The voice caught him off-guard and Frank jerked his head around to glance back over his shoulder. Karla was leaning back against a tree, hands behind her back, watching him. She brought to mind a scene from a film he’d once seen as a teenager, but he couldn’t quite recall its name.
Frank stood unmoving for a moment, unsure how to react, what to do - whether to go to her, or wait for her to come to him.
“We need to talk,” she said, pushing herself away from the tree, pale hands smoothing down the front of her skirt as she came.
He nodded, heart sinking at her tone. “Thanks for taking care of me last night,” he said.
She stopped, pupils widening, staring up into his face. He could see the tears in the corners of her eyes - tears she refused to release.
“Why Frank?” she asked in a quiet voice.
He shrugged, unable to answer, throat working as he swallowed the fear that unexpectedly threatened to boil up from his stomach.
“Don’t you trust me? Haven’t I shown you just how much you mean to me, that you can hide such a thing from me?” Her voice trembled with an ache that bit hard into his being. “Why?”
Frank stared at the ground, the trees, the loch - anywhere but at her.
They stood that way for a long moment, as both urged the other to take the lead, to make the first move, to reach out with a forgiving touch.
But neither did, and Karla turned away from him, body bowed, as though she could no longer carry its weight.
Frank watched her leave, insides churning, lips trembling on the edge of speech. He wanted so much to reach out, to shout her name, do anything to break the dark moment that had just passed between them.
Instead he stood like a mute statue, beads of sweat running down his back.
*
The sun was warm on his body, drying the last vestiges of water from his swim. Frank lay on a towel, hands cupping head, another towel loosely draped over his groin. He’d never met anyone else up here when taking a swim, but that didn’t mean that somebody else might not unexpectedly appear and catch him unawares, just as Karla had done earlier.
It hadn’t occurred to him that she might know that he used the loch as an exercise area, but then he should have realised you couldn’t do much in such a small community without the whole village knowing about it. It was one of the things he both hated and liked about the place.
When the village had first appeared into view from behind the hill, Frank had fallen in love with it. He’d been roaring his way along the A9, mind idling, not a care for where he was headed, only that it was away from his past. Then he topped the rise and there it was, a small village snuggled into the hillside, the great brooding Mound looking down on it from above.
Pulling his bike into a lay-by, he snatched off his helmet, a wide smile lighting up his face. He kicked the bike onto its stand and stood for a long time, helmet clasped between hands, thumbs rubbing its smooth surface, while the tip of his tongue flicked across the scar on his lip like an agitated snake sampling the view.
He knew he had arrived.
God, it was beautiful.
Yes, this was the kind of place where Frank wanted to make a new start for himself, far away from the crowded city streets and his old life. This would be his new home, among the green rolling hills and clean air.
But as he lay now, quietly recalling that first sighting of his future home, and the desires it raised from somewhere deep within, he knew that the dream was beginning to unravel in the most terrible way.
Pushing such thoughts aside, Frank closed weary eyes and half-dozed in the sun, mind filled with vaguely remembered images of dark corridors and jingling keys. As he dozed, his head rolled slowly back and forth, eyes twitching behind closed lids when the past came back to claim him.
A hand clasped Frank’s shoulder and his eyelids shot open in alarm. He lashed out, catching Karla a blow on the shoulder. She gasped in pain, eyes wide as she rubbed where he’d struck her.
He sat up and pulled her into his embrace, lips next to her ear. “God Karla, I’m so sorry. You made me jump. I was having a bad dream. Did I hurt you?”
She spoke into his shoulder, her breath cool on his skin. “Not much. It’s okay. Sorry I made you jump.” Pulling back from him, she looked down at his exposed groin, a slight smile twitching her lips. “You better get dressed before someone sees you.”
“You came back,” he said, hopping from foot to foot as he pulled on pants and jeans.
What did that mean? he wondered.
Karla ignored him, looking instead at the loch.
Frank sat beside her, their shoulders barely touching, mulling over where to start. “I didn’t know she was pregnant,” he began.
Chapter 3
Karla leant back her head and let the rain hit her face. She liked the feel of the stinging needles. They washed away her fears and uncertainties.
She had tossed and turned all night, finally wakening with a headache at six-thirty. Admitting defeat, she got up and made a cup of tea, then stood at the window sipping the hot liquid as she watched the rain. The sun was barely above the horizon, hidden by the dark clouds, which reflected her mood perfectly. After a bowl of bran-flakes and skimmed milk, she sat at her computer catching up with Facebook and emails. At seven-thirty she closed down her computer, donned her Barber coat and pulled a clumpy pair of Wellington’s over waterproof pants.
The walk to the top of Gorse Brae was long, but always worth the effort, the view across the countryside below beautiful. Right now it was framed by high mist-shrouded mountains, with tall, elegant windmills just distinguishable in the distance, their lazy blades cutting the damp air in slow loops.
Karla sat on the hillside, a nearby gorse sheltering her from the wind, arms clasped around legs, listening to the steady thrum of rain. Up here it felt as though she were the only person in the world and she loved it. This was where she came to think, to sort out her emotions. Resting her chin on the wet coat draped over her knees, she closed her eyes and let the tears mix with the rain.
Why had Frank lied to her. It might not have been an outright lie, more an omission really, but he’d still hidden the truth from her. He had a daughter and for three years he’d kept that from her - a daughter of fourteen who lived with her mother and step-father in London.
She was at a loss to understand how anybody could keep such a secret from someone they professed such deep feelings for - hold it back, like some shameful secret. Think it was perfectly acceptable to hide it away like that. Well not perfectly alright perhaps, after all he had expressed some remorse, she supposed.
Raising her head, Karla studied the mountains across the valley, now covered so thickly in mist that only the highest peaks were visible - small truisms poking above the uncertainty of the swirling mists hiding their foundations.
Was this to be her life then? These feelings of longing and emptiness?
She loved Frank, she knew that now. This hurt she felt was too deep to be anything less.
Standing, she shrugged off the rain and made her way to the edge of the hill. Pulling off her wide, floppy brimmed hat, she dropped it to the ground, so the rain could run down her neck into her clothes. The light here had an ethereal quality. It shimmered beneath the dark overhead clouds with a life of its own, and for a moment, she wished it would swirl her away to a different land, like the storm had to Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz.
Frank had apologised, over and over again, had done his best to explain how he’d come close to telling her, but had always pulled back at the last minute for fear it would drive her away. He’d placed his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. His words had been sharp, almost spat at her, as though being torn from somewhere deep inside. Staring into the distance, eyes clouded with pain, he’d confessed about his past relationship with Marcia and how she’d left him - how she’d kept secret her pregnancy until it had been far too late for him to do anything about it.
And now here she stood in the
rain, head thrown back, mouth wide in a silent scream, wondering if she’d ever find the strength to forgive him.
*
The rain had stopped but the clouds were still low and grey, holding the threat of more bad weather to come. Karla could smell the freshness of new mown grass, hear the drone of the mower from the rear of the cottage. A brief smile played about her lips.
“Just like Frank to try to cut the grass while it’s still wet,” she thought.
She sat in the car a while longer, wondering whether she should get out or just drive away. Eventually she opened the door and swung her legs out. Because she’d come straight from the coffee shop, she was wearing a blue blouse, black slacks and pumps - not the best clothes for such a damp, dark day.
Frank hadn’t been in for his usual lunch-time meal, which had worried her, and he hadn’t answered his phone when she rang, so she’d decided to come over and see if he was okay. But now, as she made her way up the path, she wondered if it was such a good idea after all.
Walking around to the back of the old stone cottage, Karla spotted Frank easing the mower over a rough patch of grass leading down to a fast flowing burn. Trees crowded the bank and she could see that he had already strimmed the surrounding grass. The bluebells that usually grew amongst the trees were long gone now and their absence brought an unexpected shiver of coldness to her upper arms.
She loved laying under the trees in the summer sun, head in Frank’s lap as she listened to the water burbling its way past. It had become their special spot, the place they went when they needed time alone away from the stresses of everyday life. Except now the trees seemed to cast a forlorn shadow over the ground - as though trying to warn her away.
Frank must have sensed her presence, because the mower’s engine spluttered to a stop and he turned, nodding as he saw her. She nodded back, somewhat shyly, all doubts about the rights and wrongs of being here blown away by his winning smile.
“I was worried,” she called. “You didn’t come in for your lunch.”
Frank abandoned the mower and walked over, giving her a quick hug and a perfunctory kiss on the cheek. She caught his face between her hands and kissed him deeply, her body pressed close against his.
He leant back, hands in the small of her back, chuckling, the skin around his eyes crinkling as he did so. “And it’s nice to see you too. Sorry I didn’t show up today. I didn’t mean to worry you but I had a lot of things to sort out.” Taking her hand, he continued talking as he guided her around the end of the cottage. “Marcia called this morning. The funeral’s on Tuesday at 3 pm. I’ve arranged for another company to take over my rounds for a couple of weeks.”
“Couple of weeks?”
“Yeah, I’m taking some time off. It’s all been a bit much. Anyway, I haven’t had any time to myself this year and I reckon I could do with some.” He seemed to realise how hurtful his words must have sounded because he swore quietly to himself. “Hell, I’ve put my foot straight in my mouth again, haven’t I? Sorry that came out all wrong. I just meant, I need a bit of a break.” The tip of his tongue flicked across the indented scar on his top lip. “After the funeral I’m taking a bit of a holiday.”
Karla stepped away and dropped his hand. “Where are you going?”
Frank glanced away for a moment and she saw the uncertainty in his eyes. “Thought I might stay over in London for a week or two and catch up with some old friends.”
As they walked along the path towards the front door, Karla trailed her fingertips over the roses growing along the low fence. A few loose petals spiralled to the ground. She breathed in the heavy scent, conscious that the drone of bees was filling the awkward silence.
“Frank?” she said.
“Yeah?”
“I want to come to the funeral with you.”
Frank stopped, turning towards her.
“Why?” he asked quietly.
She swung to face him, taking his hands in hers. “I just want to be there, that’s all. To support you. To be with you.” She gave a slight shrug, not daring to utter the words that were on the tip of her tongue, for fear they might drive a wedge between them.
He squeezed her hands, then gently kissed her lips. “Thank you. That would be nice.”
Then why doesn’t it sound as though he thinks it is? she wondered.
*
Frank shut his laptop and went to the window. Although it was getting late, the sun had just broken through the clouds, prolonging the day for a little longer. Wandering outside into the garden, he sat at the wooden table and watched a wasp strip tiny curls of wood from the top. Sipping his coffee with a quizzical frown, he admired the animal’s tenacity, wondering how long it would take for a single wasp to carry off the whole thing.
Karla had left some time ago, a tacit agreement between them that she wouldn’t stay the night. As the wasp left with its load clenched tightly between its tiny feet, he chewed over whether he still had the will to carry on with the relationship. Things seemed to be slowly falling apart lately, and if she found out about the other stuff that he’d kept hidden from her . . . well, best not to think about that right now.
A sigh escaped his lips and he leant back in the chair to watch the sun spread its redness across the sky. Had he made the right decision when he’d agreed to let Karla attend the funeral? He wanted her there of course, especially now that he’d told her about Mandy and his break-up with Marcia, but warning bells had begun to ring in the back of his mind. It worried him that if, no, when, she found out the rest, it would end their relationship for good.
Struggling with his feelings, Frank realised how easy it would be to lose it all. He owed Karla the truth, he saw that now - but the truth might well tear them apart. He couldn’t let that happen. He so desperately wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, to have what he had been denied during those ten horrendous years.
Frank’s mobile buzzed against his thigh and he dug it out, scanning the screen. It wasn’t a number he recognised. Answering, he discovered it was just the hotel he’d booked a room with earlier, enquiring whether he wanted a double bed or two singles. He confirmed two singles.
They could always push the beds together if need be. If Karla wanted them to.
Frank finished his coffee and watched the sun go down, a deep depression settling over him. Why had Mandy done such a terrible thing to herself? To commit suicide was such a cowardly act. He found it almost impossible to associate his sweet baby girl with what she’d done.
Like he thought himself to be, Frank had always believed Mandy to be a fighter. For ten long years he’d clung to the belief that only the weak and cowardly gave in, and even when the loneliness overwhelmed him, he’d held fast to the knowledge that one day he’d be reunited with Mandy - but instead she’d committed the ultimate betrayal.
Because the act of jumping off a bridge in front of a train travelling in excess of a hundred miles an hour, wouldn’t leave much to pick up, Frank couldn’t help wondering just how much of his daughter would actually be in the coffin. Had they got all of her? Should he go and check himself - search around the site of her death? The very thought sickened him and he jumped to his feet, throwing his mug at the front of the cottage as he shouted out his rage. The mug shattered against the pebbled render in an ineffectual imitation of his ambivalence.
Why the hell had she done this to him?
Body trembling, he sank to his knees, covering his eyes, sobbing quietly.
But Frank knew exactly why his daughter had done this terrible thing to him.
Because he’d not been there when she had needed a father’s guiding hand.
Chapter 4
Inverness Airport was quiet, the flight to London only two-thirds full. Frank stowed their back-packs in the overhead locker and sat down beside Karla, staring out of the small window while they waited for the steward to finish her emergency instructions.
As the runway finally slid beneath the plane, a part of him wished that he was trave
lling alone. He’d known Karla for three years now, but still couldn’t find it in himself to commit to her completely. Doing so would somehow mean loosing too big a part of himself.
Sometimes when they made love, it was an almost religious experience, at others it felt as though he was being sucked into a darkness so total it threatened to swallow him whole.
“She was very pretty.”
Karla’s voice startled Frank and he glanced down at the photo in his hand, unaware that he’d taken it from his pocket. It was the last picture that Marcia had sent him. Mandy was dressed in a black tee-shirt and torn jeans, her blond hair blowing in the wind as she smiled at the camera.
He’d never known his daughter - hell he hadn’t even realised Marcia was pregnant when she’d left him, and by the time he’d found out, it had been far too late to do anything about it, because he’d already begun his sentence.
Marcia had told him she didn’t want her daughter growing up with a prisoner as a father, so he’d agreed to keep out of their lives, if she let him know what Mandy was up to at regular intervals. Marcia had agreed to send him photos a few times a year but made it very plain that was all she would do. And that had been the position until six months ago, when he’d received a letter that had torn his world apart - a letter from his daughter.
She had written how she’d recently found out that he was her natural father, and how she hated him for the way he had treated her and her mother - for deserting them both the way he had. Among other hurtful things she said, was that she considered her step-dad to be her real father and didn’t want anything to do with him.
There would be no more photos.
*
Karla leant her head on Frank’s shoulder and rested her hand on his arm. She wanted to take away the hurt she saw in his face, but knew she couldn’t. She had read the letter and realised how much its contents must have hurt him. Wondering why he had kept it a secret from her, she closed her eyes and tried to block out the fear that hovered somewhere in the back of her mind.