The loch lapped unobtrusively. She preferred it that way, not wishing to notice ripples or a whispering in the wind that she could take as a sign of her mum. Being here was enough.
Time ticked on, the inkiness of evening sank in, a heron skittered across the loch and Carli absentmindedly worked her way through the Hobnobs. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been sitting there when there was a crunching on the path and she turned to see Niall carrying two cups of tea.
‘Any biscuits left?’ he asked.
She looked down at the packet.
‘Some.’
He perched on the rock next to her. ‘You okay?’
‘Yeah, bit emotional, but I stuffed my face with biccies because when I cried, Mum would ply me with Hobnobs. I miss her like it was yesterday, even after all this time.’ She sniffed her cup, a sudden thought gripping her. ‘Did you use the loch water for the tea?’
‘Aye, you bring it to a rolling boil for a minute,’ Niall said, clearly misinterpreting what she was getting at. ‘Won’t kill any chemicals, but all the wee beasties will be gone.’
‘Ah!’ Carli lifted her cup towards the loch. ‘Well, here’s to a cup of my mum.’
‘Oh shit!’ Niall threw his own cup down, stood up and reached out. ‘It didn’t cross my mind. So sorry, Cass. Give it back to me.’
She shook her head and smiled. ‘To be honest, neither did I until now. But Mum would’ve found this hilarious so I’m drinking it. It’s not like her ashes are still floating about in there, is it? They’ll have been eaten and pooped out by fishes a long time ago.’
‘Um…’ Niall scrutinised her, probably wondering if her black humour was cause for concern. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, of course.’ She sipped her tea, shifting on the rock to make space for Niall.
He perched next to her. ‘This is good tea, Butler. And speaking of wee beasties, there don’t seem to be any midges here.
’ Carli loathed Scotland’s version of the mosquito: pesky little flies that bothered more remote areas of Scotland during the spring, summer and early autumn. Did we get lucky?’
‘Hope so.’ Clearly, he shared her disdain. ‘I’d rather not share the campsite with those wee fuckers.’
‘Your accent is getting more Scottish.’ She elbowed him gently.
‘Is it? That’s weird. I’ve been back less than a week and I’m in the company of an Aussie.’
‘Must be the general vibe of the place soaking into your bones again.’ Carli didn’t know the version of Niall that lived in Australia, but there was something about him out here, like the landscape was a piece of art he’d been painted into. He belonged here.
‘So, what’s your favourite memory of your mum?’ he asked her. He’d never known her mum, although he’d remembered her from around the village, but always listened intently when she’d talked about her, never appearing bored. This question was vintage Niall: cute with a curious sensitivity.
‘There are so many things,’ she said, ‘although sometimes I wonder how much I’ve forgotten and wish there was some way to get the missing memories back, like hypnosis or something.
But, if I had to pick one thing, I’d say being hugged by her.
She was kind and soft and she’d say things like “Och, away, Carli, it’s never that bad,” which it mostly wasn’t, but when it was bad she’d say, “It hurts now, but have a wee cry and you’ll perk up”.
And sometimes she’d say nothing, and I’d lean into the warm wool of her jumper and smell the old granny perfume she wore because it smelled like her mum, and made me feel safe too. ’
Tentatively, Niall curved his arm around Carli’s shoulder and stroked it for a moment. ‘I’m sorry you don’t have that now,’ he said. ‘You shouldn’t have lost it when you were a kid.’
‘Thanks.’ Carli wanted to ask him to keep holding her, but he was already politely pulling away. ‘I was lucky to have such a great mum, but I could have done with her sticking around for longer. Not her fault, though. She was on the wrong bit of road at the wrong time.’
‘Aye,’ he said. ‘Is the bloke who did it still in prison?’
‘Nope. He was out after five years. It’s a joke, and I can’t even think about it because it makes me so mad.’
‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought him into it.’
‘It’s okay, it’s not like I haven’t thought about him… “it”.’
‘It?’ Niall’s eyes widened. Was he surprised that part of her was hardened to the man responsible for her mother’s death?
‘It’s hard to humanise someone like that. Although holding onto anger isn’t healthy at all.’
‘Jeez. I’m sorry you even have to make that choice.’ His gaze lingered on her, the regret almost tangible on her skin.
She shoulder nudged him. ‘You don’t need to keep being sorry. You weren’t there, and you helped me through some tough times.’
‘Aye, but I am sorry you went through that.’ Niall tipped the last of his tea onto the surrounding pebbles. ‘Look, how about I get the other tent up and we can chat some more?’
‘Sounds good. So you’re putting up the tent and I’m watching?’
His voice took on a playful tone that was a welcome distraction. ‘If that’s what makes you happy, Cass, then I’ll take up and put down the tents all night.’
‘What’s your favourite Scottish phrase that you remember?’ Niall asked as Carli tended the campfire and he hammered in tent pegs, the glow from the flames highlighting him beautifully.
‘Oh, now you’re taking me back. Um… there is one phrase I still use to this day because it’s so handy.’
‘Oh aye? What’s that then?’
‘Do you want to guess?’
‘Ha. We could be here a while. Okay, let me think.’ Niall stood up and absentmindedly tapped his palm with the mallet.
‘It’s something I picked up from you,’ she hinted. ‘You used to say it all the time.’
‘That narrows it down. Um… did I call myself a bam?’ He pointed the mallet at her. ‘I did; that’s it.’
‘Well, you did, but it’s not that.’
‘Oh, wait! My heid’s mince.’
‘Yes!’ Carli exclaimed. ‘That’s the one.
Sometimes when my brain feels like sludge, I’ll say that my head’s mince.
Guess I heard it so much that it stuck with me.
’ She remembered Niall often chastising himself at school when he couldn’t get something right or focus on his work.
At first she’d found it amusing, but deep in her heart, she didn’t like the way he put himself down.
She had a distinct belief that the teachers should be helping him more and stopping the negative discourse.