Page 37 of Scotch on the Rocks

His entire demeanour changed. Tensing, he fumbled in his pocket. “Mum, everything okay?” He spoke to her, but his eyes were on me. “I’m on my way.”

9

Callum

Dear Mr Macabe,

Thank you for reaching out to Alzheimer’s Association. I’ve attached a number of local day groups in your area for people living with dementia, please let me know if you think any might be right for your father and we can help you take the first step.

“Dad!” I made it to my parents’ house on the outskirts of Kinleith in record time. Not even turning off the engine before I threw myself from the vehicle, cutting off Dad’s escape down the uneven driveway. “What are you doing outside?” He wore nothing but pyjamas, the cuffs of his striped trousers shrunk – revealing bony ankles – after one too many wash cycles.

“Dad?” Shivering, he stared straight through me, as though I were an imaginary friend time had stolen from him. Unseeing eyes gazing toward the open gate.Mum needs to get better at closing it. Or I could start swinging by after work to ensure she has.

Suddenly, like the cold had knocked him back into himself, his stare locked with mine, recognition seeping into his watery eyes. “Callum.” His voice cracked. “Your mum won’t let me go for a walk.”

Relief hit me like a gut punch.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to predict which Jim Macabe you’d be faced with. What side I evenwanted. Some days, I’d give just about anything for that spark of recognition, the hope the disease wasn’t stealing him as quickly as the doctors feared. Other days … I hated myself for the flash of relief when he looked at me like a stranger.

My father. The man I’d looked up to my entire life. The man I knew loved me in the only way he knew how. Pushing for perfection. Pushing for just …more.Pushing, pushing, pushing, until it became normal to live your life by someone else’s preconceived plans.

“Because she doesn’t want you to get sick. It’s freezing out,” I said gently.Christ, he wasn’t even wearing shoes. Thin blue veins pressed through skin as thin as wet paper.

“She’s trying to lock me in. I’m going to phone the police!”

“How about we go inside and warm up. Then we’ll talk about it.” When I lightly clasped his elbow, he didn’t fight me. “Mum wants to listen to records with you. You remember the old record player, right? Every Christmas you’d dig it out just to listen to Frank Sinatra.”The only way to appreciate his voice, he used to say, blowing dust from the vinyl.

He didn’t reply but allowed me to steer him to the open front door. Mum waited for us on the porch, looking harried as she tucked a thick dressing gown around her middle. “I tried going after him, but it made him worse. I was only in the bathroom for a minute, I don’t know how he got the door unlocked.”

“Don’t worry about that now.” Wrapping an arm behind his back, I ushered Dad into the living room, guiding him into his favourite armchair beside the lit fire. His entire body wracked with shivers. Mum already held a thick blanket. Draping it over his lap, she chafed her hands up his thin arms.

“There you are, love. Give it a minute and you’ll be right as rain.” She pressed a kiss to his head. “Do you want a coffee?” That offer she aimed at me. All a part of our new routine.

I wanted five, but caffeine on top of the buzz in my veins from spending time with Juniper would mean I’d never sleep tonight. I shook my head. “Tea please, I’ll grab that record player.”

Within minutes I had the heavy machine in one hand, the case of records in the other. Dust tickled my nose as I returned to the front room.

“Are you staying tonight?” Mum placed a mug at my elbow.

I nodded, plugging a wire into the back of the player and setting it on the side table. I always stayed on his restless nights. “You take the spare room, I’ll drag the pull-out into your room and keep an eye on him.”

Mum’s face cut into a wan smile, making the shadows beneath her eyes more pronounced. “You don’t have to do that,” she offered, but the words held no real fight.

“Get some sleep, Mum.” I pressed a kiss to her forehead and returned to the hall cupboard, piling up the spare blankets I knew I wouldn’t use. The record player long forgotten.

10

Juniper

One-star review – Don’t waste your time

My first visit to Scotland and to be frank, I don’t understand the appeal. Such a long drive for atrocious weather, big hills and sheep. And don’t get me started on the accent. The inn was nice, I suppose, and the bed was comfortable, but I couldn’t eat the breakfast. Perhaps they should start serving pancakes instead of haggis.

I was in a staring contest with my cat. The third one this week.

Music hummed softly from my sound system and, in her spot across the room, Shakespeare’s eyes drew into thin slits. Her tail whipping like a thresher shark’s, right before it stunned its prey. Refusing to blink first, I widened my own eyes, leaning forward until my chair groaned.

“Flick that tail all you want.” I had a fresh scratch across my chest, courtesy of the little monster who’d used me as a pin cushion in the middle of the night. “Today’s victory is mine.”

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