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Down London Road (On Dublin Street #2)(43)

By:Samantha Young


' …  don't bother asking him what the hell that means, because he won't tell you.'

'Jo?'

I looked up from the tattoo to his rugged face. 'What does the ink mean? "Be Caledonia"?'

The left side of his mouth tilted up as his eyes glittered at me. 'Well played.'

I was already braced for disappointment. There was no way Cam cared enough about me to divulge the secret behind his tattoo. My question would prove that his interest was mere curiosity and then I could go back to hating that he knew more about my life than he should.

So when he relaxed back into his armchair, his eyes never leaving mine, I was more than taken aback when he replied, 'It's something my dad said to me.'

'Your dad?' I asked a little breathlessly, still astonished that he'd offered up an answer. What did that mean?

Cam nodded, taking on a faraway look that told me he was back somewhere in his memories. 'I grew up in Longniddry with a doting mum and a caring dad. I've never met two people who loved each other more, or who loved their kid more than they loved me. Not to mention that my dad's brother, my uncle I once told you about, was like a second father to me. He was always there for me. We were a close-knit group. When I hit my teens, though, I went through what everybody goes through. You're trying to find out who you are and you're struggling to stay true to that person when the people around you seem so different from you. You're asking yourself, is it me? Puberty makes you a really moody fucker, but for me it was only exacerbated when my parents sat me down when I was sixteen and told me I was adopted.' 

That I had not been expecting. My mouth dropped open, 'Cam  … ' I muttered sympathetically, drawing his sharp gaze.

He gave me a small shake of his head, as if to say, 'I'm fine now.'

'It messed me up then. Suddenly, there were two people in the world who had abandoned me, who for whatever reason, didn't love me enough to want to keep me. And who were they? What were they like? If Mum and Dad weren't my real parents, then who the fuck was I? The way I laughed had nothing to do with Dad like I thought it did  …  Their dreams, their talents  …  the possibility of all their kindness, intelligence and passions passing on to me was gone. Who was I?' He gave me a sad smirk. 'You don't realize how important it is to feel like you belong somewhere, that you're part of a family legacy, until you don't have it. It's a huge part of your identity growing up. It's just a huge part of your identity full stop, and I guess I was in quite a bit of pain for a while after I found out the truth.

'I acted like a dick  –  skipped school, got high, almost destroyed my chances of graduating with the qualifications I needed to get into the College of Art at Edinburgh Uni to do graphic design. I insulted my mum, ignored my dad. I constantly thought about finding my birth parents. I couldn't think of anything else, and in the interim I seemed intent on destroying everything I had been, in the hopes of finding who I reckoned I was supposed to be.

'A few months later I took my dad's car for a joyride. Luckily, the police didn't catch me, but a wall did. I totalled the car and my dad had to come out and get me. I was drunk. Shaken up. And once my dad finished verbally annihilating me for putting my life and everyone else on the road's life in danger, he took me for a walk on the beach. And what he said to me that day changed my life.'

'Be Caledonia,' I replied softly.

'Be Caledonia.' Cam grinned, love in his eyes for the man who was his dad. 'He said that Caledonia wasn't a name we'd given to our land, to Scotland, but the name the Romans had. I was used to him spouting off random stuff about history, so I thought I was in for some boring lecture. But what he said that day changed everything for me  –  he put it all in perspective.

'You know, the world will always try to make you into who it wants you to be. People, time, events, they'll all try to carve away at you and make you think you don't know who you are. But it doesn't matter who they try to make you, or what name they try to give you. If you stay true, you can chip off all their machinations and you're still you underneath it all. Be Caledonia. It might be the name someone else gave the land, but it didn't change the land. Better yet, we embraced the name, keeping it but never changing for it. Be Caledonia. I had it inked on my arm when I was eighteen to remind me every day of what he said.' He smiled ruefully. 'If I'd known how many people were going to ask me what it meant, I wouldn't have put it somewhere so bloody visible.'

My eyes had welled up again as I watched Cam's face relaxed with humour. My chest ached with a fullness I'd only ever rarely felt, and I realized that it was gladness. I was glad for him. I was glad he had that kind of love in his life. 'He sounds like a great dad.' I knew if I'd had that kind of love in my life I would have turned out so differently.