The Night He Left: Episode 12

Can’t you just let him go? A disastrous part of your life but one that’s over now?”

Sue Lawrence is a popular novelist as well as a cookery book author. The Night He Left is published by Freight. Down to the Sea, her first historical mystery, was published by Contraband in 2019. Sue’s latest book, The Unreliable Death of Lady Grange, was published in March by Saraband.

Back in 2015

Fiona and Jamie wandered along the sandy beach, hand in hand.

The warm water lapped on to their feet and the sea sparkled in the midday sun.

They both smiled and looked up towards the dunes to see a red kite flying over the sandy ridges.

Fiona stopped and Jamie began to run towards it. Then they saw whose hand held it: it was Pete, in his favourite beach shorts and a tatty old T-shirt.

He beamed when he saw them and Fiona felt a surge of happiness flooding over her like a wave of warm water.

But as she watched him approach, she also noticed he kept looking over his shoulder.

She found herself unable to walk; the sand was impeding her steps.

But Jamie was running towards the dunes and Pete kept turning his head over his shoulder.

He stopped and looked round one last time and Fiona could just make out some blurred figures behind him.

She wanted to shout to him that she loved him, she missed him, but then as Jamie was about to reach him, she woke up.

Vivid

Fiona opened her eyes wide and felt a tide of sadness sweep over her. The dream had been so vivid; she wanted to get straight back into it.

She frowned as she remembered how keen Jamie was to see him, running over the sand, and she then realised she missed Pete so much.

What surprised her was that she missed him now more than Iain, who had been her husband for 10 years.

Theirs had been a happy marriage, until Iain’s cancer had arrived unannounced and he was gone within weeks.

She felt sweaty, the sheets and her pyjamas were damp. She looked at the clock: six o’clock.

Why was it you had such vivid dreams just before you woke up?

It was something to do with REM sleep – her mum would know. She’d ask her, though she wouldn’t tell her she’d been dreaming of Pete.

Dorothy might think she wasn’t coping well. She wondered if she was coping at all.

Sometimes it felt like she kept putting on a brave face for Jamie when all she wanted to do was sob.

Fiona slipped into her flip flops – thongs, Pete used to call them – and as she headed for the stairs she remembered she had been carrying the same flip flops in the dream.

The house was silent but the early morning light illuminated the wooden stairs as she slapped her way down.

Even before she opened the kitchen door, she could smell it.

She pushed open the door and shook her head. There at the back door stood her father, in his ancient silk dressing gown, pipe in hand.

He was looking out towards the green and the river beyond.

“Dad, what are you doing? You promised.” Struan spun round and grinned. “Cup of tea, Fi?” “You’re a big cheat, Dad. I’ve given up my cans of the fizzy stuff.” Fiona muttered, flicking on the kettle.

“My house, my rules.” He continued to puff out wisps of smoke.

“I thought if I did it now, there’s a good two hours till Jamie’s up so he won’t smell it.”

“Bit extreme, but cunning idea, Dad.” Struan pulled his matches from his pocket and had just begun to relight his pipe when he turned to look at his daughter.

She was pouring boiling water into two mugs, scowling.

Sudden exit

Struan put his pipe on the window ledge outside and strolled into the kitchen.

He tousled Fiona’s hair and then sat down on the rickety chair.

“Your mum’s right, these chairs are falling to bits. That’s today’s job. What are you up to?”

Fiona sipped her tea then sniffed. “I can still smell the smoke in here, Dad.”

“That’s why I had a smoke now and not later when the Little Prince will descend from the high turret of his stately castle and breath only fresh Dundee air.”

Fiona grinned. “I’m off to Edinburgh today, got some folk to see.”

“Wouldn’t be anything to do with Bruce’s sudden exit, would it?”

“He used to hate when you called him that.”

She leant over the table, both hands round the mug. “Might be.”

“Can’t you just let him go? A disastrous part of your life but one that’s over now?”

“Dad, I can’t just shrug off three years, the things we did as a family. Jamie adored him.”

“That’s not what he said to me on Sunday when we were out with the kite.”

Fiona glared at him. “What do you mean?” Struan shrugged. “Just that he said he was sometimes scared of Pete.”

Fiona stared at her father. “What did he say?” “Mentioned something about tying shoelaces together and putting salt in his tea?”

Fiona’s shoulders dropped. “Oh, is that all? Of course he was mad, who wouldn’t be?

“Jamie was just being a pain in the neck. Pete was great with him.”

“If you say so, sweetheart.”

“Do you know any different?”

Struan put down his mug and looked out towards the river.

“One weekend when you were down staying here, you were out with Mum.

“Pete was on his laptop on the table here and Jamie was drawing one of his pictures beside him.

“I was in the hall, unbeknownst to them. I was trying to figure out where I’d put my wallet or keys or something.

“Anyway, I suddenly heard Pete bellow at the lad, can’t remember what he said but it was loud, so I opened the door.

Terrified

“Jamie looked terrified.

“Pete laughed when he saw me and made light of it. “He said something like Jamie had nearly ruined something he was doing on his Facebook page.” Fiona sat back on to her chair.

“Pete wasn’t on Facebook. Everyone used to joke with him about living in the last century.” Struan shrugged.

“Just repeating what he said.” He leant over to pat his daughter’s shoulder.

“Why did you not tell me?”

“You and Mum came back full of the joys of spring, didn’t want to ruin the weekend.

“Then it was only after Bruce buggered off that I remembered.”

Fiona shivered.

“If I got my hands on him, I think I could actually kill him.”

More tomorrow.