Page 39 of Summer Escapes on the Scottish Isle

‘My navy jacket and those cord trousers I like to wear, the ones from Marks and Spencer. And a shirt.’

‘You’re convinced they’re going to send you home soon?’

‘They said so, didn’t they!’ he snapped.

Freya took a calming breath. She knew he didn’t mean to be sharp with her. ‘You’re tired, Dad. I’ll let you go to sleep.’

‘I told you –I can’t.’

‘Could you ask the nurse for something?’

‘Bugger, I need to pee now.’ He sounded so cross that Freya had to suppress a laugh. Oh, dear, he wasn’t an easy patient, was he? Never mind, they’d muddle through, and she was sure he’d feel better once he was home.

He hung up, and Freya’s thumb hovered over Hadrian’s number.

Making up her mind, she pressed it.

‘Freya!’ Hadrian shouted, and she moved the phone away from her ear. It sounded like he was in a nightclub or a bar. She could hear loud music and even louder voices.

‘Where are you?’ she asked.

‘Hang on, I can’t hear you.’ A couple of seconds later the noise level dropped considerably and Hadrian said, ‘That’s better, I can hear you now.’

‘Where are you?’ she repeated.

‘The Bustle Club.’

She’d never heard of it. ‘Who with?’

‘Just some people. You don’t know them.’

Try me, she wanted to say, but then she realised she wasn’t particularly interested.

‘You got to Skye safely, I take it,’ he said.

‘I messaged you, like you asked.’

‘Did you? I didn’t see it. I miss you.’

It didn’t seem like it. ‘I’ve only been gone three days.’

‘Is that all? It feels longer.’

Freya was flattered, until he added, ‘It’s probably because I’ve been so busy. You wouldn’t believe what happened yesterday.’

He then embarked on a long story involving a fellow artist, which Freya stopped listening to after the first minute.

When Hadrian finally drew breath long enough for her to get a word in edgeways, Freya took the opportunity to say, ‘My father will be coming home soon, thanks for asking.’

‘Are you annoyed with me, babe?’

Was she? Hmm, yes, she was. If the shoe had been on the other foot, the first thing she would have done would have been to ask about his ill parent. The second would have been to ask abouthim.

Hadrian had done neither. He really could be a self-centred sod sometimes.

Weariness swept through her. She was too tired for this. She wanted to go to bed and sleep for a week.

She had no idea what he had been saying when she interrupted him. ‘Sorry, I’m going to have to hang up. I’m asleep on my feet. I’ve had a frantic couple of days.’

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