Page 30 of No Kind Words

Fuck, I haven’t given him a thought in a long while. After saying goodbye to him months ago, I’ve forgotten about him. I’ve had more calls from unknown numbers and another from an Edinburgh hospital switchboard. Could that have been about him? Guilt washes over me, and I take out my phone, but who could I call? The police? I doubt they’ll know anything. He wasn’t dangerous or a troublemaker. He always slipped under their radar.

The thought of breakfast doesn’t sit so well anymore.

Benny brings me a full English breakfast, which looks and smells amazing, but my appetite has gone. “Hey, what’s up?”

Of course he recognises something’s wrong. Instead of telling him, I smile and shake it off. “Nothing. I’m good. This is amazing.”

I can’t do anything about Roddy, not this morning. I need to try to find out where he is. But how? The police? I pick up my knife and fork as Ben pulls the chair across from me and sits down. “Don’t bullshit me. Something’s wrong.”

“I got a bit thrown by the break-in. I didn’t expect that to happen here. This is a quiet town, a town where everyone knows each other. Or that there could be addicts desperate enough to resort to that. Are there any homeless people around here?”

He shakes his head. “Not so much at this time of year. You get a few who travel around the area in the summer, picking up odd jobs here and there.”

Is he saying that there are really no homeless people or that he has never noticed any? There’s a difference. Even in the sleepiest places, people are down on their luck or hiding from someone. “I’m surprised the police haven’t been in touch. They normally want to check the security system on the property and see how secure the drugs cabinets are.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

“We had a few break-ins where I worked before, but Edinburgh’s a huge city, and with that comes an equally large homeless population. I used to volunteer at a food kitchen. The people on the streets never imagined it would happen to them. It’s a hard and often brutal way of life. I helped out when I could because but for the grace of whoever, it could have happened to me.”

Ben looks as if he couldn’t imagine me in that situation.

“Don’t you think that if my father could’ve got away with throwing me out, he would’ve done it. My mother stopped that from happening.”

“I would never have let that happen, Jethro. I would’ve taken care of you.”

“Anyway, that’s all in the past, and I’ll double-check my alarms and security system from now on.” I want this conversation to turn away from me and the past. Especially with what I have planned for this afternoon. I eat the breakfast, groaning at the taste of it all. Ben is a genius.

“Are you busy this afternoon? I’ll be finished here around two o’clock,” Ben asks.

I should include him or at least let him know where I’m going, but I want to do this by myself. I may not even make it, and if I do chicken out, I don’t need the pressure of someone telling me it will all be okay. I have no problem telling him afterwards and maybe going again together.

“I’ve got a couple of things to do, but I can see you later around teatime or in the evening. We can go out if you like.” Going out could be fun. It’s Saturday, and a lot of our friends will be out too. The face he pulls isn’t a positive one.

“I’d rather stay in. We didn’t see each other last night. You can come to mine, and I’ll cook.”

Last night obviously upset him more than I both thought and intended it to. I don’t want to hurt him or make him feel unwanted, so I nod, agreeing to his proposal. “I can be persuaded by food, especially if it comes in the form of one of your pizzas.”

Relief flashes over his face. I lean towards him and press a soft kiss to his mouth. “I’ll come over as soon as I can. Shall I bring Isla?” This is code for ‘will I be staying overnight?’

“Hope will enjoy the company.” He grins back. “I’d better get back to work. I’ll see you later.” He kisses me and heads to the kitchen, oblivious to the men and women watching him weave between the packed tables. He has no idea how attractive he is. How the hell can he still be mine?

I finish my coffee and stand. Isla moves from her spot under the table but waits while I walk up to the counter and pull out my wallet. Amy smiles. “There’s no charge, Jet. Orders from the boss-man.”

I shake my head at the new manager, then pull out a ten-pound note and put it in the tip jar. “He’s ridiculous.”

When we get outside, the rain has stopped, and the sun is attempting to break through the heavy grey clouds. I don’t think it will be successful, but it’s nice to feel that spring might be slowly coming back to us. When I get settled in the car, I pull in a huge breath and hold it, counting to five. As I exhale, I start the car. “I can do this. It won’t be the same.”

The drive out of town is quick. The roads are quiet as if sensing my mood. I’m not focusing as much as I should. My mind is far away, thinking the unthinkable. As I turn off the main road, I already see the difference. The road is no longer a mud and gravel minefield full of potholes but a smooth, black tarmac. A new oak five-bar gate is swung open, latched on a post to stop it from swinging shut. I keep my eyes fixed on the road in front of me. I don’t want to look around, fearful of any triggers that can have me slamming on the brakes and going back the way I came.

A fork in the road appears, one that wasn’t there before. A sign with ‘To the gym’ stamped like a street name on it points to the right. To the left is the farmhouse. Brodie was right. It’s very different, but I can still see the place that was my home. That was my happy place as a young kid. Images of those happy times come back. Me sitting in the tractor with my dad. He’d set me on his knee and let me steer. I could hardly see over the top of the steering wheel, but I felt so grown up. They are still my happiest childhood memories of my father. The farmhouse was my mum’s domain and would smell of freshly baked bread. The radio was always playing in the kitchen. We would sing along to the songs as I helped her bake cakes or cook dinner.

My carefree childhood stopped when the arguments started. It took me a long time to know it was because of his drinking. All I knew was the tractor rides stopped, and the happy, laughing days in the sunshine disappeared. The insults started, the jabs at my mum, the cuffs around my head when I wasn’t quick enough to act on his demands. It left me unhappy and confused, wondering what I’d done wrong.

Can I do this? I run my hands down my face as I attempt to clear the bleak memories rising, ready to consume me. My hands are shaking when I grip the steering wheel. After another deep breath and a slow count to five, I can move again. I want to turn around to race back to my little cottage, which has no reminders of my past, but the new front door under a newly added oak porch opens, and Ivan steps out. He raises his hand, acknowledging me. It’s too late to turn around now. I drive to the left and head down the road to his door.

I switch off the engine, tell Isla to stay, and get out. Brodie has joined Ivan, and he smiles. “Hey, you came. It’s good to see you. Come in.”

“I can’t stay too long. I’ve got the dog in the car.” Hopefully, that is a good enough excuse to bug out if it gets too much.

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