by Jenny Colgan
Chapter Thirty
In fact there was to be no pie saving. From the second the Seaside Kitchen opened, it was massively popular – at first through rampant curiosity and a few people down to see what Flora was up to. But after they’d tried the produce – the bread, the cakes, the cheeses of course – it became simply an obvious thing to return. Flora could barely look Inge-Britt in the eye, even though the Icelandic woman was manifestly unbothered and in fact they were hardly in competition with a bar that would reluctantly hand you a watery cup of coffee.
The very first customer Flora had, at 8 a.m. on that bright morning, was Charlie.
‘Teàrlach,’ she said with pleasure. He looked so cheerful and handsome coming in, taller than the door frame. She caught sight of a bunch of waifs behind him in a motley selection of red and yellow wet-weather gear that had obviously seen a lot of use.
‘I see you’re back with the wee boys again.’
‘Thank God,’ said Charlie. ‘Last week it was lawyers – no offence.’
‘Look at me!’ said Flora, who was also wearing a stripy apron.
‘Are they all so competitive and joyless?’ said Charlie, shaking his head. ‘So status-obsessed and uptight?’
Flora thought about Joel.
‘Pretty much,’ she said glumly.
‘Anyway,’ said Charlie, rubbing his hands, ‘they pay the bills. Right! I want a dozen sausage rolls, two loaves of bread and that entire fruit cake.’
Flora looked at him.
‘Seriously?’
‘I’m planning on making them very hungry.’
‘You’ll empty out half the shop.’
‘Make more! I’ll come back and have a scone this afternoon.’
Flora grinned.
‘Well, you can have that one on the house.’
‘Thank you, ma’am.’
She bundled the whole lot up, threw in a couple of extra sausage rolls and waved heartily at the faces outside the window, some of whom waved tentatively back. She smiled to herself, knowing what a wonderful day they had in store, especially if it stayed as light and bright as this. As Charlie turned to go, she was struck by something – excitement and happiness at the lovely day, and the weird amazingness of being surrounded by things she’d made herself; even though this wasn’t, she told herself, her real job, her real life. Which meant she didn’t have to behave the way she did in London.
‘Teàrlach,’ she called as he dipped his head through the doorway. ‘Can we… would you like to have a drink sometime?’
He looked at her in mock-horror as all the kids gathered round, laughing and shouting at him. He held up his hands.
‘Oh, don’t do this to me.’
‘Och, sir, she loves you! Is she your girlfriend, sir? What’s Jan going to say, sir?’
‘Pipe down at once, all of you… Come on, come on, get moving, keep it up.’ And he started to herd them up the little harbour road, but just before he vanished out of sight, he turned round, nodded comically and gave Flora a huge wink.
She was still smiling as she went to check on Iona and Isla in the back, taking things out of the oven, and even when Lorna popped in on her way to school.
‘OMG, look at you, you run a shop!’
Flora went pink.
‘Shut up!’
‘This is going to sound mad,’ said Lorna. ‘But you’re looking well. Like, happier.’
‘That’s because people have stopped spitting at me in the street,’ said Flora.
‘They didn’t do that. People forget. And you’re here.’
‘Temporarily,’ said Flora stoutly. ‘Anyway, what would you like?’
‘What’s the spiciest thing you have?’
‘Is this for you?’
Now it was Lorna’s turn to go pink.
‘Sometimes Saif and I have lunch when he’s got a quiet surgery.’
‘Do you now?’
Flora started bagging up a haggis pasty.
‘Just as friends,’ said Lorna.
‘Obviously,’ said Flora.
Lorna sighed.
‘What happened to your hot lawyer bloke?’
‘He went back to London,’ said Flora. ‘And I haven’t heard from him since.’
She handed over the bag.
‘Christ, we are shit at this,’ said Lorna.
‘We are seriously the pits,’ agreed Flora, rubbing her eyes. ‘Seriously. Isla and Iona both have boyfriends.’
‘There’s three times as many men as women on Mure,’ said Lorna. ‘How can we suck so badly at this? Especially you, you’re a seal.’
‘Shut up, colleen of the glens.’
‘We are such failures!’
Flora sighed.
‘At least we’re failures together. Oh, I meant to ask you. Charlie…’
‘Mr Outward Adventures?’
‘What’s his deal?’
‘I don’t know him,’ said Lorna. ‘Honestly. He’s not from here.’
‘He’s from, like, three islands away!’
‘I know,’ said Lorna. ‘Total stranger.’
‘Oh my God, you are so useless.’
‘Why, do you like him?’
Flora shrugged.
‘I think… I think he’s cute. Which means I am instantly doomed. That is how it must always be for me.’
Lorna laughed and turned to go.
‘Well, have a very successful unsuccessful day.’
‘And to you,’ said Flora. ‘Can we meet up soon and drink lots and lots and lots of wine? And then feel sick but not care and drink some more?’
‘Yes, please,’ said Lorna fervently, ringing the bell on her way out and startling Colton, who was heading in.
‘Well well well,’ he said, sounding pleased. ‘You did it. Not bad for a bunch of money-grubbing sharks!’
‘Thank you,’ said Flora.
‘Have you told them about the party?’
‘You’re going to feed people till they give in, aren’t you?’
‘Are you kidding? Look at the day out there. It’s so beautiful. And yes, I’m going to stop a marauding horde of great big metal monsters from storming across my landscape. Yes, I am. Now give me some cheese.’
He scratched his beard casually.
‘So. Um. Your brother.’
Flora looked up expectantly. There was definitely something in the water today.
‘Mmm.’
‘Is he…?’ Colton took his glasses off and then put them back on again.
‘Yes?’
‘Well, I mostly wondered…’
Even billionaires, thought Flora. Even billionaires turn into teenagers once again when they like someone. This felt like school.
Colton looked a bit pink as Iona bustled in with a fresh tray of Annie’s iced buns. It was amazing, Flora thought, to see everything her mother had done for them rising again. Being enjoyed again. Because it had felt, when she’d died, that she’d left a big empty hole. And yet here it was. And she had thought it would be sad, but she felt, strangely, anything but.
She turned her attention back to Colton.
‘Yes?’ she said, smiling.
Colton looked around, as if realising where he was, and blinked. Whatever it was he’d been meaning to say, the moment had gone.
‘Um. Right. Well. Whatever. I mean, you’ll ask him… you’ll ask him to cater, right? Over at the Rock? He can give it a shot, can’t he? The two of you. Well, all of you.’ He gestured to the shop.
‘Oh!’ said Flora, who hadn’t been expecting this. ‘What about your expensive chef?’
‘He’s… Yes. He’s still with us. But he’d work under Fintan. For Fintan. For him.’
Flora smiled.
‘Wow. I’m sure Fintan will be amazed. If my dad can spare him.’
Colton looked as if he had something to say about that, but just then Maggie Buchanan came in, with her usual distracted smile and perfect clothes.
‘Hello, Mrs…’
‘Buchanan,’ his
sed Flora.
‘Mrs Buchanan! Great to see you! Like what we’ve done here?’
Maggie looked around. She sniffed loudly.
‘Not before time. It was a disgrace leaving this place empty. I hope you’re going to paint the outside.’
‘Um, yes, ma’am,’ said Colton. ‘I’m Colton Rogers.’
She looked at him blankly, which was pretty ballsy, Flora thought, given that she knew exactly who he was.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Nice to meet you.’
‘I’m having a party at my new place, the Rock,’ Colton went on, undeterred. ‘And I’d very much like for you to come.’
‘Would you now?’ said Maggie. ‘Four scones, please, Flora. No raisins.’
Flora got to it, fumbling with the till rather, and Maggie turned round with a good day and left the shop without another word.
‘She hates me,’ said Colton.
‘You’d better make it a great party,’ said Flora.
The painters had arrived before close of business.
And so it went on. Right from the start, the Summer Seaside Kitchen was incredibly busy; from the first lattes at 8 a.m. until the final slice of cake was taken away at four, every day was a blur.
The oddest thing was, given everything that was going on both there and on the farm, as well as in London, if you were to ask Flora what her worries were at that point, she would have looked at you confused. Because she was too busy worrying about what fish were coming in that morning to make fishcakes with, or whether they were going to run out of cream, or whether the bramble jam was going to be too sour.
On top of that, there was the party to plan.
They met up at the Rock on a cool, clear July day, with fragments of cloud banked against the bottom of the sky as if waiting until they were needed. Fintan was playing hookey from the farm for the day, and looked as ever overjoyed to have thrown off the yoke. His entire gait was looser.
‘So the cheese is going out on, like, taster plates,’ he was saying. ‘You’ve make those oatcakes again, but you know, if you’re making some more, what about adding, maybe, a little chilli to the mix? And some cheese, just to make them incredible? And we’ll use the farm butter, and we can just brand it; then if we’ve already got, like, the fruit pies…’
‘You’ve planned it very well,’ said Flora encouragingly. ‘It’s going to be great.’ They walked up the path together, touring the little cottage garden.
‘Because look! They have raspberries here, and fresh mint and everything. My God, what you could do with this place. Look at it all!’
He looked so happy, standing among the rows of fresh herbs and vegetables, completely in his element. Flora smiled at him.
‘And you’re going to like working with Colton,’ she said, not really considering her words.
He stiffened suddenly.
‘What do you mean?’
Flora had hoped this wouldn’t be so difficult. Yes, of course Mure was a small island, but this was the twenty-first century. There was gay marriage, the Church seemed to have more or less given up pontificating about it… just because the island was traditional. It had never been cruel.
Fintan wouldn’t catch her eye.
‘Nothing. I mean… Just, you guys seemed to get on well.’
‘So?’
‘So, nothing.’
There was a very uncomfortable pause.
‘I get on well with lots of people,’ said Fintan.
‘Of course you do,’ said Flora. ‘I know that.’
‘I’m not the one sleeping with my boss.’
‘I’m not sleeping with him!’
‘But you’ve thought about it.’
‘Ugh, person I am related to, shut up, bleargh, yuck, not listening.’
‘You have! You have! So. Don’t lecture me.’
‘Shut up! I’m not listening to you!’
‘You so fancy him! I’m not surprised. He’s hot.’
They both stopped. Fintan looked as if he’d been caught out in something.
‘He is,’ said Flora quietly.
‘Who is?’ came a cheerful American voice. Today Colton was wearing jeans and large boots and a massive hoody sweatshirt that made him look like an overgrown teenager, presumably the effect he’d intended all along.
Fintan turned away, but Colton took his arm.
‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Great to see you kids. It’s going to be an awesome party and everyone is going to love me and vote for my proposal, right?’
‘We’ll give it a shot,’ said Fintan gruffly.
‘Come on then, we’d better have an early lunch, given I have six million pies to oversee this afternoon.’
They sat out in the sun and ate cold-water oysters with rye bread. It was funny: as children they’d never liked it, the dark, solid bread, and had always moaned and whinged at their mother and longed for the squishy white pan that you got at Wullie’s and that lasted for weeks. Now, as an adult, Flora could appreciate it for the lovely, deep-flavoured, evocative thing that it was. Agot, on the other hand, had declared it ‘ASGUSTING’.
She added some of Fintan’s butter, of course, and for the oysters some vinegar and freshly squeezed lemon juice, and they ate sitting on the extensively carved bench outside the Rock, gazing out at the great northern void, as well as peering round towards the little harbour going about its business, the boats moving slowly in and out.
‘God, I love it here,’ Colton said suddenly. He was sitting very close to Fintan. ‘No phone calls, no stupid meetings, no lawyers… present company excepted, of course.’
‘Of course,’ said Flora.
Colton blinked.
‘Why did you ever leave?’ he said, looking out across the bay.
‘Why do you?’ said Flora.
‘Because I didn’t even discover it until I was forty, by which time I was a multinational conglomerate with offices and employees on four continents. Also, I asked first.’
Flora shrugged, and threw her oyster shells into the sea. They made a satisfying plouf noise.
‘Because I wanted to work,’ she said. ‘I wanted a job that wasn’t just tourism.’
‘There’s plenty of jobs,’ said Fintan.
‘Yes, if you want to work in the Harbour’s Rest.’
‘Your teacher friend Lorna does all right.’
‘My teacher friend Lorna lies awake at night because there aren’t enough babies being born to make up the roll and the school might get shut down.’
‘Because people like you go away and don’t have any babies.’
‘You want to talk about not having babies?’
‘All right, stop squabbling,’ said Colton. ‘But don’t you want to come back now? Now that you’re here?’
Flora smiled.
‘I like working for you. But my home is elsewhere.’
She glanced behind her. A clutch of men – and boys; the students back from the mainland once more – were working on the hotel, getting it ready for the night’s festivities. It was, hopefully, going to be a big hit.
‘Hmm,’ she said. Then she stood up. ‘I have to get back. Make sure everyone’s coming tonight. Get the girls on the ovens. Is the bar ready?’
‘Sure is,’ said Colton. ‘Even for Scottish people. And we have a band, pipers, dancers…’
‘Kitchen sink,’ said Flora.
‘Covering all the bases,’ said Colton. ‘Just like your boss said.’
‘Is he coming?’ Flora asked, too quickly.
‘Oh. Wouldn’t have thought so,’ said Colton. ‘The vote isn’t for another month.’
‘No. No, I realise that.’
Flora tried not to betray how deflated she felt. She’d been sending Joel reports, but hadn’t heard from his office at all. Kai said that if she didn’t hear, that meant everything was fine, but it wasn’t exactly reassuring.
‘Fintan, can you stay here and oversee?’ she said.
Colton looked at him, a smile playing on his lips.
&nb
sp; ‘Sure,’ said Fintan.
Flora watched the Rock retreat in the rear-view mirror, smiling to herself as she saw Fintan and Colton’s heads together. Well well well. She wondered if Innes had suspected. He must have done. Should she mention it, or not under any circumstances? It was a tricky one.
Stepping off the boat, she nearly stumbled into a small elderly form, standing straight and completely ignoring her own walking stick.
‘Mrs Kennedy!’ gasped Flora. ‘Sorry, I didn’t see you there.’
‘You didn’t pay me much mind at the time, either,’ said Mrs Kennedy, without smiling. Flora attempted to smile for her, but it went unheeded.
‘Well,’ said Flora, straightening up.
‘So off you went,’ carried on Mrs Kennedy, ‘leaving us completely wide open, with nobody there for cover.’
‘Mrs Kennedy! I’d told you I was moving.’
‘Right at the start of the Highland Games season!’
‘I had to do my internship and find a flat.’
It was ridiculous, Flora reflected, how everyone on this entire island conspired to make her feel fourteen years old.
‘Well, I’m back now,’ she said, remembering that Mrs Kennedy was on the council. ‘If there’s any way I can make it up to you…’
Mrs Kennedy looked up at her with those beady, shrewd eyes.
‘There might be, actually,’ she said.
Chapter Thirty-one
Margo blinked.
‘But there’s the Yousoff case that needs your attention… I mean, you don’t really have to go back there, do you? I thought it was all in hand.’
‘Colton Rogers could be a massive part of our business. I want to make sure he’s happy.’
‘Up in that godforsaken place? Amazing. And you should be prepping New York.’
Joel glanced at his calendar.
‘I can do that on the plane. I just feel I should be there. He called today.’
Rogers had been very keen for him to be there, it was true. But there was something else that he couldn’t put his finger on. Something about the island… He didn’t know what it was, but since he’d got back, the rush and frenzy of work hadn’t appealed to him quite so much. Another massive heatwave had hit London and everything felt soggy and damp and slow, and he had put it down to lethargy. But when he thought back to that big white beach which went on for ever, and the freshness of the air, and the sheer lack of people, the great emptiness, it felt almost like a dream. But an energising one.