Page 8 of Coming Home to Winter Island
‘Really, I’m just going to find out where I need to sign these papers and then I’ll get off. I—’
‘So it’s true, then.’ He looks me up and down. ‘Fraser said the hospital had suggested contacting you. You came then?...Finally.’
I bristle, then suddenly remember that I’m wearing a pair of shorts on my head. I take them off, then remove the socks from my hands. I swear I see him smirk, laugh even, making me bristle even more.
‘Like I say, I’m just here to sign some papers,’ I say.
‘What? You’d run off without introducing yerself to your grandfather?’ His eyebrows are raised, suggesting that the very idea of it is unbelievable.
‘No.’ I feel a rush of shame and my cheeks burn with embarrassment. He’s right. That does sound terrible. I take another deep breath and try and explain. ‘But we don’t know each other. He’s not my grandfather in that sense. Just... my father’s father. They didn’t have any contact. I’m not sure why I’m here really. From what my father said, he...well, I don’t think I’d be very welcome.’
‘So...not back for a piece of the ol’ pile then?’ He raises an eyebrow again, seemingly having made his mind up about me already.
‘The what?’ I look at the doorway he appeared from earlier. ‘Um, sorry, those stairs. So there’s another floor?’
‘Uh huh. The attic rooms. Servants’ quarters,’ he says drily and starts to make his way downstairs.
‘So does that make you...?’ I follow him down. I have to take the steps at speed to keep up with him, trying to make sure I don’t trip on the threadbare carpet. At the bottom, he disappears into a huge pantry and the dogs wag their tails excitedly as he opens cupboards and puts down bowls. Once they are happily eating, he pulls a big cream kettle onto the stove.
‘He’ll be wanting tea now he’s awake.’
‘Sorry, excuse me.’ I need to work out what’s going on. ‘Are you, um, family?’ It feels weird saying it. He stops what he’s doing and stares at me, clearly disliking me on sight.
‘I’m a friend,’ he says steadily, and I feel he’s being deliberately evasive. ‘Just helping out,’ he adds, as if he’s enjoying making me feel uncomfortable. ‘Someone had to.’
My eyes widen and I stare at him, as if he’s just slapped me in the face.
Ouch!
‘Look, um, I don’t know who you are—’ I say quietly, but he cuts me off.
‘Like I said, a friend of the family. Lachlan,’ he adds by way of introduction.
‘And likeIsaid,’ I repeat firmly, determined not to be toyed with, ‘I’ve never met Hector Macquarrie before. The only thing we have in common is a surname.’ And even then I usually shorten mine to just Mac. Ruby Mac is how I’m known.
‘And a bloodline!’ he says bluntly.
‘Sorry?’
‘The only thing you share is a surname and a bloodline. You are his son’s daughter, yes? His granddaughter?’
I’m flustered. I didn’t expect any of this. ‘Look, I’m sorry but you know nothing about me or my family.’
‘No. But neither do you, it seems, and you weren’t here to find out,’ he says, and turns to the range, opening the door to check if it’s on. I stand and shiver. It’s clearly not.
‘I just got a message from a solicitor. The hospital contacted him, said Hector was no longer able to look after himself. They’ve recommended his house be sold so that he can go and live in a care home. I’m presuming they need my signature as next of kin. I mean, even though we’re not actually...’ I trail off. ‘So can you please tell me where I need to go to do that?’
‘Tell you where to go?’ He raises an eyebrow, his eyes dancing with laughter again whilst the rest of his face remains deadpan. ‘I can.’ And I don’t know if he’s being very polite or very rude, but I think it’s the second. Everything about this man is making my hackles rise.
‘I have to sign the papers and then...I have somewhere to be.’ I swallow, rubbing my thumb and forefinger up and down my neck.
‘Bad throat?’ he asks.
‘Something like that.’ I’m not going to explain. Two can play at that game.
He holds my gaze. ‘And then you’ll be on your way? Once you’ve been to the solicitor?’
‘I will,’ I say with a firm nod. I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to, or any longer than he wants me here.
