by Lisa Hobman
Remembering that Tiger, or whatever his name was, had asked a question, she shrugged. ‘Needed a change of scenery, I suppose. The city was feeling a little claustrophobic.’
‘Rab says you lived in Glasgow. How can somewhere like that be claustrophobic?’
Shaking her head she tried to find words to explain without actually explaining. ‘Just… I don’t know… maybe impersonal is the right word,’ she said, not wishing to bombard him with the inner workings of her mind.
He nodded emphatically. ‘Oh shit yeah, I totally get that. Ignorant arses, all up themselves in the city if you ask me. Give me the beach or the Highlands any day of the week.’
‘I don’t think you can tar everyone in the city with the same brush, Tiger. It’s a bit mean.’
He turned to face her with a grin and a questioning look in his eyes. ‘So, you’re sticking with Tiger?’
She froze and her eyes widened. ‘I meant, Mac. Mac.’
‘Aye well, anyway you’re best out of that place. All those bloody arrogant sods in their penthouse apartments with their high-flying careers.’
She glared at him. ‘I lived in a penthouse.’
It was his turn to freeze now. ‘I mean… I… oh feck, I didn’t mean any offence.’ He held up his hands.
‘Hmm, well maybe you should just tell me what I need to know and let me get on with unpacking.’ She was aware that she sounded terse but she was very tired and anyway, he didn’t seem to notice.
‘Right, sure. Okay so the place is furnished as you know. It hasn’t really changed since the agent showed you around. Living room that way, kitchen through there.’ He gestured. ‘There are two bedrooms. One is upstairs with a side window that looks towards the sea and the other is next to the lounge. Some use it as a dining room and some as an office. I suppose it depends what you’ll be doing whilst you’re here, eh? Right, I’ll be on my way.’
He hadn’t told her anything about the heating, the boiler, the oil deliveries, etc. ‘Whoa hang on. You need to tell me about all the other bits. How things work and such.’
He huffed and rolled his eyes. His customer service skills left a lot to be desired. He gestured to her again and she followed him in to the kitchen. ‘Boiler’s there on the wall. Pretty obvious really. Rab will sort the oil when it runs low but there should be enough there for now. These things here. These are called taps. You turn the top of them and water comes oot.’
Sarcastic pig. ‘Oh really? I’d never have guessed,’ she responded dryly.
He winked. ‘Oh aye, we have all mod cons here in Coldingham you know.’ He glanced around and rubbed his chin. ‘Oh, and here, follow me.’
They walked down a short corridor and arrived in the lounge. ‘That black box over there, you flick the switch on the wall and it lights up.’ He widened his eyes and waved his arms and fingers around like a lunatic. ‘Moving pictures and all manner of amazing stuff like talking and music comes oot. Grand eh?’
She folded her arms across her chest. ‘Thank you, Mr Mackenzie but I do know what a television is.’
He shrugged and feigned innocence. ‘Just making sure I tell you how things work and such, Miss Montgomery. Oh I should ask though, do you have any pets? Because if you do, and they cause damage, you’ll immediately forfeit your bond. As per my uncle. Thought it best to let you know in your situation.’
She frowned wondering what her situation was. ‘I don’t have any pets.’
He gasped camply and placed his hand on his chest. ‘What? No cats?’
Heaving an exasperated sigh, she told him, ‘Okay, Mr Mackenzie, I get your point. But I’m not an old spinster cat lady. And I think we’re done here.’
He started with his deep belly laugh again and Cassie was once more annoyed that he was poking fun at her. He turned to walk towards the door. ‘I think I preferred being called Tiger. And you really should lighten up. I bet you’re quite a looker when you smile. You know, for an old lassie.’
Before she could muster up a suitable, scathing retort he had walked out and let the door slam behind him laughing loudly as he went.
Chapter Twelve
Mac
Tadhg Mackenzie or Mac was ready to curse his uncle.
After all, a cat-loving spinster wasn’t really who he’d hoped Rose Brae would be rented to. But seeing as Rab had failed to convince his nephew to move in, he figured it was all he could do. Rab had told him the woman was from out of town. Glasgow to be exact. Just what we need. More bloody interlopers, Mac thought as he trudged towards the cottage with the keys in his pocket. He’d been looking forward to a day at the beach until he realised he’d almost forgotten his duty. He was under strict instructions to be nice to the woman. As if he could be anything else! And he wouldn’t ever be disrespectful to an older lady. What did his uncle take him for?
Rab thought Mac was crazy for living in his drafty old static caravan but the truth was it suited him. And he owned the land it was on so it was up to him what he did with it. The van was screened from the road by a line of trees so Mac couldn’t really see the problem. Okay so it was unconventional but so was Mac. The plot was situated in Coldingham Bay right next to his Uncle Rab’s house and now his parents were gone, it was Mac’s to do with as he chose—within reason obviously. But he had the best view of the sea and so he had no intention of moving from there.
His parents had come to own the plot thanks to his dad inheriting it from his Grandpa who he had known as Papa. Land in Coldingham was a bit like hen’s teeth and so when Papa died Mac’s folks took the decision to sell their modest cottage in the village and demolish Papa’s ramshackle old place to build their dream home. Sadly it never came to pass. Iain and Ailish Mackenzie were killed in a tragic boating accident in the South of France when he was just twelve. It had been a second honeymoon of sorts that the inheritance and sale of their house had afforded them. Mac was staying with Rab, Iain’s older brother at the time the accident occurred and there he stayed as Rab took on the role of guardian. The land and proceeds of the house sale had remained in trust for Mac until he reached eighteen and then it was his. Most people thought he would sell the land and relocate with the vast amount of money he would no doubt make. They were wrong. He purchased a static caravan and moved right on in. That had been six years ago.
Since he had taken up residence on the land he had been inundated regularly with ridiculously excessive offers from building companies, desperate to get their hands on the prime real estate land but he had no intention of selling. Ever.
And so, since the age of eighteen, he had been on a long camping trip. By choice. He didn’t need to work thanks to life insurance that was bestowed upon him after his parents’ demise so he wasn’t beholden to anyone. Although he was by no means lazy. He taught surfing in the summer months and he helped his Uncle Rab out with the holiday cottages he owned.
Rab had gone up to Edinburgh on some undisclosed business and he had therefore entrusted Mac with the task of handing over the keys to Rose Brae’s new tenant. When he arrived, he spotted the woman already there, standing outside the cottage with her back towards him. He guessed he would be about to get a roasting from the middle-aged spinster seeing as he was late. And from what Rab had said, middle-aged women could be stroppy—hence his bachelor lifestyle.
When the woman turned to face him he got the shock of his life. She certainly didn’t look middle-aged. Nor was there any sign of a cat. She had beautiful, vivid blue eyes—although he noticed a distinct hint of sadness in them. Her blonde hair was scraped back from her face in a ponytail, revealing delicate features and pretty, full lips. She wore skinny jeans and a long sleeved white top with little, pale blue spots on. He realised it wasn’t at all like him to take so much notice of what someone was wearing. But she was bloody gorgeous. That is until she opened her mouth and almost bit his head off. Although it was no doubt deserved due to his tardiness. He insinuated that she was a bit like a headmistress and she didn’t take that too well at all.
/> At the end of his visit, he came to the conclusion she’d had a sense of humour bypass. She didn’t laugh at any of his jokes and women usually did. In fact women were usually falling at his feet. But not this one. He decided that there was a good chance she had still been in the good looks queue when it was time for the issuing of sense of humour because she certainly was beautiful. Evidently looks could be deceiving.
He couldn’t help noticing that behind her terse attitude and mask of annoyance she oozed a kind of melancholy usually seen in Film Noir heroines. And he wondered what misfortune had brought her to Coldingham. Especially when Rab said she was from Glasgow and she was clearly an English lass. Why choose somewhere so far out in the sticks? Why not go home to England? He presumed time would tell, although thanks to her attitude he doubted that he would be the one to do the discovering.
Chapter Thirteen
Cassie
Once she was alone in her new surroundings, Cassie wandered around the cottage. The small entrance way led through to a shaker style kitchen diner with stairs off to one side and then a short corridor led through to the downstairs bedroom and cute little weather boarded bathroom. It was clean and tidy but lacking personality. The décor was the typical magnolia of holiday lets and the walls were bare.
She wasn’t sure where to start. The only time she had lived alone had been during the first year of university and that was in halls so it didn’t really count. The prospect of being self-sufficient both terrified and excited her but there was so much to do before she could relax. She didn’t exactly have much to bring in from the car, but what she really wanted to do was sit down with a cup of tea and get used to the idea that she was finally there. She had only driven for two and a half hours but thanks to her lack of sleep in the previous few weeks it might as well have been twenty-two. There was no real wonder the arrogant man had called her an ‘old lassie’. She felt as though she had aged ten years in the past month with all the heartache and tears shed.
She walked back into the kitchen and searched through all of the rustic cream units to look for a kettle but there wasn’t one. It was just as well she had purchased one to bring with her; although that would mean emptying the boxes from her car first. The kettle was underneath the dinner service, mugs, glasses and cutlery she had purchased. She hadn’t wanted to wrestle with Seth over the designer set they had been bought as an engagement gift by his parents. Quite frankly, she’s never seen the point in expensive plates anyway. She was inherently clumsy so they would only have ended up broken like the wine bottle and glasses from that fateful day at the apartment. Seth had always insisted on the best of everything—or at least the most expensive. He equated splashing his money to success and happiness; she could see that with a little distance.
She took the car keys from her pocket and walked outside to the narrow lane where she had parked. The boot was crammed but it was only a small hatchback so it didn’t take much to fill it up. She began to carry her possessions into her new home and tried to ignore the niggling sadness tugging at her heart. The last thing she wanted to be was lonely. But that’s precisely what she was now.
Once the car was emptied she rifled through the bag of food she had bought on the way over and realised, to her dismay, that she had somehow forgotten tea bags and milk. How the hell could she have forgotten the most obvious things? It was the straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back and she began to sob uncontrollably. Leaning on the wooden work surface, her body shuddered as tears dripped from her nose and chin and formed little dark pools where they landed. Her heart squeezed in her chest as memories of her time with Seth played in her mind like a heartbreaking movie. If only there was a pill that you could take that would wipe away only the memories you didn’t want to keep. All the pent-up emotion and devastation of the betrayal caused by two people she thought cared about her, poured out leaving its mark on the wood.
How could they have done it? And more importantly, why? What had she ever done to deserve such evil deception from people she had cared for? The scene she had walked in on now made her feel nauseated. Seeing the man she loved, naked and between the thighs of one of her closest friends had been something she could never unsee. And the fact that neither had apologised—not that it would’ve helped if they had—just made the pain so much harder to bear.
The bed they had shared, made love in, laughed in, was tainted; the bed where he had comforted her as she cried on the anniversary of her mother’s death; the bed where he had held her and told her how important she was to him and how much he loved her and needed her; the bed where they had planned their future, their wedding, their married life… their family. All marred along with the memories of those precious times. Stained by betrayal of the worst possible kind.
She clutched her stomach as it knotted and clenched, causing her to drop to her knees. She had given him everything. All of herself. She had all but lost her own identity because she was willing to sacrifice anything to be with him. She couldn’t stand the pain of it. The bitterness was eating her up inside and she was powerless to stop it. It had all been for nothing. All the years they had spent building trust, falling in love. All wasted.
Every. Single. Second.
She sat there on the kitchen floor with a heavy heart and the weight of loneliness she felt pushing her into the tiled floor.
She wasn’t sure how long she remained there but eventually she pulled herself to her feet. I must forget him. I must move on, she repeated over and over in her mind. It would become her mantra, she decided. It would take time but that was something she had in abundance now. She walked through to the bathroom and regarded her blotchy face and reddened, swollen eyes in the mirror. I need to be stronger. I need to stop loving Seth-Bastard-Guthrie. She splashed her face with cold water and she wiped herself dry with the sleeves of her top thanks to the unpacked towels sitting in a box.
‘Come on, Cassie, tea is what you need. The great British cure all. Or maybe wine… and chocolate,’ she told her reflection. She knew there was a little Spar at the top of the street so she went back through to the kitchen and grabbed her handbag, checking to make sure she had a foldaway shopping bag inside. She slipped on her sunglasses to disguise the fact she had spent goodness knows how long crying and, making sure to collect the keys from the door, she pulled it closed behind her and set off.
The high street was quite narrow but lined either side with a selection of quaint little shops and houses. People drove by her on the way to the beach with surfboards strapped to the roofs of their cars and she decided that she would definitely make the most of living so close to the sea. She stopped to peer in the window of a little antiques shop and knew she would be visiting there to buy some little treasures for her home. In only a few minutes she located the Spar and made her way inside. She grabbed a wire basket and headed towards the chiller cabinets.
But no sooner had she found the milk than she came face to face with a familiar surfer ‘Ah, we meet again, Miss Montgomery.’ The Sean Connery impersonation was quite amusing but unfortunately, she wasn’t in the mood to laugh.
Great. ‘Oh hi, Tiger.’
‘Ah, I’m back to Tiger again eh? Rawr.’ He chuckled, making a claw with his hand.
‘Oh yeah. Funny.’ She knew her lack of enthusiasm was loud and clear in her tone and immediately felt guilty for her reaction. When she glanced up at him she found him scowling in what appeared to be disappointment.
He huffed and tilted his head as he assessed her quizzically. ‘So, you know when you left Glasgow?’
She nodded. ‘Yes. I remember it well.’ And then she mumbled, ‘Beginning to wonder if I did the right thing actually,’ under her breath.
Not taking the hint he carried on, ‘Did you not remember to pack your sense of humour or are you sending for it once you’re settled?’
She gasped at his cruel remark and scrambled around her brain to find a witty and scathing retort but was only able to watch his back retreat as he headed for the chec
kout with his six-pack of beer. She was desperate to find the strength to follow him and give him a piece of her mind but instead her eyes began to sting once more. Oh god, I’m becoming one of those pathetic women who cry at the slightest bloody thing.
Yes, his words were kind of cruel and harsh but in all honesty, she knew she hadn’t exactly made a great first impression. And to be fair he had no idea why she had run away from the city. She knew she’d have to try to refrain from being a grumpy bitch or she would be forever lonely by the seaside.
She pulled herself together long enough to finish her shopping and took her basket to the checkout. Her purchases included everything a girl recovering from heartache could possibly need—wine, chocolate, tea, tissues and a ready meal lasagne for one. That item alone was enough to make her eyes threaten tears again. She sure knew how to live the high life.
She placed her basket on the counter and the elderly lady behind the cash register smiled at her. ‘Hello dear. Are you on holiday?’
Cassie smiled in response to her cheery disposition. This was more like it. ‘Oh no, I’m going to be living here actually. I’m not sure how long for but…’ She wasn’t really sure how to finish her sentence.
The lady’s eyebrows lifted. ‘Oh, are you the lady who’s renting Rose Brae?’
She nodded. ‘Yes, that’s me. I’m Cassie Montgomery.’ She held out her hand.
She shook it and said, ‘Ah, lovely to meet you, Miss Montgomery. I’m Morag. It’s funny, you know, I thought you’d be older.’
Good grief.
Chapter Fourteen
After a much-needed cup of tea, Cassie began the arduous task of unpacking the boxes she had brought in from the car earlier. Most of the boxes were filled with books so they were quite heavy but she couldn’t bear to part with them. And anyway, she would need all the help she could get to escape her current predicament, so she intended to live vicariously through the romance novels of Jane Austen and the Bronte Sisters. With tear-fogged eyes she recalled the day she had returned to Seth’s apartment with the intention of packing up all her worldly goods in newspaper…
