Kitabı oku: «The Little Gift Shop on the Loch», sayfa 2
Chapter 2
Lily was lying in bed on Thursday morning. She wasn’t sure of the time but there seemed to be little point in getting up. Everything had become a huge effort, a strange inertia settling over her.
Earlier she’d listened to the flurry of noise and activity, doors opening and closing, as her neighbours left for work. Like her, they were mostly young professionals but unlike her, they all had somewhere to go. Now everything had fallen eerily silent.
Lily shifted her position, trying to escape the trail of crumbs lodged uncomfortably against her skin. Eating crisps in bed last night in a vain attempt to soak up some of the alcohol probably hadn’t been her best idea.
The weekend had passed in a daze of disbelief and self-recrimination, punctuated by copious amounts of comfort food, caffeine and alcohol. Her anger and disappointment at losing her job, and her feelings for James, were twisted into one angry knot of resentment. Her career and dream of a relationship had been wiped away in one cruel blow.
She could feel flames of mortification simmering within her as she tried to work out how she’d misread the situation so badly. All those times he’d looked at her, holding her gaze a fraction longer than necessary, the compliments and conversations that had peppered their working relationship. How sad that she’d somehow manoeuvred her life into a position where she’d been so desperate for his attention, reading something into it when all he’d been doing was being friendly.
Leaving the office on Friday already felt like a lifetime ago, although seeing six years of work reduced to the contents of a cardboard box wasn’t something she’d forget in a hurry. Spare tights, a couple of mugs, aspirin and a few photos weren’t much. She’d taken a final look around, swiping a box of gold paperclips and several pens in a final pathetic act of defiance. Technically stealing but given all the holiday she was due, she felt it was the least she was owed.
On Monday morning, she woke early out of force of habit. An initial euphoria at her newfound freedom gave her a burst of energy. Take a few days and be kind to yourself after redundancy had been the online advice. Who was she to argue?
So over the next few days, she’d done exactly that. She did all those things she’d always wanted to but never had time. She had the most expensive, luxurious facial Edinburgh could offer which had soothed her tear-induced blotchy skin, but had done little for her damaged self-esteem. She sat in the warm nook of a little café with a gigantic mug of coffee and read an entire novel. She stayed in her pyjamas all day watching films, only heaving herself off the sofa to take delivery of pizza. She joined the swarm of tourists for a tour of the castle, immersing herself in the glories and gore of the Scottish monarchs.
She came home from the supermarket laden down with every conceivable cleaning product she could lay her hands on, and scrubbed her flat from top to bottom. And she discovered that even if she did have all the time in the world, she still wouldn’t use her gym membership.
It all felt unreal. She was playing truant and any moment someone from work would call, demanding she return to the office. Time and time again she checked her phone for messages or emails, anything to show she was missed, that she was still needed. She tried to put a positive spin on it, to see it as an opportunity. But the only opportunity she could see was going slowly insane.
The flat had always been her refuge at the end of the day. Now, in the silence of the day it felt claustrophobic, the walls closing in on her. She paced about, looking for something to do.
Apart from the dubious decor and temperamental heating, it was a nice enough flat. Lily hadn’t intended to be there much longer, her interest already registered in an exciting new development of high-quality contemporary apartments, ideal for professionals like her. She’d enjoying visualising her new flat; a place of white walls, clean lines and understated elegance – ideally resembling a Swedish furniture catalogue. But she knew losing her job meant that wasn’t going to happen now.
What she was supposed to do – the next piece of advice – was remind herself of her capabilities and make a plan to get back out there. At the moment, getting out of bed was a task too much. The weather was annoyingly warm and sunny, which didn’t suit her mood at all. At least if it was cold and raining – entirely possible in Scotland in June – she’d feel more justified in burying herself under the duvet.
She’d got as far as updating her CV, noting with grim satisfaction that she looked impressive on paper, even if in reality she was a snivelling wreck. How things had changed in a week.
She’d told herself not to wallow. But then rationality would fail her and she would slump again, despondency taking over. She was redundant. The word seemed to hang in the very air around her so that there was no escaping it. She had been disposed of. Surplus to requirements. One day she had somewhere to be, belonged somewhere, people waiting for her input. Then, nothing.
The crumbs had somehow shifted again, biting into her flesh. Worried she might actually lie there forever, Lily was finally provided with the impetus to move by the soft thud of mail landing on the door mat.
Several moments later, she sat on the edge of her bed with an open letter lying in her lap, wondering if strange forces were at work. It wasn’t so much the contents of the letter – she’d received ones like it before – but the timing. She scanned the words again embossed on the thick creamy paper from Bell & Bain Solicitors.
Mr Bell was writing regarding her late mother’s estate, specifically the property in Loch Carroch. Taking into account that the property had been lying empty for several months, and mindful of current market conditions with a view to achieving the best price should she wish to sell, Mr Bell was politely enquiring if Lily had reached any decisions or would like to arrange a meeting to discuss the matter.
Lily sighed, casting the letter aside. No, she wouldn’t actually. It had nothing to do with the current market or achieving best possible price and everything to do with finally facing the things she’d become an expert at avoiding.
She remembered the first time she’d met Mr Bell, the day still painfully scored into her memory. She’d sat on one side of his massive dark wooden desk covered in mounds of paperwork, shocked to her core after the death of her mother. It had felt utterly unreal to be talking about her in the past tense. In life, her mother’s casual attitude to financial matters made discussing them now even more unreal..
But it seemed for once, Patricia Ballantine (or Patty as she’d preferred to be called) had thought ahead and done the grown-up thing. Mr Bell explained that after the recent death of her own mother, Patty had put her affairs in order and made a will.
‘Makes things so much easier,’ he’d said kindly. Lily had sat in stunned silence, staring at a small tuft of grey hair on top of his bent head as he patiently and meticulously made his way through various documents.
‘And of course, there was the shop with the flat above it that she’d recently purchased in Loch Carroch.’ He’d regarded her over the rim of his owl-like glasses. ‘Perhaps you’ll want to sell, do you think?’
Lily had looked down, fiddling with her bracelet. She knew she’d have to go one day to face the small shop that her mother had bought in the north of Scotland. But selling it would be to acknowledge that her mother really was gone, and Lily simply wasn’t ready to do that. As long as it was there, she still had something of her mother’s but she wasn’t sure she could explain that to Mr Bell. ‘Not yet,’ she had stated simply.
Time was meant to be a healer but Lily knew it wasn’t. You simply found ways of dealing with it. You learnt to swallow the tears, forced yourself to think of something else. And in Lily’s case that had meant focusing on her job. Work had always been important to her, it was her routine and her security. After Patty had died and all the changes had started in Bremners and James had arrived, it became even more so.
Lily sighed, opened the drawer of her bedside table, and pulled out a photograph, holding it in between her fingers. Beautiful and carefree, her mother’s laughing brown eyes smiled out at her. She used to look at the photo all the time, talk to it sometimes. She’d bought a silver frame for it but then it had all become too painful. The frame lay empty and Lily rarely looked at the photo now; it been hidden in the drawer, rarely brought out or scrutinised – much like her feelings.
She exhaled deeply and tucked the photo away, feeling the familiar stab of guilt knowing she should have gone by now. Instead she’d left it all to Iris.
Iris lived in Carroch and had been part of their lives ever since Lily and her mother first visited there when Lily was a baby. It had been Iris who had helped arranged Patty’s funeral in the same church in Dunbar where her own parents’ – Lily’s grandparents’ – funerals had been held. Other than that, Patty’s only stipulation had been that her ashes be scattered on Loch Carroch. Iris had taken the ashes back to Carroch with her and reassured Lily she’d keep an eye on the flat and shop in the meantime. ‘Come when you’re ready,’ she had said.
Lily had fully intended to go up and deal with everything. But then tomorrow had become next week and now months had gone by. She had almost convinced herself she was waiting for the right moment, but deep down Lily knew there would never be one.
She’d gone straight back to work the day after the funeral. There had been no extended compassionate leave. No time to dwell. There had been only one occasion during a particularly long meeting when she’d had to rush to the ladies’, taking a moment to compose herself at the sudden threat of tears. Other than that, it had been business as usual, channelling everything into her job so that if she thought of her mother, she buried it away and focused instead on the figures in front of her, masking her pain behind balance sheets and numbers.
Now, without her so-called glittering career, there was nothing for Lily to hide behind. She knew that was why the redundancy had been so devastating. It wasn’t simply about losing her job; it had brought about this moment, the one she’d been afraid of. Now she had no excuses not to make the journey and sort through the life her mother had left behind. And although Lily knew she’d never be fully ready, she also knew she couldn’t put it off any longer.
Chapter 3
Lily woke with a start. The warmth of the carriage and the hypnotic motion of the train must have lulled her to sleep. Edinburgh had been grey and drizzly when she’d left and now as if by magic, she’d been transported to another world. She blinked a few times as her eyes focused on the wild beauty of the Scottish Highlands outside the window.
Earlier she had taken a final look around her flat, reassuring herself she’d be back soon. Mrs Robertson on the ground floor had kindly agreed to take a set of keys and keep an eye on it. After that, there was really nothing left to do and so with a heavy heart, Lily had wheeled her case along the capital’s cobbled streets towards Waverley station.
She rubbed a hand over her face now and stretched out her cramped muscles just as a crackly voice announced Inverness was the next stop. She remembered all the times she’d made the train journey with her mum, how it had always felt interminably long to Lily who wished for once they could go somewhere that wasn’t a damp caravan in the north of Scotland.
Life with Patty Ballantine was never predictable but one thing that never changed was their annual holiday to Carroch. Lily would listen to girls at school returning from their Mediterranean holidays with tans and tales of boys on the beach. The only thing that Lily came home with was pale skin covered in midge bites. Lily’s over-riding memory was of there not much being much to do and she could never really understand why her mother was always drawn back to the same place year after year. But Patty claimed it to be her spiritual home and had continued to visit long after Lily stopped coming, so perhaps there’d been an inevitability about her mother eventually going to live there.
It would be good to see Iris again, Lily told herself, rolling up her unread magazine and stuffing it back into her bag. And it would probably only take a matter of days to sort through everything and get it ready for selling. But despite her attempts at self-bolstering, Lily knew her memories of her mother were so entwined with Carroch, there was going to be nothing easy about facing it without her.
Lily stood up when the train slowed down and came to a halt, pulling her bag from the overhead space as other people in the carriage also started to move, hauling rucksacks and collecting bags. The doors of the train slid open and Lily stepped onto the platform watching as the train rumbled away. She took a deep breath of the fresh tangy air, suddenly engulfed by a sense of isolation.
She stood still for a moment before giving herself a shake and picking up her bag. She fell into step behind the other passengers making their way to the taxi rank. The thirty odd miles from the station to Carroch made the choice of a taxi an extravagant one but for once she ignored her instinctive frugality and took her place in the small line of people waiting. Besides, she highly doubted there’d be any buses this late in the day.
The taxi driver was cheery enough but thankfully not chatty, only interrupting the silence to comment on the few days of warm weather they were currently enjoying. Lily gazed out at the passing scenery until glimpses of the loch appeared through the trees and she knew they were almost there. She’d forgotten just how beautiful the loch could look, especially now at twilight when the dark shimmering water converged with a soft violet sky on the horizon. But even in the face of such beauty, Lily felt dread clutching at her stomach at what she was about to face.
They continued on the road which swept around the west side of the loch until finally they reached Carroch’s small main street. A small, picturesque village, it sat in a sheltered bay and was surrounded by towering mountains and hills. Lily’s heart quickened as she saw the familiar row of shops and neatly painted cottages which decorated the curve of the bay facing the water.
‘Here we are then,’ the driver announced, pulling up outside the shop. Lily nervously bit her lip as she quickly scanned the property that now belonged to her. It was the last in the little row of shops, a two-storey building painted white, with three small windows on the first floor and two latticed windows on either side of the shop door on the ground floor. Lily vaguely remembered the shop being the post office when she’d last been here. It had sold a hodgepodge of sundries and she recalled being allowed to choose an ice-lolly from a chilled cabinet at the back of the shop which was crammed with frozen chips and fish fingers. Now the paintwork was flaking in places and the lettering above the door faded to the point of being indiscernible.
After paying the driver Lily climbed out of the car and walked round to the side entrance. She rummaged in her bag for the keys, her fingers suddenly clammy and clumsy as she fumbled to unlock the door. Inside the hall was dark but she managed to find the switch for the hall light, relieved when it came on even though she knew Mr Bell had arranged to keep paying the utility bills.
Facing her was a door which presumably led to the shop and to her right was a staircase. Deciding to head straight upstairs to the flat, she lugged her case up the narrow rickety stairs where four doors led off from a square, wooden floored hall.
The kitchen was positioned at the back of the house beside a small bathroom while the living room faced the front with views to the loch. She opened each door in turn, quickly scanning the rooms as if she’d find her mother in one of them. But of course, her absence was shatteringly real. Finally, she opened the last door to her mother’s bedroom which Lily quickly closed again; that was simply too daunting to face tonight.
Instead she returned to the kitchen. Dominated by a large wooden table surrounded by mismatched chairs, the pale blue units appeared rustically charming more from their age than design. A recess of shelving was crammed with colourful crockery and an ancient stoneware cooking pot sat on top of the oven. Lily’s mother wasn’t always inclined to cook but when the mood took her, she never bothered with a recipe. Instead she’d simply throw in whatever was to hand, concocting slightly unusual tasting soups or casseroles.
A wicker shopping basket sat on the floor, a bamboo wind chime hung silently at the window. There were touches of her mother everywhere and Lily could picture her here so clearly, almost as if she’d walk through the door any moment. If only she would. Lily sighed silently, closing her eyes briefly.
The living room was quite large but as a result of their frequent moving and Patty’s reluctance to acquire possessions, it didn’t contain much furniture. Lily’s eyes roamed the room, recognising the two brown sofas and the small walnut coffee table. There was a pretty fireplace and a shelved alcove lined with books. Patty always left half-read books lying around as if she’d lost the patience to finish them. Moving over to the mantelpiece, Lily picked up a framed photo of the two of them taken at the loch years ago, their heads close together smiling in the sunshine.
Lily had no memories of her mother in this house and if she’d hoped that might make it easier, then she was mistaken. She swallowed down the lump in her throat with the realisation this was going to be more difficult than she ever could have imagined.
As Lily silently roamed the house, it was clear Iris had been keeping the place polished and clean. Not only that, but Lily was acutely aware that Iris had taken care of the house in the immediate aftermath of Patty’s death, sparing Lily the devastation of seeing her mother’s last movements unfolded and she felt a wave of gratitude and guilt wash over her.
Suddenly she couldn’t stand the silence. She needed to do something, anything to fill the emptiness. She’d make a cup of tea – that’s what people did to make things feel better. But she didn’t want tea. What she really wanted, she realised, was alcohol.
She unzipped her suitcase where, protected deep within the folds of clothes, were a few staples she’d brought for her first night; a jar of coffee, teabags, a packet of biscuits and a bottle of wine. Bringing a glass through from the kitchen, she poured from the bottle, imagining the deep plummy taste of the silky red wine soothing its way into her bloodstream. She raised the glass to her mouth and froze.
Someone was unlocking the front door. With shaky fingers she laid the glass down, her ears straining to hear. Then she remembered – of course, it would be Iris. She hadn’t told her she was coming but perhaps she’d seen her arriving?
Except the footsteps coming up the stairs didn’t sound like that of a lithe 60-something woman. Some logical part of her brain was telling her burglars didn’t have keys but that didn’t stop her heart hammering uncomfortably in her chest. She’d almost stopped breathing when the door opened and the silhouette of a large man filled the doorway.
Definitely not Iris.
There was a moment of stunned silence as they stared at each other until Lily managed to find her voice. ‘Wh-who are you?’ she stuttered.
The man hitched his hands into the front pocket of his jeans, seemingly in no hurry to explain himself. When he did, his voice was deep and drawling. ‘I could ask you the same thing.’
Lily opened her mouth and then closed it again, not seeing why she should explain herself to this intruder. Or maybe he was a squatter – he did look a bit scruffy. But a squatter with keys – was that even possible? One thing was for sure, she should never have left the place as long as she had. Taking a step closer, she drew herself up which admittedly didn’t make much impact on their height difference.
‘Why don’t you go first – who are you?’ she demanded, amazed her voice sounded normal.
‘I’m Jack Armstrong.’ He leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms. ‘And you must be Patty’s daughter?’
‘That’s right.’ Seriously, who was this man?
‘Iris said you’d be here sometime.’
Slightly placated on hearing Iris’s name, Lily still found his presence extremely unnerving. Maybe because in the semi-darkness his features were shadowed so that only the contours of his cheekbones and strong jawline were visible. Other than that, the only thing she could see was how obviously broad and tall he was. And she still had no idea what he was doing here.
‘So um, why are you here?’
‘I’m here to feed Misty.’ His tone implied this was something she should know.
Lily blinked. ‘Misty?’
At which point, a black and white cat miraculously appeared and began purring and rubbing itself against the man’s legs. Lily frowned. This was all starting to feel quite strange. The man lowered onto his haunches, and Lily watched his hand run along the length of the cat’s black fur. ‘Hello girl,’ he murmured gently.
Lily suddenly felt exhausted, feeling incapable of understanding anything right now. ‘Sorry but why is there a cat here?’ she asked.
He straightened up. ‘You didn’t know there was a cat here?’
‘Evidently not.’ Her voice was sharper than she’d intended but the unexpectedness of finding this stranger looking after a cat she knew nothing about had thrown her.
He let out a small sigh. ‘Misty was a stray in the village. I used to feed her now and again but Patty let her come and live here with her. With the place lying empty, we weren’t really sure what to do with her. Thought she might leave of her own accord but she seemed intent on staying and since I live nearby Iris gave me a set of keys. I’ve been keeping an eye on her.’
There was an awkward pause, Lily unsure of what to say next. Although she couldn’t see them in the dark, she felt his eyes on her, assessing her in some way. ‘So,’ he said eventually. ‘Now you’re here, you can take care of Misty?’
Lily wasn’t sure she liked the insinuation that she’d simply breezed in on a whim. She also didn’t really like cats. ‘Um, yes … of course.’
‘You’re sure?’ he checked, not sounding too convinced.
‘Absolutely.’ What on earth was she going to do with it?
‘Okay.’ He gave a shrug. ‘Well, in that case her food is under the sink and the litter tray is probably needs to be emptied.’
‘Litter tray?’
‘You know, for her—’
‘Yes. Of course,’ she snapped.
‘I’ll leave you to it then, I’m sure you have things to do.’ He looked like he might be about to add something, but Lily didn’t give him a chance.
‘I do actually,’ she agreed, making a move towards the door. ‘And er, thank you.’
‘Not a problem.’ He paused for a moment, his voice softening. ‘Patty was a lovely lady. I’m sorry for your loss.’
‘Thank you,’ she replied quietly.
He bent down to give the cat a final stroke and then with a brief nod in Lily’s direction, he was gone.
Lily waited to hear the door close and then grabbed her glass, gulping a mouthful of wine. She gave herself a small shake, feeling well and truly rattled after that little encounter. If Jack Armstrong was a taste of what was to come, then the sooner she sold the shop and returned to Edinburgh the better.
