Chapter 33
Rae sipped the milky tea Denise had made for her, perched on the edge of the brown leather couch to make room for Michael’s two senior labradors.
Even if not for the snoozing dogs hogging all the space (even if warming her back), she would have been painfully aware of how out of place she was.
When Denise had lived in Belbarrow, it had been different – the Macgibbons’ house was her second home – but she’d never visited here, and she’d only ever met Denise’s boyfriend twice before.
Idle conversation about fishing seemed to cover the extent of Michael’s small talk skills as they waited for Denise and Martha to emerge from the kitchen.
They did, Denise placing a plate of Jammy Dodgers on the coffee table before settling on the side of Michael’s armchair.
They made for a mismatched couple, Denise’s complexion tangerine-going-on-mahogany and Michael raspberry pink after their holiday in Benidorm, which they’d gushed about as soon as they’d opened the door.
She’d added blond highlights to her sandy hair, now chopped to a jaw-length bob.
When Rae had been a child, Denise had oozed the elegance she’d dreamed of having herself as an adult: put-together both inside and out, innately nurturing, and always welcoming.
Unlike her own mum, who had always ushered Rae into a different room so she wouldn’t get in the way.
Denise had made time for her children every weekend – and Rae by default – and Rae couldn’t pretend she hadn’t envied Martha for it.
Her white-teethed smile was still bright and warm, though wrinkled around the edges. Still, Rae didn’t miss the way her eyes slid over Vik too quickly.
Struan grabbed a dining chair from the open conservatory while Martha and Vik huddled on the other side of the labradors’ couch. The living room was too small to contain the tension, making for a lot of fidgeting on all sides.
‘Well, I’m just so glad you all made it,’ Denise began, rubbing Michael’s broad shoulders as though it would encourage him to say something non-salmon related. ‘Lovely weather for it, too!’
‘Aye. Perhaps we can go out on the lake this weekend, eh, Struan?’ Michael questioned, then pushed his rectangular glasses up his nose. ‘And you, too, Vik, if you want.’
Vik frowned as though she wasn’t sure whether to take his invitation as a compliment or a dig. Really, the blatant stereotyping could be deemed offensive for everyone involved, but for once Rae was glad that her femininity excluded her from an activity.
She saw Martha biting her lip, hands clasped around her crossed knee, and knew she was trying to hold her tongue. Unsuccessfully, in the end, because she muttered, ‘How very inclusive of you, Mike. Is fishing reserved for those of us wearing trousers?’
Denise shot her a chastising glance, then offered out the biscuits. Only Michael took one. ‘We recorded your episode of SuperCook, Rae! It was ever so lovely to see you on the telly. Told all my wee friends at work about it, too.’
Rae smiled. ‘Thank you, Denise. It was very surreal.’
‘How’s everything going? Have you met Gordon Ramsay yet?’
‘Not yet.’ Though his hot-tempered TV rants paled in comparison to Yvette’s tyranny. ‘I’m actually taking a break from work at the moment to focus on the farm. Will you be coming to the Strawberry Fair this year?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Mike has a bowls tournament that weekend.’
‘She didn’t actually tell you which weekend it was,’ Martha pointed out.
‘I have them every weekend,’ Michael chimed in.
‘Riveting. Wouldn’t want you to miss that then, Mum.’ Her voice dripped with sarcasm.
Denise huffed, slippered foot bouncing impatiently. ‘You know I don’t really like to visit Belbarrow anymore. Too many memories.’
‘Yes, we wouldn’t want to remind you of your first husband.’
‘Martha,’ Struan scolded, reaching over Rae to nab a biscuit.
Rae couldn’t quite remember why she’d agreed to come. She’d known it would be awkward, but their disagreement in the car had soured Martha’s mood completely.
Martha let out an exasperated breath, taking Vik’s hand. ‘Speaking of marriage, there’s something we came here to tell you. Vik and I are engaged.’
The couple leaned forward, waiting, as Denise’s mouth bobbed open and closed. Michael’s forehead crinkled, a stark contrast to the shiny sunburnt skin on his bald head.
‘Engaged,’ Denise repeated, smoothing down her hair with a nervous laugh. The smile was hardly convincing when her eyes, blue like Martha’s, glittered with tears. ‘Lovely news. Congratulations to you.’
‘So, which one was the man?’ Michael asked, fingers drifting between Martha and Vik.
‘We’re both women, Michael, which is sort of the point of a lesbian relationship,’ Martha said. ‘If you mean which one of us proposed, it was Vik.’
‘Ah. I see. That makes sense.’
‘Does it? Why, exactly?’
Rae cringed when Michael’s mouth bobbed open and shut with a gormlessness that would put a goldfish to shame. ‘Well, because… She’s… y’know…’
‘Enough please, both of you,’ Denise pleaded. She took a napkin from the coffee table and dabbed her eyes, a thick sniffle rising from her. Rae wished she could shake her, tell her to hug her daughter, celebrate with her. Instead, Denise muttered, ‘Sorry. I don’t know why I’m getting emotional.’
‘Probably because you wish Vik was a man,’ Martha said. ‘The good news is, according to Michael, she is.’
‘It’s not that at all!’ Denise was quick to defend. ‘It’s just… You know how much I want grandchildren.’
‘And you’ll get them when Vik and I adopt.’
‘Yes, but you know what I mean.’
‘No, not really. Vik was adopted. She has the most supportive family I’ve ever met, and still keeps in touch with her biological relatives.’
Vik nodded. ‘My parents never made me feel as though I was missing anything. They didn’t have to make me to love me. We’d like to give another child that same care.’
‘Yes, I understand.’ Denise’s voice grew cutting.
‘I just hoped at least one of my children might…’ She blew her nose, sentence trailing off.
‘Don’t look at me like that. I had the same reaction when your brother told me he didn’t want children.
You know that. Honestly, Martha, it feels like you’re trying to hurt me. ’
‘By being happy?’ Martha snapped.
Vik drew soothing circles over her thigh, offering the comfort Rae couldn’t. She glanced at Struan. His expression had glazed over, lips pursed as he stared at the floor. Detaching himself so he wouldn’t have to acknowledge the pain.
It wasn’t right. None of this was right.
‘I’m going to put on the kettle.’ Michael was quick to make a dash for it despite the still hot teas in front of them. Denise sank into his seat, which bore the distinct imprint of Michael’s backside.
‘I don’t think that I’m asking for too much!
’ Denise announced. ‘Every mother dreams of grandchildren! It makes me sad to think you won’t have ones that will have my features, your father’s features!
I want to feel a biological connection to them!
And you might not feel the same now, but you will one day, when you’re older and you don’t have anything else to show for your life.
Especially you, Struan, living like you do.
At least your sister has someone, even if she is—’
‘We’re leaving,’ Martha decided. Brusquely, she marched Vik past Rae and Struan to the front door. It slammed shut behind them, leaving everyone to flinch.
Rae expected Struan to follow, and wondered if she should, too, but something kept her glued to the sofa. The sadness tugging down his features, maybe. The shouts she could hear outside from Martha as she vented. They needed – deserved – their mother to accept them as they were.
She rubbed her clammy palms together, meeting Denise’s gaze.
‘I don’t know what a good mum is supposed to look like, because I didn’t really have one, so I hope I’m not overstepping when I say that you’re wrong, Denise.
’ She swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘They are really, really great people, so I understand why you’d want tiny versions of them both running around, but they put more than enough good into the world as they are.
Struan saves lives – voluntarily. He spent almost twenty-four hours on a mountain this weekend, rescuing a family from a collapsed cave.
He almost missed his friend’s wedding to make sure they got out in one piece.
And Martha… Martha is inspiring a new generation of passionate, intelligent scientists. What’s more important than that?
‘I saw you and your husband raise Struan and Martha to know they were loved and supported. I envied them for it, even. You were always there, going to parent-teacher conferences and hanging up their drawings on the fridge. You even welcomed me in, cooked me meals, ironed my school uniform sometimes: that was how much you cared about Martha.’
‘It was never a problem. You were a lovely wee girl to have around.’ Denise’s words were muffled behind her handkerchief. ‘You were part of the family too, Rae.’
‘Even if I wasn’t blood related.’
Denise blinked, realisation dawning.
Rae bit her lip. She didn’t know whether she was helping.
Only knew she had to try, because this woman had raised two people she adored, two people she couldn’t live without, and they deserved better than to feel unworthy.
‘You love your kids, but that won’t matter if you can’t love all of them.
And you should love all of them, because they’re my favourite people in the whole world.
I’d be lost without them.’ She looked at Struan: his gentle frown, his patience, his pain. ‘You would be, too.’
She reached out her hand. Struan took it, rising with her. He squeezed hard in silent thanks. She wasn’t sure she could look at him without crying with him, for him, so she didn’t. ‘Anyway, thanks for the tea, Denise.’
Denise said nothing, staring at a rip in the wallpaper as her make-up smeared. It hadn’t been enough, but maybe Rae had known that. She’d needed to say it anyway; not for Denise, but for Struan and Martha.
‘Are you okay?’ she asked as they stepped into the tiny front yard. Martha and Vik were halfway down the road, Martha in Vik’s arms.
‘I should be livid.’ The muscle in his jaw pulsed, hands flexing at his sides.
‘I should be devastated. But all I could think about in there was how I’ve spent my entire life wishing somebody would stand up for me the way you just did – and how in love with you I am for it, and how ridiculous it is that I’m not allowed to be.
So, no, Rae, I think I’m far from okay.’
The breath whooshed from Rae’s lungs, a lightning bolt zapping down her spine. She couldn’t talk, breathe, think, those words clattering like cold metal in her ears. In love.
Even if she’d been capable of responding, he was already heading back to the car with a forceful click of the keys.
In love. He’d said it not like it was a good thing, but a terrible one. Like an accusation. Like she’d trapped him just to break his heart.
She gripped the fence to steady herself as pain lanced through her.
She wasn’t okay, either. She wasn’t sure she ever would be, not unless she found a way to keep them both: her best friend, and the man she was falling in love with.