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“Research,” he says enthusiastically. “For the family tree, you know? Jack dug these out of the attic for me earlier. It’s really quite fascinating.”
He hands me a pile of papers, which turn out to be old birth and death certificates — some of them pretty old, by the looks of them.
“It must be strange, being here,” I say shyly, glancing over at him. “I don’t expect you have many memories of the place?”
“None at all,” he replies. “We moved to Edinburgh not long after I was born. And you’re right, Emerald, it is rather strange, stepping in the footsteps of so many generations before me. And Heather Bay is where Alexander is buried, too, which makes it bittersweet for us all.”
I twist my hands nervously in my lap, feeling like I should say something comforting here, but not trusting myself to find the words. The topic of Alex, Jack’s older brother, is one that rarely comes up; mostly because Jack instantly shuts down any attempt I make to talk about it. Bertie, though, seems happy enough to chat — not to mention the fact that he’s been far kinder to me than his wife has — so, after a few moments, I risk another question.
“You didn’t ever want to come back?” I ask tentatively. “To live, I mean?”
“Not as a younger man, no,” he says thoughtfully. “My mother didn’t want to come back here; said there were too many painful memories for her. I did consider it for a while when I was older, but life got in the way, I suppose, as it has a habit of doing. I got married, started a family. And, of course, Kathryn was never keen on coming to the Highlands. She was most vehement about it, in fact.”
It figures.
“Anyway,” continues Bertie, looking at me over the top of his spectacles in a way that makes him look exactly like an older version of Jack. “It wasn’t really for me, the whole ‘Laird’ thing. We didn’t have the money to restore the estate, for one thing, so we’d have been rattling around in this old place without any heating, and eating baked beans for our supper. I’m very proud of Jack for everything he’s done here; he’s really quite a remarkable young man.”
“He is,” I agree readily, my mind chewing over everything he’s just told me. I knew Jack made his own money from the tech company he founded in college, but I’ve always assumed there was family money in there, too, somewhere. What Bertie’s just said, though, makes it sound like the Buchanans weren’t always the wealthy landowners everyone’s always thought they were; or not after the war, at least.
Does that mean Jack’s grandfatherdidn’tcon McTavish’s out of land, then? Did he somehow lose everything, too? Wasthatthe ‘painful memory’ that forced his wife to leave the family home and move to the city?
I want to ask Bertie all of this, but it seems like an overstep, somehow. Not evenI’msocially awkward enough to ask my future father-in-law how come his family didn’t have enough money to fix up the family home; so I ask another question that’s been on my mind, instead.
“Did you find anything interesting in the map Jack got from the library?” I say, doing my best to make the question sound as casual as possible. “The one showing the Emerald View site in the 30s? I’d love to take a look at it if you still have it?”
“Map?” Bertie looks confused. “Jack hasn’t shown me any map? He did get me these from the attic—” he gestures towards the box on his lap. “I haven’t come across any maps in it, though. Here, take a look if you like.”
“Oh, I must have picked him up wrong,” I reply, flustered. I flick quickly through the box, briefly hoping I might find something interesting in it — Jack’s grandad’s diary, say, or a note saying simply, “I confess” — but, as Bertie says, it’s just a selection of birth and death certificates which, interesting though they are, don’t get me any closer to solving the mystery of McTavish and his land.
Or telling me why Jack lied to me about the reason he wanted the map. Because, let’s face it, that’s therealquestion on my mind right now.
He’s still lying.
“Are you all right, dear?” asks Bertie kindly. “You’ve gone very quiet all of a sudden.”
“Oh, no, I’m fine, thanks,” I reply, handing back the box. “Just a bit tired. I think I might go and have a lie down for a bit.”
“Good plan,” he says, smiling. “Things always feel a bit brighter after a good nap.”
I smile back weakly as I get out of my seat.
If only it were that easy.
Chapter 15
Jack stays at the Emerald View site until late, and when he gets home, he’s in no mood to talk.
“I said everything I wanted to say earlier, Emerald,” he says firmly when I try to raise the subject of the wedding show, and what happened there. “I really don’t want to go over it again, if you don’t mind. It’s been a long day, and I just want to get some sleep.”
He goes up to bed shortly after that, and even though I head upstairs not long after, I still find him lying once more with his back to me, and the covers pulled up to his chin. I’m not sure if he’s sleeping or just pretending again, like he was the night before, but either way, the message is loud and clear. And the fact that this particular message is getting to be a habit for us is a thought that keeps me lying awake, long after the last bit of light has gone out of the sky and my phone battery’s gone flat from Googling things like “How to tell if your partner’s hiding something from you,” and “How to save your relationship when weird anonymous messages are tearing you apart.”
(There were no results for the second one, unsurprisingly. It looks like Jack and I are forging an entirely new path with that one.)
By the time I drag myself down to breakfast the next morning, Jack’s already done his morning workout, and everyone’s gathered at the table, where a loaded atmosphere has settled in the air, like the minutes before a storm hits. All we need is some cartoon rain clouds to hover above our heads, and we’ll be the perfect illustration of the modern, dysfunctional family.Breakfast With the Buchanans: the all-new psychological drama, starring Emerald Taylor as herself.
“So,” says Rose brightly as I take a seat next to Jack, who doesn’t turn around. “Who’s up for an adventure?”
Everyone looks at her warily. I know I, for one, have never beenlessup for “an adventure” in my life, and, judging by the expressions on Jack and his parents’ faces, I suspect I’m not the only one.
