by Katie Fforde
‘I know she is quite hard work,’ said Rebecca, ‘as my darling son so sweetly put it, but having Mum here did make us get up and get tidy. Without her – and you, Em – we could have just slobbed about all day.’
‘And without her, and you needing protection from her,’ said Emily. ‘I would have gone home by now. I’ve had several emails from work – they’re desperate for me to get back. There are plans for the new building to look at. But they’ll wait until next week.’
Rebecca put her hand on Emily’s arm. ‘Oh, God, Em! It’s been so amazing having you here! Are you sure you can’t stay forever? As I said you could live in the bothy.’
Emily laughed. ‘Let’s go and have a look. I haven’t seen it for days. Is it finished?’
‘All bar the shouting. You can help choose the soft fabrics. Then maybe you’d stay.’
But Emily knew she couldn’t.
They carried the baby round to the little house tacked on to the main one. It was stone, with thick walls and a fairly low ceiling. It had one, reasonably sized living room with the kitchen up one end. It was furnished with a gate-legged table and chairs as well as a sofa and an armchair pulled up to the wood-burner.
‘Oh, this is lovely!’ said Emily.
‘You think it’s OK having the kitchen in the sitting room?’
‘Absolutely. You could watch telly while you cook. Imagine how horrifying Valerie would find that concept?’
‘She would. One of the boys said something about wanting a telly in the kitchen and she jumped down his throat. I don’t want the telly on during meals unless it’s something very special, when we have what James’s family call “lappers”. But I do quite fancy one to entertain me. When I said this, she said, “Surely when you’re cooking you need to focus on what you’re doing?” But frankly, I’m mostly doing other things when I’m in the kitchen, like clearing up. And of course, I can multi-task.’
‘Which means chopping an onion while keeping half an eye on the box?’
‘Yep.’ Rebecca ran a loving hand over the sink unit. ‘What do you think of this?’
‘Beautiful,’ said Emily. ‘He’s a brilliant carpenter, your James, isn’t he? He’s done this beautifully. Such attention to detail.’
‘He is good. And it’s all recycled materials so it looks in keeping. This little cupboard is my favourite.’ She opened a door tucked into the curve of the ceiling. ‘Not sure what you’d keep in it.’
‘Little jars of jam, sauces, things like that,’ said Emily instantly, moving into the little house in her head. ‘Let’s go and check out the bedroom.’
The bedroom was just as nice. There was even a duvet and pillows on the bed although no covers as yet.
‘If you like you could sleep here instead of on that ghastly sofa bed,’ said Rebecca. ‘Now it’s finished, you may as well be comfortable.’
The thought that Alasdair might visit her here, when they would be completely private, flashed into her head. Although why he would when they’d agreed they shouldn’t, and couldn’t, be more than friends, she had no idea. ‘That might be nice. I could test drive it for you.’
‘That would be very useful. If it’s going to be a holiday let we have to make sure it’s got everything anyone might need.’
Although Emily didn’t say it, she felt if she was in here, for the few days that were left before she had to go home, it would give James and Rebecca more space to be with their family. And moving into the bothy would start the process of separation Emily knew was going to be hard.
‘I’ll put the heating on then,’ said Rebecca, going back into the kitchen.
After lunch Emily said, ‘Becca, would it be all right if I borrowed the car? I want to try and see Alasdair. I found out he finishes his surgery today at two. If I went now, I’d catch him.’
‘You don’t want to ring him? I’ve got his number.’ Rebecca reached across the table for her phone.
‘No, I’d rather say goodbye in person. He doesn’t know when I’m going, I don’t think, so just ringing wouldn’t seem right.’
‘I didn’t mean you shouldn’t see him,’ said Rebecca, ‘I meant you should check he’s going to be there.’
‘I’m sure he will. I rang the surgery.’
Two hours later Emily parked the car and went into the house. ‘Oh, Bec! Why didn’t I listen to you?’ she said. ‘He’d gone off early to see someone way across the other side of the area. I missed him.’
‘He’s not a great communicator, I’m afraid, and of course, his work does take him away sometimes.’
‘I don’t know why I’d expect him to get in touch. We’re just friends, after all. I can’t expect him to be sending me loving emails. I shouldn’t have tried to see him really. It would have only made the parting more difficult.’
Rebecca sighed. ‘But it seems a shame after – well you know.’ She looked questioningly. ‘You could phone him, or text?’
Emily shook her head. She’d thought about these options on the way back from the surgery and had rejected them. She still felt so guilty about blurting out his secret to Rebecca she felt a phone call would be horribly awkward. And a text would seem just rude.
‘No, it’s OK. I’ll just make a point of seeing him at the hooley at the Big Hoose.’
‘The Big Hoose’ was a huge old Scottish Baronial mansion, dripping with turrets, castellations and heraldic beasts, owned by a woman in her fifties. A few days before the party she knocked on Rebecca’s door and Emily opened it.
‘Hello! I’m Fiona McIlhose. You must be the heroine of the hour! Delivering the baby in that storm!’
Emily smiled. ‘I am a midwife. It is what I do.’
‘But not without electricity!’
‘Sometimes. I have delivered a baby in a yurt. Did you want to see Rebecca?’
‘Absolutely! And her new baby daughter. Is it convenient?’
Rebecca joined them on the doorstep. ‘Fiona! How lovely to see you. Come on in.’
It wasn’t long before it was evident that Fiona’s visit was not just social.
‘I was going to get caterers but they charge so much and they weren’t that great last time,’ she said. ‘It’s for the children’s hospice.’
‘OK, don’t beat about the bush, what do you want us to make?’
‘Frankly I oughtn’t ask you to do anything when you’ve just had a baby and it’s terribly short notice but I knew you had Emily here, so puddings?’
‘How many?’
‘Well, let’s see …’ Fiona appeared to do sums in her head but came up with the answer very quickly. ‘Could you manage six? Anything you like but serving about eight each?’
‘I do a very good trifle,’ said Emily, ‘as long as you don’t want me to make Genoese sponges and jelly.’
‘Sounds delicious. Can I just put you down for six large puds and you can decide what they are?’ Fiona got up. ‘Oh, nearly forgot! I’ve got a present for the little one. I bought it at a sale of work. I hope it’s all right!’
It was a very charming little crocheted bonnet in a deep raspberry colour.
‘My mother said babies should only ever wear white,’ said Fiona, ‘but I think this is a lovely colour. I wanted it for me only it didn’t fit.’
When Fiona had left, Rebecca said, ‘That woman is a living saint. She’s always doing something to raise money. She told me once it was her duty. If she lived in such a large house and was comfortably off she had to do things for others.’
‘I suppose she’s right,’ said Emily.
‘I know, but think how many people don’t,’ said Rebecca. ‘Are you all right to make all those puddings?’
‘No problem,’ said Emily. ‘My only concern is what to wear.’
‘We’ll have a look in the wardrobe later,’ said Rebecca. ‘I hope there’s something I can squash myself into. How long before I stop being the size of a house?’
Emily laughed. Rebecca didn’t really look as if she’d just had a baby. ‘How long will
it take you to get off your baby weight? About five minutes, the rate you’re going. Maybe ten?’
‘That’s the right answer, Em. Now shall we go and look at clothes before Nell wakes up?’
Teaching Emily a few basic ceilidh dances took a bit more time. There had been a dress in Rebecca’s wardrobe, petrol blue, clingy, long enough to be decent but not so long that she couldn’t dance in it. James had said ‘Wow’ when he saw her in it so Emily had said, ‘Thank you very much, I’d love to borrow it.’
There was a pair of shoes that were a bit big, but it was decided that Emily could wear her own ballet flats to reel in.
The dancing lessons involved pushing all the furniture to the edges of the room.
Rebecca put a CD on. ‘Now, you have to learn how to set to your partner. That’s Archie.’ She demonstrated and Nell, who, post-feed, was over her mother’s shoulder, belched.
‘Does that mean she likes it?’ said Henry.
It was agreed that it did.
Emily eventually managed a pas de basque with Henry that was pronounced satisfactory by the others. Both boys knew the dances well having learnt them at school.
‘OK,’ Rebecca went on, ‘now a basic gallop.’
‘It’s quite athletic!’ said Emily, prancing up and back a few times.
‘You can walk that bit if you get tired towards the end of the evening,’ said Rebecca.
‘But it’s cheating,’ said Archie, regarding Emily as if she was the sort of person who might cheat, given half a chance. ‘And you have to keep your head up and not look at your feet.’
‘Come on, Archie!’ Emily protested. ‘I’m an old lady and a beginner!’
‘Looking at your feet won’t help,’ he said firmly.
She was certainly walking it through by the time she’d learnt how to do the Dashing White Sergeant, the Gay Gordons, Strip the Willow and Sir Roger de Coverley.
‘That’s very good,’ said Rebecca, who’d sat with Nell operating the music. ‘Tomorrow we’ll teach you an eightsome and maybe Hamilton House, that’s a nice one. And you’ll be good to go!’
Later, in the kitchen while they got the evening meal together, Emily said to Rebecca, ‘I can’t help thinking that this party is quite hard work. I’ve had to cook up a storm and dance the equivalent of a marathon!’
‘Don’t be daft,’ said Rebecca, pulling open a tin of beans with a practised hand. ‘Nothing more than a fun run.’ Then she looked at her friend. ‘I really wish you didn’t have to go home. We’re going to miss you so much! The boys would have you reeling every night now you know the basics. Think how fit you’d get!’
They exchanged rueful smiles and Rebecca reached for the wine bottle.
Chapter Nineteen
IT WAS SATURDAY evening and an autumn mist threaded its way across the sea and came up from the beach, wafting around the bottom of the big house giving it an ethereal, slightly spooky feel. James had taken the puddings up earlier so it was just the family and Emily squashed into the people carrier who had to unpack themselves into the chilly air.
‘Will it be warm inside?’ asked Emily, pulling her shawl closely about her, wishing she’d put her fleece on top of her evening dress.
‘No, not to begin with,’ said James. ‘The fires will be lit and it will warm up, but until then, be prepared to shiver.’
‘I know people who wear their thermals under their posh frocks,’ said Rebecca, ‘and take them off later. In fact, I’ve done it myself.’
As they walked from the car, which they’d parked in the designated field and not that near to the house, Emily realised she felt nervous and couldn’t decide if it was because of the fact she wouldn’t know anyone, hardly knew how to do Scottish dancing or because Alasdair would be there.
Although she knew it wasn’t anyone’s fault they hadn’t met up after her failed attempt to see him, Emily felt anxious about seeing him, as if she was a teenager with a crush. It was so silly!
James had gone ahead with the boys, while Rebecca and Emily, with slightly less functional footwear, picked their way along behind them.
‘Is Alasdair’s band good?’ Emily asked Rebecca when James was out of earshot.
‘Yes, very, but I have to warn you that we might not see that much of him. When they’re not playing, the groupies take up their time, rather.’
‘Groupies?’ Emily was surprised. ‘I thought his band would be fairly low key, not the sort to attract crowds of teenagers!’
‘Oh no, they are fairly low key but they have two bachelors, eligible ones, and there’s one woman in particular who is out to get one of them. Don’t think she’s fussy about which one. She brings friends for moral support – or immoral in her case.’
‘Oh.’ This was a bit of a surprise and not really a welcome one.
‘Yes. Her name is Annie and she’s very tall and – though I hate to say this – rather good-looking.’
Emily felt even more despondent.
‘And,’ Rebecca went on, ‘I don’t trust her further than I can throw her – which wasn’t far last time I tried.’
This made Emily laugh. ‘Oh well, if he wants someone tall and beautiful I can’t really compete.’
‘She shouldn’t really be competition. Kate can’t bear her. Al told me once that when Annie was at their house having lunch, the moment they’d finished their pudding Kate said, “Isn’t it time you took Mrs Stewart home?” Mrs Stewart was not impressed and said, “I’ll decide when it’s time for me to leave, little missie!” Kate was furious and Alasdair didn’t know which of the women he should take notice of.’ Rebecca paused. ‘Well, he didn’t actually say that, but I could tell that was his dilemma.’
‘I’m not sure why you’ve dragged me to this do,’ said Emily when they approached the house. ‘I could have stayed at home with the boys and you and James could have had a lovely time with no responsibilities.’
‘Rubbish! Fiona sets up a chill-out room for the kids with a couple of girls who work in the nursery part of the school. I’ll leave Nell there and they’ll come and get me when she needs feeding.’ Rebecca gave Emily a bracing squeeze round her waist. ‘Come on! You’re going to enjoy this! You have to show the boys you’ve taken all those dancing lessons properly on board.’
The sound of pipes carried across the crisp September air. There was something mournful and plaintive about them that made the back of Emily’s throat tighten. Just for a moment she thought she might cry.
‘Oh look, there’s Dougie, the piper,’ said Rebecca. ‘Do you see? Up on the balcony. This house really lends itself to pipers.’
‘How romantic,’ said Emily, having got herself under control. ‘This is a rather marvellous house, Becca.’
‘Scottish Baronial at its best. Not a turret untopped, not a balcony uncastellated. Over the top and a bit gloomy, but fun.’
‘Gloomy but fun,’ repeated Emily. ‘An unusual description.’
Rebecca laughed. ‘So how do you feel about the bagpipes?’ They were now quite near the house and the pipes were very loud.
‘Love them,’ said Emily, without needing to think too hard. ‘I know they’re noisy, but there’s something primitive and exciting about them.’
‘Me too,’ said Rebecca, her voice sounding a little odd, too. ‘And quite often they make me cry.’ She paused. ‘I can’t believe you’ve got to go tomorrow. The time has gone in a flash.’
‘I know.’
Rebecca cleared her throat and spoke briskly. ‘James, give me Nell now. We’ll go and sort ourselves out upstairs first and then come and find you.’
The huge wooden front door was open, spilling light out on to the driveway, and standing in the hall was a man in full Highland dress. Tall as a tree, he was wearing a kilt in a dark green tartan, a fitted black jacket and an impressively hairy sporran. He had scarlet flashes on his socks and black shoes. As Rebecca embraced him (he was obviously an old friend) Emily noticed he had a dagger stuck in his sock and remembered it was called a sg
ian-dubh.
‘Emily, meet Ian. Doesn’t he look magnificent? I wish I could have got James into a kilt.’
There were many more introductions to be made as people came to greet Rebecca and exclaim over Nell and how much she looked like her father before Rebecca said, ‘Come on. Let’s leave our coats, maybe change our shoes, and get Nell settled.’
Emily followed Rebecca up the wide oak staircase, Rebecca talking over her shoulder. ‘I should imagine we leave our coats in Fiona’s bedroom. That view alone is worth coming here for.’
They arrived at the top of the stairs and went along the wide corridor. ‘Here we are.’ Rebecca opened the door to a room, which had several women in it already, all chatting like mad.
‘I’ll just find where to put Nell and join you,’ said Rebecca. ‘You’ll be all right on your own, won’t you?’
‘Of course,’ said Emily and went in.
To her surprise she did feel a bit awkward because everyone stopped talking and then someone said, ‘Oh! You’re the woman who delivered Rebecca’s baby!’
She smiled and frowned at the same time. ‘How did you know that?’
‘Everyone knows everything about everyone here,’ said another woman, smiling. She seemed genuinely friendly, at least. ‘I had you pointed out to me in the village shop. I’m Shona.’
‘And I’m Emily,’ she said, aware she shouldn’t really be surprised at being recognised. ‘Isn’t this an amazing bedroom. Bigger than my entire cottage, I think.’
‘Do look at the view,’ said Shona. ‘It’s so lovely.’
She moved over to the window and pulled back the curtain. The view was more than lovely. There were lights dancing on the sea and on the islands; the mountains were visible against the dark sky, which had shreds of pink in it. Mist added mystery and romance to the scene, as did the faint flicker of the occasional lighted window in the distance. This beauty, combined with the pipes, which were still plainly audible, caused tears to threaten in earnest. Was it just sentimentality caused by the music, the scenery and the expectation of a wonderful evening? Or did she want to cry because she knew she had to go back home in the morning?