by Sarah Morgan
A month after arriving in Scotland, Suzanne had taken refuge from the cold in a local store, drawn in by a beautiful sweater displayed in the window.
She’d been eyeing it when the owner had approached. “The color would look perfect on you.”
With three children to raise, Suzanne didn’t have the money for pretty sweaters.
“It will be outside my budget.”
“The sweater itself isn’t for sale. I hung that there so that people could see how it looks when it’s finished.”
“You knitted this?” For the first time, Suzanne noticed the rainbow of wool that covered one wall of the small shop. The shop didn’t sell sweaters, it sold yarn.
“You don’t knit? You should learn. It’s a great way to pass a Highland winter.” The woman smiled. “You’re Elsie McBride’s daughter-in-law, aren’t you? You and Stewart are raising those poor wee girls who lost their parents.”
Suzanne had wondered if the woman was feeling sorry for the children, living with someone who had no clue how to knit. “I’m Suzanne.”
“And I’m Margaret Cameron.” She held out her hand. “My friends call me Maggie.”
Suzanne had quickly become one of those friends.
Maggie had invited Suzanne to join the knitting group she held in her home every week. At first Suzanne hadn’t cared much about the knitting itself. What she’d enjoyed was the conversation and companionship. The opportunity to seek advice from other women. But gradually she discovered the knitting had therapeutic properties. The first time she knitted a sweater for Posy, she’d felt a sense of achievement. It didn’t matter that the hem wasn’t perfectly straight or that some of the stitches were uneven. She’d made it herself. It was even more gratifying that Posy refused to take it off. She’d slept in that sweater, Suzanne remembered, until she’d worn a hole in it.
Eventually Maggie had given up selling yarn and concentrated on knitting.
After a couple of years Suzanne took over the café from Stewart’s parents and added a small section where she sold hand-knitted goods made locally. They proved so popular she increased the space. Then she extended the stock to include other crafts, including locally made whiskey marmalade and heather honey. She couldn’t keep up with demand, so used a portion of the profits to extend the property. Visitors to the café were almost always tempted to venture down the two steps into the shop, and visitors to the shop rarely left without sampling one of Suzanne’s cakes and a frothy cappuccino.
Suzanne had lived in many places, but Glensay was her first real home.
She’d arrived with Stewart and three bewildered and sad young children at the start of a harsh Scottish winter, and the community had embraced them.
The people felt like family. She couldn’t imagine ever living anywhere else.
“How is Doug’s leg, Rhonda?”
“Playing up in this cold weather, but will he go and see the doctor?”
“I don’t know what it is with men,” Maggie said. “My Pete wouldn’t go to the doctor if his leg was hanging off. You’re quiet, Suzy. Are you going to tell us what’s wrong? Is it Hannah?”
Despite all the stereotypes of small communities and gossip, Suzanne knew that nothing she said would leave this group of women.
They had supported each other through illness, unemployment and tragedy.
Suzanne wasn’t sure how her life would have looked without them. Right from the beginning, she’d given up consulting books when she had a problem and asked her friends instead. Armed with their own experience, they’d shared ideas on dealing with temper tantrums, sleep problems, friendship issues.
They were the first people she turned to when she had a problem, and she had one now.
“For once, it’s not Hannah.” She reached for another ball of yarn. “Beth is home. Arrived a few hours ago. Which is lovely, of course, but we weren’t expecting her until next week.” And Beth wasn’t given to unpredictable behavior. She rang when she said she was going to ring, never missed a birthday and was a devoted mother.
“I saw her.” Rhonda stood up and stretched, rolling her shoulders to shake off the stiffness that came from sitting still. “She and Posy drove past me on the way here.”
“Posy went to fetch her from the airport. She called me a little while ago to say that Beth was fine, and that they were going to the pub together to catch up.”
“You must be excited to have your grandchildren home.”
“The girls are still in New York with Jason. They’re flying later.” At least, she hoped they were.
“Maybe she wants a little time to herself, and no one is going to blame her for that.” Rhonda sat down again and picked up her knitting. “With kids of that age, it’s hard to find a moment to breathe.”
“That’s true, and I’m sure you’re right. That’s probably all it is.” Suzanne put her knitting down on the table. She’d tried calling Stewart, but his phone had gone to voice mail, so she’d left a message asking him to check on Beth if he was home before her. “Beth is my steady one. No problems.”
“That’s always the way with children. Just when you think it’s safe to breathe, they do something you weren’t expecting. I remember how I felt when my Alice suddenly announced she was divorcing Will.”
Suzanne felt a flicker of alarm. Were Beth and Jason having problems? No, surely not. The two of them seemed so happy together. She’d never seen anything in their relationship to give her cause for concern. “I don’t think it’s anything like that.”
“We need wine.” Maggie put her knitting down and headed to the fridge, returning with a bottle of sauvignon blanc and four glasses. She put the tray down on the table. “This is Beth, not Hannah. Couldn’t you just ask her? Or could Stewart talk to her? They’ve always been close.”
“He’s out giving a talk to a youth group tonight and she’ll probably be in bed by the time he gets home.”
“When is Hannah arriving?”
“Not for another week.” Suzanne opened the wine. “She didn’t come last year. I’m going to try hard not to smother.”
“You should stop trying, Suzanne, and enjoy your own Christmas.”
“I want to see her happy.” She poured the wine into glasses and everyone took one.
“You’ve done everything you can. No mother could have done more.”
Rhonda shook her head. “I sometimes think children are sent to worry us. My Rose has decided to give up her safe, secure, well-paid job as a doctor to retrain as a primary school teacher.”
Elaine glanced up from her knitting. “She’ll make an excellent teacher.”
“But all that training.”
“Does it matter? In the end you want them to be happy.”
Was Beth happy?
Suzanne had assumed she was, but now she was wondering.
Whatever had brought her home early, Suzanne hoped it wasn’t something serious.
Maybe Stewart should talk to Beth. If anyone could get to the bottom of what had brought her home early, he could.
12
Beth
Beth woke to bright winter sunshine and knew it was late.
On the table next to the bed was a large glass of water, painkillers and a piece of paper covered in her sister’s untidy scrawl.
She reached out and grabbed the note.
Drink the water, take the painkillers and come down to the café for breakfast. The perfect cure for a hangover is a Scottish breakfast.
The thought of anything fried made her stomach turn, but she swallowed the painkillers and sat up.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d woken naturally, without the assistance of a child.
Mommy, will you play with me?
Mommy, Melly is being mean.
Mommy, Ruby has broken my favorite doll.
I’m hungry.
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Thirsty.
Need the bathroom...
The house was quiet. There was no clattering in the kitchen. No thundering of footsteps on the stairs. Fingers of sunlight poked through the slim gap in the curtains.
She glanced around her bedroom. The walls, once plastered with pictures of fashion models, were now painted over in neutral tones. Other than that, the room looked much the way it had when she was growing up. Her favorite books nestled in the bookshelf together with Betsy, the doll she’d refused to be parted from when she was young. It didn’t matter that Betsy had lost one eye and half her hair, that doll had got her through the most difficult time of her life. Presumably Suzanne knew that, which was why Betsy hadn’t been consigned to the attic with the other remnants of Beth’s childhood.
Melly adored Betsy and the first thing she did when they arrived in Scotland was to adopt the doll.
If the children were here, they’d be in bed with her now, wrapped around her in a tangle of warmth, smiles and squabbles.
Their absence somehow made the silence louder. It should have felt blissful, but instead it felt hollow and empty, as if something was missing.
Had Jason called while she’d been asleep?
She reached for her phone and checked her messages, but there was nothing.
What did that mean?
There was a tap on the door and her mother appeared with a mug of tea.
“You slept late. You must have been exhausted.”
Beth had seen her mother briefly the night before, but she’d been too tired to exchange more than a quick hug.
She stuffed the note from her sister under the pillow. “Thanks, Mom. I thought everyone was out.” She noticed a stack of neatly folded clothes on the chair and silently blessed her sister.
“Your dad was hoping to see you, but he had to leave early and he didn’t want to wake you. I’m leaving soon.” Suzanne handed her the mug and walked to the window to draw the curtains. “It’s been snowing again.”
Beth curled her hands round the mug and tried to ignore her throbbing headache. All that free champagne didn’t feel like so much fun this morning. “It looks pretty, but I guess it makes a lot more work around the place for you and Posy.” Why hadn’t Jason left her a message?
“Beth?”
“Sorry. You were saying?”
“I was surprised to see you home early, and without the girls. Is everything all right?”
“Everything is fine.” She wondered when her mother was going to comment on the fact that she was wearing a pair of Posy’s pyjamas.
“It’s a beautiful day out there. Cold, though. What would you like to do today?”
Get rid of her pounding headache.
Figure out her life.
Talk to her sister.
“I thought I’d go over to the café and help Posy.”
“That would be good. We’re rushed off our feet over there, and I’m at the Christmas Market this afternoon, so she’s on her own. Vicky was supposed to help, but she’s gone down with flu. She can’t even get out of bed. I’ve made chicken soup and I’m going to drop it off to her on the way to the market and check on her.”
Suzanne sold crafts at a number of Christmas markets throughout the festive season.
“Should you be visiting her if she has flu?”
“She’s on her own. Someone needs to keep an eye on her. And I’m never ill, you know that. I’ve put fresh towels in the bathroom. If you’re ready in half an hour, I can drop you off on my way to Vicky’s. You’ll need boots. We’ve had a lot of snow this week. How are the girls?”
Beth didn’t know, and the fact that she didn’t know made her want to hyperventilate. It was the first time since Melly had been born that she had no idea what was happening with her children. Why hadn’t Jason been in touch? Should she call his mom? “They’re great. Excited about coming to visit you.” What if Jason didn’t bring them? What if he was so upset by her walking out and leaving him with the girls that he decided not to join her? On the other hand, he’d said terrible things, too. It was the things he’d said that had triggered this situation.
“Your dad and I can’t wait to see them. I’m sure they’ve changed a lot. They always do at that age.” Suzanne’s gaze settled on the stack of Posy’s clothes on the chair. “Where’s your luggage?”
Beth’s brain fused. “The airline lost it.”
She didn’t want to worry her mother by admitting that she and Jason had hit a rough patch.
“That’s terrible.” Suzanne frowned. “Can’t they trace it?”
“They’ll call me if they find it. I can manage. Posy lent me some things.”
“Your old boots are probably lying around somewhere. Do you want me to dig them out?”
“Thanks, Mom. That would be great.” Beth forced herself out of bed and snatched up her phone. “I’ll use the bathroom.”
“You’re taking your phone into the shower with you? You girls and your phones. But it’s great that you can’t be away from Jason for one night without wanting to talk to him.”
She was going to be struck down for lying to her mother.
Santa was going to leave a lump of coal in her stocking because she’d definitely been naughty, not nice.
She showered and pulled on Posy’s clothes.
On her way downstairs she checked her phone again and found a text from her dad, which made her smile because Stewart only texted as a last resort.
Good to have you home. Looking forward to seeing you later. Dad. xx
Those two kisses brought a lump to her throat.
She wanted her dad so badly her chest ached.
She cleared her throat and pulled herself together. What was wrong with her? She was a grown woman, not a small child. She should have moved beyond needing her dad in times of trouble. But now she was wishing she’d set her alarm so that she could at least have grabbed a hug before he left for work.
There was still nothing from Jason.
It was the first time in their marriage that they’d disagreed about something important. And this was major. Marriage was all about compromise, but where was the compromise in this? You couldn’t exactly compromise on having another baby. Either you had one or you didn’t.
One of them was going to have to give up on a dream.
Could she do it? Could she have another baby to keep her marriage alive?
For the first time since Jason had raised the issue, she rested her hand on her abdomen and imagined it. Closing her eyes, she remembered those first wondrous flutters when she felt the baby moving. Ours, Jason. Our baby. Our little family.
Then she thought about the delivery. When other mothers described their easy labor and textbook delivery, Beth stayed silent. For her, labor was about pain, bruising, stitches and pediatricians hunched over her babies with anxious expressions on their faces.
The thought of going through it again made her pulse rate rocket, and that was before she started to think about sleepless nights and the sheer relentlessness of having young children.
How could Jason even think it was a good idea?
Miserable, tired and hungover, she grabbed her coat and joined her mother in the car.
“Put your seat belt on. The roads are icy.” Suzanne drove carefully and Beth stretched out her legs to warm her toes under the heater. The roads were clear, but snow lay in thick layers over the fields and mountains.
“How are you, Mom?” She felt a stab of guilt. “I’m sorry I haven’t called much lately. It’s been crazy busy with the girls.”
“You don’t have to apologize.” Suzanne concentrated on the road. “I remember how it was having young children. I used to make so many plans for the day, and then somehow the time would be eaten up and I wouldn’t have done any of the things on my list.”
“That sounds f
amiliar.” Beth suppressed a yawn. “How did you ever cope?” One minute, Suzanne’s life had been a child-free zone, and the next she’d had three orphaned children to deal with.
Her mother smiled. “I had your dad. We were a team.”
Thinking of her dad made Beth feel ridiculously emotional.
To distract herself, she stared out of the window as they passed familiar places.
There was the McAllisters’ farm, and beyond that the mountains.
In the early days when they’d moved here, she remembered feeling traumatized. But then slowly, gradually, they’d been absorbed into the community.
She wasn’t sure exactly when she’d started to treat the place as home. It had happened gradually and coincided with her thinking of Suzanne as her mother.
Had she ever really considered how hard it must have been for Suzanne? And how lucky the three of them were to have her? She and Stewart had stuck by them through thick and thin.
“How is Dad?”
“He’s great. You know your dad—” Suzanne slowed as she approached a junction “—always on the go. Says yes to everything, which is why he wasn’t here when you arrived home last night and was gone before you woke up. Of course, if we’d known you were coming—”
“It was a spontaneous thing.”
Suzanne reached across and squeezed her hand. “We’re always here for you, you know that.”
“Thanks.” Beth felt tears sting again and blinked them back. Apparently she’d turned into a fountain overnight. She was never drinking again.
Her mother slowed and lowered her window as they passed a couple hauling a Christmas tree to their car. “Fiona! We’ve moved Book Group to Tuesday.”
“I heard.” Fiona stepped toward the car. “Are we making food, as it’s the last meeting before Christmas?”
“That’s the plan.”
Fiona and Suzanne talked for a minute and Beth tried to imagine a similar exchange happening in Manhattan and failed.
If the time of her yoga class changed, someone sent her a text. They didn’t stop her halfway down Fifth Avenue.
She smiled as her mother waved to Fiona and pulled away. “It’s good to be home.”
