AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He looked down the queue of people, realising that the long, boring wait at passport control had just got a lot more interesting. There were whispers of, ‘Is he famous? What did he star in? I recognise his face, but I can’t place what I’ve seen him in.’
‘God, he’s even more good-looking in real life,’ he heard someone else remark.
‘Are you here to see your folks?’ asked the American as Callum wrote a nice message for his girls, and signed it,love Fergus MacGregor.
Callum nodded. ‘Yes. I haven’t been back to Scotland in quite some time.’
‘What a nice guy,’ he heard them say. ‘Remember when we asked for that autograph from ...’
Callum turned around and zoned out of their conversation. He saw other passengers in the queue staring at him. Those not in the know about the TV show were probably wondering who he was.
Fortunately, it wasn’t long before he was handing over his passport to be checked. The young guy looked at his passport, looked at him, and handed it back. That was it. Callum sighed in relief when he wasn’t asked for an autograph. ‘Thanks.’
He walked into the vast arrivals hall, looked for the nearest exit, and headed outside to find a taxi into the city. He looked up at the grey overcast sky and shivered. He noticed that the other people weren’t even wearing coats. He guessed it was a mild autumn, but the difference in the weather between Edinburgh and LA, especially the cold chill in the air, was a bit of a shock.
He paused to get out his mobile phone. So far, he hadn’t even contacted his parents to let them know he was coming. They’d be in for a shock when he told them he was at the airport in Edinburgh. Perhaps they’d offer to come and pick him up from the airport.Chance would be a fine thing, he thought.At least his best mate would be pleased to hear from him.
Callum stared at his phone. He hadn’t told Jack either that he was on his way home. Jack would want him to travel down to Suffolk and stay in one of the holiday cottages in the grounds of their working farm, if one was available. Luckily for him, he knew that they’d insist on him staying there for free if he were to visit. And he knew why. It was not just because they were best friends. It was more than that. Callum didn’t really want to revisit the reasons, though. He’d done a good deed, and it had almost lost him his best friend.
On his last trip back, when the TV show still had good ratings, and there was no indication that it would be cancelled, and he still had money, Callum had discovered that Jack and his wife had got into financial difficulties. They had over-extended themselves by taking out loans and re-mortgaging – all because Jack had been pursuing grand ideas of how they could do more with the farm by converting the old barn into holiday accommodation.
They had been on the brink of losing the farm, which had been in his wife’s family for generations. When Callum had found out, he had stepped in and paid everything off, including their loans and mortgages. He had also provided the rest of the money for converting the barn into three super holiday cottages. While he was at it, he’d paid for the old farmhouse they lived in to be renovated too.
He might not have spent the rest of his money wisely, but he knew he would never regret helping his best friend. Jack and his wife Beth hadn’t wanted charity, but he’d said he had more money than he knew what to do with.
Although Beth had been over the moon at Callum’s generosity, Jack had not. In hindsight, Callum should have seen it coming: Jack’s reaction to the hot-shot, good-looking actor rolling in money arriving to save the day. Callum had dented his best mate’s pride, making it appear that Jack could not provide for his family. The only thing that had saved their relationship after that was that Jack had insisted they became business partners; even though Callum had told him, in the nicest possible way, that he had no interest whatsoever in a farm. It wasn’t even in Scotland.
He hadn’t needed the few hundred pounds they’d deposited in his bank account each month as his share of the rental income from the holiday cottages. He’d put that money to one side in a separate savings account for their child. Now he felt terrible that it was nearly all gone. That small amount of money, which he’d privately scoffed at, had been his lifeline since the work dried up.
He breathed a heavy sigh as he stared at his phone. Jack didn’t know the other reason Callum couldn’t see Beth’s family farm go to the wall. Callum and Beth had a history. Perhaps going to stay with them would not be a good idea. Besides, he’d have to check what he had left in his bank account. Getting a flight or the sleeper train down to London wouldn’t be cheap, and then he’d have to buy another train ticket to where they lived in Suffolk.
On the other hand, he thought of his agent’s advice that he should go home and recharge his batteries. He couldn’t imagine doing that in Edinburgh; he wouldn’t want to hang around his childhood home. The small three-bedroomed semi he had grown up in would seem so claustrophobic, and moving back in with his parents was just unthinkable.
Callum realised he’d made a huge mistake. He should never have listened to his agent; there was nothing for him there. In fact, he found it hard to believe he’d grown up there. He didn’t have any nostalgic attachment to his childhood home like he imagined some people had. It wasn’t because his childhood had been unhappy; it was just that he’d always felt as though he didn’t belong; as though he was destined for something greater than his parents’ little life in that little house in Edinburgh.
He hadn’t really thought the trip through before getting the flight to Scotland. Besides not particularly wanting to stay with his parents, he’d probably be tempted by the night life, the bars, and so much going on in the city. How did he think he’d recharge his batteries if he was out every night in a bar, probably drinking?
On the other hand, despite his reticence to visit his best friends, rural Suffolk might just be the perfect place to unwind, and as his agent had said, get his shit together – if he had the money to make the trip. Jack and Beth’s farm was in the middle of rolling countryside, just a few miles from the sea. He had the impulse to turn around, walk back into the airport, and catch the next flight to London rather than visit his parents.
His phone buzzed with a message that stopped him in his tracks. It was Jack. ‘Callum, so sorry to hear about your dad.’
He read the text message, and swore.
‘Mate, watch your language?’
Callum was about to turn around and tell the guy who was passing him outside the terminal to mind his own business when he saw that the guy was holding the hand of a young child. ‘Shit, sorry,’ he said. He shook his head and rang Jack, but it went straight to voicemail.
After all this time away, he really hadn’t known what to expect when his mother had told him about the dementia diagnosis the previous year. His father had been having bouts of forgetfulness that increasingly could not be explained away as just old age creeping up on him. But Callum hadn’t expected this – for his father to pass so quickly.
He rushed over to the taxi stand and stood in the queue, waiting impatiently for his turn, thinking that this was what he had always been afraid of – that something might happen to one of his parents when he was abroad, and by the time he made it back, he’d be too late to see them before they died. He tried to phone his mum, but that went to voicemail too. He didn’t bother leaving a message. He didn’t know quite what to say. Besides, he’d be home soon.
Although it felt interminable, it was only ten minutes before he got to the front of the queue. Callum gave the driver the address of his parents’ little house, located in an estate on the outskirts of the city. The hour’s drive across the city tested his patience to the limit. The traffic was horrendous, and he couldn’t even pass the time looking out of the window; it had started to rain heavily, and the raindrops lashed against the window-pane, obscuring his view.
The taxi turned into the cul de sac where his parents’ 1930s semi stood in a small crescent of just eight properties.
The driver pulled the car up at the kerb outside his parents’ house. He paid the driver, exited the taxi, and stood at the kerb, staring up at the house. It seemed smaller than he remembered. In fact, the whole cul de sac did. But what had really caught his attention was the brand new car on the driveway. It was a little two-seater MG. He scratched his head and turned at the sound of the taxi setting off. Callum turned back to the house; there was no going back now.
He walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell. He stood for a moment, shuffling from one foot to the other. He tried the doorbell again before getting out his wallet. He still had a door key to the house. Callum put the key in the lock, opened the front door and stepped into the narrow hallway, surprised that nothing inside was how he remembered.
