by Kate Hardy
The orange gloop in the box wasn’t soup. It turned out to be mango sorbet. ‘Oh, crap,’ he said when he tasted it.
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.
‘I don’t think mango sorbet is meant to be heated.’
‘No.’ The word was expressionless—as was her face—but he’d seen the slight contempt in her eyes before she’d masked it.
Christ. Why hadn’t he just asked Janie at the farm shop to drop off some supplies for him today? Probably, he thought wryly, because he’d been in a bit of denial that Clara was actually going and he was going to have to get used to someone else as a housemate until he found a place of his own.
He’d keep his promise to Clara later and organise a welcome meal for her job swap partner. Though he hadn’t agreed to anything about actually sharing said dinner with the new housemate, so he could get Janie to sort out a touristy dinner for him, stick it in the microwave to heat it through for Dr Snootypants, and then take Truffle out so he didn’t have to see the woman sneering at the local delica—
The smell of singed bread brought him back from his thoughts and he yanked the pan from under the grill.
Crap, crap and double crap.
Not only was the orange gloop not soup, he’d managed to burn the cheese on toast because he hadn’t been paying attention.
Annoyed with himself, he cut off as much of the singed bits as he could, and dumped the edible bits on a plate.
‘Cheese on toast,’ he said, handing her the plate.
‘Aren’t you having any?’ she asked.
‘I’m not hungry.’ He thought again of the baby who hadn’t made it, the mum who’d dropped to her knees as if felled by an axe and wailed her loss into the floor, the dad who’d been white-faced with guilt and shame and horror and mumbled incoherent apologies.
No. He really, really wasn’t hungry.
‘I’ll leave you to it,’ he said, knowing he was being rude but just not being able to face making conversation.
‘Thanks.’ She took a breath. ‘Is it OK to have a bath after I’ve eaten?’
‘You mean, have I hogged all the hot water?’ he asked, nettled.
‘No. I mean I’ve had a long drive, I’m tired, and I could do with a bath and an early night.’
‘Oh.’ He’d been oversensitive and assumed she’d meant something she actually hadn’t. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered. ‘Sure. There are towels in the airing cupboard next to the bathroom, and the water’s hot.’
‘Thank you,’ she said.
‘I’ll leave you to it,’ he said again. ‘I’ll take Truffle out.’
She didn’t make any anodyne comment about seeing him later. Which was absolutely fine by him. He didn’t particularly want to make conversation with her. He pulled on a waterproof coat and wellies, then clipped the dog’s leash to her collar and left. And hopefully when they got back she’d be in bed and he could just sit down with his dog and a glass of single malt, as he’d originally planned on his way home from the hospital, and get his head back into a better place.
* * *
Without the man who was the walking cliché of a dour Scotsman and his equally unfriendly dog, the cottage should’ve felt larger. Instead, it felt smaller. How weird was that?
Georgie hadn’t really expected a housemate; and to have one who was so abrasive and had a nervous dog was... She blew out a breath. It was something that she wasn’t going to tell her brother about, because otherwise Joshua would worry. Maybe she ought to make more of an effort with Clara’s friend; but then again, Grumpy McGrumpface hadn’t exactly made a lot of effort to be friendly with her, had he?
He’d made her something to eat, yes, but he’d done it with bad grace and even worse ability. The so-called cheese on toast was utterly inedible. She wasn’t even going to try to choke it down. Or the heated-up sorbet, which in other circumstances she would’ve found hilarious but right now she just found irritating. Ryan McGregor might be pretty to look at, but she had the feeling he was going to be the housemate from hell.
She scraped the revolting mess into the bin with a grimace. Just as well she’d bought bread at the service station. She made herself a couple of slices of toast—which she ate dry, because there wasn’t any butter in the fridge, let alone anything else to spread on toast—then headed upstairs for a bath. Tomorrow was another day. And maybe tomorrow she’d see the really pretty side of Scotland, the reason she’d moved up here from London.
Though, when Georgie peered out of the window after her bath, she saw complete darkness. Scarily so. She couldn’t even see the shapes of the trees in the neighbouring field against the night sky. And it was so quiet. There wasn’t so much as an owl hooting; then again, would an owl bother flying around in all this rain? It trickled down the windowpane relentlessly.
Scotland was so very different from London.
Didn’t they say you should be careful what you wished for? Georgie had wished to be out of London, and here she was. So she should just stop whining and try to see the good side of things, the way she normally did, instead of staring into the darkness and wondering if she’d just made a huge, huge mistake. But it really did feel like a mistake, now she was sharing a cottage in the middle of nowhere with someone who didn’t really want her here and found it an effort to be polite, instead of living in her luxury flat with its stunning views over the river, with her elder brother and her niece only a couple of floors away in the same building. Why hadn’t she appreciated it more? Was work going to end up being difficult, too?
Though she couldn’t just give in and go home. She’d have to make the best of it.
* * *
The next morning, she showered and changed into a sweater and jeans, then peered out of the window to see blue skies scattered with fluffy white clouds—and actual hills. The view from Hayloft Cottage was amazing, hills and heather stretching out as far as the eye could see; but it also made her wonder how Clara was getting on in London. Had Clara, too, had a rough first night—kept awake by the noise of the traffic and the river and the brightness of the street lamps, in the same way that Georgie had been kept awake by their complete opposite?
Ryan was nowhere to be seen when she went downstairs. Neither was his dog. OK. If she left now, she wouldn’t have to put up with his dourness when he came back. She’d drive into the city, check out where the hospital was so she was prepared for her first shift tomorrow, and then grab something to eat, do a bit of sightseeing, and find a supermarket.
She scribbled a note to say she was going out and would be back later. Then she locked the door behind her, climbed into her car, and headed for the city.
She loved her first view of Edinburgh, when she drove down the Royal Mile in the Old Town, with the castle looming over it and the Palace of Holyroodhouse at the bottom, and then through to the New Town with its sweeping Georgian terraces that reminded her a lot of Bath. St Christopher’s Hospital was utterly gorgeous, a Georgian building made from mellow golden stone, with huge sash windows and a big triangular pediment above the front door and columns flattened against the wall either side.
Hopefully her colleagues would turn out to be as lovely as the building.
Once she’d worked out where the staff car park was and was sure she knew where she was going first thing tomorrow, she headed back into the centre of town and parked.
The first thing she was going to do was tick off a couple of things on her tourist wish list.
Edinburgh Castle was a good place to start; according to the internet search she’d done back in London, it would give her amazing views of the city, plus a chance to see the Honours of Scotland—the Scottish Crown Jewels—and the firing of the gun on the roof at lunchtime. She thoroughly enjoyed wandering around the castle. Costumed interpreters and the ‘court musician’ made it even better, and she loved the huge medieval hall, the jewels, the ancient Stone of Destiny and the spectacle
of the gun firing.
She took a few photos to send to her brother, her parents and her best friend with the caption:
How amazing is this? Right decision to come to Bonnie Scotland!
A sandwich and a cup of tea revived her, and then she headed to the supermarket.
Did she shop for one or two? She had no idea what kind of arrangement Clara had with Ryan, and she had no idea what Ryan ate. Was he vegetarian? Did he have any allergies?
Maybe she’d cook for him today, as a way of trying to reach some kind of understanding with him. She didn’t need him to be her new best friend; but being on civil terms would make both their lives a lot easier.
She had no idea what his shift pattern was; he’d said something about writing it on the calendar, but she hadn’t thought to check the calendar before she’d left for the city. OK. She’d cook something that she could reheat quickly, if necessary. A chicken and vegetable stew, so she wouldn’t have to bother cooking the vegetables separately, and she’d serve it with microwaveable rice. A jar of pasta sauce and some dried pasta, too, in case he didn’t eat chicken, and anyway it was always useful having some store-cupboard essentials for a quick meal. She paid for her shopping and then drove back to the cottage.
There was no sign of Ryan’s car; when she opened the front door, there was no sign of the dog. She put the shopping away, and then she noticed the note on the table.
At the hospital.
Truffle with Janie.
Back later.
R
Who was Janie? His girlfriend?
Not that it was any of her business.
She glanced at her watch. It was a mile down to the village. Hopefully she could have a quick look round and take some snaps to send home, and be back here before it was dark.
She was about to lock the front door when her phone pinged.
The text was from Clara.
Thanks for the bubbles, chocolate and food order! London’s great. Sorry for not warning you earlier about Truffle. She’s a sweetheart but keep your shoes locked up because SHE CHEWS.
Pretty much what Ryan had said.
Georgie texted back.
I’ll remember.
Hope your welcome dinner was nice. Ry’s not the best cook.
Georgie blinked. Welcome dinner? But then, it wasn’t Clara’s fault that Ryan was difficult. She didn’t want to make her job swap partner feel bad. Though now she was seeing the funny side of the heated-up mango sorbet and burned cheese on toast, it would be nice to have someone to laugh about it with. She was pretty sure that Ryan wouldn’t see the funny side.
It was lovely, she lied. It’s very pretty out here.
And you’re getting on OK with Ryan?
Oh, she really couldn’t tell the truth about that one.
Just fine.
Time for some deflection.
Good luck with your first shift tomorrow.
You, too.
So Clara had asked Ryan to make her a welcome dinner? Even though he hadn’t, Georgie thought that maybe she ought to ask Joshua to do something nice for Clara. It wasn’t her job swap partner’s fault that her housemate had let her down.
She walked down to the village and took a few snaps, then followed up with a text to Joshua, complete with pictures to show him how gorgeous the village was, and asked him to sort out something nice for Clara; and then sent the same pictures to her parents and to Sadie, her best friend.
The farm shop was still open, so she decided to go and have a quick look around. It was an amazing place, full of fresh food, local artwork and jewellery, and even some locally made cosmetics; she picked up an adorable knitted dachshund for her niece Hannah, and some enamelled earrings and honey hand cream that she knew her mum would love.
But when she went to pay, she saw the dog curled up in a basket next to the till. ‘Truffle?’
The dog gave a thump of her tail. Just one, but at least it was recognition of sorts.
The woman at the till looked at her. ‘Now, lass, I don’t know you, but you clearly know our Truffle, so would I be right in guessing that you’re my new neighbour—the London doctor who’s swapped jobs with our Clara for six months?’
‘Yes,’ Georgie said. ‘Georgina Jones—though please call me Georgie.’
‘Nice to meet you, Georgie,’ the woman said. ‘I’m Janie Morris. You might see our sheep peering through your window at some point.’
Georgie blinked. ‘Sheep?’
‘My Donald and I run the rare breeds farm as well as the shop,’ Janie said, ‘and our sheep are in the field next to Hayloft Cottage. They’re a wee bit nosy. Welcome to Scotland.’ She rang Georgie’s purchases through the till. ‘My mum knits the dogs.’
‘It’s for my niece,’ Georgie said.
‘I hope she’ll love it.’ Janie took a thistle-shaped piece of shortbread and wrapped it deftly in greaseproof paper. ‘Here. Something to have with your coffee. I made it myself this morning.’
‘Thank you.’ Georgie was shocked to find herself close to tears. This was the nearest thing she’d had to a welcome since coming here, and it made her feel ridiculously homesick.
‘Now, I know Clara and Ryan work all hours, so I’m guessing you’ll be the same. If you need milk or bread, or you want me to put anything by from the deli for you, just send me a text and I’ll drop it off. I’m only next door and I’ve got a spare key, just as you and Ryan have mine, so it’s no trouble. We can sort out the money side of it later.’
‘That’s so kind of you,’ Georgie said. ‘Thank you.’
‘Ryan will give you my number,’ Janie said.
And that was where this whole thing would fall down. Georgie couldn’t imagine Ryan doing anything to help. He was way too prickly.
‘He’s a nice boy, Ryan,’ Janie added.
Maybe in a parallel universe Ryan was nice, but Georgie smiled in lieu of contradicting her new neighbour. Least said, soonest mended.
‘I assume you came to collect Truffle?’ Janie asked.
How did she explain that she’d had no idea Truffle was here—Ryan had said the dog was with Janie, but not who Janie was—and she knew nothing about dogs? ‘I, um—yes.’ Then she thought of a nice way of saying no. ‘That is, if Ryan left her lead?’
‘He did.’
No excuses, then. She’d have to collect the dog, now.
Janie smiled at her. ‘And you’ve some poo bags?’
‘No,’ Georgie said.
‘That’s no bother. I have some here.’ Janie took a couple of bags from a drawer.
‘Thank you.’
‘I often look after Truffle for Ry, when he’s at work,’ Janie said. ‘She’s a good girl. Shy, but a sweetheart.’
When she produced Truffle’s lead, Georgie was left with no choice but to take the dog back to the cottage with her. And Truffle did the biggest poo in the world, halfway up the lane. Followed by another one about twenty steps later. Oh, great. This wasn’t Bonnie Scotland, it was more like Pooey Scotland, she thought wryly. She left the two bags on top of the dustbin when she got back to the cottage—hopefully Ryan would tell her where to dispose of them when he got back—and looked at the dog.
‘I have no idea what to do with you. I don’t know if I’m supposed to wipe your feet, or anything. So just please, please, don’t do anything that will upset Grumpy McGrumpface, and I will do—oh, whatever it is that dogs like. Not that you can tell me. But I’ll find out.’
The dog regarded her solemnly.
‘All righty. Let’s go in.’
Once inside the cottage, Truffle went straight to her bed. Though, when Georgie started making the chicken stew, the dog ventured into the kitchen area and lay down on the floor, looking hopefully at Georgie.
‘I’m not sure if I’m allowed to give you anything,’ Georgie said. ‘
How about I put a bit of chicken to one side for you? Then I’ll ask your owner if you can have it.’
Truffle wagged her tail, just once. Obviously the dog didn’t have a clue what she was saying, Georgie thought—but it was nice to kid herself. To feel that at least someone here wasn’t totally averse to her presence.
* * *
Christ, what a day. Reliving everything from the previous day, taking the police through everything he knew and everything the team had done to try to save the baby.
Ryan still couldn’t forgive himself for failing.
When he parked in the courtyard and walked into the farm shop, he was surprised not to be greeted by his dog.
‘Young Georgie collected Truffle earlier,’ Janie informed him. ‘She’s a lovely lass.’
Dr Snootypants, more like. But maybe she’d been nicer with Janie than she had with him.
‘She bought one of Mum’s knitted dogs for her niece,’ Janie added. ‘I think she’ll be good with the children on the ward.’
She’d better be. Otherwise he was going to ask for a replacement. ‘Right. Well, thanks for looking after Truffle for me. I appreciate it.’
‘I know you do, and you helped Donald fix the fence last weekend. That’s what neighbours are for,’ Janie said.
When Ryan walked into the cottage, Truffle bounded over to him, wagging her tail. And the house smelled amazing. Whatever Dr Snootypants was cooking, it was fabulous. Way, way above his own skill set.
‘Hi,’ she said, looking up from the sofa, where she seemed to be reading a magazine.
‘Hi.’ She’d picked up his dog so he needed to be pleasant to her, even though he wasn’t feeling it. ‘Thank you for picking up Truffle. I wasn’t expecting you to do that.’
‘I just walked her back here. She’s been asleep a lot of the time.’
‘Uh-huh.’
