Chapter 10
Cal
Ten days later, early on Saturday morning, Cal and Eilidh were floating on their surfboards waiting for the waves to pick up.
‘This might have been a waste of time,’ Cal said of the flat waters in front of them. ‘Think the best was before sunrise.’
‘I agree,’ said Eilidh. ‘Which is frustrating because I needed this today.’
‘Bad week at school?’ His sister worked as a teacher in a somewhat notorious inner-city Edinburgh school. Cal was in complete admiration of her tenacity and ability to connect with the most difficult of students.
‘Yeah, work’s been tough. That, on top of worrying about Dad, isn’t helping.’
‘I get it.’ Cal circled his thumb round a lump of wax on his board.
‘I’ve been doing the same. Although we might be doing more worrying than he is; he’s probably cracking on with work.
’ Both his parents were hard workers but Jimmy Butler filled each moment and beyond with industry, although he did know how to stop intermittently and enjoy the good times with his family.
Cal and his siblings remembered with fondness the times from their childhood when their father had brought home a signed football and kicked it around with them in the garden or let himself be buried in freezing sand at the beach or helped with their Halloween make-up.
It hadn’t happened loads, but when it had it made them happier than skylarks.
‘Have you spoken to him since Mum called?’ Eilidh asked.
‘Nope because Mum told us he doesn’t want to talk about it on the phone and I don’t suppose an email would be his cup of tea either. I’d go over there but during the festival isn’t a time I can leave the bar.’
‘Same,’ said Eilidh. ‘I’m flat out with tutoring on the weekends now school is back. I guess we’ll see him at his birthday party but I’d like to do something now. I don’t suppose he’d appreciate a surprise visit either.’
‘I don’t think he would,’ agreed Cal. ‘There is something I’m going to try when I get home, though.’
‘Yeah? What’s that?’
‘I’ll tell you after.’ Cal motioned to the incipient ocean swell a few metres away that held promise of morphing into a beautiful wave. ‘Get this one and forget about your worries for a bit.’
An hour later, Cal’s finger was hovering over the call button on his phone.
He’d prefaced the number with 141 so it would show up as unknown on his father’s end, guilt gnawing at him for doing so, but his dad would be more likely to answer a number that might be a business contact.
Cal had wondered about calling his mother instead – she would blether away no bother – but it wasn’t her he needed to talk to. He pressed the call icon.
After five rings, his father answered the phone with the greeting ‘Moshi moshi.’ Why was he talking in Japanese?
‘Hey, Dad? It’s Cal. How are you doing?’ Was that a stupid thing to ask someone with a progressive illness? But what else were you meant to ask? Are you feeling better wasn’t right, was it?
‘Oh hello, Callum.’ Jimmy Butler sounded surprised to hear from his eldest son, as if he didn’t expect him to have time to call. ‘I thought you might be Mr Yamamichi.’
‘Aye, sorry about that. It’s just little old me. How are you?’
‘I’m doing away, thanks,’ said Jimmy. ‘Making the most of life as ever.’
Cal was listening for sounds in his father’s voice that would betray his illness, but he heard none. It was still early days, but he didn’t want to make any assumptions.
‘How are your um … symptoms?’ he enquired.
‘My symptoms,’ Jimmy chuckled throatily, ‘are behaving themselves for now.’
Cal pressed his temples. His dad could very well be masking. It would be typical of him to hide his struggles. He could be going down on the Titanic and still insist he was fine and dandy. Cal would have to cut to the chase.
‘Right, well,’ he said. ‘I was reading about motor neurone disease, and I saw this story where a guy had managed to stave off the symptoms for longer than the average by getting things like special physio and occupational health as well as an emotional support therapist.’
A momentary silence filled the line. ‘Och, I don’t need any of that stuff,’ said Jimmy, and Cal wondered if it was a mistake to phrase the therapist as emotional support. That wouldn’t appeal to his father’s masculine pride.
‘Anyway, there isn’t a whole lot in Kintyre,’ Cal went on.
‘But I’ve been researching and making some calls and I’ve made a list of top-notch therapists that would be able to see you online.
It means you could get access to the best care despite living more remotely.
I think it could help you and I’m more than happy to pay for it. ’
Jimmy chuckled. ‘Money’s not a worry, Son, but I don’t think I need any fancy therapists. I’ll be fine. I’ve a nice doctor at the hospital and I’ve your mother at home.’
Cal tried to sigh silently so as not to reveal his frustration at this statement.
Why could his dad not accept help, at the least to ease the burden on Cal’s mother?
She was still working at the distillery herself in her role as master distiller, a job she loved.
However, these circumstances meant she may need to step aside from that position, unless Jimmy would seek support from elsewhere.
‘Well, this could help on top of that. Maximise your chances of staving things off for as long as possible.’
Cal could hear his father breathing and some shuffling and he wondered if he was fully focused on the call. He was probably doing paperwork, tidying up his desk or emailing Japan to see what was keeping Mr Yamamichi.
‘Look, Dad, I’ll tell you what I’ll do: I’ll email you and Mum a list of the folk I’ve come up with. If you’ve got a minute, you could take a squizz at it.’
‘Aye, that sounds good, Callum.’ More shuffling in the background. ‘I do appreciate your concern.’
Cal suspected this amenability to the idea was merely to stop him pursuing it.
His father would always do things his own way.
But before Cal had time to think of another approach, his phone vibrated.
A check of the display told him the call was from Zack: not someone he usually received phone calls from – unless something was wrong.
‘Dad, someone else is calling me. I’ll need to go.’ Cal had got as far as he could with his father on this call. ‘I’ll send that list through today. Take care of yourself and say hi to Mum.’
‘Aye, thanks, Son.’ And before Cal had switched to the incoming number, his father was gone. He shook his head and turned his attention to the new call.
‘Hi, Zack. What’s up?’
‘Morning, Cal. Sorry to call you so early.’
‘Not a problem. Nine isn’t early. You okay?’
‘Aye, well, yes, but no. My sister went into labour seven weeks early last night, so my other sister and I have been at the hospital in Inverness with her. The baby was born, but it’s in intensive care.
’ Zack’s voice cracked a little. ‘I needed to be here to support her, what with Mum and Dad not being around and her husband leaving her. I hate to do this, but I won’t make it in for my shift tonight.
I wanted to give you as much notice as possible. ’
Cal stopped Zack before he explained any further. ‘Say no more, Zack. It’s fine. I’ll handle the bar. You make sure your sister is okay. Is there anything I can do to help?’
‘Nah, it’s fine. As long as you’re sure it’s alright about the shift?’
‘Sounds like your sister might need you up there for a while. You’ll be needing more than one shift off.’
‘Aye, well possibly, although I didn’t like to ask.’
‘Zack, you’re a great barman, but your sister doesn’t have a premature baby every day, so take all the time you need. I’ll make sure you are sorted for money, too. Just keep me posted, alright?’
‘Will do,’ said Zack. ‘Thanks, Cal. I appreciate it.’
Cal hung up and took a deep breath. Saturday night and the only staff member he had left was Kitty. This left him in a bit of a predicament on the busiest night of the week, not to mention slap bang in the middle of the Edinburgh Festival when the Old Town was heaving with people.
Dressing quickly, Cal grabbed breakfast and made some calls to his other staff to see if they could work a last-minute shift. But Cleo was busy babysitting, Jake had a wedding to attend, and Jas had a gig with her band.
Damn. Cal ended the call to Jas. It looked like it was just him and Kitty.
With a coffee-to-go, Cal jumped in the car to drive into town.
He’d bought a beachside cottage because he would far rather drive to work than drive to the surf.
Without surfing, Cal was sure he’d be a lot more stressed out.
During a hot and sticky evening shift, he needed the promise of fresh Scottish waves crashing over his head the next morning.
But the surfing was done for the day, and the real world was creeping in.
He sipped his coffee and thought about how to staff tonight’s shift.
A small voice in the recesses of Cal’s mind reminded him of the piece of paper in the top drawer of his desk which could solve his problem: a piece of paper he purposefully hadn’t thrown away but was ignoring for a reason.
But she was too beautiful. A woman that attractive knew it and played on it. He remembered the way she’d flirted as she came into the bar, wanting something and using her feminine wiles to try and get it. He wouldn’t be falling for that nonsense anymore.
She did say she was an experienced bartender, though. And he needed one of those.
After a near hour of driving and deliberation, Cal reached his office and pulled open his desk drawer to retrieve Bea’s details.
But the note was nowhere to be seen. A quick rummage didn’t bring it to the fore either.
He was sure he’d put it there but out of sight – to forget Bea yet reach her if needed.
But then he remembered something. The evening after Bea had visited Butler’s, he’d enjoyed a drink in his city flat.
The whisky had loosened him up and he’d gone online to see the latest on Elisabetta and the baby.
His infuriation at her continuing game of cat and mouse had led him to swear that he was done with women, so to prove it to himself, he’d gone downstairs, unlocked the bar and, to avoid temptation, thrown the paper out.
What a numpty.
He would just need to find her. Get in touch to ask if she could cover a few shifts in the bar.
‘Aye, that’s all well and good,’ Cal said out loud. ‘But how are you going to get in touch when you don’t have her number, eh? Like I said, you’re a numpty.’