Page 114 of The Cottage in the Highlands

“Dad?” frowned Carl. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about my alter ego. Chandler.”

More confused glances were swapped between us all as we sat there.

Flynn senior revelled in the questioning looks we were giving him. “I’ve made up my mind. Enough is enough.”

He picked up his wine glass, swished around what was left of it, and downed the remainder with aplomb. He set it back down on the table. “I’ve decided to not only go public about Astrid and the abuse I suffered at her hands, but about being Chandler too.”

“What?” I asked. “What do you mean?”

“If I’m being honest about Astrid, then it’s time I was honest about other things in my life as well.” He squeezed Lily’s hand again. “All that matters to me now is being with Lily and enjoying the time we have left together.”

Flynn beside me shrugged. “So, what does that have to do with Chandler, Grandfather?”

“Everything,” he answered, addressing the stillness in the room. He sat back, a palpable relief sweeping away the anxiety, pain, and exhaustion that had been gnawing away at him for years. “It has everything to do with it, dear boy. When you get to my age, you realise what’s important and that all the rest of it is a pile of white noise and stuff and nonsense.”

Mrs Oates smiled at her irascible employer.

“The true identity of Chandler will be unveiled. It’s about time.”

“Grandfather, have you thought this through?” asked Flynn. “It’s a big deal. You know that once you admit you’re Chandler, you will be deluged by the press.”

“I have thought about it, dear boy. I’ve thought about nothing else.” He gave a casual shrug. “It’s a means to an end. Once the fuss has died down over it, which it inevitability will, Lily and I can relax and enjoy our lives together.”

An awkward smile played at his lips. “And I’d like to get to know my grandson properly. So much time has been wasted and I want to rectify that.”

Flynn broke into a grin. “I’d like that a lot. First round is on you though, Grandfather.”

I squeezed Flynn’s hand, which rested on mine. Old wounds were being tended; recognised; addressed. Something told me the Talbot family would be ok.

Epilogue

Athena had been on the verge of spontaneously combusting when I told her about Flynn Talbot senior’s revelations about his ex-wife – and that he wanted to reveal exclusively to Goddess that he was the secret street artist Chandler.

“He’s insisted that he won’t speak to anyone else about it, apart from us. We will have the exclusive. All of it.”

Athena had sunk behind her desk, her face glowing. She seemed to be hyperventilating. “Oh my God! How quickly can you ladies talk to him? How fast can we get this interview scheduled?”

“Flynn said the sooner the better,” beamed Kerry with delight. “He wants to move on with his life.”

“Move on?”

“It’s a bit of a long story,” I clarified, “but that’s what Kerry and I are going to write about.”

And so, Athena called an impromptu staff meeting, confirming to our magazine colleagues that the Christmas issue would have to be revamped to accommodate something very special.

There had been a chorus of frustrated moans and groans, until she revealed why and then there was an excited chattering and gasps, with the realisation of how many copies the Chandler interview was going to sell.

She instructed that the interview with Flynn Talbot senior would be perfect alongside the Avanti cosmetics feature, photographed at Merry Wood.

Kerry and I conducted the interview, which Athena described as “the scoop of the decade”, hoping that our questions would draw out what every reader would want to know: how such an accomplished artist who had become so successful, had also been a victim of domestic abuse before rediscovering the love of his life.

But there had been no need for us to try and get Flynn senior to open up. He had been more than happy to talk about his love of art, and the wonderful Lily who he had loved and lost before finding again. Then there had been Merry Wood, the house he had planned to share with Lily, but then couldn’t bear to part with when he thought they couldn’t be together.

Finally, there was the subject of his alter ego, Chandler, who for years, had brought the beauty and rich spectacle of art to the streets of Scotland. Everything from empty factory walls to abandoned public toilets had experienced the brush strokes of Flynn.

It had made one very interesting read and I liked to think Kerry and I did Flynn Talbot senior – and Chandler – proud.