Chapter 5
In her absence, Rae’s old bedroom had been invaded by pets and storage boxes, so she manoeuvred around both to perch on the edge of her bed, not daring to disturb the dogs sprawled across her pillows.
Her phone hadn’t left her nightstand since this morning, but she supposed it was time to change that.
A couple of old colleagues had sent out email invites to various grand openings and soirees happening over summer, and she was glad to have the farm as an excuse not to go.
She’d once loved dining in top-class restaurants and sharing conversation with like-minded foodie peers over rooftop cocktails, but seeing her friends now would mean having to explain why she’d resigned from Lapis, and what she planned to do next, questions she didn’t yet know the answers to.
Her thumb hovered over a new text from Martha, delivered only half an hour ago.
You’re home?
Struan must have already told her. Rae ran her fingers through Milly’s soft fur as she wondered what he might have said. It probably meant nothing, but more of that unwelcome twitchiness scuttled through her.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she hit the video call button beside Martha’s name and stretched beside the dogs to lie on her stomach.
It took less than ten seconds for Martha to answer, her stony, inquisitive face filling up the screen.
Her round-framed glasses reflected the light of her laptop back to her, wispy ash-blond hair twisted into a knot on top of her head, with her fringe cut much shorter than the last time they’d seen one another.
‘Well, well, well,’ Martha sing-songed, setting her laptop down at a lower angle. ‘Look who finally remembered her best friend.’
Rae winced. ‘Sorry. Do you hate me forever?’
‘Undecided. I’m not impressed I had to find out you’re home from my brother.
’ In the background, Vik’s athletic figure clanged around the lit kitchen, a low hum signalling the brewing of the kettle.
She’d always been slightly envious of how cosy Martha’s flat in St Andrews looked whenever they managed to catch up, star-shaped fairy lights draped over a tall bookshelf behind the plush green couch.
If she wasn’t working, Martha could usually be found there, bundled in a hand-knitted blanket while Vik served up herbal teas and healthy snacks.
Rae’s life hadn’t been like that in any city. Her apartments were uninspiring and minimalistic, made for function rather than comfort, and she’d never once invited anyone in. Sometimes when Martha called, she’d left the lights off just so she wouldn’t see how utterly clinical her surroundings were.
She picked nervously at the frayed threads of her patchwork quilt. ‘Yeah, I wasn’t expecting to see him like that.’
‘He said your dad had a fall. Is he all right?’ A mug was passed into Martha’s hand, followed by a muttered, ‘Thanks, babe.’
‘Just a sprained ankle. Hi, Vik! How’s the new job?’ inquired Rae. She was getting rather good at finding excuses to change the subject tonight.
A muffled, ‘Hello! Good thanks!’ joined the disembodied hand waving at the camera before she and Martha were left alone again.
‘Not that new.’ An accusation serrated Martha’s tone. ‘She’s been there since March.’
Had it been that long?
‘Anyway, we’re going to be home for a few weeks in August,’ Martha said while blowing on her tea, a red colour that was likely raspberry.
‘We were going to stay at Flockhart’s, since there’s no room in Struan’s wee bothy.
Will you still be here then, or am I doomed to only see you in pixels for the rest of time? ’
Gingerly, Rae chewed on her lip. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t tried to maintain their friendship while she’d been away, but life just hadn’t stopped for long enough to really check in.
When she was free, Martha was busy, and vice versa.
It had been that way since Martha’s first serious relationship, long before Rae had her own mayhem to tend to.
Still, now that she was in the very bedroom where they’d had many a sleepover, a heaviness settled in her chest. She missed when it was easy, and most of all, she missed when she didn’t feel like she was the one responsible for keeping in touch just because she’d been the one to put distance between them.
She wondered sometimes whether an absence because of a partner rather than her career would have been more acceptable.
She’d never made it an issue when Martha forgot about her for weeks on end back in the early days of her relationship, even if that sense of abandonment still burrowed in her from time to time.
‘I’ll be here,’ Rae promised. And then, because she wanted to prove that she was willing to put the effort in, she added: ‘You don’t have to stay at the B it meant Rae didn’t have to talk about herself for too long, giving her one less person to deliver her career bombshell to tonight.
By the time the call ended, it was almost eleven and Rae was ready for her pyjamas.
She looked around, wishing she felt just a little bit more at home, but it was difficult with cardboard boxes piled in every corner.
It was quite clear Dad had never expected this room to be lived in again, which buried her earlier kernel of doubt deeper.
She’d thought Dad would be glad to have her home, but he’d only seemed disappointed that she’d resigned from Lapis.
Her temples were beginning to throb, another reason why working in the kitchen every day had become unbearable: tension headaches, like her body was trying to ensure she knew how unhappy it was, how uncomfortable.
She prepared for bed with little energy left, nudging Maisy aside so that she could crawl under the soft, old duvet, still in the purple patchwork cover from her childhood.
Like then, the old mattress welcomed her with a squeak.
In the darkness, thoughts of Struan returned, and she huffed impatiently to remember of all the ridiculous things she’d said and done. Thinking he wanted to hug her, airing out her problems at the dinner table, even dropping that bag of ice.
And then she thought of what he’d said about her posts on Instagram.
It was only polite to follow him back now he’d pointed it out.
She opened the app and typed his name into the search bar.
His account came up first, since Martha and a few old school friends followed him.
His handle was StruanWanders, his profile picture displaying him windswept on a mountain peak, thumbs hooked into his belt loops and gaze cast out to the fog-cloaked hills behind him.
Most of the images were just landscapes, just as hers were shots of the cities she’d travelled to, and plates of food she’d cooked or admired. He must have been single, then. Martha likely would have told her otherwise. Wouldn’t she?
This niggling interest was highly inconvenient. Still, she followed him back, then returned to scrolling aimlessly across recent posts. Many of them were fine dining dishes or glamorous group photos from her old co-workers, and she waited for the ache that came with missing out.
It never surfaced.
What did was a message from StruanWanders. Her thumb pressed the notification far too quickly, an unbidden grin distracting her from her headache.
I’d say I’m honoured, but this feels like a pity follow.
Rae typed, I can take it back if you want.
And have you miss out on the documentation of my riveting adventures? Your loss.
I see a whopping ninety-six followers would agree, Rae said after checking his follower count.
A crying face accompanied his final message. Ouch, Little Rae.
She laughed before locking her phone. She’d almost forgotten what it was like to talk to someone without having to shout across hot stoves and flustered waiters.
Maybe coming home would be good for her after all. She certainly could use a friend.
And that’s all they would be: friends.