Miss Richards drove to City airport and reassured me she would personally drop me off at my uncle’s house and told me I didn’t have to worry about a thing. I didn’t talk much during the journey. I had stopped crying, but my head ached and my throat hurt. I knew Miss Richards was being kind, but I didn’t have the energy to respond.
The flight to Inverness took an hour, and when we landed at Inverness airport, Miss Richards hired a car to take us the rest of the way.
“Have you been to Scotland before, Lucy?” Miss Richards asked once we were in the hired car.
I kept my eyes fixed on the raindrops on the passenger window. “No.”
“Well, it is a very beautiful country. I’m sure you’ll like it very much.”
I doubted that. Miss Richards made a few more attempts at conversation, but I gave one word answers or didn’t answer at all, so finally she got the message.
I rested my head against the cool glass of the passenger window and closed my eyes, pretending to sleep. I worried about the funeral. Should I be organizing it? Perhaps Uncle Freddie could help, but it would have to be in England, and all my parent’s friends would have to be invited. I felt the panic bubble up in my chest. I didn’t want to let my parents down.
I tried to calm down. There was nothing I could do about it right now. I would have to talk to Uncle Freddie about it. I tried to push it out of my mind.
I shot a sideways glance at Miss Richards, who was leaning forward, squinting at the windscreen as the rain got heavier. It was nice of her to put herself out like this. Truthfully, if I had been left on my own, I would have gone home. I didn’t have a house key, but the spare key would be in the window box as it always was. I would have gone there and had time to think.
I shifted in my seat to get more comfortable, and my breath fogged the passenger window. Beyond it, I could see the countryside flashing past in smudges of green and brown. It might have looked nice if the weather hadn’t been so awful, but the rainy, grey sky seemed apt today.
I hadn’t explained anything to Caroline or my other friends. They would be expecting me to return to St. Catherine’s after the summer break, and now I wouldn’t be able to.
“Oh brilliant. Just brilliant.” Miss Richards hit the horn in the centre of the steering wheel.
I turned to her, surprised, and then noticed the cause of Miss Richards’ frustration. Up ahead a tractor trundled along, preventing us from travelling faster than five miles an hour.
“No consideration,” Miss Richards said, then reached across the dashboard for a boiled sweet. “Sherbet lemon?”
I shook my head. “I was thinking... With these financial difficulties, does it mean there is no money for my tuition fees at St. Catherine’s next term?”
Miss Richards paused, then said, “I wouldn’t worry about that yet.”
I nodded. She was right. There were so many other more important things to think about. My head was all over the place, settling on problems that weren’t really a priority right now. I needed to think about the funeral and informing my parent’s friends. I sank down further in the car seat and tried to rub away the ache in my temples.
Finally, the tractor pulled off into an entrance to a farmyard, which cheered Miss Richards up. She smiled and put her foot down. “At this rate, we should be there before six.”
A blast of wind rocked the small car and drove fierce rain against the windows. Miss Richards reduced her speed again, and with her hands gripping the steering wheel, she hunched over, squinting out at the road. The wipers were no match for this amount of rain. It was awful weather for July.
I glanced at the speedometer. We were travelling at less than twenty miles per hour now. Not that I minded. I was in no hurry to get there. What did you say to an uncle you hadn’t seen for ten years?
I turned my head to look out of the window. Nothing but fields and the odd sheep. I sighed and watched my breath form a small, foggy circle. Miss Richards huffed at me and fiddled with an instrument on the dashboard, which sent out a warm blast of air. I watched the circular cloud get smaller and smaller until it disappeared.
Five minutes later, we passed a road sign for Eversleigh. Miss Richards said, “This is it, Lucy. Not far to go now.”
I didn’t share her enthusiasm. I wished it was further. I was worried about seeing Freddie again. We weren’t exactly close. How could we be when he hadn’t seen me or my parents in ten years? I would have given anything to go home and see my parents one more time, to hear Dad shouting at the nine o’clock news and see Mum tease him about it. I bit down on my lip. At least I had Uncle Freddie to go to. If he hadn’t invited me, where would I have gone? And he would be able to help organise the funeral. I wouldn’t know where to start.
Miss Richards changed down a gear and slowed the car down to twenty miles an hour as we entered the village of Eversleigh. It was tiny. A row of small terraced houses lined the road. There were a few larger detached houses set back from the road. One building stood out as it looked older than the rest. A red sign, with ‘The Anchor’ written in gold letters, identified it as a pub, and as we passed, a couple of old men came out of the front door.
We followed the road to the left and passed a sign for Eversleigh harbour. Seagulls wheeled in the sky, and I caught the tangy smell of seaweed. We drove past a fish and chip shop as a couple came out with wrapped up parcels.
At the end of the row, we turned right, and the houses disappeared. All I could see was endless fields of grass, dotted with a few sheep. Miss Richards shifted down a gear, and the car began to climb a steep and winding hill. As we neared the top, the wind and rain buffeted the side of the car, and I shivered as a cottage came into view.
The muddy, single-track road was the only way to reach the cottage. Miss Richards slowed the car to a crawl, and we inched our way towards it, bouncing in and out of potholes. Despite our slow speed, the tyres splattered mud up the sides of the car. Some even reached the windscreen where it was smeared across the glass by the wipers.
The cottage itself was a squat building that looked as if it were sinking into the earth. The walls were painted white, and the roof was plain, grey slate that matched the colour of the sky today. It didn’t have roses growing around the front door, like some of the houses in the village. In fact, there were no flowers in the garden at all, only grass, like the fields all around it. Everything looked very green, probably because it rained constantly here.
Miss Richards pulled up by the garden gate, and I looked at the muddy path and then down at my pristine, white tennis shoes. After a moment’s pause, I wrapped my raincoat around me, pulled up the hood and opened the door.
I got out and was shocked by the ferocity of the wind. The rain beat down on us as we walked around to the boot of the car, trying to avoid the worst of the muddy puddles.
Freddie must have been waiting for us, watching out of a window. He opened the door. He didn’t quite fit the image in my memory. Not that I remembered much about him, except his bright blonde hair and that had faded. He wore a patterned jumper, which looked as if it had been knitted by someone’s granny. It was a little too small and stretched tight over his wide shoulders.
I pulled my suitcase out of the boot, slammed it shut and walked towards the cottage, following Miss Richards.
Freddie called out to us, and my head shot up. I dropped the case into the mud. His voice, warm and gruff at the same time, was so like my father’s. All at once, tears pricked at my eyes. I bent down to retrieve the case, blinking my tears away.
“Here, let me take that,” Freddie said and lifted the case easily.
He put his other arm around my shoulders and squeezed. “I’m glad to see you again, Lucy,” he said. “I was so sorry to hear about your mum and dad.”
“Thank you. It is very kind of you to let me come and visit.”
A frown passed over Freddie’s face, and he looked over my head at Miss Richards, who shrugged.
“You can stay as long as you like,”
Freddie said.
Freddie led the way, ushered us inside and closed the front door behind us. The cottage must have been modernised recently. I expected to see small, poky rooms, but most of the downstairs was open plan. I looked around in surprise. The walls were all painted white so despite the grey skies outside, it looked bright in here. The tidiness was immediately apparent. There were no knick-knacks or ornaments on show at all, and all the surfaces gleamed.
The cottage appeared far larger from the inside, probably because it was so sparsely furnished. There were two old-fashioned armchairs and a small two-seater sofa arranged around the fireplace. There was no TV.
We heard the dog before we saw it. It whined pitifully.
“Sorry about that,” Freddie said. “It’s Bert. I put him in my bedroom because I wasn’t sure you were keen on dogs, and I thought Bert jumping up and slobbering all over you would be the last thing you’d want.”
“It’s fine. I like dogs.”
Freddie brought Bert, a black Labrador, into the living room to meet us. Despite Freddie’s warnings, the dog behaved impeccably, allowing Miss Richards and me to pet him and make a fuss over him before he settled down on the floor next to my feet.
Freddie moved over to the kitchen area, which was pretty small, consisting of two worktops with the oven, fridge and washing machine fitted underneath. I couldn’t see a microwave or dishwasher.
Freddie opened the cupboard in front of him and pulled out three mugs. “Tea? Coffee?”
Both Miss Richards and I said we’d like tea, and Miss Richards asked if she could use Freddie’s bathroom.
After telling Miss Richards where to find the bathroom, Freddie lined up the mugs on the counter, and turned them so all the handles faced the same way. Then he turned to look at me and leaned back against the kitchen counter.
I smiled at him and tried to think of something to say. “I’m sorry about this. I guess the last thing you want is a teenager hanging around.”
Freddie’s bushy eyebrows shot up, and he tilted his head as if he were trying to read me, but I stood up and moved toward the window.
“Look,” Freddie said. “I know this isn’t easy for you, but I’m glad to have you here. I wish I’d made more of an effort to keep in touch.”
I folded my arms and peered out of the window. “Not much around. No shops?”
“It’s about a thirty-minute walk to the village.”
The kettle clicked off as it came to the boil, and Freddie busied himself, making the tea. Unobserved, I took another look around the room. I thought the house could do with a woman’s touch. I couldn’t see so much as a rug or cushion to brighten the place up, but it wasn’t a typical bachelor’s pad either. It was too clean and tidy for that.
I pulled off my raincoat and laid it on one of the armchairs. While I looked out of the rain-splattered window, Freddie walked over from the kitchen, picked up my coat and hung it up on a hook by the front door, muttering something about “keeping things shipshape.”
I flushed and looked down at my wet footprints on the floor.
When Miss Richards came back into the room, Freddie and I were sitting down sipping our hot cups of tea. Miss Richards sat on the sofa next to me. “I see you two are getting on already.”
I nodded and took another sip of tea.
“Now, you had some questions earlier, Lucy. If your uncle doesn’t mind, I think it is a good idea if we try to answer them now.”
Freddie looked up from his tea. “I don’t mind.”
“Lucy?” Miss Richards prompted.
“I wanted to go back home...” I began, and then my voice wobbled.
Freddie reached across and patted me on the shoulder. “Ah, I see. It is perfectly understandable. Trouble is, the house has been repossessed by the bank. Apparently, the mortgage was in arrears.”
“Will it be sold?”
“Aye. It will. They’ll sell the house, but it was heavily mortgaged, and I don’t think there will be much left once the bills have been paid.”
“So I don’t have any money? What about all my stuff I left at home?”
“It will be put in storage. Your belongings and your parents’. We can have it sent up here when you’re ready.”
I nodded. My life had changed so much in the last twelve hours. I had thought to ask Uncle Freddie if he would pay my school fees for my last year at St. Catherine’s if I promised to pay him back after I’d been to university. But I could see now there was no point, he wouldn’t have that kind of money to spare. I wouldn’t be going back to school.
It was getting dark when Miss Richards left in her mud-covered car. I watched from the window and saw Miss Richards wave as she drove off down the hill. I raised my hand to wave. I felt like running after her, but I just watched the car’s brake-lights get smaller and smaller until they disappeared.
Freddie collected the mugs and carried them to the kitchen. “Fancy another cup?”
I shook my head. I sat on the edge of the sofa as Freddie washed the mugs, wondering whether I should bring up the matter of the funeral.
“Why don’t I show you your room? Then you can get settled,” Freddie said as he dried his hands on a tea towel. He flung the towel over his shoulder. “It’s just through here.”
The room was small and spotless. The walls were painted white, like the rest of the cottage, and the furniture consisted of a bed, a small pine wardrobe, a chest of drawers and an old rocking chair.
Freddie pointed to the chair. “I got this cleaned up, thought you might like it. I wanted to make it comfy for you, but...” Freddie shrugged. “I’m not really sure what it is girls like to have in their bedrooms these days.”
“No, it’s great.” I turned a slow circle. “Really. I appreciate you doing all this.”
“Well, I thought maybe we could get some pictures or something. You know, to brighten it up a bit, make you feel more at home?”
“Yeah. That would be nice,” I said.
“Are you hungry? I’ve made some stew for dinner. There’s enough for two.”
“Actually, Freddie, I really... I really want to have an early night, if that’s okay?”
“Oh, of course it is, sure. Is there anything else you need? I put towels in the bottom drawer of the chest, and the bathroom is the room next to yours.”
“Thanks.”
Freddie hovered by the door. “Well, if there’s nothing else you need, I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Um, Freddie, there is something I should probably tell you.” I looked up and saw Freddie waiting for me to explain. I took a deep breath.
“I sleepwalk sometimes. I mean hardly ever, but usually it is when I’m stressed, or worried about something, so I thought I should tell you in case...”
“In case I find you wandering around in the middle of the night?”
“Yes,” I said and gave a half-hearted smile.
Freddie looked out of the bedroom window, toward the cliffs and the black, churning sea. “Have you ever gone outside when you’ve been sleepwalking?”
“Not that I remember.”
“I’ll put the top bolt across the front door just in case.”
After Freddie left me, I put my pyjamas on and slipped under the covers without bothering to wash my face or clean my teeth, and alone at last, I cried into my pillow.
***
Freddie, sitting at the table with a bowl of beef stew and a thick slice of bread in front of him, heard Lucy’s muffled sobs. He didn’t know if he should go and comfort her, or let her cry. She made it clear she wanted to be alone, but the sound of her sobbing was heart-breaking.
He had no appetite for the stew now. He took one last bite and took the bowl to the kitchen. He switched the radio on while he washed up the dishes. He couldn’t hear her crying anymore, but that didn’t make him feel any better. He sighed, and for the millionth time in the last couple of days, he wished he’d been better at keeping in touch with his brother.
They hadn’t h
ad any big falling out, no argument. They just had nothing in common, no common thread to hold them together after their mother passed away ten years ago. If only he’d made more of an effort, gotten to know his brother again, he would have seen Lucy growing up and been a part of her life. Or at least she wouldn’t have seen him as a complete stranger.
Freddie left the dishes drying on the rack and reached in the cupboard for the dog food. “Hey, dinner time, Bert,” Freddie said, emptying the can into Bert’s red bowl.
As the dog nuzzled his leg, Freddie scratched the dog’s ears. “It’s not just me and you anymore, Bert. Now we’ve got to look out for her, too.”
Chapter 3
The following morning, I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror and cringed. I looked awful. I splashed cold water on my red, sore eyes, but it didn’t help much. I could hear Freddie moving about in the kitchen and guessed he had been up for a while.
I rested my head against the wall for a moment, trying to collect myself before I saw him. We needed to talk about the funeral today.
When I entered the room, he didn’t notice me at first. He was too busy stirring a pot, containing something that looked suspiciously like porridge.
“Morning.”
“Good morning. Did you sleep all right?” he asked.
“Fine, thanks,” I said and stuffed my hands in the pockets of my jeans.
“I was about to have breakfast,” he said. “Pull up a chair.” He nodded at the small table, where he had laid out two bowls and two spoons.
I took a seat and thanked him as he ladled out a hefty portion of the grey porridge into the bowl in front of me.
Freddie sat opposite me and started to eat the porridge with relish. It took him a minute until he realised I was not as keen as he was.
“You’re not a fan of porridge?”
I moved the grey, lumpy liquid around the bowl with my spoon. “Not really.”
I didn’t like porridge, but with sugar added, I could have forced it down, but this was worse than I’d expected: it was salty.
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