Chapter 39
Jamie spent the whole meal spluttering about Cal’s stupid joke. Stupid, and hilarious. He couldn’t even be angry about it – not given how much he’d laughed. When was the last time he’d laughed so uncontrollably? He had no idea.
It had also been effective at breaking the ice with Emma. She might even be warming to him. At least, if her teasing were anything to go by.
“Why did you take a job so far from home?” she asked when she finally stopped commenting on how gullible he was. “Moira didn’t trick you into thinking North Berwick was just outside London or something, did she?”
Okay, maybe she wasn’t quite finished with the teasing. Jamie rolled his eyes and stuck his fork into his last piece of roast potato. “I told you I was born in Edinburgh. I liked the idea of checking out my roots.”
“Have you been to Edinburgh yet?” she asked.
“No, I’ve been a bit busy,” he said pointedly. “And I’m waiting for my aunt to go through my mum’s things and find the address for where we used to live.”
“Your aunt?” Skye asked, her features turning serious after a solid ten minutes of giggling. “Not your mum?”
He shook his head. “My mum passed away a few years ago.”
“Sorry,” Skye mumbled, then glanced at Cal who shook his head.
“Why do you do that?” Jamie asked, looking between the two of them.
“What?” Skye asked.
“You clearly want to ask something and you look at Cal to see if it’s okay. And then you go quiet.”
“I’m not always very tactful,” she said weakly.
“I don’t care,” Jamie said and pointed a thumb at Cal. “You don’t need permission from him to ask me something.”
“It’s not like that,” Emma protested.
“No, he’s right.” Cal raised his hands. “Ask him whatever you want.”
Skye lowered her gaze. “Forget it.”
“Oh for goodness’ sake.” Emma gave an impatient growl. “I’ll ask. Is your dad around? Or is he, by any chance, dead or a lowlife scumbag?”
Jamie stared at her.
“I don’t think Skye was going to ask quite like that,” Cal said with a sigh.
“I wasn’t,” Skye confirmed.
“That’s what you wanted to know?” Jamie asked.
“Yeah.” Skye’s hair fell in front of her face and she hooked it behind her ear. “I wondered, but it doesn’t matter if you don’t want to say.”
Jamie had no problem with the question. He just couldn’t work out why Emma had phrased it the way she had.
“My biological father died when I was a kid,” he said slowly. “My mum never had anything good to say about him.” He paused and caught Emma’s eye. “I guess Mum would have described him as a lowlife scumbag, but I don’t remember him. I got on well with my stepdad – he died six months ago.”
The looks they exchanged could have convinced him that telepathy was a real thing and a common way people communicated.
“What?” he said, when none of them spoke.
“Nothing,” Skye said. “Sorry about your stepdad. And your mum.”
He shrugged, feeling a tightness in his chest at her sympathy.
“Anyway,” he said, forcing his mind to easier topics. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to leave you to tidy up, while I go and take down a bunch of posters.”
Skye pushed her chair away from the table and stood up. “I’ll come with you,” she said eagerly.
While Cal loaded pots and pans into the dishwasher, Emma collected up the plates and cutlery and set them on the counter.
“I can’t believe you convinced Jamie that Misty was missing when she was under his nose the entire time,” she said.
“I can’t believe you ruined my joke. I thought I could keep that going until Moira got back.”
“He really is very gullible.”
Cal slotted the plates into the dishwasher. “He’s cool.”
“It was annoying how he felt the need to interfere in the Langford case.”
“I reckon you should be thanking him for that. He was helpful, wasn’t he?”
“Yeah, but . . .” She didn’t actually have a decent argument.
Cal lifted an eyebrow. “He’s a good guy, Em.”
She pressed her hip against the counter. “What’s your point?”
“Give him a chance, that’s my point.”
“What do you mean, give him a chance?”
“Don’t be so guarded.”
“Maybe you should be more guarded. You’re acting like you’ve got a new best friend, but he’ll be gone in a matter of weeks.”
“Aw.” He screwed his nose up. “Are you jealous that I have a new friend?”
She gave his arm a shove. “I don’t get it, Cal. None of it makes sense. Why is he even here?”
“Because he saw an advert for a house-sit.”
“He has no parents. Hardly any family by the sound of it.”
“So?”
“You think that’s just a coincidence, and not that Moira knows more about him than she’s letting on?”
“I think it’s better not to ask so many questions.”
He might be right, but it was too late for that. “Moira asked me to keep an eye on him,” she said quietly. “Make sure he’s okay. Why would she do that?”
“Because Moira likes looking after people,” he suggested, but there was a flicker of doubt in his features that made her think he was hiding something.
“She said the same to me,” he said eventually. “Before she left, she specifically asked me to keep an eye on him, and the way she said it . . .”
“What?” Emma demanded.
“She seemed a little emotional. I can’t really explain, but . . .”
“It seemed like she knew him?”
“Maybe.”
“I’m going to ask her,” Emma said sulkily. “I’ll call her later.”
“Don’t,” Cal said firmly. “She’d have said if there was anything she wanted us to know. If she doesn’t want you to know the truth, asking her outright forces her to lie.”
“Why wouldn’t she tell me what’s really going on?”
“I don’t know. If there’s something to tell, she’ll tell you in her own time. In the meantime, can you relax and stop stressing over it?”
“Probably not.”
He smiled at that. “You don’t always need to assume people will leave.”
“In this case I’m not assuming. He’s here until Moira comes home, then he’ll be off to London again. Not that it matters to me. I think he’s a bit of a numpty. You and Skye should probably bear in mind that he’s only here temporarily.”
“You just don’t like us having another friend.” He slung an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a side hug. “Don’t worry, we still love you.”
“Get off me,” she said, shoving him away, but unable to keep the smile from her face.
After the best part of an hour walking around the town, Jamie tore down a Lost poster from one side of a telegraph pole and a Found poster from the other side of it. Every poster they came to set them off laughing again.
“All right,” he said, grinning. “I reckon we must have got most of them.”
Their route had ended with them not far from Moira’s, so it seemed a good time to end their mission.
“Thanks for helping me.”
“It was fun,” Skye said shyly.
“Good.” He gave her a sidelong glance as they passed under the orange glow of a streetlight. “What was all that about earlier, when Emma asked if I have any parents alive? She asked it in such a weird way. It seemed as though I was missing some inside info.”
“I guess we were just wondering why you’re here. Not in a bad way . . . it’s great that you’re here, but I feel as though Moira didn’t tell us everything. So we’re trying to figure it out.”
“How do you mean?”
She hesitated for long enough that he thought she wasn’t going to continue.
“Moira goes to Mull sometimes to visit her dad. Sometimes for a week, maybe two. While she’s gone Cal usually stays at her place and looks after Misty.
He lives in a caravan so I think he likes staying at Moira’s sometimes.
” She shoved her hands into her pockets.
“I suppose it seems odd that she asked someone else to house-sit.”
“I think it was more about the business. She wanted someone to take over her regular jobs while she’s away.”
“Cal could have done that too. He often helps her out.”
“Maybe she was worried about putting him out, when she’s gone for longer this time.”
She shook her head. “Cal would have been happy to do it. His schedule at the gym is easy to fit other work around. Or she could have just closed down the business for a couple of months. I don’t think it would have been a big deal.”
Jamie smiled awkwardly. “I honestly couldn’t tell you what Moira was thinking, only that I saw a job advert and applied. What’s that got to do with me having no living parents?”
“How much do you know about Moira?” Skye asked.
“Not that much.”
“She takes people in when they need a home. Usually older teenagers with messed-up home lives.”
“Yeah. So?”
“It kind of feels the same with you. Except you’re an adult, not some teenage runaway.”
“I did mention in the interview that my parents were dead. Perhaps it struck a chord with Moira and that’s why she offered me the job.”
“Perhaps,” she said without conviction, then smiled weakly at a guy walking the other way. He recognised her and greeted her by name as he passed.
“Who’s that?” Jamie asked.
“Just some guy who comes in the café regularly. He’s got a massive scar down his face and it gives me the creeps.” She sucked in a breath so violently that Jamie stopped, thinking something was wrong. “Oh my god, I’m sorry.”
“What’s wrong?” he asked and could almost feel the heat radiating from her cheeks.
“I’m such an idiot,” she said, eyes wide with horror.
“Seriously tell me what’s wrong. You’re freaking me out.”
“It came out wrong,” she said frantically. “It’s not his scar that gives me the creeps. It’s just him. It’s not like I think all scars are horrible. And it’s not as though he can help having a scar, so it was just a really awful thing to say.”
Finally, it dawned on him what the issue was. His hand went to the scar through his lip.
“It’s fine,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Sorry,” she said, the word fuelled with emotion.
“Forget it.” He gave her arm a gentle nudge, but she kept quiet for the remainder of the walk back to Sea Haven.