‘Oh,’ he says, ‘is this Fiona?’
‘Show me?’
He holds up the photo.
‘Yes.’
‘I’ve only seen that one.’ He nods at the framed photograph on the little round table under the window: Fiona aged about nine with her hair in ringlets. The picture he’s holding is a school photo, Fiona in a blazer looking distracted.
‘Yes, that’s her.’ I rub my fingers against my temples. ‘Did he ever talk to you about her? I meant to ask Jilly’s mum, ages ago – apparently she knew her. But I forgot. I don’t even know what happened. Do you?’
‘Oh. Well. Yes, he did talk about her a bit. She liked cycling. They used to cycle about all over the place, her and her pals. That would be Kate’s sister, I suppose – maybe? There were two of them, anyway, in the accident, if that’s what you’d call it. Um – no, can’t remember the other girl’s name.’
I wait while he thinks about the story.
‘There were some lads – friends of hers – working on a boat somewhere – up beyond Kirkcudbright, I think. Fiona and Kate’s sister – if it was Kate’s sister – went up there to see how they were getting on. There was a jetty – a wooden one? It’s not there anymore, I don’t think. Anyway, it must have been rotten, or maybe she just tripped – I’m not sure. Anyway, they both fell in, and Fiona hit her head on the steps or something. The other girl couldn’t swim. The boys went in after them and they got them out, but it was too late for Fiona. There was nowhere to phone from, so one of the lads had to cycle for the doctor. Everything took too long. So she died.’
‘Ah,’ I say. ‘Yes, I had in my head that she’d drowned. How awful.’ I look across at the smiling face of my long-dead second cousin. How unfair everything is, how random. She might have had grandchildren, mightn’t she, if she’d lived. One of them might have been sitting here now; maybe even talking to Edward. I shiver.
‘Pretty bad,’ he agrees. ‘She’s buried in the churchyard. In the town.’
‘Is she? Do you know where?’
‘If you go in the gate, on the Co-op side, it’s just along to the left. You’ll see from the dates; all the newer stuff is on that side.’
‘I never even thought to wonder where she was buried. Or any of them.’ I’m slightly appalled by this.
‘Oh, well, they’re all there. Left room on her headstone for their names.’
We look at each other for a long moment. ‘God.’
‘I know. I’d say they’re all together now,’ he says, ‘if I was that sort of person. And physically it’s true.’ He shrugs.
I sigh. ‘Yes.’
‘They used to go to church,’ he says, draining his cup, ‘Mary and Andrew. They stopped after that, more or less.’
‘I can see how that might happen. I suppose you can go either way, can’t you.’
‘Indeed you can.’
Something else occurs to me. ‘Where’s your dad buried?’
‘Oh.’ He grins at me. ‘We’ve a tomb. In the church.’
Of course they have. ‘Oh really.’
‘Yeah, quite fancy. Brass and such like. Only the last three generations, though – you know, glorious war dead and so on. Before that, everyone got slung in the tomb at the house.’
‘Slung.’
He laughs. ‘Well, I imagine it was all a bit more, you know, elaborate than that. There’s a chapel.’
‘Is there? Whereabouts? I’ve never noticed that.’
‘It’s only tiny, round the back beyond the stables. A nice bit of exercise for them, walking three hundred yards of a Sunday morning. Anyway, I should get off and leave you alone, you still look–’
‘What?’
‘I don’t know. Fragile?’
‘I’ve literally never been described as “fragile” in my life,’ I say drily.
He shakes his head. ‘No, but you do. You should get an early night. But make sure you eat something.’
I roll my eyes. ‘Thanks, Dad.’
He ignores this and gets up. ‘I’ll take your cup, if you’ve finished. And I’ll be back in the morning to collect you. About nine-ish?’
‘Thank you. It’s very kind of you.’
‘Whatever,’ he says, and takes the cups out to the kitchen.
Sixteen
Two weeks later, I’m in the Old Mill, drinking coffee and reading the paper in between emailing various people and fiddling about on Twitter. Cerys comes over and says, ‘Mind if I sit with you? I’m on my break.’
‘Feel free.’
‘So how are you?’
‘Good, yeah, just doing some Twitter stuff for the shop.’
‘Jilly was admiring your photos on Instagram.’
‘Yeah, I’m quite pleased with how that’s going.’
She stirs her coffee. ‘Never get Ed doing any of that.’
She’s the only person who calls him Ed. He doesn’t seem to mind, but I can’t imagine doing it myself. They’re reasonably matey, Edward and Cerys – in fact I’d go so far as to say she’s his closest friend here. Sometimes they go to the cinema together in Dumfries. I was surprised when I found out about that, but Cerys did a Film Studies degree and they go to see arty things that Jilly can’t be bothered with.
‘What, social media? Shouldn’t think so, no. I told him to put it in the job description for his next victim.’
‘Are you off, then?’ She watches me, bright-eyed, birdlike.
‘Oh, no. Not at the moment. Not sure what to do. I’m tempted to stay,’ I tell her, ‘but I wonder if that’s… you know, cowardly.’
‘Cowardly?’
‘Yeah. Because of how my life fell apart and everything.’ I drum my fingers on the table. ‘I had no intention of “starting over” or anything like that when I came up here. I’d never thought about living somewhere else. But now I’m here–’
‘Yeah, I know what you mean. I didn’t plan on staying. I originally came up on holiday. I did go back home, but only to collect all my stuff.’ She wrinkles her nose.
‘Really?’ I’m surprised. I’ve never thought about where Cerys came from, even though she’s clearly not Scottish.
‘Mm. That was before I met Jilly. I used to be married, did you know that?’
‘What, to a man?’
She laughs at me. ‘Yeah, I know, imagine that.’
‘Good heavens.’
‘Yeah, I was married for nearly ten years. It was okay. Although as you can imagine, I did have some… issues. I came up here on a whim, just because there was a last-minute deal on a holiday cottage website. Needed a bit of time to myself. And when I got here, I really liked it. I suppose I’d already decided I was going to leave Ryan. So I thought, hey, sod it, why not just run away? Although I prefer to think of it as running towards,’ she adds, laughing again.
‘What about all your friends? And your family?’ I’m secretly impressed by this sort of careless adventuring.
‘Don’t have any family. And my friends come up here to visit. And I met some people up here – Ed and Jenny and Alastair. And then I met Jilly. And there we are.’
‘Wow. I suppose I thought you and Jilly had always been together.’
‘Nope.’
‘Did you – I’m sorry, this is nosy, and you’re welcome to tell me to piss off – did you go out with other women, before you were married?’
‘Yeah, a bit. Nothing serious. I always thought I was mostly straight. But actually I think I’m mostly not.’ She laughs some more. ‘Ah. I’d say it was a waste, but you know it wasn’t, not really. I did love Ryan, and I think I wasn’t ready for Jilly. If I’d met her when we were twenty, it wouldn’t have worked.’
‘Life’s weird, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah. So I wanted to talk to you,’ she says, ‘about Charles.’
‘Charles?’ I look at her blankly.
‘Ed’s brother?’
‘Yes, I know who he is,’ I say, ‘but why?’
‘He asked me about you.’
‘
Asked you what? He knows about me. I’ve been to his house. And he’s been to mine.’
‘Yeah, he wasn’t asking who you were, you idiot.’
‘Oh.’ We both laugh. ‘What was he asking, then?’
‘He wanted to know about your husband. And about you and Ed.’
I frown at her. ‘Really?’
‘Yeah. He wanted to know if you were getting divorced. And if I thought the two of you were… you know.’
‘We’re absolutely not.’ I feel my cheeks burn, annoyingly.
‘No shit. After the state he got himself into about that bloke, Jesus Christ.’
‘What?’
‘Your beau at the Arms the other week.’
‘Oh. Keith. That was weird, wasn’t it? He was really funny about it.’ I’m still not sure what I think about that.
She snorts. ‘Wasn’t he? But anyway, yeah. Charles said, were you divorced, and I said, not quite. But pretty much. And did I think you and Ed were, you know, sleeping together, and I said no, and he said but do you think he likes her, though, and I said, everyone likes Thea–’
‘Oh, bless you, how sweet – oh look at me, you’ve made me well up. Good grief.’ I dab at my eyes. ‘What a knob. Me, I mean.’ I shake my head. It’s absurd that I could weep so easily at the thought of anyone saying anything nice about me. Tragic.
‘Hm, well, it’s true. Anyway, so I said you seemed to be getting on well and I thought it was good for Ed to have a friend and of course he didn’t like that, much – I expect he’d like him to die a lonely death, but anyway. Then he asked if Ed was seeing anyone, and I told him I thought Lara was still on the scene. Is she?’
Ugh. I try not to think about Lara. ‘Yeah, for some reason. Have you met her?’
‘Once,’ says Cerys.
‘What did you think?’
‘Oh.’ She shrugs. ‘They’re all the same, aren’t they? Posh birds. Do you like her?’
‘No. Well, I don’t know her. But–’
‘But you don’t like her.’
I can’t deny it. ‘No. And I don’t think he does, either, which… I don’t really understand it.’
‘It’s convenient, I suppose.’
‘Not that convenient. I mean she lives three hours’ drive away.’
‘Yeah, you’re right. It’s not serious though, is it? That’s more what I meant.’
‘Hm. But anyway,’ I say, ‘what was Charles getting at? I don’t understand.’
‘I don’t know. But if he asks you out to dinner or anything–’
I stare at her. ‘Why on earth would he do that?’
She blinks at me. ‘He likes you.’
‘Not like that though, surely? I mean – I assume his wives have been terribly glossy and elegant and – glamorous? In a classy way? Not like me.’
Cerys looks thoughtful.
‘This might sound rude,’ she says, ‘so please don’t take it the wrong way, but I think you’re right. You’re probably not… well bred enough. And maybe too old, you know what men are like. But if Charles thought he could hurt Edward somehow through you, I think he might do it.’
‘But why would he think sleeping with me would upset Edward?’ I frown.
‘Thea, you’re not stupid, come on. Everyone thinks you’re sleeping together, and if you’re not, then eventually you will be.’
‘Oh my God, do they? Surely they don’t.’ I goggle at her, although I do feel quite stupid for not thinking anyone would be interested in us.
‘Yes, they do. I’m sorry, it’s a small town, everyone’s intrigued. You know he never has women working in the shop. You hang out together, he’s never rude to you, yadda yadda.’
‘He’s constantly rude to me, what on earth do you mean?’
‘Yeah, hardly.’
I sniff. ‘One of the reasons I liked it up here is because everyone was talking about me at home. I was enjoying the anonymity of Baldochrie.’
‘Yeah, well, you can forget about being anonymous. Look, it’s just people are nosy, and they like romance and intrigue, and you’re new and now people know you’re single, they’re all wondering who you’ll get together with.’
‘Ugh.’
She laughs at me. ‘And Charles likes you. But he might have a motive beyond “wouldn’t it be fun to take Thea out to dinner”. And I like you, too, so I thought I should tell you.’
‘Bloody hell.’
‘I mean by all means shag him if you like – it doesn’t bother me.’
‘Yeah, no, you’re all right. He’s too charming. I don’t like charming people.’
‘You prefer Ed.’ She laughs. ‘Not charming.’
‘Of course I do, I like him a lot. But I’m not going to sleep with him either, you know.’ I laugh. ‘Jesus. It’s like being at college.’
* * *
I’m in the shop. It’s been less than twenty-four hours since Cerys told me all that strange stuff. I don’t know what to think about any of it.
My phone rings, a number I don’t recognize.
‘Hello?’
‘Thea. Charles here.’
I nearly drop the phone. Jesus flipping Christ. I feel an unexpected bubble of hysteria and have to bite my cheek.
‘Can you talk?’ he asks.
‘I… Yeah, hello, hi, I’ll just–’ I slide off the counter and walk to the back of the shop.
‘I shouldn’t phone you at work,’ he says, ‘but I’ll be busy later and I wanted to catch you.’
‘Well, here I am. Hello. What can I do for you?’
‘I wondered if you’d be free for dinner,’ he says.
I nearly laugh. But I restrain myself. ‘Dinner? Gosh,’ I say, ‘it’s suddenly very fashionable to buy me drinks and offer to buy me dinner. How thrilling.’
‘Why, who’s been buying you drinks?’
‘Oh, just some guy,’ I say, laughing at myself. ‘I met him in the Arms the other week.’
‘Oh. Did he ask you out?’
‘No. Luckily, since I’m not ready to go on dates.’
‘Oh,’ says Charles.
‘But presumably you’re not asking me on a date. Are you?’ I’m not sure when making people feel slightly uncomfortable first seemed like fun. Maybe today.
‘Well,’ he says. ‘It wouldn’t not be a date.’
‘You don’t want to go on a date with me, though, do you? What’s happened to Miranda?’ There’s a slightly awkward silence. ‘Is she away or something?’
‘Miranda and I are not… She’s not my girlfriend,’ he says.
‘Isn’t she? I kind of thought she was.’
‘Mm, no, not… No.’
‘Gosh, you Maltravers men with your unconventional relationships.’ I begin to walk back through the shop towards the front door. ‘So anyway, where were you thinking?’
He clears his throat. ‘There’s quite a good restaurant at Knockandry.’
‘The hotel? Hotel dining rooms,’ I say, ‘I’m not sure they’re ever all that, are they? Sorry, that sounds fussy.’
‘It’s good,’ he says. ‘They have a Michelin star, if that helps.’
‘It does a bit,’ I say, laughing. ‘You’re probably already regretting this, right?’
‘Not at all,’ he says, polite.
‘And when would this be?’
‘I thought perhaps Thursday?’
‘As in this Thursday as ever is?’ I lean on the counter.
‘Yes, if you’re free.’
‘Oh, well, I generally am. My social life is very limited. Okay, thank you. Shall I meet you there?’
‘I’ll come and collect you. Half seven suit?’
‘Sounds fine,’ I say, ‘thank you.’
I slide my phone into the back pocket of my jeans and laugh heartily. Edward is selling a collection of 1970s Thelwell cartoon books to a man in a tweed jacket. Once he’s given him his change and put the books in a bag, he asks, ‘What’s funny?’
‘What isn’t funny, eh? Good lord. So that was your bro
ther,’ I tell him. ‘Guess what he wants.’
‘My brother? What’s he phoning you for?’
‘What indeed. Wants to take me out,’ I say. ‘We’re having dinner.’
‘You’re having dinner with my brother?’ Brows beetling, forehead furrowed.
‘Apparently so.’
‘Why the hell are you doing that?’
‘Two reasons,’ I say, ‘if I’m honest. One is I’ve never had dinner with a lord.’ I snort. ‘And I guess it will be quite fancy, and I like to eat nice food. And the other reason is, oh my God, why on earth would he want to have dinner with me? Do you think he’ll get me drunk and try to get me to sign the house over to him or something?’
‘If he gets you drunk, it won’t be the house he’s after,’ says Edward, disapprovingly.
‘Pfft. Yeah, but seriously, it’s weird, isn’t it?’
‘I’m not sure “weird” is the right word.’
‘Oh, come on, of course it is. I asked him if it was a date. He said it “wouldn’t not be a date”!’ I chuckle. ‘That’s the sort of thing you’d say.’
‘If I ask someone out to dinner, it’s definitely a fucking date,’ says Edward.
I shake my head. ‘You bought me dinner the other week and that wasn’t a date, was it? Anyway, your brother doesn’t fancy me. I’m pretty sure.’
‘Doesn’t he? What makes you say that?’
‘What, am I a bit of rough or something? Come on.’
He closes his eyes briefly. ‘Jesus Christ.’
‘No, I’m not fishing,’ I say, hoisting myself up onto the counter and banging my heels against the front of it. ‘I’m being serious. Cerys said something yesterday about this. It doesn’t make any sense to me. What about all those glossy women? The house was full of them when I went to that hideous party. I’m not like that.’
‘Maybe he fancies a change,’ says Edward. I can’t read his expression, which is unusual.
‘Yeah, I doubt it.’
‘What did Cerys say?’
‘She said he’d asked about, um…’ I’m unexpectedly embarrassed. ‘You know, about us. Me and you.’
‘Ah, well, there you go then.’
‘My, that’s flattering, isn’t it? If he’s asked me to have dinner because he thinks for some mad reason that it might annoy you.’
The Bookshop of Second Chances Page 18
