Chapter 3 #3
I laugh out loud at hearing the words ‘booty call’ on her lips, and roll my eyes.
I shouldn’t be surprised that she knows all of this.
Spain was actually a few years ago, a painter called Sofia.
Catrina is the only one I’d class as an actual relationship, but it’s not serious on either side.
She’s happily divorced, and has actually spent the last six months working in Prague – I visited when she first moved there, and haven’t seen her since.
She’s threatening to visit me soon, and that’s a pleasant thought – but it’s not love.
‘I do have friends with benefits, yes. I might not be the settling-down type, but I’m not a monk.’
I like women. I like their company, and I like the physical aspect of these respectful but casual relationships. But to me it’s completely different than what Kate and Brody have, than what Moira and Angus had. There’s love and there’s sex, and for me only one of them is real.
‘I should hope not, that’d be a terrible waste now, gorgeous big fella like you – those twinkling green eyes of yours, that accent! You could charm birds from trees you could!’
I give her a wink and she pretends to swoon, fanning her face with gnarled fingers. ‘But seriously, now, Rory – have you ever been in love?’
Against my will, her face appears in my mind: her smile, the shine of her big brown eyes.
The way my heart skipped a beat the very first time I saw her.
The way her hand felt in mine, like she made me whole.
I stay silent, and Moira immediately notices.
‘Oh – you have! I see the signs! What happened?’
I shake my head. I don’t want to think about this, never mind talk about it. ‘Nothing good,’ I reply firmly.
Moira looks at me intently, studying my expression. ‘Aye. I see that. She hurt you then, did she? Badly, I’d guess.’
‘Nothing I’m going to bleat on about now, Moira. It’s all in the past.’
‘Is it, though? Are those things ever really in the past, I wonder?’
She has a point, but I will not be sucked in. ‘Yes. Very much so.’ That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. She moves on, for the time being at least.
‘Did I tell you that I’ve joined a dating app?’ Moira asks then, unexpectedly. I stare at her, desperately trying to keep my face straight. Moira is eighty-four and lives in a remote nook of the Scottish coast. How big can the potential dating pool be?
‘Really?’ I ask, noncommittally.
‘Aye, really. Me, Ginny and Shirley did it together – thought it could be a laugh you know, the three witches out on the prowl? Brody’s very upset with us. You know what he’s like.’
I do. Brody is what you might call risk-averse.
Being a cop for so many years, he’s seen a lot of bad stuff, and still looks for it around every corner.
I wonder if he has a point with this. Ginny is in her seventies somewhere and runs the village shop, and Shirley owns the local pub, the Kestrel.
She swears she’s still twenty-one but I’m guessing maybe three times that.
Are they the kinds of women who might get taken advantage of? Are they vulnerable?
‘Don’t worry, son,’ she says. ‘I willnae be giving away my life savings to a good-looking young waiter who swears eternal devotion! Truthfully, I know I’ll never find another Angus.
There isn’t another Angus, they broke the mould.
But I wouldn’t mind some companionship, you know?
A friend. Someone to share my day with, go for walks with.
Someone nice who makes me laugh. Is that too much to ask? Am I being a silly old moo?’
I reach across the table and take her hands in mine. ‘Absolutely not. You deserve the world, Moira.’
‘And so do you, Rory,’ she says, squeezing my fingers. ‘So do you. Life is short, darling, you only start to realise how short when you’re approaching the end.’
‘Rubbish! You’ll outlive us all!’
She gives me a sad little smile, one that I don’t like at all.
Is she just feeling a touch of whisky melancholy, or is there something more to this?
She pats my hand. ‘I certainly will not outlive you all, and that’s okay.
That’s the circle of life and there’s not much we can do but accept it.
But I’m at the age where I’m up against the clock, and I still have so much left that I want to do. ’
‘Can I help? Anything at all, you know that don’t you?’
Her eyes meet mine, and for a moment I wonder what she will say.
There’s definitely something on her mind.
She shakes her head, and says: ‘I know that, my darling, and thank you. Right. Come on, we’d better go.
But Rory – I’ll be lighting a candle for you tonight.
Sending a prayer out into the universe. So watch out, because my prayers to the universe are potent things. ’
‘And what would you be asking the universe for on my behalf then?’
‘A good woman, of course,’ she says, eyes going wide as though she’s surprised I have to ask.
‘A good woman, and love, and laughter. For you to stop all this lone wolf malarkey, and find your soulmate. Your other half is out there, Rory Callaghan, don’t ever give up on that.
Your second chance could be just around the corner. ’
I smile, and let her have her moment. If it makes her happy to imagine that statement is true, then I’m not going to argue. I admire her certainty. I hope she proves me wrong. I’m not so sure that love – the kind she’s talking about, the kind that lasts, that forgives, that endures – even exists.
Not for me. Not any more.