Something like a sob croaked from the old man’s mouth. ‘Waste o’ space…’
‘I don’t have time for this.’ Rory lifted the bottle from his hand. ‘I’ll write you a note so you can read it back in the morning, but I’m saying it all now.’
Hamish blinked blearily at him, practically half-conscious. Rory leaned down, resting his hands on the arms of the chair and staring straight into his father’s sozzled eyes.
‘Dad. It wasn’t my fault mum died. I was a little kid, and you should have done better. I didn’t deserve the way you made me feel like I was to blame. It was cancer, Dad. You need to face that and move on. Figure out how to live without somebody else propping you up.’
Rory glanced at Nancy Douglas’s photograph. She looked so young in it; the distorted preservation of a life cut short. ‘I’ve spent my whole life trying to make up for Mum’s death. Trying to fill the hole inyourlife. But I can’t be responsible for that anymore. I’m leaving, and I won’t tell you where I’m going. I don’t owe you anything. I’ve already given you everything I could.’
He was pretty sure his dad’s mind, as well as his eyes, had glazed over. The old man mumbled something, an echo of Rory’s words. ‘… should’ve done better.’
Rory sighed. ‘I’ll write it down.’
As he looked for a pen, a distinct whimper emanated from the chair. He turned back to find there were tears rolling down the old man’s cheeks. The recent memory of Ol’ Doaty lying face-down on the boat tweaked a pang of empathy in Rory’s heart. ‘I’ll tell the lads to check in on you.’
‘I should’ve done better.’ For a split-second Hamish seemed lucid, staring at Rory with… what was that expression? Grief? Regret? Then the next instant his face twisted into its familiar, nasty scowl. ‘Wouldna mattered anyway. ItoldDoaty. He was s’posed to look after yer. But y’were always a useless piece of shite. Probably couldna even swim. Waste o’ my time.’
He descended into more spiteful, angry mumbling that Rory was glad he couldn’t decipher.
It’s easier to be angry.Recognition flowed through Rory, watching his father’s resentment crystallise in front of him.Easier than facing how you really feel about yourself.
Was it gratifying to think that on some level Hamish understood he’d failed his son? Not really. If anything, his refusal to confront that knowledge made it sting a little harder.
And in his dad’s anger, Rory saw that this was exactly how he’d reacted each time he was spooked by his own feelings for Fionn. Much easier to throw a punch than admit to anything complicated.
But he was ready to admit it now. To embrace it, along with all the parts of him that had kept quiet and small for fear of drawing his father’s disapproving attention.
From the mantel, his mother smiled at him. For the first time, Rory didn’t feel like a ghost in her presence. She would have wanted this, he was sure of it. To see her son find freedom and for her husband to find… well, something else. Hopefully something different to what he wallowed in right now.
Rory quietly folded his farewell letter and laid it on the dresser. How his father reacted to it in the light of a sober day didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Rory was ready to face himself.
He left the voice of his inner Hamish behind as he closed the door. It wouldn’t be able to follow where he was going next.
Rory ran back home. He’d need a few hours at least, and maybe some sleep, to get his affairs in order. There was paperwork he needed to give Graham, some things to secure in the house, and then he could be away from it all.
Swimming towards the horizon.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The moon was high by the time a pair of headlights flashed over the bank beyond Red Point beach. Two figures approached, both blonde—one naturally so, and the other coloured by chemical dyes.
‘It is that woman you are fond of,’ Fionn remarked, nudging Iomhar with his toe.
Iomhar didn’t stir from his languid position against the dunes, but did open one eye. ‘The wonderful Meredith? Your troubles may be a blessing in disguise.’
‘Do not be getting distracted, old man. I’m here for one reason only.’
The two humans picked their way carefully over the beach, navigating by torch light.
‘Over here!’ Fionn called to direct them. The faces of Lachlan and Meredith grew more distinct in the moonlight as they drew near.
‘We came as fast as we could,’ Lachlan said in greeting. He seemed a little out of breath; perhaps the journey had been strenuous.
‘What time do you call this?’ demanded his female companion. While Lachlan was the land Witch’s partner, Meredith was the Witch’s aunt. She shone the torch directly into Fionn’s eyes. ‘You’ve a nerve, calling him out here so late. Couldn’t it have waited until tomorrow?’
‘I tried to explain it’s urgent.’ Lachlan took hold of Meredith’s arm and gently tugged her back. ‘I’m sorry for the delay. It took a while to find everything.’
‘I am very grateful,’ Fionn answered solemnly. ‘Can you do what I requested?’
