Chapter 4
Chapter Four
T obias knew two things for certain – that Hammer was following him and that he was inside a burial cairn. He clung to those facts and tried to focus on his surroundings in order to anchor himself. He considered the cairn. The openings along the central passage led to chambers which held the remains of Neolithic kings. Not that they would have been called kings, then. Mayors of towns. No, not mayors, that wasn’t right either. They were the heads of family groups. The natural leaders in the small communities of humans that had scraped an existence using stone tools and collaboration.
The stones were piled with regularity, an interlinking pattern that had held for thousands of years. It was a place for the dead. On the surface, it was common sense. Humans following their animal instincts to keep dead, rotting material away from their hearth and home. But àite Marbh was more than that. Tobias remembered when the islands were born. It looked like they rose, but really the sea was receding.
Tobias had known this place when it was a hole in the world. He didn’t remember how long he had been standing in the cairn. Time had stretched or folded. It had done something, he was sure of that. He was as certain about that as he was that Hammer was no longer behind him. Or that he was no longer in the same place. He felt something shift under his feet, and then the sharp shock of cold water. His physical body was catching up to what his mind already knew. He was no longer in the cairn on the small island of àite Marbh.
Esme walked into The Rising Moon with Luke. It was the first time they had done so publicly. They had eaten together there countless times, of course, and had probably walked in together before, too, but this felt like the first time. They had been at the bookshop and had lost the last hour or so kissing and talking and kissing some more. Now, her lips still tingling and face flushed, they were walking into the pub as a couple. Her hand was in Luke’s as they walked the short distance from the bookshop and he didn’t drop it as they stepped into the pub.
A fire crackled in the large fireplace and the copper pots that were mounted along one wall glowed in the lamplight. Fiona and Hamish were at the largest table, right in the middle of the room. Fiona was wearing a cheery red knitted jumper, and she glanced away from Hamish, who was sitting in a wooden high chair and had something yellow smeared across his face. Her greeting died on her lips and her smile changed to a strange, unfathomable expression and then back to a smile again in rapid succession.
‘Hello,’ Luke said easily and Esme wondered if he had noticed Fiona’s confusion.
Everyone knew that sitting at the big table was an invitation to join in and that folk wanting solitude would choose one of the small tables dotted around the perimeter of the room. Luke squeezed her hand reassuringly and Esme saw Fiona noticing their clasped hands. She sat opposite Fiona and began studying the menu. Which was ridiculous, as she knew it off by heart. The specials were on a chalkboard on the wall and that was the only place a local needed to look. And that was only if they failed to pay attention when Seren explained the choices.
‘And how are you, young man?’ Luke was asking Hamish. In response, Hamish gave him a slow, level look that suggested he had his suspicions. Or it might have been incomprehension at being addressed as if he were a nineteenth-century gentleman instead of a toddler.
‘He’s a wee bit shy,’ Fiona said, retrieving a plastic spoon that Hamish had flung onto the floor.
‘How’s he sleeping now?’
Fiona made a seesawing motion with one hand. ‘Not bad.’
‘It’s worth it, I bet,’ Luke said.
Fiona’s answering smile chased the last of Esme’s discomfort away. She was a reserved woman, but Esme had forged a friendship that she felt she could rely on. She had already told Fiona, in private, about her relationship with Luke, and she was bolstered by her presence.
‘Do you have siblings?’ Fiona asked Luke.
‘Just my twin,’ Luke replied, leaning back in his chair and stretching one arm behind Esme. They had agreed to go public, but it still made Esme feel strange. She leaned forward.
‘Oh aye,’ Fiona was concentrating on passing food to Hamish and catching pieces of bread and potato and apple that occasionally went sailing over the side. She was remarkably fast. ‘No wee ones to look after while you were growing up, then?’
‘No,’ Luke said. ‘It was just the two of us.’
Esme’s discomfort was back. Talk of family was always difficult. She had come to terms with her own lack in that department, but it didn’t mean she enjoyed thinking about it. And seeing the easy way Luke interacted with Hamish opened a small, secret door inside herself.
Thankfully, Seren arrived, rattling through the options with her usual efficiency. ‘Venison casserole, please,’ Esme said. She could smell the food from the kitchen, and her mouth was already watering.
‘Same for me.’ Luke was ignoring the way that Seren was staring at the position of his arm.
‘And a glass of wine,’ Esme added. She was leaning as far forward as possible, her elbows on the table.
Seren quirked one of her perfect eyebrows. ‘Special occasion is it?’ She looked at Luke significantly.
Esme knew that her face was no longer just flushed, but probably the same shade as Fiona’s knitted jumper.
Seren had moved away before Esme had time to formulate a response.
‘Rat-dit!’ Hamish announced, abruptly shoving the bowl on his tray table. He arched his back as if wanting to physically distance himself from the food.
Esme thought it was comical until she realised she had been doing the same thing by leaning forward away from Luke’s arm.
‘Rat-dit?’ Luke asked, his voice competing with Hamish’s, as the boy was now chanting the word with increasing volume and urgency.
Fiona transferred the food from the highchair and onto the main table. She calmly tore a wipe from a packet, and wiped Hamish’s hands and face with practised movements, before delving into her bag to produce a board book.
‘Rabbits,’ she explained. ‘Here you go,’ she passed the book to Hamish, whose chanting immediately stopped. A beatific smile broke out across his face and he grabbed the book, waving it triumphantly.
‘Sorry,’ Fiona said. ‘Talk amongst yourselves. I’ll just have to…’ She helped Hamish to open it and began reading upside down, Hamish turning the chunky pages.
‘So,’ Luke said, turning to Esme. His eyes were crinkled and his lips curved in a warm smile. ‘How are you coping?’
‘Great. Good. Fine.’
‘Uh-huh?’ Luke cut his eyes to his arm on the back of her chair and the gap between it and her body. She was still leaning her elbows on the table, her body rigid with tension.
There was a pause in which she didn’t move.
‘Too soon?’ Luke asked after another moment. He withdrew his arm and Esme felt her stomach dip. She had disappointed him.
He smiled at her, no sign of anger, and she allowed herself a breath. It was Luke. She didn’t have to be afraid of disappointing him, of his disapproval. He wasn’t Ryan. She wondered how many times she would have to remind herself of that fact, whether the shadow of her past would ever detach and float away. I have no need of you, she whispered in her mind. Go away .
The door opened, letting in a blast of fresh air. Matteo walked in, raising a hand in greeting.
‘Usual?’ Seren asked.
Matteo nodded and came to sit at the table. He hesitated before taking the chair next to Fiona. She was bunched up next to the highchair, reading the rabbit book for the third time in a row.
Hamish was distracted by the newcomer. He splayed a hand onto the pages and stared at Matteo.
Matteo stared back. After a long moment, he pulled a sudden, surprisingly silly face, tongue lolling out and eyes crossed.
Hamish didn’t laugh. He continued his long hard stare, same as the one he had given Luke.
Matteo shrugged and smiled.
‘He’ll warm up,’ Fiona said with an apologetic smile for Matteo. ‘Won’t you, wee man?’ She addressed Hamish, who shoved the book away and held his arms up in the international gesture for ‘lift me up’.
Seren returned with two plates of venison casserole. Then, digging into the wide pocket in the front of her apron, she produced a small pot of yoghurt and placed it onto Hamish’s tray. He immediately dropped his arms and lunged for the pot.
‘What’s it like having a twin?’ Fiona asked Luke, while peeling the lid on the yoghurt.
Luke shrugged. ‘I don’t know anything different.’
‘You always had a pal to play with, though.’ She was watching Hamish attack the yoghurt with his plastic spoon and Esme saw the worry on her face. ‘I always felt bad for Euan.’
‘Whatever happens, he’s got you,’ Luke said.
‘That feels like one of those kind lies,’ Fiona said. Then, she added, ‘Sorry. Sorry, that was blunt, it’s just…’
‘I know. You worry. You want what’s best for him.’
‘And Hamish has you and a big brother,’ Esme added. ‘Euan dotes on him.’
Matteo was writing in his notepad. He showed it to Luke and Esme was able to read it.
Do you have a psychic link?
‘With Lewis?’
Luke didn’t seem at all thrown by the question and Esme wondered if it was one of the top ten conversational gambits for identical twins. She supposed that people were probably fascinated by the phenomenon and that undoubtedly led to intrusive queries.
‘I used to think so,’ he said and smiled at Matteo. ‘When we were kids, I was convinced I knew what he was thinking, and he definitely seemed to know what I was thinking, feeling, whatever…’
‘Not anymore?’ Esme asked.
Luke laughed, a little self-conscious. ‘No. I mean, it’s impossible. Back then, we were just similar enough and living in the same situation and with the same people, so it was easy to pretend.’
‘You pretended?’
‘No, I mean… imagine. It was easy to look at each other and guess what the other was thinking, and it felt like a connection. That is having a connection, I suppose. But since we’ve been apart, living different lives, it doesn’t feel like that anymore. I’m sure most siblings can tell what the other is thinking. It’s just familiarity.’
‘I wouldn’t know,’ Esme said. She was aiming for light and airy but Luke’s eyes crinkled in sympathy.
Bee arrived while they were finishing their meals. Fiona had released Hamish from his highchair and was following him around the pub, holding his hand as he toddled about and making sure he didn’t get too close to the fire. He babbled away happily, occasionally shrieking or laughing. It was a pleasant sound and made the pub feel homely.
Bee nodded a greeting and ordered quickly. She fell into a conversation with Matteo about hardy plants. Matteo wanted to get things growing in planters at the front of the shop and wanted advice. He was distracted, though, his eyes following Fiona and Hamish as they moved around the room.
Esme put her knife and fork together on her plate and finished the last of her wine. She wanted to ask Luke if he was all right. He had been quiet since the subject of Lewis had been raised earlier, and she wondered if he was thinking about him. As far as she knew, there had been no further communication. Luke had shown her the message that had said ‘stop looking for me’ and Hammer’s follow up request for ‘proof of life’.
She leaned in and spoke quietly. ‘Are you thinking about Lewis?’
He gave her a sad smile. ‘Not as much as I should.’
‘You’ve done everything you can.’ She put a hand on his arm and squeezed gently.
‘Have I?’ Luke shook his head. ‘I don’t know…’
She thought he was going to add something else, but the door flew open and Hammer strode in. He was a commanding presence at any time, but was wild-eyed and accompanied by a distressed-looking Winter. The black labrador had his head low, ears back and his tail tucked between his legs. He let out a low whine.
Everyone in the pub looked at him and the strange sight of Winter without his master. All conversation stopped.
Hammer almost growled the words, his register so low it made them difficult to make out. ‘Tobias has gone.’