by Katie Fforde
‘And are your patients mostly elderly?’
‘Clients? Yes. Although I do a few sessions at the maternity hospital if they need me. I like babies.’
‘Obviously I do too, but I also like old ladies. There was a wonderful one I met when I was cooking on the puffer: Maisie. She taught me how to do Fair Isle knitting. I finished a jumper for her. I have been to her house but I can’t quite remember where it is.’
‘I know Maisie! Let’s call in on her when we’ve done the other stuff.’
Emily enjoyed her trip as much as she thought she would. Lizzie insisted that she came in with her for every visit and it seemed more like a string of social occasions than anything else.
‘What we have round here is community, Emily,’ Lizzie explained. ‘The younger people help out the older ones – even the really difficult older ones. Well, actually there’s only one – she never remembers to say thank you – and yet her neighbours across the road do everything for her, mowing her lawn, doing her shopping, taking her dog for walks. It’s what makes the world go round. Fortunately, most of my Golden Oldies are delightful. But it’s the community that keeps people going.
‘That’s brilliant, isn’t it? You know Maisie has a knitting group? A bus comes once a fortnight or so – whenever they want it really – and they get together and knit. Or just chat. I heard they had a lovely party.’
‘I was there!’ said Emily. ‘It was indeed lovely.’ And Alasdair had come, right at the end.
‘So, are the local doctors supportive?’ Emily went on, wanting to hear Alasdair’s name, even if it was only in passing.
‘They’re amazing,’ said Lizzie. ‘Especially Alasdair Cumming. He’s a great favourite with the ladies, especially with the more elderly ones.’
But not exclusively, thought Emily.
‘And his little girl – what a sweetheart. Of course she’s quite old for her age, it being just the two of them, but a darling.’
‘I know Kate. And Maisie taught her to knit. I wonder if she remembers how to, now.’
‘You’ll have to give her another lesson, to make sure. It’s not easy to teach a little one to knit.’
Emily fell silent. Was it right for her to be friends with Kate when she was in love with her father? If Kate found out she’d think Emily was just like all those other women, sucking up to Kate to get to Alasdair. And while Emily was in love – or lust, or whatever you called it – with Alasdair, she did really love Kate too.
They called in on Maisie after they’d done all their other visits. She was delighted to see Emily and Lizzie. When she had made tea and got out the tin of shortbread, she said, ‘Now I want to hear all about Nell’s birth.’
Emily laughed. ‘You don’t want all the gory details, do you?’
‘No,’ said Maisie. ‘Just the ungory ones. It’s like that television programme about people having babies.’
‘One Born Every Minute?’ Emily asked. ‘It wasn’t like that at all. This was a home birth, only we hadn’t made all the preparations I usually do for a home birth.’
‘This is interesting,’ said Lizzie. ‘We don’t have home births much here. We’re too far away from help if something goes wrong.’
‘I do deliver babies in hospital too, but we make it as calm and home-like as we can.’
‘I’d be interested to hear how you arrange that,’ said Lizzie.
‘I’ll tell you later, but I’m very pleased to report to Maisie that Nell is absolutely perfect. The image of her father.’
‘Such a good-looking man!’ said Maisie. ‘And that brother of his! I’m not sure how those looks would settle on a tiny baby girl though.’
‘She’ll end up as pretty as a picture, I know,’ said Lizzie.
‘She will,’ Emily agreed firmly, wondering about the Cumming family nose and then about one particular member of the Cumming family.
‘And her mother is doing fine,’ added Lizzie, ‘although of course she’s tired.’
‘I’ve a little something to give the baby,’ said Maisie. She got up and slowly crossed the room to a drawer. From it she produced a twist of tissue paper with something inside. ‘It’s a spoon,’ she said and unwrapped it.
It was silver, with a pear-shaped bowl and a twisted handle. It was extremely pretty. ‘I hope Rebecca won’t feel obliged to keep it clean – she has enough on her plate – but it’s a little something from an old friend.’
‘I think she’ll love it!’ said Emily. ‘Rebecca loves antiquey things and this is probably really an antique!’
‘It is, it’s really quite old. I like to think of it finding a good home.’ Maisie looked pleased. ‘Now, another piece of shortbread, anyone?’
‘I couldn’t eat any more,’ said Emily, ‘but if you’ve got any examples of your knitting, I’d love to see them.’
Maisie was delighted and produced a large dress box smelling of mothballs. It was full of pieces; some were finished items and some samples of different patterns.
‘I can’t do much now,’ she explained to Lizzie. ‘I’m too arthritic, but I did a lot up until a couple of years ago. Emily here very kindly finished a pullover I was knitting for my youngest grandson. It’s a tradition, you see; they all have Fair Isle jumpers knitted by me and I’d done half of it. Thanks to you, Emily, he now has one.’
‘And it was thanks to Emily that Rebecca had her baby in the warmth and quiet and not in the back of an ambulance,’ said Lizzie. ‘I haven’t experienced it myself but it doesn’t look comfy.’
‘I don’t think any woman would describe childbirth as comfy,’ said Maisie and they all laughed.
Emily looked at her watch. ‘We’ve had such a fun day,’ she said, ‘but shouldn’t we be getting back?’ She was suffering a pang of guilt for leaving Rebecca so long with only James and her mother for assistance.
‘So, when will I see you again, dear?’ asked Maisie.
Tears rushed to Emily’s throat making it difficult for her to speak. ‘Actually, Maisie, I have to go home, back down south on Sunday week—’
‘Oh, my dear,’ said Maisie and took her into her arms to give her a hug. ‘We’re going to miss you.’
Emily recovered herself as soon as they’d said their final goodbyes and got back in the car.
‘So,’ said Lizzie, ‘tell me how you make your maternity unit homely?’
Discussing something she was passionate about helped Emily pull herself together. She gave Lizzie all the details.
‘Well, it would be lovely if you could come up and see our maternity unit sometime. Maybe give us some tips?’
‘I’m sure that would be possible. And now there’s Nell, as well as Rebecca, James and the boys, I’m sure to be up all the time.’
But would she be? Would she be able to cope with coming to a place that had such special memories? Did anyone go back to the site of their holiday romance? Probably not, for very good reasons.
‘Alasdair called in,’ said James at supper, a meal that Emily had cooked as soon as she’d got in.
‘I didn’t see him!’ said Rebecca.
‘No, he came into the bothy, helped for a bit. We’re nearly done now.’ He gave his mother-in-law his best passenger smile. ‘You’ll be able to stay in the house next time, Valerie.’
‘Actually, I think I like the Wee Nook,’ Valerie said apologetically. ‘It’s lovely and quiet in the mornings.’
‘The bothy will be quiet,’ said James. ‘You won’t hear the boys—’ A look of pain crossed his face and he suddenly stopped.
‘Mummy,’ said Henry. ‘Did you just kick Daddy?’
‘Of course not!’ said Rebecca, blushing. ‘Why would I do that?’
‘Anyway,’ said James, hastily saving his marriage. ‘He told me there’s going to be a big old hooley up at the big house. It’s in aid of something or other – can’t remember what – but I think we should all go.’
‘Will there be bagpipes?’ asked Valerie.
‘Oh yes. Alasdair’s band
is playing too. It’s going to be great fun. All kilts and sporrans.’
‘Will you wear your kilt, Daddy?’ asked Archie.
‘No. I hate wearing kilts,’ said James. ‘I spent a childhood with chafed knees because I was always flapping around in wet tartan. But Alasdair might wear his.’
Emily wasn’t sure if he’d caught her eye on purpose. ‘This is jolly delicious, Em,’ he said.
‘I don’t think it sounds quite my thing,’ said Valerie. ‘I like my entertainment to be a bit more sophisticated.’
‘When is it, darling?’ asked Rebecca.
‘Saturday week. You’ll be able to come, won’t you, Em? Your Highland experience won’t be complete without you going to a ceilidh.’
She laughed. ‘I will have to fly back to real life the following day, but I haven’t booked my flight yet, so I’ll go for one not too early in the morning.’
‘Isn’t your life here real?’ asked Henry, frowning. ‘It seems real to me.’
‘That’s not quite what I mean, Henry. It’s hard to explain.’
‘Henry,’ said his doting granny, ‘if Emily had wanted you to know she’d have told you. Now get on and eat your bits of pepper. It’s very good for you.’
James and Rebecca exchanged exasperated glances. Emily didn’t think he should have been fobbed off either, however hard it was to explain what she meant.
‘The thing is, Henry,’ said Emily, hoping Valerie wouldn’t think she was appallingly rude, ‘I have a job where I live in Gloucestershire.’
‘You have a job here,’ said Henry, still confused. ‘You cook on the puffer and help Mummy with us and Nell.’
‘I know but the season is over, so the puffer doesn’t need a cook. And Mummy won’t need help for much longer. I’ll just be cluttering up the place.’
‘Never!’ said Rebecca. ‘You can stay as long as you like!’
‘Just till after the party,’ said Emily firmly. ‘Now, who’s for seconds?’
Afterwards, when the boys were in bed and Valerie was tucked up in Wee Nook, the grown-ups and Nell repaired to the sitting room for whisky and hot chocolate.
‘Do you really have to go home, Em?’ asked Rebecca, sipping from her mug and giving herself a slight moustache.
‘You know I do.’ Emily was drinking whisky and took a gulp; it helped get rid of the lump which formed in her throat whenever she thought of leaving Scotland. ‘I have this amazing job – my dream job really – and I have to go and do it.’
Rebecca opened her mouth to protest but James frowned and shook his head. ‘Don’t nag her, darling. We mustn’t be selfish.’
‘You could live in the bothy!’ said Rebecca. ‘If you wanted to. Just sayin’.’
‘Where did you pick up that vulgar expression?’ asked James, obviously channelling Rebecca’s mother.
‘The boys. I like it.’
‘I am going to miss you all dreadfully,’ said Emily.
‘What about Alasdair?’ went on Rebecca, making Emily blush.
‘What about him?’ she replied. ‘We’re just friends – I’m leaving better friends than him on Sunday week.’
‘Obviously! We’re your best friends ever, but Alasdair?’
James cleared his throat and got up. ‘I think I’ll put the kettle on. I need another cup of coffee.’
When James was out of the way Rebecca said, ‘So what about Alasdair?’ She said it gently but firmly as if referring to a terminal disease that had to be addressed.
Emily sighed. ‘Well, I do have an amazing crush on him. He is wonderful. But I have to get real, Bec.’ She took another sip of whisky. ‘I’ve realised since living with you guys that actually, I do want children, a family. And if I’m not going to be far too old I need to start looking for the man who’ll give me that. Alasdair is all about Kate – and I so get that! I understand that he has to protect her from all these women who just want to be friends with her to get to him. And of course he has trust issues! He’d be mad not to! God, if Kate’s own mother walked out on her, why would any other woman stick by him – by her?’ She stopped as she took in Rebecca’s expression: no one knew about Kate’s mother, how she was walking out on her family when she had the car accident, except her, Emily.
‘She was walking out on him?’ Rebecca said slowly.
Emily cleared her throat, as guilty as any prisoner in the dock. ‘Actually, I didn’t quite mean that. I mean she was – putting her shopping trip – holiday …’ She petered out. Guilt swamped her like a tidal wave. ‘Well, she left the house and didn’t have Kate with her. Which was actually brilliant! That’s what I meant.’
Rebecca nodded, still stunned. ‘Of course. Of course that’s what you meant.’
Into the huge gaping vacuum, Emily said, ‘Have I got time to learn an eightsome reel before Saturday? I’ll need to do that if I’m going to a ceilidh.’
Chapter Eighteen
AS EMILY CLEARED up the kitchen, took venison out of the freezer for the following night’s supper, and then unfolded the sofa bed and arranged her bedding, she berated herself and wondered what on earth she should do by turns.
She trusted that Rebecca would be too tired or too busy dealing with Nell to find a moment to tell James, but she couldn’t really expect her not to tell him. He was her husband, they didn’t have secrets, and this was a major secret about James’s beloved brother.
By the time she finally flopped into bed, her mind still racing, she decided she’d have to talk to Rebecca more about it. She’d give her permission to tell James and then swear them both to secrecy. But if Alasdair had found out she’d told Rebecca, even by mistake, he’d never trust Emily again. And while their relationship – if you could even call it that – had been very short-term she didn’t want to go back to Gloucestershire with him hating her.
Even with a decision made it took her ages to get off to sleep. There was an iron bar she had never noticed before, just in the middle of her back.
She was awoken by Rebecca holding two mugs of tea. ‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘did I wake you?’
She had but Emily didn’t mind. She was both thirsty and in need of a chat with her best friend.
‘Oh, love! You shouldn’t be bringing me tea, that’s my job!’ she said.
‘Not at all. I’ve just put Nell down after a feed and knew I’d never get back to sleep after what you told me so I thought: tea!’
‘Oh God, I feel so awful!’ Emily got herself upright and sipped her tea gratefully. ‘We can’t pretend I didn’t accidentally tell you anything?’
‘No, because once I’d got over the shock I realised I wasn’t that surprised.’ Rebecca pulled a blanket towards her and snuggled herself into an armchair. ‘You know something? I never liked her.’
‘Didn’t you?’ Emily could sense her friend wanted a good old-fashioned bitch about her sister-in-law and say the things she’d kept bottled up for years.
‘No! She was so beautiful and cold. What’s to like? And she was horrid to Alasdair in a quiet, snippy way. But he adored her.’
Up till now, Emily had liked the tone of the conversation but now she sighed. ‘So he’s not going to love someone as warm and cuddly and utterly lovely as me, then, is he? Not that I want him to, really, given that I’m going home soon.’
Rebecca laughed reluctantly. ‘Well, not if he stays true to his chosen type of woman, but why would he? Look what happened.’
‘They might have worked it out, though,’ said Emily, not joking now. ‘If she hadn’t had that accident it might have turned out to be just a blip. She might have walked out for a little bit, got her head clear and come back. And then they would have lived happily ever after, had more children.’
‘But she did have an accident,’ said Rebecca. ‘And as you said, you’re going home soon. So it’s all a bit pointless.’ She sounded bleak. ‘Do you want a biscuit? I’m starving!’
Emily got up. ‘I’ll make toast. Let’s go through to the kitchen.’
‘So, do you k
now if Alasdair ever found out who Catriona was running off with?’ Rebecca wiped toast crumbs from the corner of her mouth. Then she looked up, horrified.
James was standing in the doorway, holding Nell. ‘What have I just overheard?’ He sounded grim, as far from his usual, gentlemanly manner as possible. Rebecca got up and took the baby.
Emily cleared her throat. ‘I’ve done an awful thing. I let out a terrible secret by mistake.’
‘About Alasdair? And Catriona?’
Emily nodded.
‘She was running away from him when she had that accident,’ said Rebecca. ‘Al told Emily and she blurted it out, last night. It’s been gnawing away at me ever since.’
‘And me,’ said Emily. ‘I feel like crawling away into a hole and staying there.’
James’s expression lost some of its sternness. ‘I don’t think you need to go that far, but if something’s been told to you in confidence—’
‘I know!’ Emily wailed. ‘I thought I was brilliant at keeping secrets! I mean, I have kept loads of them, but somehow this one hopped out of my mouth before I could stop it. Or rather, I forgot it was a secret.’
‘I wonder why he’s never told me?’ James sat down and Rebecca put bread in the toaster.
‘I think it’s to do with Kate,’ said Emily. ‘He doesn’t want her finding out until he’s ready to tell her.’
‘You’re probably right. I just feel sorry for the poor chap, keeping it to himself all this time,’ said James.
It was because he was so nice that he didn’t blame his brother for not telling him or resent his secret, reflected Emily. She got up to make him tea.
By the time the boys had left for school and everything was squared away for Valerie’s impending arrival, Emily had managed to squash her guilt into a small corner of her brain and ignore it. What had happened wasn’t wonderful but it wasn’t going to change anything. James and Rebecca had sworn, over a pile of toast crumbs and a jar of marmalade, that they wouldn’t ever tell Alasdair that they knew. She had to be content with that.
Considering how no one had wanted her to come, everyone was sad to see Valerie go the following week. James drove her to the airport and Emily and Rebecca went into the kitchen for a consoling cup of tea.