Seacliff

Chapter ninety: Only human

1950

Aidan emptied the decanter into his tumbler and watched the last drops of Scotch drip into his half-full glass. His body froze. The decanter remained suspended in the air, until it slipped from his slackened grasp. It shattered into scattered shards on the hardwood floor. His suppressed tears broke free all of a sudden, streaming down his cheeks.

"Mo mhac..." Sorley came up behind his son and hugged him as he cried. The boy – now a thirty-year-old grown man – relinquished all self-restraint and sobbed in his father's arms.

Aidan had thought that a decade of war and espionage would have hardened him to grief. That he would have been better prepared to handle it now, after witnessing so much death. Yet, as he stood in the Edinburgh townhouse he once shared with Jemmy and his dad, as he now stood there without them, his heart broken into pieces just like the decanter on the floor, the grief overwhelmed him.

It hadn't helped that he couldn't even attend his father's funeral properly. He'd had to sneak into Greyfriars Kirkyard, carried by the crowd, watching from a distance. He couldn't comfort his mother and sister as they wept, nor could he seek their comfort in return.

The thud of the front door opening made Aidan straighten up and wipe at his face. The sharp chunks of crystal strewn on the carpet registered for the first time.

"Bloody hell," he grumbled, crouching to pick them up.

His mother waltzed in just then, in full mourning dress. She snatched the veiled hat off her head and threw it on the sofa.

"What happened there?" she asked the men.

"I, uh..." Aidan looked up from his task. "It... broke. Sorry."

Her stern expression softened into unbridled sympathy. The folds and creases on his mother's countenance suddenly drove home for Aidan how frail life could be. He'd been living in a selkie bubble at the colony, watching time pass them by year after year. Children grew up, but adults didn't grow old. Coming home for his dad's final days jolted him back into a painful reality he'd unwittingly attempted to escape from.

Renewed tears pooled in his eyes. Saoirse held out her arms for him and he stood up to embrace her. Aoife joined in, while Sorley and Natsume looked on.

"Tea, anyone?" his mum suggested. "Aoife, love, be a darling and put the kettle on, will you? I'll grab a broom to sweep up the poor remains of your dad's favourite decanter. It's only right that it should go with him."

*

"He was very happy to see you, bocchan," Uncle Natsume said. "Really, I think... I think he was only holding on until you arrived home. Once he saw you were here, and you were well, he could finally let go."

Natsume patted his adopted nephew's hand, his still-long hair mostly silver now. Aidan was beginning to feel more and more out of place.

"Are you well?" Natsume asked, catching him off guard.

"Ah, yes..." Aidan blinked. "As well as can be expected, I suppose."

Saoirse and Aoife joined the men in the drawing room, with a tray each of sandwiches and scones. Despite their all-black attires, they seemed in much better spirits than Aidan.

"How is Pauline?" his mother asked right off the bat. "Why didn't you bring her?"

Aidan hadn't left his father's bedside in the three days he'd been home. This was the first chance Saoirse got to ask her 'mum questions,' as Aoife had jokingly referred to them once.

"It was too short notice for her to just drop everything and come with me." He took a sip from his tea. He'd missed it more than he knew. "I'll... try to call her this afternoon."

Mischief glinted behind the sadness in Saoirse's eyes. "When are you going to make an honest woman out of her?"

A faint smile took Aidan by surprise. "That's not how it works, Ma. We..." He sighed. "It's complicated. But I promise, if anything happens, you'll be the first to know."

Saoirse winked and picked up a scone, which she sliced in half and slathered with clotted cream.

"Oh, speaking of which," she began, "Aoife, you won't believe the letter I had the other day."

"What letter, Ma?"

Saoirse scooped a teaspoon of strawberry jam on top of the cream and bit into her snack. "Remember Airman Robinson, from Kingston? The handsome chap we put up here at the house with his mates from the RAF. He spent a weekend with us at the Lodge, remember?"

Aoife pretended not to know, but she was blushing. "What about him?"

"Well, seems he's been in London for a couple of years now and is asking if we could perhaps help him get lodgings and employment in Edinburgh. I was thinking we could let him have one of the rooms here. What do you think?"

The girl shrugged, too focused on her sandwich.

"Sounds like a good idea," Aidan put in. "I'm very attached to this house, but I'm sure you could use the income."

Saoirse nodded. "Yes, it wouldn't hurt."

"But then," Aidan added, "if Aoife moves here for college..."

His sister's blush deepened.

His mother smirked into her teacup. "Then they'll get to know each other even better."

Aoife now looked liable to self-combust, Natsume hid behind a biscuit, and Sorley couldn't even mask his confusion.