Chapter 4
Cal
Butler’s bar was situated down one of Edinburgh’s many closes – narrow, sometimes cobbled, alleyways that ran perpendicular to the main streets of the Old Town.
This secluded location meant that in the early morning there weren’t many people passing, and there were never any cars – only the view of two residential properties with pretty, coloured doors across from the bar entrance.
Cal sat at a table in the bar scrolling through his LinkedIn feed, but it was all drivel.
He pushed the phone to the side, sipped his coffee and meditated on the bucketing rain.
The bar would get busy at night with locals who knew about it through reputation, tourists who’d found out about it on a review site or those who happened on it by chance.
But for now, particularly because of the weather, it was quiet. Cal inhaled the silence.
On the table, his phone vibrated, his sister Cara’s name flashing up on the screen.
‘Hi, Cara.’
‘Is it true?’ As usual, Cara wasted no time in getting to the point.
‘You might need to give me more to go on here. Is what true?’
‘That I’m going to be an auntie.’
Cal froze. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘You mean you don’t know? How can you not know? It’s all over the socials. And besides, you’re the dad, so you should know.’
‘I’m the dad?’ Cal thought for a second.
The last person he was intimate with was his former girlfriend, Elisabetta Angelsey, a socialite and social climber/leech.
They’d dated for about six months and Cal couldn’t believe they’d lasted so long.
Elisabetta’s desire to appear at the opening of every door with Z-list celebrities was in direct contrast to Cal’s desire to appear nowhere and to have as little to do with celebrities as possible.
Elisabetta had dragged him to social events where photographers from society magazines had pointed cameras, so they’d be sure to end up on the social pages with captions under the photos saying things like: Elisabetta Angelsey and Cal Butler, CEO of Butler’s bar and heir to the BDL empire.
Photos next to people whose names meant nothing to Cal but when in print next to her own had made Elisabetta squeal with delight.
Cal was entirely faithful to Elisabetta and hadn’t slept with anyone else in the three months since they’d split up, so he figured it must be her child to whom Cara was referring.
But why was he learning about this from his sister, who had learned about it from social media?
‘Well,’ said Cara, ‘she doesn’t say that you’re the dad, but Elisabetta is your ex and the timings would make sense, so I figured…’
‘Let me get this straight.’ Cal put the phone on speaker and massaged his temples. ‘Elisabetta is pregnant and shouting about it on social media, but she isn’t saying who the father is?’
‘Yes, check your socials. You’ll see. She’s posted a scan and underneath it says, “I’m not sure who it looks more like, me or the daddy. What do you think?” And she isn’t dating anyone else, so it must be yours.’
Cal held back from swearing. This was so Elisabetta. Each move calculated with an audience in mind, all about likes and followers. Cal didn’t even want to see the photo. If he was the father, why hadn’t she called and told him?
‘Okay, well, thanks for letting me know, Cara, but this is the first I’ve heard of it, so hold off on telling people you’ll be an auntie for now, please?’
‘Oh.’ A kilo of buoyancy dropped out of Cara’s voice. ‘Are you going to call her and ask her? You know, this would make Mum and Dad’s year.’
Cara had pinpointed a poignant truth, but that couldn’t be the only consideration.
The fact that this could all be a drive for attention was one of the first things that crossed Cal’s mind.
One of the reasons he had ended the relationship with Elisabetta was because they had nothing in common.
At first, he found her physically attractive; they’d both enjoyed fine dining and sharing superb wine, but even the sex hadn’t been good enough to buffer things when their personalities were so diametrically opposed.
He, down to earth and protective of his privacy, she, highly strung and socially vivacious.
And that was putting it generously. Attention-hungry might have been a better description, and that’s what worried Cal about this pregnancy.
Sure, it would be wonderful for his father to become a grandfather in the last years of his life, but Cal also didn’t want hopes being raised then dashed.
‘Yes, I will call her, but you can’t say anything to anyone in the family about this.’
Cara reluctantly agreed to do things her brother’s way. He knew what a great auntie she’d be. She would love a child of her own, but chose the wrong men, time after time, and was now busy with her work as an in-demand actress.
Cal brought up Elisabetta’s number on his phone – this needed sorted and sorted now. His stomach pitched as the ringtone kicked in, but Elisabetta didn’t answer and the call diverted to voicemail. Cal redialled.
Again, the phone went to voicemail. Cal tried four more times before leaving a short message.
‘Betta, it’s Cal. Call me when you get this, please. We need to sort this thing. You know what I’m talking about.’
Cal laid the phone on the table. A baby.
He sipped his coffee and considered the possibility for a moment, before deciding it was best not to.
The rational part of his brain told him that if he got too attached to having a child and it turned out it wasn’t his then he would face disappointment.
He also deduced that although Elisabetta was no doubt enjoying the limelight granted by her social media tease posts, her followers would soon grow bored and she’d need to find a new angle.
If Cal were the father, she’d probably use that as her next publicity strategy, name dropping her baby-daddy as ‘one of Scotland’s most eligible bachelors,’ as stated by Scottish Bar Manager magazine, or something else utterly meaningless if you were of Cal’s mentality, but impressive if you were of Elisabetta’s.
A shadow moved across the table and Cal glanced up to see Kitty, one of his employees, and Cara’s best friend, standing at the window.
He got up to let her in for her 11a.m. shift.
Could he be imagining it or was there a lightness about Kitty that wasn’t usual for this hour of the day?
She had a funny expression on her face and was suspiciously jolly as she wished him good morning.
He suspected that she had already been on the phone to Cara discussing the baby situation.
Kitty and Cara were best friends from primary school and knew each other inside out.
His sister had probably confided in Kitty that she would be an auntie before she’d even called Cal to discover if it was true.
Well, he wasn’t about to confirm or deny to Kitty, no matter how many knowing smiles she might give him.
He was her boss and a professional distance was required.
Kitty made her way behind the bar towards the staff area to take off her coat and bag.
As she did she hummed a song Cal was sure had the word baby in the title.
He tried coughing loudly as a signal that he knew Kitty’s game, but she appeared not to notice, instead asking him if he had a sore throat.
‘Um, aye, a wee bit.’ Cal supposed that being grumpy about such a minor detail would draw more attention to the issue and he’d be better taking a step back to let his mind settle.
‘Listen, I’m going to pop out for a bit,’ he said.
‘Get some, um, Lemsip. Are you all right to set things up here? I’ll be back before opening. ’
‘Sure,’ said Kitty. ‘I can get the Lemsip if you’d rather. I’m sure you’ve piles of emails and stuff to deal with. Plus, it’s bucketing outside.’ She pointed out the window as if Cal hadn’t noticed the rain.
‘Thanks for the offer, Kitty, but it’s all in order.’ Cal shrugged on his coat. ‘And I can cope with a wee bit of rain. Plus, I’ve got an umbrella.’
A minute later, completely forgetting the umbrella, Cal headed out of the bar, up the close and onto the Royal Mile where he turned in the direction of his favourite coffee shop.