No more stuffing the past away, no more pretending it didn’t happen.
Right now, though, my head wants to leave me.
Nobody’s up when I stumble into Donal and Kate’s kitchen. A painful squint at my phone reveals it isn’t even six yet. Great. Although maybe if I can neck a pint or two of water with some paracetamol I might be able to crash out for a couple more hours. That’s a comforting thought.
I find a glass, fill it to the brim with cold water and am about to begin my cupboard search for painkillers when I remember Phoebe’s message.
Excuse the text but it’s just this once because I miss you.
I stop fighting the urge to reply and type a message, with my address in Mull. That’s just important information, right? Admin, you could say. So it’s necessary.
‘So, are you going to tell me who she is?’
I jump and a slosh of water escapes my glass, splashing across the tiled floor and my bare feet.
Kate laughs and leans over the sink to tear off a strip of kitchen roll, ducking to mop my feet and the floor like I’m one of her kids. It’s endearing and mortifying at once.
‘Cheers, Ma,’ I say.
‘Oi, seven months younger than you, thank you very much.’ She flicks the paper in the bin and grabs the kettle. ‘You’re busted though, Mr Mullins. I demand all the details.’ She’s annoyingly fresh, considering she matched Donal and me dram for dram last night. ‘Can your poor head stand coffee yet?’
‘I’ll risk it,’ I grin, pulling out a pine chair by the table. Sitting is definitely safer than standing this morning.
‘So?’
‘So what?’
‘Who is she?’
I lay my phone carefully on the table. ‘You should work for MI6.’
‘They tried to recruit me. Too badass for them.’ Her damp auburn curls dance across the collar of her towelling robe when she laughs. It’s not the red it was, threaded with strands of gold now, but it’s still like watching fire. ‘You don’t have to tell me. But whoever she is, I’m glad she makes you happy.’
This might be the only chance I get to talk to Kate about Phoebe, before the thunder of remaining Cattenachs descends upon us and the moment is lost.
‘Her name is Phoebe Jones,’ I say, my chest swelling as her name plays on my lips. ‘You’re going to think I’m nuts, but I think she’s perfect for me. As in long-term perfect.’
Kate’s mirth softens and she sits next to me, anticipating the story that will follow.
Once I begin, it all comes out. And despite the hammering in my head, I can’t stop my smile. I fall over my words, somewhere between confession and breathless laughter. And the whole time, Kate watches, a strange half-grin resting on her face.
When it’s all said, she sits back, the boiled kettle long forgotten between us. ‘I’ve never seen you happy like this, Sam.’
‘I don’t know if I’ve ever been this happy before.’ It’s strange spoken out loud, but it’s the truth.
‘Do you have her picture?’
If it were anyone else in the world asking, I’d refuse. But this is Kate Cattenach, long-time confidante in matters of my heart. I find the image of Phoebe and me together by the platform barrier and slide the phone across the washed pine table for Kate to see.
‘She’s beautiful.’
‘She is.’
‘And you only met her… yesterday?’
I know where this is going. ‘I did.’
‘Wow.’
‘I know how it sounds, but…’
‘No, Sam, really, you don’t have to explain. Sometimes you just know, I guess. Not that it was like that for your man and me. I reckon Donal and I have the slowest love-at-first-sight story on the planet.’
‘Yeah, but we all knew.’
She laughs. ‘So I’ve been told. By every single one of yous.’ She hands the phone back. ‘Phoebe – the radiant, shining one. Pretty apt name.’
Name meanings have always been Kate’s thing. Within a day of us all meeting she’d told us what our names meant: Kate – pure (we always added ‘alcohol’ to the meaning as a nod to her incredible drinking prowess); Donal – ruler of the world (which, trust me, he still brags about); Niven – saint (jury’s still out on that one); Shona – happy (which is what we all hope she might be one day); and Sam – heard by God, which I always thought was a bit odd until Kate said that being a musician made it the perfect name for me. Who wouldn’t want God as an audience? God or Aly Bain in my case – I’d be happy with either. I don’t know how much I believe in name meanings, but finding out Phoebe means shining and radiant makes me smile even more.
‘That’s how she seemed to me. Her laugh – it’s like sunshine.’
Kate pulls a face. ‘You’ve got it so bad. Bless you. She must be special.’
‘I think she is.’
‘But – you still came away? And let her go, too?’
Said like that, it doesn’t sound good. ‘We both have things to do. Promises we’ve made ourselves. I don’t want to jump into another relationship unless I’m certain it’s right. Not after Laura.’
Kate nods. ‘I get that. But are you sure you’re not…?’ She exhales and peers through her curls at me. I know what that look means. We’ve been here countless times before. I can rely on her to speak her mind – even if this morning I don’t want to hear it. ‘Tell me where to get off if you like, but are you sure you haven’t agreed to a year apart as a way of not committing?’
‘Yes, I’m sure.’
Am I? I was yesterday…
‘Because it’s okay if you’re scared, Sam. We all get scared. And Laura damn near destroyed you.’
I wish she didn’t know that about me. And yes, I know the urge to head for the hills at the first sign of trouble is strong in my bones. But Phoebe’s not like Laura. She’s worth me being different for, or at least trying to be. ‘It’s a test, being apart. We should test how we feel, if it’s what we both hope it could be. Don’t you think?’
‘A year is one hell of a test.’
‘Maybe.’
She smiles and reaches across to squeeze my hand. ‘Then, good for you. She’d better be worthy of your faith, mind. Tell her if she messes you around she’ll have me to contend with.’
‘Okay.’
