Blacker
Chapter Thirteen: Going Home

“There’s a dust or smoke cloud,” Hunter said, “coming from where the bridge fell. It’s further than I thought. It’s south of Perth. Perhaps Edinburgh itself or further south.”

“Where are we now?”

“There’s a roundabout about a mile ahead. We’re about to turn right to head towards Stirling. The roads are clear. It’s not smoke. It’s dust. It’s hard to tell how far away it is. It’s an enormous cloud, John.”

“You made good time. I think I know where we are. There used to be a big Mercedes dealer here.”

“We’re passing it now. The cars still look shiny.”

MacGregor nodded his response. The windscreen wipers were no longer moving. He decided that the rain must have stopped. The Mini slowed down. MacGregor guessed that they’d reached the roundabout. Hunter negotiated it without any drama.

MacGregor felt his heart rate returning to normal. He relaxed back into the seat. He didn’t want to think about the bridge or what it meant. Instead, he focused his thoughts on the things Hunter had told him about herself. “I’m sorry about your partner, Hamish.”

“I am, too,” she said. “I’m sorry about all of this.”

“Maybe things will be different the further south we go. For all we know, this didn’t reach as far as Glasgow.”

Hunter didn’t answer. He knew that it couldn’t be possible. He considered his next words for a moment, then spoke.

“We’ll head towards your flat first. Check that out. See if there’s anything we can do.”

The car was picking up speed. MacGregor was trying to think of something else to say. But then Hunter broke the silence for him.

“We’d planned to get married,” Hunter said. “I was going to be Mrs. Hamish Fairgrieve.”

“Eilidh Fairgrieve sounds nice.”

“It isn’t too offensive, John, no. I liked the sound of it too. I did love Hamish.”

He didn’t know what to do next. He lit a cigarette and offered it to Hunter. She accepted and he lit another for himself.

“He didn’t want to blame me for what happened, but he couldn’t help himself,” she said. “We tried couple’s therapy. I knew it wouldn’t work. We drifted apart. We didn’t even realize it until we were living two separate lives. With our work schedule, the couples therapy added about six months onto the sad realization that we were finished. By then, I didn’t think I could ever love anyone, ever. I was getting nearer and nearer to the big five-o. Fifty years old, childless and falling out of love. What an absolute shambles. Wouldn’t you agree, John?”

“How about 36 years old, blind, and living in a bedsit with drug addicts?”

“Hmnn.” Hunter was applying the car’s brakes. He felt the Mini veer to the right. She shifted gear to fourth, then third. “It isn’t a competition, John.”

“Okay.”

“I still love Hamish. I know that’s a contradiction. I still love him. I’m just not in love with him anymore. I couldn’t bear to think of my life without Hamish in it. But the spark of what we had has been gone for a long time. Just a minute, now. There’s an obstruction here.”

He thought about her words. Did she think that Hamish was still alive and waiting for her in Glasgow? The car was picking up speed once more. Hunter had avoided an obstacle of some kind, MacGregor guessed. He tossed his cigarette out of the window. They drove onwards, heading towards Stirling, and then they’d both be going home.

“They’ll still be waiting for us,” Hunter said eventually. “One way or another, Hamish will still be waiting.”