by Kirsty Ferry
And you know what? He deserves so much better than someone like her anyway. From what I understand, she’s needy, she’s high maintenance and she lies to the press about innocent people.
She’s not a nice person.
And I don’t think she’s an animal lover, either. Schubert is an excellent judge of character and he likes Ewan but he can’t stand Fern. I can see it in his eyes and the way that his fur bristles up when she’s nearby.
Which reminds me – he’s surely ready to get out of his basket now and have a sniff around. He doesn’t really need his lead around here, does he? Anyway, there are bound to be field mice or shrews or the like in those farmer’s fields that he’ll enjoy running after.
I head back to Winnie and leave the grotty bag on the grass outside the door. I climb up into the van and pick up Schubert’s carrier. I take him outside and set the carrier down by the edge of the field.
I open the flap and direct him to the fields. ‘Go on, Schubert. Off you go. Ten minutes run around and then come back, okay?’
He’s normally pretty good and does what he’s told, but today he just looks at me and goes ‘Mow wow,’ which is Schubert for ‘No thanks.’ I tilt the basket and shake it a bit and he slides forward, but I can see him digging his claws in to the blanket in the hope it will pin him in place.
‘Mow wow!’ he says again, which is Schubert for ‘leave me the hell alone or I shall scratch your eyes out.’
‘Okay,’ I say tetchily. ‘I’ll just leave you here, then. You can pop out if you want. We’ll be here for a bit longer.’ I throw a glance at Ewan. ‘Won’t we?’ I ask.
‘Yes we will,’ he says, and he smiles at me. ‘Will he be okay there if we go inside? Or do you want us to sit outside?’
I want us to go inside, lock the doors, pull the chintz curtains too and roll around naked on the twin bunk that converts to a double.
‘He’ll be fine. We can sit out or in, your choice,’ I say, carefully.
Ewan looks up at the sky. There are a few clouds building up over the mountains, but they seem to be hanging there and not doing too much else. There’s a bit of a breeze blowing up and it might get chilly though.
‘Outside for a bit,’ says Ewan. ‘This scenery is too good to miss. Plenty of time to sit inside if that storm heads over. Agreed?’
‘Agreed,’ I say. I have a couple of folding chairs and a folding table for just such an occasion, so we pull them outside and set them up on the verge overlooking Maggie Wall and the distant mountains.
‘I hope nobody else wants to visit the monument today,’ I say. ‘We’ve sort of taken over the grass.’
‘It’ll be fine,’ says Ewan. ‘Now, will you show me how to boil a kettle in this thing and I’ll treat you to a cuppa. It’s the least I can do to thank you for bringing me here.’
‘My pleasure.’ I can feel myself blushing and going girly and just restrain myself from giggling like Scarlett O’Hara at Rhett Butler. ‘This way.’
I show him where everything is and it feels kind of domestic and nice and I like it.
I really don’t want to have to head home this evening. I’ve enjoyed spending time with Ewan.
And he’s not bad on the eyes either, which is a bonus.
EWAN
I get a shedload of work done, sitting on that grassy roadside with the occasional car going past. The storm has held off and it’s turned out to be one of those lovely, crisp autumn days that fill your lungs with the fresh air and make you feel glad to be alive.
Nessa is sitting in the other chair reading her Wicca book. She has her feet up on the table, crossed at the ankles, and every so often she twists one of her curls into a tight little sausage then lets it spring back into shape before she turns the page.
‘May I borrow a pen and some paper?’ she asks at one point.
‘No,’ I say, and laugh when she snaps her head up like an angry meercat. ‘You can’t borrow the paper,’ I clarify. ‘You’ll have to keep that, because it’s no good to me once you’ve written on it. But yes, you can borrow a pen. I always travel well-equipped.’
‘Oh!’ she says, then sticks her tongue out at me. ‘Never tangle with an author.’ She drawls it out so it sounds like “awwww-thuuuurrrrr”. She reaches over, takes the pen and paper and for the briefest moment our fingertips connect. I don’t know if she feels the little fizz of electricity that shoots up my arm, or whether it’s just me – but there is the tiniest pause. Then: ‘Thank you, Ewan,’ she says and ducks her head down to jot something on to the paper.
The zing throws me off balance a little. I stare at my notebook and the pages I’ve filled in the last couple of hours. The story is heading in a great direction, but I seriously don’t know what’s going to happen in it myself.
A bit like life, I suppose.
‘Nessa,’ I say, curiously.
‘Hmmm?’ she replies, her attention still on her Wicca book.
‘Are you a planner or a winger?’
‘What?’ She looks at me and pulls a face. ‘A winger? What does that mean?’
‘Do you just wing it in life or do you plan things out?’ It sounds a bit daft, saying it aloud, but Nessa doesn’t seem to take it that way.
She tilts her chin up and seems to be thinking. ‘I wing it,’ she says eventually. ‘Yes. Yes, I do. I didn’t even plan where I wanted to work – there was an advert in the window of the building when I went past it. And it was a nice-looking building so I went in and applied for the job on the spot.’
‘But didn’t you need a CV or something?’ I ask, slightly confused.
‘I think I was meant to have one but I didn’t have one with me but Mr Hogarth said he liked me turning up just on spec, he thought I had a good spunky attitude—’
‘Spunky?’ I almost choke on the word. What sort of word is that to use nowadays?
‘Spunky,’ clarifies Nessa, without missing a beat, ‘so I got the job. And even though I knew I wanted to move out from my parents’ house, I had no idea where I was going to live. Then Mr Hogarth said he knew of somewhere that sounded perfect; and in fact he knew it was perfect because he owned it and his godson was very happy there, and the lower apartment just happened to be vacant. I looked at it on the internet, and by tea time I had the place.’
‘You hadn’t even viewed it?’ I ask. ‘He didn’t need to see references or anything?’
‘Nope. Mr Hogarth was happy to proceed, and I don’t think I’ve let him down as a tenant. And nope, I didn’t view it. I just liked the look of it.’ She waves her hand around vaguely. ‘I sort of knew where it was, so I knew it was a nice area. That’s all, really.’
‘But your flat has a weird staircase in it,’ I say, stupidly. ‘It takes up a great deal of space in your lounge.’
‘Yes. But it leads into your flat, and I like you, so that’s fine.’ She puts her head back down and turns a page. Then she pops her head back up. ‘And I didn’t plan to get Schubert. We just found each other. Sometimes, the nicest things are the things you don’t plan for.’
‘Is that why you got Winnie?’ I ask her. ‘So you could do a few things without planning ahead?’
‘Yes. But again, I didn’t plan to buy her. My brother Hugo saw her for sale at the side of the road by the coast and he mentioned it in a text. So I told him to go and get her for me. I paid him back for her, of course and then I went with him to bring her home.’ She frowns. ‘We only had one breakdown on the way back up, but Hugo’s very good with engines so we were fine.
‘Anyway, that summer, when I decided to go up and down Britain, I knew where I was going to end up at each end, but I didn’t know my journey. That was part of the fun of it.’ Then she looks at me straight in the eyes and I wonder if there’s a hidden meaning when she says, ‘you should try enjoying the journey, you know. There’s no need to be railroaded into stuff. Try being a free spirit, Ewan. You might like it.’
Unbidden, an image of Fern pops into my head; Fern with her Caribbean brochures a
nd her control freak ways and her determination to live my life for me.
‘You’re a free spirit, aren’t you?’ I ask Nessa.
‘Oh well, now, I think I am,’ she says. Then suddenly she grins at me. ‘I am so free that, on impulse, I need to tell you that it’s cup of tea time again. You’re nearest the kettle. There’s some Hobnobs in the biscuit barrel as well. Chocolate ones.’
‘I’ve never had the chocolate ones.’
‘Then you should try them. Live a little,’ says Nessa and turns back to her book.
Chapter Ten
NESSA
It’s been a very pleasurable few hours, sitting on the roadside with Ewan. I wonder if one day we might be the sort of old couple that unpack a picnic in a parking place by a mountain of road salt, then I realise that we aren’t actually a couple and I feel a little sad.
But never mind, we have today at least. Which reminds me that we probably need to make a move if we want to see Kincladie Woods before dark.
As if on cue, there is an almighty rumble from the distant mountains and we both look up. The clouds start to roll towards us and I can see that weird curtain effect coming over the field, which means torrential rain is on the way and it won’t be long before we’re in the middle of it.
Ewan swears and we jump up and shove everything back into the back of Winnie. I make a dash to rescue Schubert and Ewan takes hold of that awful bag full of ritual litter.
‘What do I do with this?’ he asks, pulling a face.
‘Can you tie it onto the wing mirror?’ I ask, placing Schubert and his carrier snugly in the space underneath the bench seats. ‘Then it’s not being left here and we can find a bin, but it’s not going inside Winnie.’ I shake my head
‘I can’t tie it on,’ says Ewan, struggling with it a bit. Then I see him looking towards the village. ‘Nessa, I’ll run to the village with it. It won’t take me long. You can pick me up there, okay?’
‘Run to the village?’ I repeat, ‘But it’s ages away. How can you run all that way?’
‘I’m still pretty fit,’ says Ewan with the ghost of a smile on his lips. ‘Although you may not think so.’
Well actually, I do think he’s pretty fit, although I suspect his and my definitions of “fit” are probably different but I won’t split hairs.
‘Ewan!’ I say, with some vague hope of trying to stop him. The rain has started now, big fat drops that are splashing onto the road and obscuring my view from the windows. I look around the interior of Winnie but there is absolutely nowhere I want that bag. ‘Ewan …’ I say again, rather pathetically.
‘Race you!’ he says and he’s off.
Oh my. He is fit.
I hurry into the driver’s seat and start Winnie up. She chokes once or twice then gets herself sorted. And before I know it, we are off in some crazy race and Ewan is actually winning for the first part of it.
I can barely concentrate on my driving for watching him. He’s just streaking along the road and he doesn’t seem to care that he’s getting soaking wet. His hair is plastered to his head, but it’s so short anyway that it doesn’t look silly. His white shirt is clinging to his body á la Mr Darcy as well and oh my, that’s not a bad sight either because I can see each and every muscle defined as he pumps his arms and runs. And I can see that sneaky little tattoo through the damp material. Oh my.
‘Meooow!’ comes an agitated noise from the back.
‘Sorry, Schubert!’ I shout. ‘Didn’t mean to swerve like that.’ And I didn’t – I just wanted to get a bit closer to Ewan.
Oh dear. I’ve overtaken him now. I look out of my wing mirror and see him pounding along. He looks up and gives me a grin and a little wave.
I should ask him to take my rubbish away more often.
I wonder if he would run down our staircase and look like that?
Hmmm. It’s a thought.
EWAN
Nessa is already out of the van and waiting for me when I arrive at the village. She’s soaking wet as well, due to the fact that she’s been standing on the roadside, in the rain, for the last few minutes waving at me. As I approach, she leans into Winnie and pops out again, hiding something behind her back.
‘Next time,’ I tell her, drawing to a halt in front of her, ‘you can do the running. I did it to save you getting wet and it clearly hasn’t worked.’ I can’t help smiling at her though. She looks so sweet and vulnerable with her hair all plastered to her face like that and her scarf plopping great globs of water onto the tarmac.
Nessa laughs and her arms appear from behind her. She drops something over my head – I realise that it’s one of those Hawaiian garlands. I don’t know what else she has in the bowels of Winnie.
‘Have the winner’s LuaLua,’ she says triumphantly. ‘You’ve just achieved a gold medal in the Dunning Maggie-athlon.’
‘I think you mean winner’s lei,’ I tell her, smiling. ‘LuaLua is a footballer.’
‘Oh,’ she says and blinks. ‘Fancy you knowing that. Now I know why I got a funny look in the shop when I asked to buy a LuaLua. Why didn’t Scott tell me?’
‘Scott?’
‘My brother,’ she says. ‘You know. The one who did my decorating? The interior designer? I asked his advice on decorating Winnie. He was with me on LuaLua day.’
‘Ah,’ I say, stupidly. Nessa has a butterfly mind and I’m clearly not as random in my thoughts as she is. ‘Why didn’t he tell you, I wonder?’
She shrugs. ‘Probably because he’s my brother. But I don’t want to talk about Scott. I want to talk about you. You’re very fit.’ Then I almost swear that she blushes and, as if she wants to hide it, she makes a big deal about looking around and her gaze finally settles on a large public bin a few metres away.
She points to it. ‘Bin,’ she says. ‘We can dump the litter. Then what?’ She turns back to face me and blinks. ‘Kincladie? Or can’t you handle a haunted wood?’
‘I can handle a haunted wood, all right,’ I say. ‘But it’s still raining.’
‘Hmm. So it is.’
’It might not be very nice walking in the woods in the rain.’
‘It might not be,’ she concedes.
I am conscious of her looking me up and down and I think I must look like something Schubert dragged in.
‘You look like something Schubert dragged in,’ she says. ‘You can dry off in Winnie or we can go to the pub for something to eat. My treat. Or we can quickly see the woods then head home. It’s only water after all and we’re both relatively damp. Fern might be wanting you for something anyway. Maybe she needs you to pour bleach on her follicles.’
Her tone is acerbic and I shouldn’t but I feel a smile twitching at the corner of my mouth. And then I see that there’s a pub just along the road and it looks like one of those nice country ones where the log fire will be roaring.
I give the matter some thought for all of a millisecond and quash a vision of Fern and her waspish mouth pursed into something resembling Schubert’s bum. It overlays with a vision of me and Nessa, who incidentally has a perfectly lovely soft and kissable mouth, lounging in a country pub together in the chilly October dusk. It’s a dangerous decision and there can be only one answer.
‘Pub,’ I say. ‘We might dry off by the fire. Then we can visit the woods when it’s darker. Really soak up the atmosphere.’
‘As opposed to being literally soaked out here?’ says Nessa. ‘Good idea. But dump that litter first, please.’
She smiles at me, pushes a lock of wet hair out of her face and turns away, walking up the little street towards the pub. Winnie looks incongruous, parked in such a little old-fashioned village. But none of us, including Winnie, seem to care.
‘But what about Schubert?’ I shout after her.
‘He doesn’t like pubs,’ she shouts back over her shoulder. ‘He said he didn’t want to come. And anyway, Catnip is underage. Schubert’s got his food, he’s got his milk and he’s wandering around in Winnie and he’ll be fine. He wo
n’t escape.’
And it’s only as we walk into the pub, that I realise I’m still wearing the Hawaiian garland.
NESSA
Ewan draws a couple of odd looks from the clientele, but it doesn’t bother me. Neither, it seems, does it bother the barman who is quite taken by the lei and asks Ewan all about it.
‘Did you two just come back from Hawaii then?’ he asks. ‘Looks like the weather wasn’t that kind to you.’ Then he laughs like it’s the funniest thing in the world.
‘No, we didn’t come from Hawaii,’ I tell him. ‘We came from Edinburgh but we visited Maggie Wall and Ewan got wet as he was trying to dispose of the litter from the monument. We spent ages tidying it up.’
‘You got rid of all that stuff?’ asked the barman. ‘Don’t tell me, your boyfriend found the lei in amongst it.’ He shakes his head sadly. ‘The rubbish they leave. They just don’t think.’
‘Oh no, the lei is from my camper van,’ I tell him. ‘They didn’t put it on the monument, don’t worry about that.’
The barman perks up. ‘In that case, drinks are on the house. What do you two fancy, then?’
I am desperate to say that I fancy Ewan. I settle on lemonade.
I don’t bother to correct the barman about Ewan not being my boyfriend either.
I wonder if Ewan noticed?
EWAN
I think I could easily fancy Nessa. But there’s no way I’d say anything.
So I smile and order a coke and don’t correct the barman about the girlfriend comment.
I wonder if she noticed?
Anyway, we’re warm and dry now at least; and we’ll soon be contentedly stuffed full of food as well, because we’ve ordered dinner.
It’s so relaxing being with Nessa like this. We’ve never been anywhere together, despite the fact we’ve lived beside each other for three years and spoken almost every day. I think I would miss her if she wasn’t there anymore. I can’t imagine living anywhere without Nessa and not having Schubert around.