A Summer at Sea

by Katie Fforde

  ‘Wow! And was it amazing?’

  ‘Well, yes. They give you so much free stuff, you know, the amuse-gueules—’

  ‘Is that the same as an amuse-bouche?’

  ‘Think so. I couldn’t tell the difference anyway.’

  ‘Carry on then, tell me all about it.’

  ‘Well, after you’ve had those little morsels which were absolutely delicious, and lovely little glasses of soup, and amazing bread, by the time you’ve had your starter you’re pretty much full.’

  ‘And Derek? What was he like? So far we’ve mostly heard about the food.’

  ‘He was a perfect gentleman. Ordered champagne, and wine, hardly drank himself but encouraged me to. He really knows his wine. The whole evening must have cost a fortune.’

  ‘Will it lead to anything?’

  ‘I don’t think so, no.’ Emily sighed. Sally knew the bare bones of what had gone on in Scotland but Emily didn’t want to burden her friend with her ‘I’ll never love again’ line, which was how she felt. ‘Derek does want children though, which is something in his favour,’ she said, her thoughts drifting back to Alasdair.

  ‘If you’re just looking to have a baby, you can simply go and buy some sperm.’

  ‘Hon! I know we’re midwives and pretty robust about such things but until I’m sure I can’t find a proper father for my baby, I’d rather not do anything like that. I want a relationship, a companion, someone adult to love.’

  ‘Oh well, internet dating is for you. I’ll put you on that “find a mate for your mate” site. Simples.’

  Emily smiled and tried to join in the fun. ‘You have to write a short essay about how wonderful I am.’

  ‘No problem! I’m really good at essays: I can make things up with the best of them. I’ve checked the site already and you’re not allowed to wear sunglasses for the picture, which is a shame, but we’ll do our best.’

  ‘Honestly! Some friend you are! Now I must get on. I’ve got someone coming to service my boiler. And then I’ve got to work out how to do a spreadsheet. I know everything I need to put on it, it’s getting it computer-ready that’s difficult.’

  ‘So, how are you enjoying your new job?’

  ‘I think I’m loving it!’

  Sally smiled. ‘I’m so glad. I’m not sure it would be for me. I enjoy being hands-on too much.’

  ‘I’m hoping I can go back to being hands-on, delivering babies, when we’ve got our plan worked out.’ But would she? she asked herself as she walked to her car. Was she doomed to be an administrator now?

  About a month had passed after Emily had got back home and she was now fully conversant with spreadsheets and budgets and knew how to read estimates from builders and spot the items not included. She hadn’t managed to stop thinking about Alasdair, but she thought about other things too so she was doing all right. She did keep hoping to hear from Kate, with a picture of Ted in his little knitted garments, but so far had been disappointed.

  She got back from teaching a breastfeeding class (very happy to be actually talking to pregnant women and mothers again) to find the post had got there before her. She picked it up and took it into the kitchen, dumping her handbag on a chair.

  There was one letter with a Scottish postmark but as it came in a window envelope and had a neatly typed address she thought it couldn’t be anything bad. She had dreaded getting a furious letter from Alasdair – she wasn’t sure why.

  The letter was from Lizzie Miller-Hall and came attached to a job application form.

  My dear Emily,

  I expect you’re a bit surprised to hear from me but I’ve been thinking of you for a while.

  As you will have noticed, I am a bit over retirement age but didn’t want to abandon all my old ladies and young ones unless I could pass them on to a safe pair of hands. I think you are those hands!

  Fill in the form and come up and talk to the team. I know they’ll love you and, in fact, you’ve already had an interview of sorts when you came out with me that day after Nell was born.

  In case you hate reading forms (I do!) I’ll tell you briefly. It’s for two part-time jobs, the ones I’ve been doing just fine for years but they might want you to do a bit of training and take some exams. You’d be a part-time health visitor who does a few shifts as a bank midwife. It’s a lovely job with lots of variety and a great deal of job satisfaction. Do give it a go!

  From habit, Emily put the kettle on, and then she phoned Sally. She made tea and sat down at the table

  ‘So, what else is worrying you? You’re a bit agitato, I can tell.’

  ‘For someone who abuses language like you do, you’re surprisingly perceptive,’ said Emily, smiling in spite of herself.

  ‘What’s that when it’s at home? Now tell all.’

  When Emily had finished, Sally, serious now, said, ‘Well, you have to apply and go for an interview or you’ll always regret it.’

  ‘Why would I? I don’t want to work up there. My work is here. I have my great new job, full of new challenges. And I’m good at it! Although I do miss the baby stuff.’

  ‘And you’ll get back to that when everything is set up – you’re still part of the team.’

  ‘Exactly. It’s the perfect job.’ She hoped saying it out loud would make it true.

  ‘But if you don’t go and check out this other job you will always wonder what might have been. You need to see Alasdair, too.’

  ‘I’m not going if I have to see Alasdair,’ said Emily, needle-sharp. ‘I have absolutely nothing to say to him, or him to me.’

  ‘OK, well, don’t see the man who might well be the love of your life if that’s how you feel, but apply for the job.’ Sally paused. ‘Go up there, check this out, and it’s not for you, then you’ll know for sure, and come back to us with a whole heart.’

  ‘You think?’

  ‘I really, really do. Now go and get some sleep and then fill in the damn form.’

  Rebecca, of course, was delighted when Emily phoned her. ‘Try and come up for a few days, stay in the bothy, which is now so beautiful you’d hardly recognise it. Everyone will be so thrilled to see you!’

  Emily had been afraid of this. ‘Rebecca, I’m not seeing Alasdair. I can’t. Not with things how we left them.’

  ‘You won’t give him an opportunity to apologise for what he said to you at the dance?’

  ‘He won’t apologise. In my experience men don’t, unless it’s for something tiny like knocking your arm when you’re holding a drink. You’ve got to promise me not to invite him for dinner or anything when I’m there.’

  ‘What if he just drops in, spontaneously?’

  ‘Well, he can drop, but I don’t have to see him.’ Emily paused; her head, which was in control of her speech, was saying one thing; her heart was feeling something quite other. ‘Have you seen much of him lately?’

  ‘Actually, no. He’s been working really hard and although James has dragged him out to the pub a couple of times, he hasn’t been here much.’

  ‘Well, that’s good, from my point of view. It means I can come up and see you lot and not worry.’

  ‘You would like to see Kate, though? She was so thrilled with the knitted things.’

  Emily sighed very deeply. ‘I think it would be better if I didn’t see Kate. Much as I would love to. I don’t think it’s fair on her.’

  ‘You’re probably right,’ said Rebecca after a moment’s pause.

  Emily’s interview suit was navy blue. Although this was by chance – it had been very well reduced in a sale – there was something reassuringly medical about navy blue. It represented matrons, institutions, officialdom and made Emily feel like a proper health-care professional. However, her suit had a pretty stand-up collar that framed her face and she wore it with three strands of seed pearls which made the whole look much more attractive and friendly. She sat in the waiting room in Lochgilphead, looking at her boots, wondering if she should have worn court shoes. But Scotland in October was not espe
cially warm and even with thick tights she’d have shivered without her boots.

  She distracted herself from worrying about her footwear by looking out of the window. Scotland may not have been especially warm but it was especially beautiful, she realised. It was as if the scenery was testing her resolve to just have the interview, turn down the job and then go back where she belonged.

  The larch trees were golden, the water so still it was a dark mirror, reflecting the clear blue sky, the heather-covered hills and the little boats that filled the harbour. There were faint trails of mist. It was a wonderful spot for an office, she thought, really uplifting. Her new temporary office at home was perfectly nice, but it looked on to a busy street in not the most attractive part of town. She had never looked out of the window and thought how wonderful the wheely bins belonging to the takeaway pizza place were. Here it would be different.

  Emily had already decided there was no point in coming up all this way for an interview if she wasn’t going to try her best and once she was in the room, in front of a panel of six people, she realised she was enjoying herself.

  The panel asked her numerous questions and very many of them were about how the maternity unit where she lived was run. She always loved talking about her work and was soon giving them her opinions frankly.

  Then they asked her about her experience with old people.

  She smiled. ‘I’ve only recently got into old people,’ she said. ‘Obviously in Frometon I deal with young parents, babies, and a bit with children, but when I was up here in the summer I discovered just how interesting the elderly can be.’

  ‘You were working as a cook on the puffer?’ asked a man, having glanced down at his notes. ‘Did that bring you into contact with senior citizens?’

  ‘It certainly did. But there was one old lady in particular I really got to know and love. She taught me Fair Isle knitting and my friend and I helped her arrange a way of keeping in touch with her knitting buddies.’ She paused. ‘I learnt such a lot from her and now I think the elderly should be put into schools to talk to the children, tell them about “the olden days” before all their huge knowledge is lost!’ She stopped suddenly. ‘Oh, sorry, I’ve gone way off topic.’

  I’ve probably blown it, she thought, downcast. And then she wondered why she felt like that. She really didn’t want this job, after all.

  There were a few more questions, which, to her relief, she could answer sensibly, giving her a chance to show she wasn’t a complete idiot. Then the woman in charge smiled. ‘Well, I think we’ve learnt enough for us to be able to make a decision, and indeed, come back to you quite quickly. How long are you staying up here?’

  ‘Until next Monday.’ She had managed to book an entire week off.

  ‘Oh good. And we have all your contact details? Well, I think we can let you go now.’

  Lizzie was outside the boardroom where the interview had been held, kettle on and lemon drizzle on a plate. ‘I brought this in from home, obviously. I thought you might need it. So, what do you think?’

  ‘Well, I think it’s a wonderful job for someone,’ said Emily. ‘But I think I may have blown it and even if I haven’t, I’m not sure …’ She trailed off, sudden tears making it difficult for her to speak. She stared out of the window, watching some birds flap their way to the sea.

  ‘Oh well, we’ll see what we shall see. Eat your cake otherwise I’ll end up eating it all myself and that would never do!’

  Rebecca had to have a detailed description of the interview too, but her incentives were wine and olives.

  ‘So, do you want the job?’ she asked when Emily had finished describing it.

  ‘If it wasn’t here, I’d love it!’ said Emily. ‘It’ll be varied, I’d be learning lots of new stuff for the health visitor aspect of it. And I think they could learn a lot from me on the maternity side. But it is here.’

  ‘And what’s wrong with “here”?’

  ‘Oh, Bec, you know! It’s Alasdair! He’s in every blade of grass and bell of heather. And sorry if that sounds like a cheesy song lyric. I’m not over him and if I was up here it would take me far longer to do it. I’d be constantly worrying that I was going to see him or yearning to see him. My head would be a mess. I need to go back home and find a man who wants children, who wants me! Not hanker after a man who never will want me.’

  Rebecca didn’t speak for a long time and then she sighed. ‘You wouldn’t, just for me, see Alasdair?’

  ‘No, not even for you. There is no point.’ But in her heart she wished he’d come looking for her.

  Emily threw herself into family life for the next couple of days. She cooked meals, played with the boys, carried Nell around and shooed Rebecca and James out for an evening, promising them she was perfectly capable of giving a baby a bottle even if it was one used to being breastfed. And Nell, possibly wanting to keep in with her godmother, took it beautifully and fell back to sleep almost immediately afterwards.

  The next day, Emily had a phone call offering her the job. Rebecca convinced her it would be rude to reject it by email as a couple of the people who had interviewed her probably didn’t get email. So, when Emily had written a proper letter, they set off for a day’s shopping in Glasgow, something Rebecca found hard to do with Nell, leaving the letter for James to post.

  ‘So,’ said Emily when they had set off, ‘when do we have to be back?’

  ‘In theory, Molly – you know? Angus’s wife – they look after the boys quite a lot during the season?’

  ‘Of course I know Molly. Lovely woman.’

  ‘Anyway, she’ll give the boys tea with her lot and keep them until six, but honestly I don’t have much stamina for shopping these days, so let’s focus on what we want and get off home.’

  ‘I don’t want anything. I’ll hold Nell; you focus.’

  Rebecca mostly bought clothes for her children and James in Marks and Spencer’s before adding some basics for her. And as she had predicted, they were setting off for home in the early afternoon, eating sandwiches in the car. They were neither of them in the mood for lunch out.

  ‘Although really I should be pleased I am a bit disappointed that Alasdair has made no attempt to get in touch with me since I’ve been up here,’ said Emily, unable to keep her thoughts private any longer.

  Rebecca didn’t respond for a few moments while she overtook a lorry. ‘That could be something to do with me.’ Emily looked at her sharply and received an apologetic glance in return. ‘I really hate to have to confess this but I was talking to him about you …’

  ‘Yes?’ Emily didn’t know if she was furious or glad.

  ‘He doesn’t seem remotely happy and I thought it might be something to do with you.’

  ‘But it wasn’t?’

  ‘Apparently not.’

  ‘Maybe that glamorous Annie woman knocked him back?’ Emily hoped flippancy might stop her wanting to cry.

  At least it made Rebecca laugh. ‘I don’t think so! More the other way round. But anyway, let me confess and then at least I don’t have to feel doubly guilty.’

  ‘I think I can guess. You told Alasdair – or made it clear – what I’d told you about his wife being about to leave him.’

  ‘God, Em, I am so sorry! I just blurted it out!’

  Emily sighed deeply. ‘Well, obviously it would have been better if you hadn’t but as I did exactly the same thing to you, I can hardly blame you.’

  ‘He was furious, as you can imagine.’

  ‘I can imagine.’

  ‘Oh, Em! What can I do to put it right?’

  ‘Nothing. And it was my fault for telling you in the first place. It’s awful, but, and quite honestly, it wasn’t the deal-breaker, was it? He wasn’t showing boundless enthusiasm before he knew I’d told you.’

  ‘No,’ Rebecca agreed quietly.

  Emily cleared her throat but didn’t speak.

  A few miles further on, Rebecca said, ‘Tomorrow is Friday. We should do something special. The weeken
d will be full of boys and people. But tomorrow it’ll still be you, me and Nell. We must have a special treat – as special as I can make it anyway. It’s the least I can do. What would you really like best?’

  Emil didn’t have to think too hard. ‘I want to see the otters – or rather, go to where they are, even if we don’t see them. Do you know where that is?’

  ‘If I don’t, I can find out. Leave it with me. Would you like to take a picnic? The weather forecast is quite good, I think. And if not, we can always eat our sangers in the car.’

  ‘A picnic would be lovely.’ Emily patted her friend’s arm. ‘I know it’s going to make me awfully sad, but I do want to go there. Just to see it again.’

  ‘It can be part of your memory bank. You can go there in your head whenever you want to.’

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  IN THE MORNING Emily made sandwiches while Rebecca and James harried the boys into their clothes and to the breakfast table. Later she discovered some lost PE kit and stuffed it into Archie’s hand as he ran out of the door.

  But soon after the boys had left, ‘the girls’, as James described them, were ready to set off.

  ‘Damn,’ Emily said after they had driven a little way. ‘We didn’t bring a flask! Or are we going to build a fire and boil a billy?’ The last time she had gone looking for otters was at the forefront of her mind. Then tea had been made over open flames.

  ‘Oh! Dash! I’m afraid I haven’t got a billycan. We’ll just have to make do with apples. You did put in apples?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Emily bleakly. She’d been wondering if this outing was a hideous mistake since she woke that morning and now the prospect of eating sandwiches without a cup of tea or coffee to have with them made her almost tearful. Some part of her realised this overreaction was nothing to do with tea.

  ‘Listen,’ she said after a few more minutes, when she was certain there was no risk of her throat closing with tears, ‘why don’t we give this a miss? Why don’t we go somewhere else? Where there’ll be a café? There’s something about not having tea that is making me quite gloomy.’

  ‘It’s not the tea that’s making you gloomy, it’s where we’re going.’ Rebecca drove on relentlessly, not even glancing at Emily.