The Little Gift Shop on the Loch

by Maggie Conway

  And so she began. By many people’s standards Patty didn’t have a lot, just everyday items. Books and trinkets, a few bags, different pieces of jewellery, photos and cards. But each time Lily found something, a different memory surfaced, snatches and snippets of her life. Finding things not just from mum’s life but the things that had made up Lily’s life too.

  Several times she faltered and would head to the kitchen for more tea – she’d never drunk so much of the stuff – or something to eat even though she wasn’t hungry. Or simply just to wander around the flat aimlessly, each time steeling herself to carry on. Several hours later she had managed to work her way through all of it, creating a couple of bags for charity and another full of things she knew she could never throw out.

  Opening the last drawer, Lily let out a little gasp on finding her mother’s favourite dove-grey wool jumper. She held it up close, feeling the softness of it on her cheek, sure she could still smell her mother’s scent on it.

  And that was when she finally let go, something seeming to tear at her inside so unbearably painful.

  She hadn’t cried before, not properly. Not like she did now, great gulping sobs that seem to come from deep within her. She covered her face with her hands and she knew then just how much she’d been holding onto her grief. Now it was as though a full-beam light was shining on it and she could feel the full ferocity of it. She knew this was why she had put off this moment. There was such a finality about it, the inescapable reality that her mother was no longer here, and she was on her own.

  She wrapped her arms tightly around herself as if she could shield herself from the pain, rocking herself to and fro. Swamped by grief, love and regret, she cried for her mother and for herself until her throat was raw and her eyes painfully swollen.

  As her tears eventually subsided Lily unfurled herself, stood up slowly and went over to the window. Opening it, she felt a little breath of air caress her cheek and she closed her eyes, the crystal wind chimes dancing in the gentle breeze. ‘I love you, Mum,’ she whispered.

  Iris had been right about the process of sorting through her mother’s possessions being cathartic. By facing up to her grief, Lily had also faced up to the relationship she’d had with her mother. And while she might not go so far as to say she’d come to terms with everything, she had at least come some of the way and was left with a feeling of somehow being closer to her mother. For now, that would have to be enough. She turned from the window and for the first time felt the smallest glimmer of hope, a flicker of light on her horizon. Maybe everything would be all right.

  It had grown dark now and Lily was exhausted, spent on every level. In the kitchen she refilled Misty’s water and tipped some biscuits into her bowl. She paced about, opening and closing drawers, not sure what she was looking for. More than anything she was so, so tired. Not sure her spine could take another night on the sofa, she thought of the bed in her mother’s room and wondered if she could finally bring herself to sleep there.

  After rummaging in the cupboard and finding a still-in-date tin of hot chocolate, she heated some milk in a saucepan. She returned to the bedroom and snuggled up in the bed with her hot drink and the paperback she was almost finished. Misty, who had stayed by Lily’s side the whole day, was curled up asleep on the end of the bed and looked so at home Lily wondered if this was her usual sleeping place. If she didn’t know better, she’d guess Misty had been keeping her company in the living room these last few nights. Lily stroked her gently, grateful for her company.

  Chapter 10

  Lily opened her eyes to see daylight creeping its way around the edges of the curtains and knew she’d slept much later than usual. Long peaceful sleeps had eluded her for so long but glancing at the time on her phone Lily was shocked to see she’d been asleep for a solid seven hours. Not only that, but it had been in her mother’s room. In the end, nothing about it had felt strange or scary and after finishing her hot drink she’d fallen asleep surprisingly quickly.

  She stretched and rose from the bed, her limbs feeling pleasantly heavy after their long slumber. In the kitchen she waited for the kettle to boil and looked down onto the garden. It was such a pretty little space and she was pleased and more than a little relieved to see her diligent watering appeared to be keeping the daisies and busy lizzies alive and flourishing.

  Patty had always had a way of making things grow. Even when they’d lived in a flat in Glasgow, she had window boxes filled with flowers. And then when they had moved into a house which had a garden she would spend hours there. Lily recalled the afternoon she’d helped her mother, horrified when she’d managed to spill muddy earth all over her clothes. She’d thought her mother might be angry at the mess but instead she’d simply laughed and told her it didn’t matter.

  Lily stood for a few moments absorbing the peace. She was glad yesterday was over. She had done the thing that she had put off for too long and perhaps now she could start to move on. But it was odd, every time she thought of the future, it was like shutters coming down – almost as if now she had stopped she couldn’t start again.

  She sloshed boiling water over a teabag and contemplated the day ahead, puzzled that her thoughts were pulled towards the shop. Shouldn’t she be doing more on the job front? Her career had always been important to her. Some of her work over the years had been repetitive, some of it outright dull, but she’d always got on with it and it had never occurred to her to do anything else. Yet here she was, for the first time in her adult life without a job.

  She felt as if facing the death of her mother and now facing her own future were inexorably linked. Feeling the full force of her grief had in turn made her reflect on her life, particularly the last year. And the uncomfortable truth was that without work she didn’t have much. She had neatly packaged and projected her job and James into her future and now that had been taken from her, she was left with nothing.

  She wasn’t sure if she liked the person she had become in the last yar. Everything had been about work. Striving to achieve a promotion that didn’t happen. When had she last really laughed, or done something that wasn’t work-related. She decided there and then, whatever she did next, she wouldn’t let it take over the way she had let her last job. And she definitely wouldn’t fall for her boss.

  After showering and feeding Misty Lily headed downstairs and entered the shop. Something felt different today. There was an air of expectation, as if the shop was waiting for something to happen. For a moment she stood feeling utterly lost, not sure what to do. She cast her eyes round and a small scratching sound catching her attention. She glanced down to see Misty clawing at the door of the room where the ladies had held their knit club.

  ‘You want in here?’ She opened the door, choosing to ignore the fact she had just spoken to the cat. Misty immediately jumped up onto the window sill where sunlight flooded into room. The air felt warm and stuffy so Lily opened the window, having to use a little force.

  As she turned her eye caught some items propped against the far wall. She went to investigate, not sure how she’d missed them before. Bending down, she discovered what look like a dream job for a DIY enthusiast; several new white shelves with all the fittings, a corkboard still in its wrapping and an Anglepoise lamp. There were also paintbrushes and a tin of paint which Lily lifted up. ‘Buttercup yellow,’ she read aloud.

  She held the tin in her hand and as she looked around, taking in the grubby cream walls, she realised that her mother must have intended to paint the room. Not only that, but put up shelving and some task lighting, presumably to enable the ladies to see better when they were knitting.

  Lily bit down on her lip, fighting the tears which suddenly burned behind her eyes. She’d have thought after yesterday there’d be none left, but that wasn’t the case.

  It was the same as when she found the stock – Lily felt unsettled by how unfinished everything felt. She thought about the women turning up for their next knitting meeting. She thought of all the life and vitality
reflected in their eyes and how much she’d enjoyed their company. Then her heart dropped, thinking what would happen when the shop was sold. It was ludicrous but she found herself wondering if she could sell the shop with a clause to keep the knitting club going for the ladies.

  Lily paced about the room feeling restless, an idea forming in her mind. Perhaps there was something she could do. Putting up shelving was perhaps beyond her capabilities but the tin of paint was sitting there. How difficult could it be to paint a room – surely she could do that?

  She knew she’d be selling but she’d be here for at least another week, perhaps slightly longer. After all, there was no rush to go back to the city, was there? No matter what else happened, there was one thing she could do; she could have the room the way her mother had intended for the ladies next week.

  One part of her brain questioned what she was doing but it was too late, the other part was already up and running with the idea. Anyway, she reasoned, it certainly wouldn’t do any harm to have the room looking better when it came to selling. Really, it made sense.

  Fuelled by her idea Lily felt a little surge of energy and five minutes later, she was dressed in jeans and an old oversized shirt she’d found, her hair twisted into a ponytail. With the radio on and Misty watching proceedings from her little pool of sunshine on the window sill, Lily set to work. Armed with a cloth and a bucket of hot soapy water, she began washing down the walls and the skirting boards.

  There was more dust and grime than she’d realised and she refilled the bucket several times, using the stool from behind the counter and reaching rather precariously to remove the cobwebs lurking in the corners. It didn’t take too long before she could see a difference. Soon the walls and surfaces were clean, the floor was swept and – having budged Misty out of the way – even the window was now gleaming.

  Lily had never painted a room before and as she prised open the tin of paint, she felt out of her comfort zone. But she was on a roll now and felt her spirits lifting, pleased to be doing something practical. She’d do the lower parts of the wall first and then figured she could use the stool for the higher parts.

  A couple of hours later she straightened up, blowing a loose strand of hair from her face, and stood back to examine her handiwork. She rolled her shoulders and arched her back, deciding caffeine in some shape or form was needed. She was pleased with the progress she’d made and was disappointed when she heard a jaunty rap on the shop door. Somehow, she wasn’t surprised to see Jack at the door.

  Opening the door, Lily didn’t know what was more worrying; the fact he seemed to look more attractive each time she saw him or that she felt so inexplicably pleased to see him. Not only that but he was holding two cups of coffee as if he’d managed to read her thoughts.

  ‘I thought you might be appreciate a decent coffee.’ He handed her a cup.

  The thought he’d come over just to give her coffee made her feel a little odd. She took it from him, suddenly feeling very conscious of her grimy appearance. She eyed the coffee suspiciously, wondering where he’d got it from. She hadn’t seen any evidence of coffee that smelt this good being sold in the village. She took a sip. Rich, smooth and perfectly textured, it totally hit the spot and she couldn’t help the small sigh of pleasure escaping.

  ‘It’s good,’ she admitted with a small smile. ‘Where’s it from?’

  ‘The café at the activity centre. You should go in sometime – does some pretty nice stuff.’

  His eyes swept around the shop then landed on her with a questioning lift of his eyebrow. ‘You seem busy. What are you up to?’

  ‘Er, not much.’ She knew she was being evasive but wasn’t sure if what had seemed a reasonable idea in her own head a few hours ago now appeared slightly mad.

  Jack stood at the doorway of the room where her morning’s work was laid out and it occurred to Lily she hadn’t exactly been neat about it. He took a mouthful of his coffee, regarding her over the rim of his cup. ‘You’ve managed to make quite a mess for not doing much.’

  She let out a small breath. There suddenly didn’t seem much point in hiding what she’d been doing, plus she was pretty sure she had splats of paint on her face. She explained about the knitting club and all the things for painting she’d found.

  ‘I thought it would be a good idea to give this room a clean and a lick of paint. Obviously it’ll help for selling.’

  He glanced around, his eyes settling on the stool with a frown. ‘Please tell me you haven’t been standing on this?’

  ‘It’s fine,’ she replied airily. ‘I’m careful.’

  ‘I’m sure you are but promise me you won’t use it again?’

  His face creased with such concern, Lily didn’t have any choice but to give her word. She should be able to find some step-ladders somewhere.

  He regarded her thoughtfully for a moment. ‘Let me help.’

  Taken by surprise, her response was instant and instinctive. ‘I don’t need help, thanks, I can manage.’

  ‘It wouldn’t take much. All the fittings are here – and it’ll give me an excuse to use my toolbox.’ He lifted his eyebrows.

  He was like a one-man crusade, Lily thought, always ready to offer assistance. Was he always so helpful? She stalled for time. ‘Don’t you have to be at work?’

  He shrugged, indicating it was nothing. ‘They can manage without me for a while. That’s the beauty of being your own boss, it means if something comes up, I can go.’

  It felt slightly alien to Lily to hear someone be so casual about their job. She respected that his priorities were different from hers and probably the boats weren’t that demanding but even so, his casualness only succeeded in making her feel more uptight and uneasy.

  ‘Why would you want to help?’

  ‘Why wouldn’t I?’ He shrugged, in a way that Lily couldn’t work out if it was annoying or not. ‘We’re practically neighbours so it’s not so odd to help out, is it?

  She looked around uncertainly, not sure this was a good idea. It felt like another step in a direction she shouldn’t be taking. It wasn’t so much accepting help as accepting it from him. She was beginning to suspect it could be quite easy to be charmed by Jack Armstrong and she heard a voice cautioning her to keep her distance.

  He looked at her curiously. ‘You don’t accept help very easily, do you?

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with being self-reliant.’

  ‘Of course not,’ he agreed. ‘But it’s still okay to take help sometimes.’

  There he went again, confusing her, being all reasonable and helpful. She couldn’t help thinking life would be easier if she could relegate him to smug and arrogant. Perhaps she was overthinking things? Reading far too much into what was a simple offer of help, the same way he had helped with Misty who, Lily noticed now, had come to sit in-between them.

  ‘Sorry, you’re right. And as long as you don’t mind, then I’d be really grateful.’

  He drained his cup. ‘Right, let’s get started.’

  After ten minutes (during which Lily dashed upstairs to make sure her face wasn’t actually covered in paint which thankfully it wasn’t, although her cheeks were decidedly flushed) Jack had returned with his toolbox. He lifted one of the shelves, running his fingers along the grain of wood in an expert manner and then held it up against the wall for Lily to judge the position.

  ‘What do you think of here?’ he asked, a pencil between his teeth. ‘You should still be able to reach things and then I can put the others below it?’

  ‘Looks about right,’ Lily agreed. Despite being broad and tall, he moved with agility and Lily watched his movements, trying and failing not to notice when his T-shirt hitched, revealing his taut midriff.

  After marking the spot on the wall Jack got to work with a spirit level and there didn’t seem to be much for Lily to do at this stage except watch him – which wasn’t too much of a hardship. He focused fully on the job and looked as if he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

  �
��You enjoy DIY?’

  He nodded. ‘I’ve learnt loads since I started doing up my own place – improved my skills no end.’ He grinned, or at least as much as the pencil between his teeth allowed.

  ‘How long have you lived in your house?’

  ‘Almost three years – I moved in after I split with my fiancé.’

  ‘Oh. I’m sorry.’

  ‘All water under the bridge now.’

  She shot him a curious look but his expression gave nothing away.

  ‘What about you?’ he asked, fixing her with a look. ‘Is it just the job you need to get back to or is there someone waiting for you?’

  Iris had asked her the exact same thing except coming from him, it sounded and felt very different.

  ‘No, just the job,’ she replied. ‘In fact, I’ve registered with a recruitment agency and I’m waiting to hear back about a couple of positions I applied for.’

  Suddenly she was inordinately pleased she had done so. Something about the way he had just looked at her made her glad she had them to anchor her to reality. She wondered when she’d hear but wasn’t holding her breath, these things could take a while.

  She picked up a cloth and absently wiped the counter, wondering how in the space of a few days she’d gone from scrutinising numbers to scrutinising Jack’s physique. She seemed to have no control over her eyes which kept sneaking their way over to him as he drilled a bracket into the wall, skimming the line of his dark hair along the back of his tanned neck, over his broad shoulders and all the way to his long muscular legs …

  ‘You look miles away,’ Jack’s voice broke in. ‘Head back in the city – missing those balance sheets?’ he teased.

  Lily cleared her throat, giving herself a brisk shake. ‘Something like that.’

  Hopefully she’d hear back soon about those jobs. That was real life, she reminded herself. Not this.

  Chapter 11

  Lily’s spirits nosedived when she saw Finlay’s face through the glass of the shop door. Standing behind the counter, she’d been totally absorbed in sorting through the pieces of jewellery, studying the exquisitely pretty silver pendants she’d found in one of the boxes. Along with the enamel necklaces and the handcrafted rose drop earrings, they made a stunning collection. She’d also discovered small jewellery dishes made from fused indigo and purple glass which she thought would make perfect gifts alongside the jewellery.