Chapter 7 #2
His hand is on the table, his fingers turned inwards, and even though I barely know him, I reach over and curl mine around them, because even with a stranger, it’s impossible to see someone upset and not try to comfort them.
It doesn’t mean anything, I tell myself, you’d do the same with a stranger on the bus if they were talking about something that had had this much of an impact on their lives.
‘The people in the car that hit us died too. In an accident involving five people, I was the only one who walked away.’
It’s my turn to let out a breath. ‘That’s a heavy weight to carry.’
‘Aye, it is.’ He looks over at me with so much pain in his damp eyes, and his fingers squeeze mine in return.
‘No one’s ever phrased it like that before.
I got a lot of “you’re so lucky to be alive”, but I didn’t feel lucky.
I just felt numb for a really long while.
Living in this place full of old ghosts and feeling like I was one of them. ’
I’ve got my lip clamped between my teeth and from the taste of copper on my tongue, I know I’ve broken through the skin.
‘Sorry.’ Ollie takes a few deep breaths, but doesn’t attempt to disentangle our fingers. ‘I don’t know why I’m getting emotional. Usually I can recite what happened like a robot, but you… looking at me like that…’
‘How am I looking at you?’
‘I don’t know. Like you want to hug me. Like you care.’
‘I do want to hug you and I do care.’
His fingers give mine another squeeze. ‘I’m fine. It was fifteen years ago. Grief still hits me out of the blue sometimes, but mostly, I’m a decently functioning adult human nowadays.’
I laugh a thick laugh, but I feel unsteady and emotional, and when I said I want to hug him, I really want to hug him, even though I have no business doing any such thing.
‘People don’t understand what a privilege it is to age.
I will never hide grey hair or use lotions and potions to fight wrinkles.
I’m lucky to be old enough to have them – something that many people don’t get.
The scars too. I wear them with pride. Some people are not lucky enough to recover from the injuries that cause scars. ’
God, this guy. What an outlook on life. I knew he was a soul who’d been through something, but I had no idea it was going to be something so devastating.
He apologises again and turns away, using his free hand to swipe over his face and shakes his head, like he’s trying to shake the emotions off.
‘It’s not like I never talk about it. Most people I work with knew my father and know what happened, and my scars are very visible and people do ask about them, and that’s fine. ’
‘Do you work where your father used to work or something?’
‘Aye.’ He turns back and takes a deep shaky breath.
‘That’s why this job is so important to me and why I’m going so far to not get caught in the lie.
All my father had ever wanted me to do was follow in his footsteps, and until the accident, I’d been fighting against it.
I’d been at university, doing the finance degree he’d chosen for me, but I’d dropped out more than once.
I was slacking. Living on his money, spending my nights partying and my days sleeping off the night before.
I wanted to do anything but work in his industry with boring old numbers and figures.
We were constantly at loggerheads about it. And then…’
His silence means the accident, and I squeeze his fingers tightly, even though I should not still be holding them.
‘After they died, all I wanted was their advice – the one thing I could never have again. I was so completely lost. I didn’t know what to do with myself.
All I had was what my father had wanted me to do.
It was like guidance from beyond the grave.
If I applied myself where I hadn’t before, went back to university and stuck with it, then I could follow in his footsteps.
It felt like the only thing I could do for him then – I could honour him by becoming who he wanted me to be. ’
I’m still chewing my lip as I listen, leaning in closer because his voice is deep and barely more than a whisper.
‘He worked at Galligan & Brenton his entire life. He always wanted me to join the firm too, and when I finished uni, I worked at smaller companies. I bounced around trying to find something that fitted me. And then, finally, there was a job opening at Galligan & Brenton, and I have never been so determined to get something in my life. I knew my father was well-loved there, I knew his name would give me an advantage, but I was younger than their ideal candidate, I didn’t have the right qualifications and had less experience than they would’ve liked.
I went for the interview at the office in Glasgow and I could see all these desks with framed photos on them.
The CEO had a huge family portrait on his office wall.
I knew from my father how important family values were to them.
That’s where the lie came from – I had to prove I was mature enough to deserve the job.
So with Nancy and Hamish’s chatter about their grandchildren in my head, I blurted out that I was married and had a wee girl and boy.
It was my one chance to join my father’s firm – to follow the path he’d wanted for me. ’
One thing I’ve noticed throughout this conversation is that Ollie hasn’t once mentioned what he wanted in all of this.
‘And it worked…’ I prompt, forcing myself to unfurl my grip on his fingers.
If this was a normal job, you wouldn’t dream of holding your new boss’s hand within twenty-four hours of meeting them.
Or ever. In all previous jobs, I cannot imagine a situation where it would ever have been appropriate to squeeze my boss’s fingers like this.
‘It did.’ He lets out an uneasy, awkward laugh and pulls his hand away like he’s had the same realisation that I have. ‘I got the job solely because of my father’s legacy at the firm, and I’ve been trying not to let anyone see they made a mistake for five years now.’
I laugh – not at him, but with him, because nothing has ever summed up my relationship with Patricia Calloway more accurately.
‘You get that, right?’
‘Oh, so much. My boss at Calloways absolutely hired the wrong person by mistake and I’ve been trying to make myself small and obedient and non-troublesome and hoping she wouldn’t realise for years now.’
He grimaces in solidarity. ‘You’ll get something better. Something where you can be as troublesome as you like and feed bears to flesh-hungry Santas without anyone batting an eyelid.’
It makes me laugh out loud, even though I won’t be doing that again anytime soon. ‘And you? This promotion you’re going for?’
‘Yeah.’ He sighs and pushes his hair back again, but it’s dried enough now to bounce right back.
‘It was over fifteen years ago that my father spearheaded a campaign to open a branch in London. It was decided against at the time, but things have changed now and they’ve looked at his plans again.
If I get this, I’ll be opening and managing a new branch of the firm, a new offshoot of the entire company that will become known as Galligan, Brenton, and Bracewell.
A weird full-circle thing that I might have a chance to do what my dad pushed for all those years ago.
And to see the company bearing our name…
He would’ve been overjoyed by that. I finally would’ve made him proud. ’
I see so many things wrong with that sentence, but I don’t know him well enough to point them out. It’s hard to imagine that any parent wouldn’t be proud of him exactly as he is though.
‘Wait…’ I tilt my head to the side. ‘London? If you get this promotion, you’ll be leaving here?’
‘Aye. Moving down to your neck of the woods to oversee every aspect of starting a new chapter of the firm. It’s a massive deal. A huge payrise, a chance to finally be on the same level as my bosses. It’s what I’ve been working towards for the past fifteen years.’
‘I thought this was all about saving the castle?’ My hand was still resting on the table and I pull it back. This feels like something he should’ve mentioned before now.
‘It is. With the payrise, I can afford the upkeep it needs and pay the bills required to keep it going. I won’t be selling up – just moving down south.’
So that’s what Nancy meant by ‘one last time’ earlier… ‘And what, leaving it standing here empty?’
‘I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it.
I’ll come back during holidays and breaks, but the company provides an apartment in Canary Wharf, so for the first time in years, I won’t have to worry about crumbling bricks and dodgy water pipes, and unidentifiable leaks, and birds nesting in chimneys, and…
’ He trails off, like the list of castle maintenance is so long that we’d be here ’til Thursday if he continued.
‘Canary Wharf is not my neck of the woods. If it was, maybe I’d be able to get to work on time and prevent cannibalistic Santa incidents. It’s a nice area. Not as nice as here though.’
He shrugs, a small, non-committal shrug, and I think about what Nancy said, about how he hasn’t loved the castle the same way since his parents died. Is it really any wonder that he wants to leave this beautiful place behind?
He leans back and stretches in his seat.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to say all of that.
Thanks for the, er…’ He flexes his hand like my grip on it might’ve cut off his circulation, but doesn’t finish the sentence because there isn’t really a word for it, is there?
‘There’s bound to be a couple of those mince pies still knocking about if you want something else? ’
‘You got any ice cream? Hot mince pie with freezing cold ice cream – nothing better at this time of year.’