Page 67 of The Bookshop By the Loch

“She asked me how many of the letters I’d read and I told her I’d seen the first three, but that was enough to realise what had been going on.”

Tobias let out a weary sigh. “She burst into tears. She kept apologising over and over, saying she should’ve told me years ago about my dad not being my real father.” He made a dismissive noise. “Her reasoning was that it never seemed like the right time to tell me. Then, when my father passed away, she didn’t want to ruin the memories I had of him.”

My empathy soared. “Did she tell you what happened?”

Tobias adjusted the collar of his shirt. “I asked her about this Cormac character, but she just kept crying, insisting that it didn’t matter and that Bernard had always been there for me and that he would always be my real father.”

Tobias closed his eyes for a few seconds as he recalled the encounter with his mother. “I started shouting, saying my whole life had been built on lies.” He let out a bitter laugh. “It’s like something you see on daytime TV.”

I tried not to stare at the irresistible way Tobias’s lashes spiked.

He started to scrape at the granite wall with one of his nails. “I asked her who else in the family knew about this. She said Trevor does, but not Tamsin.” He shook his head. “Seems like we’re at the back of the queue.” He fell silent again for a few moments as he replayed his discussion with his mother. “Mum begged me to come back and hear her out, but I refused. I jumped in my car and went for a long drive. I’d heard enough.”

I kicked a smooth caramel stone down by my feet. “You shouldn’t have driven anywhere, feeling like that. You could’ve had an accident. You should have phoned me.”

Tobias flashed me a look. “You’ve got enough going on in your own life at the moment.”

I gazed up at him. “I know, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be here for you.”

We swapped prolonged stares. Then Tobias concentrated again on the loch and the soaring hillside.

I considered how Trevor didn’t initially offer to help Tobias, and how he then suddenly suggested that he launch his gallery in Book Ends. “That must be why your family relations have always been a bit fraught.”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

Below us, a noisy family bustled on their way with two skipping little girls devouring ice lollies.

“So didn’t your mum tell you why Trevor changed his mind about helping you with your art gallery?”

Tobias angled his strong jaw upwards. “I asked her that. Sounds like she begged him to. Guilt, probably, after everything that had gone on behind my back.”

My thoughts shot back to Trevor dashing into Book Ends a short while ago, looking for Tobias. “No wonder he was so anxious to talk to you.”

His expression darkened. “I bet he was. No doubt my mother was straight on the phone to him as soon as I left her house, warning him that I’d found out.”

We exchanged glances, as the shouts and squeals from children on the loch shore rose up. “So, what are you going to do now?” I asked him.

Tobias considered my question. “I don’t know how I feel or what I should do.” He looked lost, staring ahead of himself, before twisting his attention back to me. “Shit. I’m sorry. You don’t need to hear this. What with your dad being ill.”

“Forget it. I think you’ve trumped me on this occasion for family drama.”

Tobias managed a brief smile. “Do you know what you’re going to do about your dad? Are you going to talk? Jesus. We’ve even more in common than I thought.”

Our eyes seared into one another. I forced my attention back towards the water. “I did ring him this morning, but he didn’t pick up.”

At that moment, my bag by my feet vibrated. I realised it was my mobile ringing.

I hesitated, but Tobias urged me to answer it.

I bent down and fished my phone out of my bag. “Hello?”

The Scottish-American infused voice entered my right ear. “Hi, Lexie. It’s Dad.”

I whipped my head round and pointed to my phone, mouthing to Tobias, “It’s him.” I gathered myself. “Hi.”

Stilted pleasantries were exchanged, before Dad hesitated. “Do you think we might be able to meet up and talk?”

What was I going to do? What did I want to do? I felt empathy for him, because of his dementia diagnosis, but as for taking things forward, I had no idea. There was just this vacuum and I had no idea how to fill it.