Chapter Fifteen
Angus
We wave at Ewan through the window as the bus pulls away.
Poor lad woke in agony, and even the combination of some serious painkillers, Lila’s compression bandage, and my shoulder weren’t enough to ease it. He limped along for less than five minutes before calling it, sweating and shaking, and we turned away from the rocky path and towards the road.
“Do you think he’ll be alright?” Rowan asks, nibbling on her lower lip.
I don’t look at her. I’ve already memorised the flush in her cheeks from the brisk morning wind, the way the sun makes the blue in her eyes shimmer like crystals, and the smattering of freckles crossing her nose like a gust of autumn leaves.
If I let my eyes catch hers, I’ll get that awful rush of warmth in my chest and want to do something stupid like take her hand.
I cannot allow myself to take her hand.
Last night, all I could think about was kissing her. How soft her lips would feel on mine. What she’d taste like. I’m treading on dangerous ground. I’ve made myself a promise: no attachments. And I don’t intend to break it.
Especially not for the sister of the bride I’ve staked my farm’s success on.
No. Rowan is a city girl. Like my Ma, she isn’t meant for the country life. When the hike and the wedding are over, she’ll go back to where she is happiest. And I’ll be alone.
The way I’m meant to be.
But maybe, a treacherous part of my brain suggests, maybe today I can allow myself to walk beside her. That’s harmless enough, isn’t it? That’s the kind of thing a friend might do.
“Hello! Earth to Angus!”
I snap back to the present. “He’ll be fine,” I say. “Ewan’s a good lad. And it’s better if he stops now, before he really hurts himself.”
“I keep thinking about his poor friend. All that guilt he’s carrying around.” Rowan hugs herself tight.
“There’s always next year.” I try to sound comforting. “The walk will still be here.”
“You’re right, you’re right. He’ll be fine.” But her tone says otherwise, and when I glance at her, her mouth is curled in a frown.
“Have you always felt like this?” I find myself asking.
“Like what?”
“Have you always cared so deeply about other people’s feelings?”
“Oh, always.” Rowan huffs a laugh. “I was constantly being sent to the nurse at school. If I sensed even the smallest bit of unhappiness from someone else, I’d start bawling my eyes out. I mean, hysterically crying. Teachers hated having me in class.”
“That sounds… tricky.”
“That’s very polite. It was impossible. I don’t know how anyone put up with me. Luckily, I got better as I got older. Learnt how to manage it. Well, mostly.”
“Reckon it makes you a great friend.”
Rowan grins. “To Marnie, yeah. She’s my best mate.
She’s this bubbly, warm, cynical, introverted beam of sunshine.
I love her. To anyone else? Well, I don’t know about that.
I don’t have that many friends, if I’m honest. Never been great at making them.
” The grin slides from her face. “What about you? You don’t strike me as Mr Social. No offense.”
“Whatever gave you that impression?”
“Aside from your repeated insistence that you prefer solitude, permanent scowl and general grumpy demeanour?”
“I do prefer solitude.” I force myself to lift my brows. “And I don’t have a permanent scowl.”
“No, I’m sorry. You’re right.” Rowan peers at me. “It’s a permanent frown.”
“To answer your question,” I continue pointedly, “no. I’m not Mr Social. With Da and the farm, I never really had time. But there’s Stuart. He’s my best friend. Has been since the day I met him.” I sigh. “I don’t know if I’m the best of friends to him though.”
“Why not?”
“He’s always asking me to open up. And I try. I do. But… It doesn’t come easy to me. Never has.”
“Huh.”
“What?”
“You seem pretty open to me.”
A million responses cross my mind, and I reject every single one.
We crest a hill, ambling beneath the trees. The sun is high, and every bush and tree gleams from the rain overnight. Priya splashes through a puddle, kicking crystal droplets into the air.
“Rowan!” she calls. “Come and look at this!”
Rowan shoots me a rueful smile. “Sounds like I’m being summoned.”
I gesture at the path in front of us. “You go right ahead.”
“You coming?”
“I’ll follow along in a bit.”
“I get it.” Rowan taps her nose with a finger. “Angus needs his introvert time.”
“Something like that.”
She hustles forward, her bag swinging from side to side. It should be comical – and it is – but it’s also endearing. The loping step. The speed with which she catches up to Priya. The way the little girl takes her hand.
Stop it, I tell myself. But I can’t.
I keep my distance as the road winds out of the trees and begins a gradual ascent across open moorland. I stop and take a deep breath. This is one of my favourite parts of the trail: we’ve left civilisation behind and everywhere I look are clear skies and rolling peaks.
A flock of starlings takes off from the long grass.
First one fluttering into the blue, and then another, and another, until there are scores drifting towards the east. The road is lined with purple heather, the hills dappled with green and yellow grass, the view only broken by the occasional stand of trees.
Ahead of us, the trail curves on and on, the miles stretching upwards. Seemingly endless.
It was one of Da’s favourite sections, and he always laughed when we crested the first hill. Laughed and stretched out his arms, as if he was being welcomed home.
Until he stopped coming on the walk.
Until he got too sad, and later, too sick.
Now it’s just me.
I close my eyes. Feel the wind on my face.
Smell the air. Breathe in as the world extends out, packed earth and rutted road and long grass.
Remember him as he was, once. Strong. Proud.
Sturdy. The kind of man you could rely on.
Who woke like clockwork at five every morning.
Who fell asleep sitting bolt upright on the sofa still wearing his cap at the end of a long day.
Who rarely smiled, but put his whole face into it when he did.
Who smelled like cut grass and loam and rosemary soap.
Who was never happier than when he was outside.
I miss that man. Here, in his favourite place, I can let myself feel it.
I breathe in again. I miss him. I miss my Da. I don’t know if I will ever stop missing him.
I take a final deep breath.
Then I let it go, set my hands to the straps of my bag, and walk on.
Today will be a long day, if we want to make it to Kinlochleven before sundown. We’ll stop by the Kingshouse hotel for lunch, but even that is miles away. And in the afternoon, we’ll have to tackle the Devil’s Staircase.
Ahead, Lila, Rowan, and Priya are tramping happily along. Their chatter is constant, the conversation flowing between them like a bubbling stream. Lila drops back to take a photo of the others and then stays behind them; I wonder if she, too, appreciates the chance to have some time to herself.
“I don’t have stage fright.” Priya’s voice drifts back.
“Oh?” Rowan’s tone is light.
Priya kicks a stone down the path. “I get really nervous when I play in front of people, that’s all.”
“If it helps, so do I.”
“Really?”
Rowan nods, the brim of her cap bobbing.
“Oh, absolutely! My hands shake, and I feel like I can’t breathe.
I was once meant to give a presentation at university, but when I went up to the podium I forgot all the words, and instead I vomited on the stage.
In front of a hundred people. Everyone laughed.
” She shudders and then laughs. “At the time, it felt like the whole world was ending, but looking back on it… I don’t know.
I think I might have laughed at me too. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that you’re not alone.
And I think you’re very brave. After that, I swore off public speaking forever.
Your way – signing up for that audition – is much more impressive. ”
“Do you really think so?” Priya’s voice is small.
“I really do. And I’m sure your mum agrees.”
Another starling flies across the path, its wings flashing in the sun. Lila is definitely dawdling now. My pace takes me beside her, and she presses a finger against her lips.
“They laugh at me too,” Priya says, even more quietly than before. “At school.”
“Who do? The other kids?”
“At the talent show. I got up to play my violin, and one of the boys throws an egg at me, and everyone laughed.”
“Oh, Priya, I’m so sorry that happened to you! That is horrible of him. Did he get in trouble?”
“He did. But it made it worse. And now… No one will speak to me. They laugh behind my back and say I’m weird. Sometimes they call me Chicken Little.” Priya sounds on the edge of tears. “I hate it, and I hate them. I don’t think I’m weird!” And then, softly, “I wish they’d like me.”
I can feel Lila beside me, feel how badly she wants to run and comfort her baby girl. But she holds back, watching the two figures striding along in front, one tall, one small, silhouetted against the achingly blue sky.
“You know, I’m not friends with anyone I went to school with now. Or university.”
“Do you not have any friends then?”
I can hear the smile in Rowan’s voice. “No. I’ve got some of the most amazing friends in the world. My best friend Marnie is the kindest, biggest-hearted person I’ve ever met – when I’m with her, I feel more myself than I do when I’m alone. And I didn’t meet her until I was twenty-four.”
“Twenty-four is so old,” Priya moans.
Rowan laughs again. “I guess it seems pretty far away from where you are now.” She hitches her bag up, settling it more comfortably on her back.
“You might have overheard this the other day, but I never finished university. And… it was because I had a breakdown. And I lost all the friends I thought I’d made.
A lot of people called me weird then, too.
Because I stopped wanting to do the same things they did, like partying and drinking, and because I wore these bright colours that didn’t fit what they think is cool. ”
Now it’s my turn to struggle not to run ahead. I can hear the sadness leaking out of Rowan. Can imagine her at twenty, lost and friendless and alone.
Rowan takes a depth breath. “It hurt a lot, at the time. But later I realised that those weren’t the right people for me.
They weren’t my people. Because my people would never have called me weird, and my people would have stuck with me through thick and thin.
And I know that, because that’s what the people in my life do now.
So I know this feels awful, Priya, and you deserve so much more than some rude boy who throws eggs at you – but you are special, and you are smart.
And maybe a bit weird, too. But so are the best people.
And one day you’re going to find people who are weird in the same way as you. And they’re going to love you, okay?”
“You are a bit weird,” Priya says after a long silence.
“I know.”
“And you talk a lot.”
Rowan chuckles ruefully. “I do.”
Priya turns, her profile framed by the sun. “Will you be my friend, Rowan?”
Rowan wraps an arm around Priya’s shoulders and pulls her close. “Yeah, kiddo. I will.”
At that, Lila can’t contain herself anymore and runs down the path towards them, flinging herself on her daughter and picking her up, bag and all.
“MUM!”
“I love you, you little weirdo!” Lila shouts, loud enough that it disturbs another flock of birds in the grass. They take flight in one, fluttering rush. “Look at you making friends!”
“You are literally the most embarrassing person I have ever met. Mum! Put me down!”
“Make me!”
And she swings Priya around and around and around, until Priya protests that she is going to be sick, and both women collapse on the ground. Rowan watches them, her expression torn between joy and a quiet sadness. I’ve noticed this look before, as if the melancholy is a constant companion.
She catches my eye. Her expression doesn’t change. She lets me see it: all of it, and something new passes between us. Something raw, and aching, and real.
I want to run.
Because if I’m not careful, I’m going to fall for this messy, big-hearted, kaleidoscope of a woman.
And it will hurt like hell when I hit the ground.