Page 261 of Delicious

Rumbledethumps

Sebastian Sharpe

ChapterOne

David

The wheels of the rental Range Rover bump along the uneven surface of the narrow country lane as I navigate the small town of Muir. Tall larch and aspen trees line either side of the lane, shielding the road's surface from the early morning sun that rises slowly in the east. To the west, through the trees are the rocky hills and mountains that make up Cairngorm National Park. The curved ridges of Ben Macdui are just visible through the tree line as my car trundles along on its way to my grandfather's estate, Galferkus House. Whatwasmy grandfather's house.

The road twists through the heather-clad hills, flanked by towering pines and jagged rocks dusted with frost. I grip the steering wheel a little tighter, the engine of the car humming steadily as I navigate the familiar route through the mountain pass. The early light has started its slow ascent, casting long shadows over the landscape. It's beautiful, breath-taking even, but I barely notice.

It has been months since my last visit to Galferkus House. The funeral where my grandfather, Liam McCraig, was laid to rest was only a few weeks ago, but the reading of his will has been scheduled for first thing tomorrow morning. I haven't been ready to come back before now, but avoiding it forever isn't an option. Avoiding the truth is something my grandfather would have greatly discouraged. He'd been a firm believer of venturing straight into the belly of the beast, and fighting your way though. My grandfather had been the one person left in our dysfunctional screwed-up family who had truly understood me, and though we hadn't always agreed on everything in this world, I'd never once doubted his unyielding and endless love for me. Now the house and estate belongs to the past, and I have no idea what the future held.

The closer I get to the estate, the tighter my chest feels. My father, Carrick, has likely already made plans for how every last thing should go. That's just what he does, controls everything, ensuring that the McCriag legacy stays intact. My mother, Lucinda, will no doubt be waiting with one of her perfectly curated smiles, talking about how wonderful it'll be to move on, how things must be handled efficiently, with a stiff upper lip and strong British stoicism. But this isn't just another business transaction. This is family, this is home.

As the car bounces across a rocky section of the road, and the start of a dull ache begins to make itself known at the base of my thighs, I remember a conversation I'd had with my mother only the day before.

"Darling, why don't you just let Daddy's staff take care of that rental for you and you can join us on the jet?" she had purred down the phone, her accent dripping with the hours of elocution lessons Granny had arranged for all of her daughters. "We can all attend the little family reunion together."

"Mother, family reunion sounds like we are all going to be drinking Pimms on the lawn," I'd sighed deeply. "You remember Grandad is dead, don't you?"

"Of course I do David!" she'd gasped, and I could imagine her grasping at the thin pearl necklace that seemed to be a permanent fixture on her body. "There is no need for us however, to be fixated on such ugliness."

"You're absolutely right Mother." I'd gritted my teeth as there was zero point in arguing with Lucinda McCraig once the fog of high society had descended over her vision. "I will, however, decline yours and Daddy's invitation to join you on the jet. I think some quiet time driving will do me the world of good."

I honestly can't think of a fate worse than being stuck in a confined space with their judgemental glances and hushed discussions about mywasted potentialandunsuitable past decisions. I can already hear my mother's voice:It's time to settle down, David. Time to take your responsibilities as the future of this family seriously.Which is Mother-code for:when are you going to meet a nice girl and give me a brood of grandchildren that I can flaunt at garden parties, and forget all about the pesky little thing about being gay?

But Ihavetaken things seriously. I have loved, seriously. And I've lost seriously, too.

My fingers flex on the wheel.

Kelly.

Even thinking his name sends a pang of longing through my chest, one I've gotten good at ignoring out of necessity and self-preservation as thoughts of him make me want to crumble into a thousand pieces and blow away on the cool breeze. I don't think about him often – I make sure of that. But being here, returning to the house where so many memories live, it's impossible to keep him out of my mind.

The road dips as I approach a bend, revealing the first distant glimpse of Galferkus House. A grand silhouette against the sky, its stone walls is framed by miles of rolling land that has belonged to the McCraig family for generations. The estate stretches as far as the eye can see, with herds of Highland cattle grazing in the pastures, the faint outline of Tamworth pigs near the oak-lined enclosures, and beyond that, the conservation areas where the stags and deer roam freely.

I swallow past the tightness in my throat. I've spent so much of my childhood here, under the watchful eyes of my grandparents. My father was too preoccupied with business and investments, my mother too absorbed in social engagements. But Liam and Moira McCraig had always been there, my anchors in a world that never quite felt like home.

And now, they're gone.

The drive through the estate is slow, the gravel crunching under the tires as I pull up at the front of the house. A few other vehicles are already parked outside, my parents' sleek black Bentley that they use when in the area, that is totally unsuitable for the terrain, but functionality isn't high on their list of priorities. A few cars belonging to other staff members are lined against the far stone wall, and an unfamiliar silver SUV is parked near the tall wrought iron gates that lead to the back of the estate.

As I step out of the car, the cold and stiff Scottish winds bite at my skin through the wool of my coat. The air smells of damp earth, pine and the faintest traces of wood smoke curling from the chimneys. The house looms above me, its grey stone façade weathered but enduring.

The heavy front doors open before I can reach them. A familiar figure stands in the entryway. Bertie Lancaster, my grandfather's long-time lawyer, friend and executor of the estate.

"David, my boy!" Bertie greets me, his voice warm despite the circumstances. He looks older, a little more tired than I remember. "I'm very glad you made it home safely."

I nod. "Of course. Wouldn't miss it." My gaze flickers past Bertie into the house's grand foyer. My father's voice carries from the study, sharp and irritated. Then my mother's, softer but carrying the same frayed edge to it. Bertie must catch my look because he sighs. "They're already at it. You might want to brace yourself, Young McCraig."

I exhale, already exhausted. "Nothing new there." I shrug. "Well, once more unto the breach."

Before I can step around him, Bertie hesitates. "David, before you go in. There's something you should know." I raise an eyebrow. "Well that doesn't sound ominous at all."

Bertie pauses for a moment longer before blurting out quickly, "Kelly is here."

The whole world narrows to that single statement. I blink, certain I've misheard. "Kelly?"

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