‘Wait,what?’ Martha’s voice rose. ‘But you knew I’d invited her for you!’
‘Youknew I wasn’t interested. Besides, I wasn’t expecting this job to come up. They want me to fill in for a training instructor in Glasgow, which is a great opportunity and, for once, actually paid work.’
Her tut resounded through the car, loud as cymbals. Nocongratulations, no acknowledgement of the achievement. Struan had never taught before, only learned. That the rescue team thought him ready to take over, even as a second choice, meant he was actually good at something, and perhaps, foolishly, he’d expected Martha to respect him a little more for it.
‘Nothing’s ever good enough for you two,’ Martha muttered.
Rae leaned her temple against the arm that rested on the open window. ‘By the sounds of it, we’re not good enough for your friends, either.’
‘That’s not at all what I said! I just want you both to be happy!’
As long as it was with somebody Martha had picked out, because otherwise, they were doing it all wrong.
Thick, unsettling silence blanketed the car, Struan unable to find a reply that wouldn’t give away everything he felt for Rae. He knew Martha was telling the truth. She wasn’t trying to hurt them, but the patronising remarks had to stop. Him, he could understand, but how could she look at Rae and imagine her to be lacking anything? She’d accomplished more than the rest of them put together. Did it not count without a partner?
When Martha sighed, he hoped that meant the subject had been dropped. Still, none of them spoke again until they reached Aberdeen. As Martha turned to look out the window, he let his hand brush Rae’s thigh for just a second, a desperate attempt to comfort.
When she relaxed in her seat, he knew it had worked.
33
Rae sipped the milky tea Denise had made for her, perched on the edge of the brown leather couch to make room for Michael’s two senior labradors. Even if not for the snoozing dogs hogging all the space (even if warming her back), she would have been painfully aware of how out of place she was. When Denise had lived in Belbarrow, it had been different – the Macgibbons’ house was her second home – but she’d never visited here, and she’d only ever met Denise’s boyfriend twice before. Idle conversation about fishing seemed to cover the extent of Michael’s small talk skills as they waited for Denise and Martha to emerge from the kitchen.
They did, Denise placing a plate of Jammy Dodgers on the coffee table before settling on the side of Michael’s armchair. They made for a mismatched couple, Denise’s complexion tangerine-going-on-mahogany and Michael raspberry pink after their holiday in Benidorm, which they’d gushed about as soon as they’d opened the door. She’d added blond highlights to her sandy hair, now chopped to a jaw-length bob. When Rae had been a child, Denise had oozed the elegance she’d dreamed of having herself as an adult: put-together both inside and out,innately nurturing, and always welcoming. Unlike her own mum, who had always ushered Rae into a different room so she wouldn’t get in the way. Denise had made time for her children every weekend – and Rae by default – and Rae couldn’t pretend she hadn’t envied Martha for it.
Her white-teethed smile was still bright and warm, though wrinkled around the edges. Still, Rae didn’t miss the way her eyes slid over Vik too quickly.
Struan grabbed a dining chair from the open conservatory while Martha and Vik huddled on the other side of the labradors’ couch. The living room was too small to contain the tension, making for a lot of fidgeting on all sides.
‘Well, I’m just so glad you all made it,’ Denise began, rubbing Michael’s broad shoulders as though it would encourage him to say something non-salmon related. ‘Lovely weather for it, too!’
‘Aye. Perhaps we can go out on the lake this weekend, eh, Struan?’ Michael questioned, then pushed his rectangular glasses up his nose. ‘And you, too, Vik, if you want.’
Vik frowned as though she wasn’t sure whether to take his invitation as a compliment or a dig. Really, the blatant stereotyping could be deemed offensive for everyone involved, but for once Rae was glad that her femininity excluded her from an activity.
She saw Martha biting her lip, hands clasped around her crossed knee, and knew she was trying to hold her tongue. Unsuccessfully, in the end, because she muttered, ‘How very inclusive of you, Mike. Is fishing reserved for those of us wearing trousers?’
Denise shot her a chastising glance, then offered out the biscuits. Only Michael took one. ‘We recorded your episode ofSuperCook,Rae! It was ever so lovely to see you on the telly. Told all my wee friends at work about it, too.’
Rae smiled. ‘Thank you, Denise. It was very surreal.’
‘How’s everything going? Have you met Gordon Ramsay yet?’
‘Not yet.’ Though his hot-tempered TV rants paled in comparison to Yvette’s tyranny. ‘I’m actually taking a break from work at the moment to focus on the farm. Will you be coming to the Strawberry Fair this year?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Mike has a bowls tournament that weekend.’
‘She didn’t actually tell you which weekend it was,’ Martha pointed out.
‘I have them every weekend,’ Michael chimed in.
‘Riveting. Wouldn’t want you to miss that then, Mum.’ Her voice dripped with sarcasm.
Denise huffed, slippered foot bouncing impatiently. ‘You know I don’t really like to visit Belbarrow anymore. Too many memories.’
‘Yes, we wouldn’t want to remind you of your first husband.’
‘Martha,’ Struan scolded, reaching over Rae to nab a biscuit.
