Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered (8 page)

Suky was wiped out and wanted to sit in the back, so I was forced to climb into the passenger seat for the trip home. Dreading making small talk, I tried to study the landscape, but Brent was determined to make me chat.

And actually, once I’d lost my sulkiness, I discovered he was really interesting.

‘I just got out at the right time,’ he told me about his property business, which he’d sold just before the recession. ‘And then a friend, who’d gone into politics, recommended me for a role. I worked on the last election campaign and then when it was all over, I decided to take a break for a while.’

He wasn’t married, he told me, and had broken up with his fiancée during the campaign.

‘Working twenty-hour days doesn’t really make for a happy family life,’ he said with a wry smile.

By the time we got home, I’d almost started to warm to this preppy American with his overenthusiastic approach to life.

As we pulled up outside Mum’s house, he turned to me.

‘Suky has to have radiotherapy every day, right?’ he said.

I nodded. ‘For three weeks.’

‘Let me drive her,’ he said.

I shook my head. ‘No, it’s too much.’

‘Nonsense. It’s not a long drive and it’s better for her to go in comfort.’

I could see he was right.

‘If you’re sure,’ I said.

‘Positive.’ He beamed at me, his teeth dazzling white in the gloomy light.

‘You see,’ Suky said, as I helped her into the house. ‘I told you he was nice.’

Chapter 13

But Suky’s next treatment was delayed when she came down with a cold. I was woken by voices the next morning, then the front door banged. I gave in and swung my legs out of bed and stomped, bleary-eyed, into the kitchen to pour myself a coffee.

There was no sign of Mum or Suky but Eva was there, looking disgustingly perky in a pink tunic covered in tiny mirrors and reading
The Guardian
.

‘Morning,’ I said, sitting opposite her. ‘Where’s everyone gone?’

‘Suky’s come down with a terrible cold,’ Eva said. ‘We’re not sure if she can still go to the hospital, so she and Tess have gone to see the doctor. He’s been great through all this – he’ll tell her what to do.’

I was impressed.

‘Doctor’s appointment on a Saturday, eh?’ I smiled. ‘That’d never happen in London.’

‘Well, it’s mostly because we know James,’ Eva pointed out. ‘His dad has been a good friend to all of us.’

With my head bent over my coffee, I froze.

‘James Brodie?’ I repeated. ‘My James?’

Eva laughed, then stopped when she saw my face.

‘Oh sweetheart, did no one tell you? Yes, your James. He’s come home to take over his dad’s practice for a while.’ She got up and dropped a kiss on the top of my head. ‘You’re not upset are you?’

‘It was a long time ago,’ I said in a squeaky voice. ‘I’m over it now.’

‘Good,’ Eva said, watching me carefully.

I forced myself to smile at her in an over-it kind of way.

‘What are you doing today?’ I asked, trying hard to keep my voice less squeaky.

‘No rest for the wicked,’ she said happily. ‘I’m off for a walk round the loch, then I’m going to open up. Fancy coming?’

I shook my head.

‘I’ll come down later,’ I said. I really wanted to be alone and absorb the news that Jamie was back in town. Jamie. My first true love and the reason I’d left all those years ago.

Eva scooped up her purse and keys from underneath our fat black cat, Bonnie, who looked most put out at being woken up. I knew how she felt. She jumped down from the chair and stalked snootily out of the cat flap while Eva walked, far less snootily, out of the front door.

I sat at the kitchen table with my head in my hands. James Brodie. My emotions were all over the place as it was, without this blast from the past coming back into my life. I’d known Jamie had wanted to be a doctor like his GP dad, but the last I heard he was off working in disaster zones for the Red Cross or something. Never in a million years had I expected him to be in Claddach too. I couldn’t believe Chloé hadn’t mentioned it. Or had she? I vaguely remembered her gasping when he’d come up in conversation…oh but then I’d been sidetracked by the woman in the tam o shanter and we’d not gone back to Jamie.

I’d met Jamie when I was fifteen. As a teenager I knew getting good exam results was my ticket out of Loch Claddach and so I’d thrown myself into my studies, poring over my books for hours after school and at weekends.

Mum made me go out for a walk every day, practically forcing me into a jacket and pushing me down the hill.

‘A healthy mind in a healthy body,’ she’d cry, waving me off as I trudged down the road. But soon I grew to like my walks. Back then I was desperately embarrassed by my strange family and the hustle and bustle of life at home and in the café was almost too much for my self-conscious, painfully shy teenage self to bear. I rejected my magic and rudely avoided Mum’s attempts to get me interested in the family business. I longed to get away and the silence of the loch gave me a much-needed escape.

One wintery day, after a huge storm had raged across the loch for most of the night, I was walking along my usual route along the shore when I came across a massive boulder that had been dislodged from the foot of the cliffs by the wind and rain. Where it had been was now a small cave, hidden from the road by the cliffs and sheltered from the gale whipping across the water by the boulder itself. Eagerly I scrambled across the shingle and ducked into the cave. It was small, I could touch the walls with my arms outspread, but it was dry and – bliss – so quiet. I loved it.

I’d gone home that day and got a blanket and some candles as well as a pile of books and my Walkman. Then, every time I’d wanted peace and quiet, I’d headed to my rocky refuge and lost myself in a novel.

As winter loosened its grip and the daffodils bloomed, my exams approached and I arrived at my cave one day to find someone else there. It was a tall, gangly boy about my own age. He was wearing a dark blue Scotland rugby shirt and sitting against the stony wall, his long legs bent up awkwardly. He had floppy dark brown hair that curled over his collar – ‘wasted on a boy’, my Gran would’ve said – and he was reading my copy of
Pride and Prejudice
.

Hearing me approach, he looked up and grinned.

‘I think Lizzie is a bit of a drip,’ he said. ‘No wonder Darcy is so snotty with her.’

Outraged, I darted forward and pulled the book from his hands.

‘She is not a drip,’ I said. ‘And who are you?’

‘It’s better on the telly than in the book,’ the boy said, getting to his feet and holding out his hand. ‘James Brodie.’

‘It was good on the telly,’ I admitted. I had the video of the BBC adaptation with handsome Colin Firth as brooding Mr Darcy and watched it over and over again. I shook the boy’s hand cautiously.

‘Esme McLeod,’ I scowled. ‘This is my place.’

‘I love what you’ve done with it,’ Jamie said cheekily. He screwed up his nose. ‘Can I share it?’

I opened my mouth to say no. My cave was my sanctuary and I didn’t want anyone else there. But instead, for reasons that I never really understood, I said yes. And pretty much every time I went to the cave after that, Jamie was there too.

Thinking of Jamie was giving me a headache now so I stood up and poured myself another cup of coffee to take upstairs with me. I thought I might feel better – more in control – if I had a shower and got dressed.

As I shampooed my hair and let the warm water wash away my aches, I thought back to that first spring with Jamie.

He was a pupil at the nearby posh boys’ school, which was why I’d not met him before. His dad had recently taken over the GP’s surgery in Loch Claddach and the family had moved to the village from Inverness.

Jamie was studying for his exams too, so we’d often test each other on French vocab or quotes from
To Kill a Mockingbird
. He’d patiently explain chemistry over and over to me, while I (rather less patiently) would take him through the causes of the Second World War.

‘So is he your boyfriend then,’ Chloé asked one afternoon as we waited for the bus after our English exam.

‘No.’ I kicked at a tuft of grass. ‘He’s just a mate.’

‘But you do fancy him?’ Chloé teased.

I looked down the road to see if the bus was on its way.

‘He’s nice,’ I muttered. ‘He makes me laugh.’

Neither Chloé nor I had much luck with boys. Before she grew into her looks, she was tall and gawky with skinny limbs and red hair that made her stand out in any crowd. I was small and blonde – not glam blonde like Carole Murphy in our class who was fifteen and looked twenty-five – but transparently fair with a blue tinge to my skin and a boyish figure. We talked endlessly about kissing and who fancied who, but while our classmates were tormenting themselves about whether it was the right time for them to sleep with their latest flame, neither of us had ever even had a boyfriend.

Now the vague hope that Jamie might fancy me crossed my mind. He was certainly attentive and he sought my company almost every day. I blushed at the thought and changed the subject hurriedly before Chloé caught on.

Mum knew I was up to something. She kept asking me what I was doing with my time, and seemed to know I wasn’t spending my days with Chloé. Eventually, under her never-ending questioning, I gave in and fessed up.

‘There’s a boy I like,’ I said, feeling my cheeks flame.

‘I knew it!’ she said in triumph. ‘Does he like you?’

‘I think so,’ I said. ‘We haven’t – you know – done anything but we get on really well.’

We’d been in the car at the time – I always found it easier to talk to Mum in the car, because then she couldn’t fix me with her piercing stare. Now she glanced at me, briefly, before returning her attention to the road.

‘There are some things you can do,’ she said.

‘Spells?’

‘Well, yes, but not…’

I was cross.

‘No,’ I said firmly. ‘No spells.’

Mum looked disappointed.

‘No spells,’ I said again. ‘That’s not how I want this to happen.’

When our exam results arrived, late that summer, I ran down the hill and along the shore to find Jamie. He was standing by the entrance to the cave, flushed with success and holding his own brown envelope.

‘All As!’ I bellowed as I hurtled towards him.

‘Me too!’ he waved his envelope at me.

He grabbed me round the waist and hugged me hard. Startled at such a display of physical affection, I stiffened then suddenly realising I liked it, I let myself relax into his arms. For such a lanky boy he was surprisingly muscular. Shocked at my confidence, I ran my hands along his back and laced my fingers through his soft wavy hair.

‘I couldn’t have done it without you, Esme,’ he muttered into my shoulder. Then he lifted his head and looked at me. And slowly, he bent forward and kissed me.

Chapter 14

Now I shivered with pleasure remembering that first kiss as I stood in the shower. I’d kissed a couple (well, OK, a lot) of men since then but very few had lived up to the thrill of my first snog.

Climbing out of the shower I wrapped myself in a towel and went into my bedroom to get dressed. Sitting on the bed I pulled my bedside cabinet drawer out all the way. There, pinned to the back and hidden from prying eyes, was a photo of Jamie. Smiling in disbelief that it was still there, I pulled it off and stared at it.

Jamie was laughing, standing on the shore of the loch, his eyes screwed up against the summer sun. It was taken just before he’d gone off to boarding school for sixth form.

After we’d got our exam results, we’d spent the rest of the summer curled up in the cave snogging until our lips ached. I’d told Chloé every detail of our romance, but I’d kept Jamie a secret from Mum and when he’d asked me to meet his parents I’d made excuse after excuse. I wanted to keep him separate from the rest of my life and I certainly didn’t want him to meet my oddball family or experience any of the strange things that happened in our house. So, although he knew my family ran the café, I never took him there or met him anywhere besides the cave. I spent the whole summer veering madly from agony to ecstasy and back again, loving being with Jamie and terrified he’d find out the truth, and dump me.

What happened, though, was worse. I’d told mum when Jamie and I became officially a couple and she’d looked very pleased with herself. But even then I hadn’t thought she’d had anything to do with it. Until I came home one day. It was the summer bank holiday and we’d had a great day. Me, Chloé, Jamie and Chloé’s new boyfriend Frankie – a Scottish Italian boy with the most beautiful dark skin and eyes – had been to the shows at Inverness. I came home feeling queasy from too much candyfloss and one too many goes on the dodgems.

Frankie was older than us and could drive, so he dropped me off. I’d lost my door key – again – and knew Mum would be cross when she found out, so I scaled the side gate, then quietly let myself in the back door. The house was deserted and I was pleased. I planned to curl up on the sofa and read for a while until my queasiness went away. I ran upstairs and picked up my book, then headed for the lounge. But as I walked past Mum’s room, I heard her muttering inside – and among the whispers I heard her say my name. Intrigued, I paused and listened. She said it again. Then I heard her say ‘Jamie’ and I knew, suddenly, what she was doing.

Furious, I flung open the door. Mum was sitting on the floor surrounded by pink flowers and holding my favourite top, and my well-thumbed copy of
Pride and Prejudice
.

I looked at her in horror.

‘What are you doing?’ I said, though I knew what she was doing. It was obvious. She was doing a love spell. And by her guilty expression, I was pretty convinced it wasn’t the first time she’d done one. It was like the scales fell from my eyes and I saw myself as I really was – an awkward, ungainly teenager who a boy like Jamie would never want to be with, unless my meddling mother cast a spell to make him fall for me.

‘Esme,’ Mum said. ‘I can explain…’