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Callum looked helplessly at Jack and Beth. Of course he couldn’t do that. He presumed he’d need a child seat. And besides, although he wouldn’t mind at all – in the short time he’d been there, he’d already grown quite fond of the little boy – he got the impression that Fergus’ overprotective helicopter parent would say—
‘No, absolutely not. Callum is a busy man – too busy to take little boys out for a spin in his van.’
Fergus frowned at his parents and stomped off upstairs.
Chapter 32
Jack stood up. ‘Right, well I’m going upstairs to get him to bed. I think he’s overtired. Beth, you can show Callum your pride and joy.’
Callum turned to Beth, raising an eyebrow.
Beth rolled her eyes. ‘He’s talking about my greenhouse. Cal, you really don’t have to see it. It’s nothing special.’
‘Nothing special?’ Jack guffawed.
Callum said, ‘No, I’d love to see it, really.’
‘Go on, Beth – he said he’d like to see it.’
‘All right.’
Callum followed Beth and Jack out of the kitchen. He glanced at Jack, who was carrying a glass of milk up the stairs. ‘Fergus, are you changing into your pyjamas? I’ve got your glass of milk. I’m coming up to read you a bedtime story.’
Callum smiled but felt a little sad when he realised that he’d spent his life chasing a dream, and real life was passing him by. His best mate was married and had a child – that was real life. Sure, he’d had a starring role in a long-running series, but that meant nothing now; pretty soon he’d be forgotten, along with that series – apart perhaps by some super-fans like Beth, who’d watch the reruns broadcast on some obscure network channel relegated to a late-night slot that hardly anyone would tune in to watch.
He had already acknowledged he was a has-been. He had a feeling the door to Hollywood had shut firmly in his face, and that side of his life was over. He’d already thought that perhaps it was for the best. Seeing Jack with his wife and child only confirmed how he’d been feeling for some time; the path he’d chosen in life was not for him anymore – if it ever really had been. He was looking for something else in life; something real that fame or a Beverley Hills mansion would not give him.
As he followed Beth out of the door and across their gravel driveway, passing the campervan and the grumpy cat, which was still sitting in the driver’s seat, staring right at him as he passed by, the bookshop came to mind. That was real. But the trouble was that no matter how much the idea of keeping it might appeal to him, he still needed to sell it for the money in order to keep afloat while he off-loaded the stupid commitments he’d saddled himself with across the pond.
‘So, this is it,’ Beth said, interrupting his thoughts. They’d walked around the side of the farmhouse and through a gate into the walled kitchen garden. At the back of the kitchen garden, where Beth and Jack were growing their own vegetables, was a large, wooden structure.
‘It was here when we moved in, but totally beyond repair. I liked the old-fashioned wooden conservatory abutting the kitchen garden wall, so I used some of the money you invested in the farm to have the old structure rebuilt and enlarged.’
Callum nodded. He remembered the last time Beth had given him a tour when he’d visited five years earlier. Had it really been that long? He recalled the state of the outbuildings, including the kitchen garden and the old rundown greenhouse. That was when he’d said he wanted to invest in their farm.
‘It’s really something, Beth.’ He could see several long trestle tables inside where she was growing the flowers she sold to the local flower shop. ‘Looks like things are really working out with your side hustles,’ he said, genuinely pleased that his investment was paying off for them. He thought that at least there was something to show for the money he’d earned over the years in that show. They had put the money to good use, and it hadn’t been wasted, frittered away on things they didn’t need.
He liked the thought that they would have something to pass on to their son; something worthwhile that they were building for his future, and that he’d contributed in a small way. Callum had given them a lot of money, but it was up to them to make something out of their new business ventures; from what he’d seen, they were doing really well.
Beth whirled around and folded her arms. ‘That’s what I want to talk to you about.’
‘Pardon?’ Callum wasn’t sure what she meant.
‘You paid for this too, you know.’
Callum looked at the greenhouse. He wasn’t sure why she’d brought that up.
‘Have you come to collect? I know you said you didn’t need money, but why else would you be here? And you would not have travelled all the way from Scotland in that thing if there wasn’t something up. I mean what would you care if you inherited some old, rundown bookshop?’
Callum stared at her. Beth was the smart one of the couple; far too perceptive. Unlike Jack, nothing passed her by. She was the reason they’d made a success of the farm.
‘There’s something going on, Callum, I just know there is.’
Callum knew there was no good denying it. But he was not about to tell Beth about his situation. He wanted to save face. There was no way he would admit to Beth that he was in trouble financially. If she knew that, she’d never believe him when he genuinely said, ‘I am not here to collect anything.’
He took a breath, and reiterated,‘I told you from the off that although I invested in your farm, I do not want a penny in return, and never will. That was always the deal.’
‘Apart from a percentage of the proceeds of the rental income from the cottages,’ Beth reminded him.
