Page 39 of Musical Games
‘Never. I think most of my heart is in Kinloch.’ She froze. ‘And if I’m not godparent for Zoe’s first kid, there’ll be hell to pay.’
Morag turned the oven on and chuckled. ‘Aye, I give it about six months before she’s expecting. Fiona wants them to have a girl so she can marry her off to Liam.’
The two of them measured and mixed as the soup heated on the stove top. Morag showed her how to roll and cut the dough, then they sprinkled the biscuits with sugar and put them in the fridge whilst they ate lunch.
Morag hadto open the post office at two and despite her earlier assurances, she popped back in when the kitchen was full of the fragrant smell of butter, flour and sugar to make sure the oven was off. Sam didn’t want to mope around the house waiting for Jamie and she knew Zoe was busy, so she strolled down to the shores of the loch. Now it wasn’t raining she could appreciate everything Jamie had been trying to show her the other day. It was beautiful, but not the kind of organised and controlled beauty she was used to. She’d grown up in London and the wildest countryside she’d ever encountered was Richmond Park. Even the occasional visit to see distant family in Sweden had been mostly city based.
Scotland was on a different level altogether. It was so bloody big. Sam felt small at the best of times, but here she felt tiny and utterly insignificant. The sky was deep with clouds and the loch stretched out before her, its surface dark and rippled with grey light. She threw a stone at an angle into the water. It managed one bounce before sinking. She picked up a handful and kept trying. When she achieved eight bounces she sat on the shingle and hugged her knees into her chest.
Her mind was constantly pulled to Jamie, but she was adept at hiding thoughts of him under others. Right now, she was worried about being left in charge of a baby. Someone else’s baby. How were they meant to keep Liam alive? In her opinion, babies were lemmings crossed with sheep, just waiting for the opportunity to kill themselves. Her sisters were single and childless, and none of her friends had kids, so she hadn’t the first clue what to do. Did they need to give him a bath? Did she have to put her elbow in the water first? How do you stop a wriggling, squidgy thing from slipping out of your hands and nutting themselves? Then there was the bottom department...Shit.Thank fuck Jamie was going to be there. Liam was his nephew and therefore his problem. She’d supply the moral support and witty banter.Yeah, he just loves it when I do that. She scrunched up her face. She was the lemon in Jamie’s life and he’d rather sit and suffer in silence than try to turn her into lemonade.
Jamie returnedto the house at four, empty-handed. Whatever his ‘errands’ had been, he had nothing physical to show for it. He was even quieter than usual, avoiding eye contact and blushing whenever she tried to make a joke. What had he been doing? Who had he been seeing? A secret girlfriend? She was annoyed he’d prioritised seeing anyone over writing music with her.Get a fucking grip, Smulan. He was the one doing her a favour. He could do what the fuck he wanted, with whomever he wanted, whenever he chose.
At twenty to five they left Morag’s for Fiona and Duncan’s house. Jamie was carrying his guitar, and Sam had their notes, a bottle of wine and some gluten-free spiced shortbread in her bag. They walked in silence. She was tired of trying to think of things to say. Tired of watching her jokes disappear like stones dropping to the bottom of the loch. Would she ever know what he was thinking? Apart from all the negative stuff, of course.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked.
She nearly jumped out of her skin. ‘What?’
‘You sighed. Are you okay?’
‘Er.’ She pasted on a smile. ‘Yes, of course. I’m fine.’Fuck it!She stopped abruptly and he nearly bumped into her. ‘Actually, no. I’m not one hundred per cent tickety-boo right now.’
He looked worried.
She squared her shoulders. ‘What can I do differently to make you like me?’
Jamie’s jaw hung slack and his cheeks reddened.
‘I’m not expecting to be your best friend or anything,’ Sam continued, ‘and I know pretty much everything about me horrifies you, but I’m trying. I really am. Just tell me what I need to do.’
He looked stricken. ‘I’m sorry.’
Sam bit the inside of her mouth. She would not cry. No fucking way would this big, awkward, teenager of a man make her cry.
‘You don’t need to do anything differently. You’re, um.’ He dropped his head. ‘You’re fine just the way you are,’ he mumbled.
She dug her nails into her palms. ‘Then why won’t you talk to me? Why won’t you look at me?’ Her voice was wavering and she clenched her teeth.
Jamie lifted his head a fraction, his eyes so dark they appeared black. He held her gaze for a second, then looked back down.
‘I don’t know what to say. And I keep getting it wrong,’ he said quietly. ‘You’re, I’ve never, um, it’s just, er, you…’ He broke off, rubbing his free hand across his hair. ‘Fuck’s sake.’ He raised his head. ‘I’ve never met anyone like you before. Everything about this is new for me. I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I’m trying too. Please believe me.’
She swallowed. ‘So, you don’t hate me then?’
He glanced away. A muscle was twitching in his jaw. ‘Jesus Christ, no. I don’t hate you. I…’ He exhaled a ragged breath. ‘I—’
‘Need a drink?’
He huffed. ‘Yeah, I need a fucking drink.’
She sighed. ‘Me too. Let’s go and be drunk in charge of a baby.’
Five minuteslater Fiona opened her front door with a smile, a tumbler of whisky and a glass of Prosecco.
‘Welcome, welcome. It’s tradition in the McDougall-Sinclair household for you to have a drink before you enter our humble abode.’ She passed them each a glass. ‘Now down it, the pair of you. Jamie, you need it to show Sam you actually have a personality. And Sam, you need it because you’re about to spend the evening with a baby. And Liam.’
‘Ha, ha,’ said Jamie as Sam snorted. He raised his glass to hers.
