Page 64 of The Scottish Island Inn

THIRTY-FIVE

Sorrel walked outside of the Inn to the caravan and, heart in her mouth, she knocked on the door. She had to make things right with her mother, even though there wasn’t anything she felt less like doing right now.

‘Hello, love.’ Catriona looked up from some ironing as Sorrel came in. Her voice was guarded but warm. ‘You all right?’

‘Not really, no,’ Sorrel said, honestly. She sank down onto the sofa. ‘Mum. Can we please just have a talk? I can’t go on any longer with everything being up in the air.’

‘Yes. Please.’ Catriona stopped ironing, put the iron on its stand and turned it off at the wall. ‘Let’s have tea.’

Sorrel watched her mother busy herself in the kitchenette as she tried to centre herself and process her conversation with Tam. In a way, as hurtful as it had been, she found herself coming to the conclusion that perhaps it was all for the best. She and Tam could be civil to each other and, perhaps, become friends in time. They had slept together because there was still chemistry between them. But that didn’t mean anything in particular; just that their bodies fitted well together; it meant that they smelt right to each other.

It didn’t mean that Tam and Sorrel were a love story. They might have been, once, but despite Dom and everyone else trying to push them together again, maybe some things were just better left in the past.

Catriona set a cup of tea in front of her daughter and sat down at the opposite side of the table.

‘Well, then,’ she began. ‘First, I want to say that I’m sorry that I’ve been a little… evasive. I suppose I needed a bit of time to take in the fact that you were home again. It was quite the surprise, you turning up unannounced.’

‘That’s okay. I understand that it was very out of the blue,’ Sorrel admitted.

Catriona put her head in her hands and took a deep breath. ‘I know you’ve been to see him, Sorrel. And whatever he told you, it’s not the whole truth.’ She looked up from her hands. ‘I’m not sniping at you. But I hope you know how hurtful it’s been, knowing that you went off to find… that man, without my knowledge or permission. And then telling your sisters. It’s upset some of them.’

‘I told them what you should have told them, years ago,’ Sorrel replied, evenly. ‘And I’m allowed to find and talk to my biological father if I want to. I’m not a child.’

‘Oh, I know, I know.’ Catriona smiled at her daughter fondly. ‘When you were a child, you were at least biddable. Now, I don’t know what you’re going to do next.’

‘Mum. I am a grown woman. None of us are children any more.’

‘I wish your father was here. He usually holds my hand when I have to do anything difficult, bless his good heart.’ Catriona let out a long sigh.

‘Where is he?’ Sorrel asked.

‘Shopping.’ Her mother sighed. There was a silence. Sorrel allowed it to stretch out; she had to give Catriona space to tell her story.

‘I was very young. That’s the first thing I want to say,’ Catriona began. ‘You know that when I got pregnant with you, I was only nineteen. Just a girl.’ She took a deep breath.

‘Malcolm was my boyfriend then. We argued a lot. He was not a nice young man. He shouted a lot. Pushed me around. He used to like to tell me what to do, what to think, where to go, what to wear. I was too young to know any better, and I liked having a boyfriend. He had a car. I liked being able to escape the little farm I grew up on and… be a bit of a rebel, I suppose. But when I realised I was pregnant, it sort of woke me up. I realised that I wanted the baby, but you wouldn’t be safe around Malcolm,’ Catriona continued.

‘Well, your father and I had known each other since we were bairns, almost. We went to school together. I used to deliver the milk and the eggs from our farm to the Inn, back when his parents ran it. Your grandparents, bless them. One day, I was out walking near the burn. I wasn’t showing yet, and I hadn’t told Malcolm I was pregnant because I was still figuring out what to do. But I saw Angus and I started to talk to him. And I told him. Because I realised that I trusted him. I could always talk to Angus.’ She looked into her daughter’s eyes, and there was such deep love there that Sorrel’s throat choked up.

‘After that, we talked a lot, and Angus asked me out. He took me on the most lovely dates. And I realised what a sweet young man he was. I still didn’t know what to do about Malcolm, but I sort of… leaned in to Angus. And we fell in love.’

‘Did Aunt Joan and Aunt Chrissie know?’ Sorrel asked.

‘Yes. They knew. Angus was a much nicer young man than Malcolm, and he had better prospects, being a Balhennie. Joan and Chrissie and my parents all thought that Angus would be a better father than Malcolm would have been. And he was. He was a wonderful father. We were a happy family.’

Sorrel cut in. ‘But you should have told me. You should have told all of us. There are ways to talk to kids about this stuff.’

‘You make it sound easy. How would you propose I tell my oldest daughter, who I never wanted to make feel unwanted or left out, that she was different to everyone else?’ Catriona asked. ‘I did want to tell you. I almost did, many times. But you got older and the other girls came along, and after a while it just seemed easier not to say anything. And… I didn’t want to. It was too hard.’

‘I found out by accident,’ Sorrel said. ‘That was part of what made me so angry. You still weren’t intending to tell me. I walked in on the middle of a conversation. You didn’t want him to see me.’ Sorrel thought about her conversation with her real father, days before. They’d talked for an hour. He didn’t seem like an angry, abusive man. But people could change.

‘I cannot believe that you went to see that man behind my back.’ Catriona shook her head.

‘He’s my father. I have a right to know him.’ Sorrel faced her mother. ‘How could you lie to me? It seems like neither of us can believe what the other one did. I don’t understand what you were so afraid of, Mum. He seems like a nice enough guy.’

‘He is not a nice enough guy. He was threatening and violent. It’s a betrayal. After everything I did for you. I made sure you were protected. All these years, I protected you from him! And now you just run to him like some sort of stray sheep. We’re your family, Sorrel. Not Malcolm Sinclair.’ Her mother gazed at her, wide-eyed, in appeal.

‘Do you want to talk to me about betrayal?’ Sorrel was incredulous. ‘You betrayed me. You let me believe a lie for twenty-five years. You lied to all of us. And that wasn’t all. You never talked to us about your depression. I remember those times, when you left me to look after everyone. Dad was working, but some days, you were up in bed with the blankets pulled up over your head. And you told me that I had to be in charge. I had to be careful and look after everyone else. I was just a child.’ Sorrel felt the tears spring to her eyes and her voice waver. ‘And I wasn’t even… I didn’t even belong.’