Julia snorted with laughter.
‘Hold on; let me get this straight. Are you telling me you’re inventing people and then asking these imaginary folk to tell you about themselves?’
‘I suspect you think I’m losing my marbles.’
‘No, but it does seem a little strange; but what would I know, I’m not a writer.’
‘I can show you how it works if you like. We’ll make up a character right now. Male or female?’
‘Female,’ Julia replied, nodding her head emphatically.
‘What’s her name?’
‘Rebecca?’
‘Good name; timeless, solid Biblical roots. Surname?’
Julia looked around the kitchen for inspiration and a bottle of sherry beside the stove caught her attention.
‘Sherry; her name is Rebecca Sherry.’
‘I like that. So what does this Rebecca look like? Is she young, old, blonde, brunette?’
‘Well she’s younger than me, maybe forty? And she’s definitely a brunette.’
‘What does she do?’
Julia bit her bottom lip and frowned in concentration.
‘She works for the mountain rescue service in the Cairngorms.’
Tony laughed.
‘She does, doesn’t she? See how a person can start to come alive after just a few thoughts about their name?’
Julia nodded in understanding and then she frowned again.
‘But what does this have to do with my situation? How is that going to help me decide what I want to do with my life? I already know who I am.’
‘Precisely. You do know who you are. But perhaps you haven’t spent enough time working out what makes you tick. This is where my questionnaire comes in. But we need to write stuff down on paper, so we’ll finish this after lunch. But I might keep Becky Sherry for one of my books. I like the sound of her; mountain rescue, hmm…’
They finished their lunch whilst talking about Tony’s latest novel. When they had finished, Julia helped him clear away the table and stack the dishwasher. Tony made some coffee and then he disappeared off to his office and came back with a large pad of drawing paper and some pens. He set them down on the kitchen table and sat down.
After he had served the coffee, he picked up a pen and drew a little stick figure in the middle of a sheet of paper.
‘This is you in the middle,’ he said, pushing the pad towards Julia and handing her the pen.
‘OK?’ Julia replied, doubtfully.
‘Right; what you have to do now is surround yourself with all the things that are precious to you. Family, friends, hobbies etc. Just write them all down.’
Julia instantly drew two more stick figures and wrote Jamie and Bryden beside them. Then she drew a little circle and wrote Marianne and family. She drew some more circles and wrote down some other names of friends, which included Cameron. She drew a childish sketch of her house and included a figurative map showing how close to the sea it was. Then she paused, not sure what else to include.
‘What about hobbies?’ Tony prompted.
‘I don’t really have any. Isn’t that an awful admission?’
‘What do you do in your spare time then?’
‘Up until Duncan died, I never really had much spare time. We used to do lots of things together; walking, going out. I can’t think of anything specific. We use to join in with whatever was going on in the community; you know, dances, quizzes, craft sales…We also used to go to the theatre and the cinema and out to dinner. But nothing you could really class as a hobby.’
‘So you’re quite a sociable person then. Write that down.’
Julia wrote “sociable” next to her little stick figure.
‘Do you consider yourself to be creative or artistic?’
Julia shook her head sadly.
‘Musical?’
‘Not really. I like music, but I don’t really spend much time listening to it.’
‘Gardening, cooking?’
‘Gardening is a bit tough in Shetland. I keep on top of the weeds, but that’s the extent of my gardening. I love cooking, but I’m not exactly brilliant at it.’
Tony shook his head slowly.
‘I’m a hopeless case aren’t I?’ Julia said, staring down at the paper with its sparse detail about her life. ‘I wouldn’t make a very interesting heroine in one of your novels. I bet you would kill me off in chapter one.’
‘Not at all. This simply says to me your character – Julia Robertson – is a family and community minded person. She’s sociable and a bit of a homebody. Nothing wrong with that. You haven’t written down anything about your work. Is that significant?’
Julia wrote “nurse” and “care home manager” in the top left corner of the page.
‘Well, that speaks volumes in itself. You’ve listed your profession as far away as you could from your icon.’
Julia looked down at the paper and nodded.
‘I just don’t want to do that again. I don’t want to work with people who are in the later stages of their lives. I don’t want to spend my time with old people. I used to love my job, but I need a change now and I would rather be with younger people, children even. I envy my friend Marianne. She became a grandmother today.’
‘So children and grandchildren are important to you.’
‘Well yes, of course my children are important, but I don’t expect to be a grandmother for years yet.’
‘But you would rather work with children?’ Tony said, tentatively.
Julia snapped her head up suddenly.
‘Yes, I would actually.’
‘Well there you have your answer.’
‘It’s not quite so simple though is it? I don’t have the qualifications for teaching, or even for working in a nursery; and I don’t think I would like to work with large numbers of children.’
Tony leaned forward and pulled the paper towards him and then tapped the sketch of Julia’s house.
‘Didn’t you say the other day you have a five bedroomed house, and now there’s just you living in it?’
Julia nodded.
‘Plenty of room for a child or two.’
‘I don’t get it; are you saying I should do an Angeline Jolie and adopt some orphans?’
‘No, but I bet you would make a brilliant foster mother.’
Julia put the pen down and folded her arms and leaned on the table. She dipped her head in thought. She spoke without looking up.
‘About a year after Bryden went away to university, and before Duncan was ill, I actually thought about fostering. But we kind of dismissed the idea, as Duncan felt it would be difficult, what with him being a teacher. He would have felt awkward if he had to foster someone who he might be teaching. But that doesn’t apply now does it?’
Tony shook his head and smiled sadly at her.
‘It’s definitely worth a thought isn’t it?’
Julia looked down at the paper, looking for more inspiration.
‘Julia Robertson, a petite attractive blonde widow starts to rebuild her life when she becomes a foster mother to a series of children in need of love, affection and a safe home environment,’ Tony said, as if he was narrating a story.
‘It sounds a bit like a sickly sweet Christmas movie plot,’ Julia replied.
‘Actually it sounds like lots of hard work, but I imagine you’re not afraid of that.’
That evening Julia was sitting in her bedroom reading one of Tony’s novels. It was chilly in the room and she was too sleepy to continue the book, so she put it down and turned out the light. She pulled the blanket up around her shoulders and stared through the window at the starry night. She had not stopped thinking about the idea of becoming a foster mother. She couldn’t decide whether it was a brilliant idea and the perfect career change, or whether it would be madness. Choosing to take children into her home when she would effectively be a single mother might be too much. It would be exhausting, emotionally draining and even heart-breaking. She knew quite a few s
ocial workers and she had heard numerous horror stories about the reasons why some children were taken into care.
Fostering was not an easy thing to do; but she didn’t necessarily want an easy job. After losing Duncan, she realised she wasn’t afraid of the emotional rollercoaster fostering might present; but she wondered what Bryden and Jamie would think. After all, it was their home too; at least when they were in Shetland. She wondered whether they would try and talk her out of the idea.
She realised she had stopped stressing out about Cameron and sighed with relief. Yes indeed, fostering would keep her far too busy to worry about new and unsuitable entanglements with men. It was perfect. She shut her eyes and drifted off to sleep, dreaming about her house ringing with the sound of children’s laughter.
15
Julia battled her way down the rickety steps of the aircraft; her raincoat flapped around her legs and her hair whipped across her face in the strong winds that raced unchecked across the runway at Sumburgh Airport. Welcome to Shetland, Julia thought, as she hurried across the tarmac to the arrivals lounge.
While she was waiting for her suitcase to appear on the carousel, she stood by the window and looked out at the weather. The rain lashed down from lead grey skies, and an empty crisp packet flew past the window on a non-stop flight to Norway.
Julia heard the carousel start up and she turned to retrieve her suitcase, for which she had had to pay excess baggage charges on, the result of spending the remainder of her holiday indulging in some retail therapy. She heaved it off the conveyor belt and pulled up the handle and started to drag it out towards the exit.
By the time she reached her house she was exhausted. She had left the warmth of Sicily three days ago, having stopped off briefly in Edinburgh to see Jamie and Bryden again. It was late afternoon and it was dark by the time she parked her car on the drive. She sat and looked at the house for a moment. The last time she had driven home from the airport was when she had come home with Duncan from the hospital in Aberdeen. She normally loved returning to her home. Today she wasn’t quite so sure she wanted to go inside.
She took a deep breath and steeled herself to get out of the car into the hideous weather. When she opened the kitchen door she was met by a not particularly pleasant smell of dusty, musty air. She was tempted to open a window to let in some fresh air, but it was too cold for that. The heating in the house had been switched to a bare minimum in her absence, and she shivered as she walked into the kitchen. The heat may have been enough to make sure the pipes didn’t freeze in a cold snap; but it was not enough to make her feel comfortable taking off her coat. She walked over to the thermostat and cranked up the heating.
She leaned the suitcase against the kitchen wall and then went back to the front door to retrieve the post. She sifted through the large collection, depositing a large bundle of junk mail and leaflets straight into the recycling bin. There were a couple of letters for Duncan, which made her feel sick. She dumped all the letters, unread, onto the table and walked over to the kettle, before realising there wasn’t any milk in the house so she couldn’t make herself a cup of tea or coffee.
‘Fuck, fuck, fuck!’ Julia muttered out loud to herself, regretting she hadn’t stopped off at the supermarket on her way home from the airport. Her words echoed in the cold kitchen. She felt bad tempered and not in the least bit glad to be home. It was like Sicily had never happened. Standing there in her coat, she simply couldn’t conjure up the memory of what it had been like to feel the warm sun on her skin.
The kitchen phone rang, making her jump. She considered not answering it, but thought it might be Jamie or Bryden.
‘Hello?’ she said, hesitantly.
‘At last, you’re home; I wasn’t sure if it was today or tomorrow.’ Marianne said, excitedly.
‘I still have my coat on; I just walked in the door,’ Julia replied. ‘Mind you, it’s so cold here I can’t take my coat off.’
‘You know, I did wonder about coming round and switching your heating on and buying some milk and bread in case you got in late, but I didn’t get time today.’
‘Don’t be daft. I might go back out to the shop in a while and get some things; it will give the house a chance to warm up.’
‘Look, why don’t you come over here instead. I’m just about to start cooking tea. We can catch up.’
Julia looked around the kitchen, wondering whether she really ought to spend her first night at home unpacking and putting things away. She barely hesitated before replying.
‘Actually, I think I’ll take you up on that offer, thanks. I have some presents in my suitcase for you, so I may as well just put it back in the car and drive over now. Bugger the unpacking and the post. It can wait until tomorrow.’
‘Well, if you’re bringing your suitcase, you can just stay over. Then your house really will be warmed up again.’
‘Perfect!’
Julia put the phone down and walked over to her suitcase and wheeled it back out to her car and drove round to Marianne’s house with a huge sense of relief. She was guaranteed a much warmer welcome there.
When she got to Marianne’s house she found Ivan and Rachel had just arrived for an unexpected visit with their baby. Marianne was sitting at the kitchen table cuddling Charlie.
‘Look, at my lovely new grandson,’ Marianne said, as Julia walked in.
‘Oh my goodness, he’s gorgeous,’ Julia said. She parked her suitcase in the hallway and took her coat off and hung it up before hurrying back to the kitchen.
Julia sat down at the table and leaned in to get a closer look at Charlie, who was fast asleep in Marianne’s arms and oblivious to the fuss being made over him. Isobel came into the kitchen and squealed with delight when she saw Julia; earning a hush from her mother.
‘Hello Auntie Jules, did you have a good time?’
‘Yes thanks. I have some presents for everyone. I’ll get them out of my bag in a moment. But first I must see your little nephew.’
‘Izzy, you could put the kettle on for us; there’s an angel. I expect Julia’s desperate for a good old fashioned cup of British tea. Unless you’d rather have a glass of wine?’
‘Tea would be perfect thanks.’
While Isobel put the kettle on and made a pot of tea, Julia talked to Rachel about Charlie. Marianne passed the sleeping baby to Julia and she held him up close to her face, breathing in the soft sweet scent of a new-born. It brought back delicious memories of when Jamie and Bryden were babies.
They heard the front door open and close and a moment later Brian appeared in the kitchen. His face lit up when he saw Julia and he hurried over and kissed her cheek then he went around the table kissing Marianne, Rachel and Isobel.
‘This is a nice surprise, all these lovely women in my house. Although I can’t smell anything like dinner cooking.’ Brian said, laughing at Marianne, who pulled a face at him. ‘How’s my little Charlie boy today?’ Brian added, sitting down next to Julia and taking a peek at the baby.
‘He’s been asleep since he got here,’ Marianne said.
‘Despite your best efforts to wake him up no doubt,’ Brian replied, winking at Rachel.
Rachel smiled and then yawned, before apologising.
‘Don’t be silly, my lamb, why don’t you go upstairs and have a little snooze, we can look after Charlie. You must be exhausted.’ Marianne said to Rachel.
Rachel nodded gratefully and left the kitchen.
‘Poor girl looks shattered,’ Brian said, as he stood up again and went to look in the fridge. ‘What’s for tea?’
‘I was going to cook pasta and salad, but then Rachel and Ivan brought Charlie round. Ivan’s upstairs helping Sophie with her maths homework. Anyway, I haven’t started cooking yet.’
Brian looked at his watch and then grinned wickedly at Marianne.
‘Why don’t you ring an order through to the Chinese, I’ll get changed and go and collect it in a few minutes.’
‘Brilliant idea!’
An hour later, they were finishing their takeaway meal in the kitchen. Rachel was still sleeping upstairs and Ivan was holding his son, who had woken briefly and was now dozing again. Isobel and Sophie had wandered off to the lounge to watch television, and Julia was telling them about Sicily. She told them all about Tony Hugo, the famous author and his lovely villa, and she told them about Bryden’s visit and all the places they had visited. She talked about the scenery, the weather, the beaches, the food and her day trip to Mount Etna; but she did not say a word about Cameron.
Charlie opened his eyes and started to pucker up his face as if he was going to cry.
‘I think he’s hungry. I’ll take him up to Rachel,’ Ivan said, as he stood up with the baby.
‘Tell her we’ve saved some Chinese food for her,’ Marianne said.
‘So, anyway, what gossip have I missed while I was away?’ Julia said, as Ivan left the kitchen. Brian stood up to leave the room shaking his head in amusement at Julia and Marianne.
‘Nothing much, only what you know already, about Laura and John splitting up. That’s the only big news. Laura’s apparently really pissed off with John, as he sent her an email while he was offshore, saying he wasn’t coming back.’
‘That’s a bit cowardly,’ Julia said. ‘What’s Cameron said about it?’
‘I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since. He did seem really happy when I bumped into him a couple of weeks ago. The happiest I have seen him in months, so perhaps they are getting back together again. Although I think he would be a fool to trust her.’
Brian came back to the kitchen and walked over to the cupboard and took out some glasses.
‘Anyone want to try some of this Limoncello Julia brought me?’
‘I will. Can I have lots of ice in mine please?’ Marianne said.
‘I know what I meant to tell you,’ Brian said, as he dispensed ice-cubes into the glasses. ‘I met Cameron’s secretary at the Chinese. I mentioned Julia was back from Sicily and we were just about to celebrate with a takeaway, and she said, what a coincidence, Cameron went over to Sicily a few weeks ago. He’s got some new project over there.’
Learning to Dance Again Page 17