21. Murray
The longer I lay awake, my mind refusing to shut down long enough to sleep, the more agitated I became, making it impossible to sleep.
The meeting with Hughes played over in my head, intermingled with my worries after that dinner.
I wondered if Mum had said something to London when I was out of the room because after Mum left, London was suddenly distant.
She’d immediately hidden herself in her room and hadn’t come out.
Something happened. I just knew it. I was overly aware of every nuance of change in London’s demeanor.
Mum was not a confrontational or unkind person, but she’d stood in front of me many times as a boy to protect me.
She might have said something out of concern for me. But what? And why was London upset?
I’d also scheduled a meeting with Ramsay on his private island tomorrow morning to discuss the threat from the Walsh brothers and I kept imagining all the different outcomes that might come from that too.
Finally, around one o’clock, I decided to get up to make myself tea with a splash of whisky to see if it would help me sleep.
The only light in the hall came from the moonlight that spilled in from various windows.
It was enough to guide me as I crept upstairs, not wanting to wake Kelly or London.
I was in the kitchen for a few seconds, had switched on the kettle to boil when I caught sight of a moonlit figure in the music room.
Jerking with surprise, I moved forward, blood rushing in my ears, even though I recognized the shape of her from two years of covert glances.
My pulse pounded faster as I leaned against the doorjamb, watching her.
The huge triangular windows and sliding doors flooded the upper rooms with light from the moon so I could see London clearly in perfect light and shadow.
She sat on the chair I’d sat in earlier, but her legs were thrown over one arm and she wore headphones that were connected via Bluetooth to my record player and sound system.
I didn’t know what she was listening to, but her eyes were closed and she was moving her fingers in the air, almost like she was playing piano chords.
Affection warmed me, but as my gaze caressed the perfect curves of her bare legs, my blood started to heat.
She wore only a silky top thing that clung to her breasts and tiny sleep shorts that revealed the smooth length of her toned thighs and calves.
She had small feet, dainty even. Every inch of her feminine and soft and …
I couldn’t see any freckles in this light, but I’d bet there were a few in secret places I’d love to kiss.
I wanted to kiss London earlier when she’d promised to gain Kelly’s trust. All through dinner, I was attuned to my wife’s awareness of my daughter. The way she’d opened herself up to Mum and Kelly when I knew that wasn’t easy for her. And I suspected she only did it to help Kelly.
This gorgeous woman was my wife.
Possessiveness tightened in my gut.
Suddenly London’s eyes flashed open, her entire being stiffening as if she’d felt my presence. Her gaze flew to the doorway and she visibly started. “Oh!” She yanked off the headphones. “When did you get here?”
I kept my voice low, even though the likelihood of Kelly hearing us was slim. “A few seconds ago. What are you listening to?”
“Birdy. You have an eclectic music taste, Murray Shaw.”
The corner of my mouth pulled up at her wry tone. “Can’t a fisherman have a sensitive side?”
London smiled, and it hit me deep in my gut. “Apparently, he can. Why are you awake?”
I pushed off the jamb, walking farther into the room. “I was just going to ask you the same thing.”
London’s gaze flickered over my chest before she seemed to look away hurriedly.
I glanced down, having forgotten I’d left my bedroom in the tartan pajama bottoms I’d donned earlier.
And nothing else. My half-nakedness didn’t bother me, but I didn’t want to make London uncomfortable.
I took a step back. “I can return downstairs.”
“No.” She swung her legs off the chair. “Why are you up?”
“Couldn’t sleep. You too?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m making tea with some whisky. Do you want some?”
“That would be great.”
Not long later we sat on opposite ends of the couch in the music room, tea in hand, studying each other curiously over the rim of the mugs.
London took a sip and then asked quietly, “Why can’t you sleep?”
I wouldn’t tell her about Hughes and the Walsh brothers.
As much as I wished I could unburden myself to her, I didn’t want to give her anything else to be anxious about.
“Just worrying about Kelly. And even about Jill now that my anger has cooled, even though she doesn’t deserve it.
But she wasn’t like this when we married. ”
“I’d think not. What was she like?”
I thought about it and the first word that came to mind popped out. “Fun. Jill was fun. I know that sounds like a shallow trait to fall for, but my whole life had been so serious up until that point.”
“How so?”
I considered London and how she’d confided in me. So I offered her the same. “My father wasn’t a good man.”
She tensed, her brow furrowing as she repeated, “How so?”
“He was extremely abusive toward me and Mum. Mum would step in front of me all the time to take the hits meant for me. When I got old enough, strong enough, I fought back, and he was a typical bully. A total coward. I promised him I’d kill him if he ever hit Mum again, so the physical abuse stopped.
But he was a nasty bastard. He spent most of our relationship calling me weak, too sensitive, ‘girly’ and other sexist names.
All because I was affectionate toward my mum.
Because I liked music and books and poetry.
In his eyes, I was less of a man because I was in touch with my feelings.
It used to get to me but not enough to stop being myself.
In fact, I steadfastly remained myself just to piss him off.
And it did. The atmosphere in the house …
he used to cause the most awful atmosphere.
From a young age, I remember being hypervigilant of his moods, avoiding him when he was itching to cause damage.
Mum did too. He died when I was eighteen years old and it’s a sad legacy of a man that his death changed our lives for the better. ”
“Murray, I’m so sorry.”
“When you first got here, I think I knew what you’d been through,” I confessed. “There was something in the way you were around men that reminded me of my mum.”
London’s eyes shimmered in the light. “Really?”
I nodded. “Aye.”
“I think I knew that,” she said. “There was something about the way you are around me. I feel … safe. And as much as I appreciate it, I need you to know I’m not made of glass.”
An uncomfortable feeling twinged in my chest. “Do I make you feel like that?”
“Sometimes. But now I get why.” London reached out to pat me on the knee. “Did you … is that when you took over your dad’s business?”
Even though I was still considering her comment, I nodded.
“Aye, he had a boat, a small crew. Back then it was all just smaller crews on the west coast. You know, the only thing I ever really knew about my father, beyond his awful temper, was his love for fishing and being out on the water. All those years in the same house, I didn’t know much else about him.
I mean, I picked up tidbits here and there about my grandparents and I have a feeling they weren’t good parents either, that he didn’t have the nicest childhood. My dad didn’t break that cycle.”
“But you did.”
“Aye. And I also wasn’t just content with struggling to get by on the catch a small crew brought in. There’s a multimillion-pound fishing company in the northeast. I knew there was room for that in the Hebrides.”
“And you did it. You built that here.” London considered me. “So you had a serious childhood and then you put all this pressure on yourself to grow the company … then you met Jill. Who was fun.”
Realizing she understood, I nodded. “Aye. Jill was like taking a big exhale after holding my breath for years. She made me laugh. She loved to dance and sing. We had fun together.” I shrugged, rubbing a hand over my beard, a bit sheepish.
“She was beautiful and seemingly carefree. When she got pregnant, I married her even though we weren’t in love, hoping we would get there.
During her pregnancy I started to see a depressive side to her.
I knew her life with her mum wasn’t good, though she never, ever confessed to me the details.
I could only guess. And there is a part of me that sympathizes and realizes that her substance abuse probably stems from some very bad memories. ”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“She just … never let me in or tried to deal with it and when Kelly came along, that’s when she really changed.
She would get jealous of Kelly. Then when she realized there was no way I would lessen my affection for my daughter to make her feel better, she just completely detached.
I wish I’d ended it a long time ago instead of putting Kelly through that. ”
“It sounds like Jill should have sought therapy. That just … it makes it so much harder because as much as I’m angry even just looking from the outside in … Jill is a person with her own unresolved trauma. And that’s sad.”
Anger flushed through me, but I kept my tone calm as I replied, “I rationally know that and that’s why there’s a part of me still worried for her. But every time that worry creeps in, so does the contempt and outrage for the danger she caused my child.”
“I think that’s only to be expected.”